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In Life With Chronic Illness, Your Days Are Lettered

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I live in a world of acronyms. At first, they were purely medical. EDS, POTS, PCOS, UC, MCAS, CPTSD, IBD, etc. They, along with their cousins who insist on being called by their full names like some pretentious teenager after returning from a semester abroad, would accompany me to doctors’ offices.

Once there, I’d rattle them off in a jumbled version of the alphabet that almost sounded like a beat poet with an even more than usual preoccupation with death and suffering.

Soon, as these all caps conditions began to morph from a cluster of words into unbearable clusters of symptoms, I became surrounded by even more acronyms, this time representing other humans and the systems and organizations they worked under.

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