Which is odd, as most of the time it is blood, sweat, and tears. Many things that I used to consider integral to my life have been stolen from me. Most people wouldn't find that situation funny. Sometimes I don't find it funny - instead it feels like a downright tragedy.
The humor lies in the absurdity. You start with one illness and invariably it leads to 10 illnesses. Of course, none of these illnesses have cures. It all becomes trial and error. With the intake of every new drug, aspects of my personality change. I've lost the sense of feeling grounded. Every crazy side effect possible hits me with each new medication. I am the purple zebra.
When I land in the hospital, I laugh. I joke to my family and friends. I can't bear to see them worry, so I put on a show. At this point, it's as much a coping mechanism for myself as it is an act for saving the pain of others. I know my family sees through it, as my nurses and psychologist do too. And yet I can't give it up. If one can't laugh during such trying situations, the only alternative is to cry. I'm tired of crying. I have been for years.
There are no other choices.
One has to play the hand they're dealt. If people who are chronically ill were depressed ALL of the time, we'd never survive. Most of us want to hang on for the people we love.