I was a social animal. I loved going into a room of people I had never met and having a conversation with each person before the evening ended. That, to me, was a good time.
Since I became ill, social situations are so much more difficult. It is easier if the people have been warned that I am ill, as I have no problem answering questions or talking about it. I just don’t want to bring it up.
I don’t feel as confident as I am heavier than I wish and have a fat, round moonface from the drugs.
Since I am nervous to be in those situations, I tend to sweat and be out of breath. Not at all charming. I also can’t stand for a long periods of time so I have to sit alone on a chair or couch somewhere.
We were on one of our road trips and visited a friend of a friend. He knew about my illness and, years earlier, he had lost his wife post transplant to a different disease.
His girlfriend was flying in from a business meeting and met us at a restaurant for dessert. I spotted her coming towards the table to greet us. She was absolutely beautiful. Stunning. She looked me up and down seemed to sort of dismissed me, still polite but there was definitely an attitude there.
We spent the night in their loft and had an early morning breakfast together at a beautiful hotel. She was totally different towards me, very warm and friendly. Apparently, our friend had told her about my illness when they were alone, she asked me some questions about it and we left with a hug.
So, as the holidays approach, I begin to dread the large parties where I don’t know anyone. Michael loves to go and knows many of the people so I don’t want to stop him from seeing everyone. I will go and smile and chat.
To find me, I’m the one sitting alone on the couch, sweating, smiling and looking at my watch.
Next: Cleaning the House
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