When I look at my husband, I am constantly reminded of the strength of his love. He didn’t sign up for this when he married me—not the constant doctors’ visits, the unexplained fevers, the fatigue, or the nights when my body simply gives out. And yet, here he is, still holding my hand through every moment.
When we first met, I was already very sick. My days were filled with dizziness, nausea, exhaustion, and stomach issues that no one could explain. I’ll never forget the night before I was leaving on a cruise with my parents—I spiked a 101° fever out of nowhere. Most people would’ve run the other way, but he stayed. And eventually, he married me.
There are days when the guilt weighs heavy on me. Days when all I want to do is lay on the couch because I feel too tired, too achy, or too unwell to function. Meanwhile, he takes care of everything—cooking dinner, straightening up the house, doing the laundry—without a single complaint. I sit there feeling like I should be doing more, even though I know my body is screaming at me to rest.
Even now, with a diagnosis of Familial Mediterranean Fever (FMF) and medications like Ilaris and colchicine, the illness still sneaks in and reminds me that it’s not going away. Just recently, I was sitting in the pool on a beautiful day. I had new rafts, the sun was shining, and for a moment I felt normal. But deep down, I knew what was coming. Like clockwork, that night the fever hit, followed by body aches that lingered for days.
I’ll be honest—it breaks my heart. I thought once we finally had an answer, once I was on the right medication, I’d get my life back. And while I do feel better on some days, the flares remind me that this is still part of my life.
The silver lining is that now my boys are older, and they understand more. When they were little, it was just, “Mommy doesn’t feel well again.” And the guilt was crushing. But I can’t imagine my life without them. They, along with my husband, are my entire world.
Still, I have moments where I long to feel really good for a long stretch of time, like I did when I first started colchicine. That window of relief was incredible, and I miss it. But I remind myself—it could be so much worse.
Through it all, my husband never wavers. He’s my rock. My boys are my heart. And while this life can be hard, it’s ours. And I wouldn’t trade it for anything.
💬 I’d really love to hear from you. Do you or someone you love live with a chronic illness? How do you cope with the guilt, the flare-ups, and the “what if” moments?
➡️ Please share your story in the comments below. You never know who needs to hear it. Your words might just remind someone they’re not alone.
between the flares 
Leave a comment