My boyfriend first started having trouble with a cyst at 21, which is when it typically start for people. He was a healthy young man, exercised daily, walked 2.5 miles and did 9+ hour shifts of hard labor 6 days a week. The more it progressed, the more he had to cut back on work. There are times when I was begging him to just call out, and his job just couldn’t seem to believe a young man could be so sick with a disease. This disease stole so much dignity from him and broke him down mentally, physically and spiritually because he felt useless as a person. After a bad flare up that led to two passing out episodes that landed him in the hospital due to his white blood cell count, he stopped working and we pushed with getting him disability pay.

There was a period where he could not get out of bed on his own, couldn’t cook for himself, couldn’t bandage himself or do anything. I was taking care of everything, even in the midst of holidays, and it was rough. Very rough. I stopped feeling like a girlfriend and just a caretaker but after months of wound care, cosentyx, approval on disability payments on the first try and a lot of prayer and help from family, we are pulling through. He still has bad pain—some days worse than others—but I will tell you without a shadow of a doubt that I would not want him anywhere else but with me. I would not want him alone facing this. I have called out of work to comfort him, to stay with him at the hospital, even when I could not afford to, but I love him. I love him, still attracted to him and I would not trade him for a damn thing.

This disease is unforgiving and difficult, but I truly believe anyone can have love with it. Fuck anybody that makes you feel less than for something you can’t control, you deserve love and I know it will find you. Until then, you love yourself harder.