On Being a Victim:

When I was diagnosed with Minimal Change Disease, I searched everywhere to find a reason why it was me. It’s one of those idiopathic diseases---meaning they haven’t quite figured out what makes it tick or why someone would get it. I wanted to have someone to blame—even if it was myself for working too hard or not sleeping enough. I desperately wanted to find some evidence that a vitamin or medicine I was taking had caused it. I read medical journals and the stories of other people like me. And I had nothing to blame.

My pain, weight gain, hair loss, emotional roller coaster and other side effects can all be blamed on Prednisone. Perfect. A culprit to take the blame.

When I walked out of my sister’s house to find my car smashed and about 50 feet away from where I parked it, I had someone to blame. The stupid 17 year old girl driving a mini who was going too fast and looked down because she thought her dog was choking. It was great. I had someone to blame.

When I discovered poison oak on my arm, I could trace it back to my dog probably rolling around in it and then transferring it to my highly allergic skin. Someone to blame.


For the past 5 months I’ve done a fairly good job of dealing with everything. Sure, I’ve had long conversations with God asking for help to find a reason why, and I’ve been lonely and depressed, but all in all, I’ve coped. But through it all, I was terrified that I wasn’t dealing with it well, that the fear and anger would eventually explode if I couldn’t find someone to blame.

I couldn’t blame God for my disease—I know that he is good and doesn’t cause pain, so I didn’t buy it when people tried to help me justify my situation by saying God had given it to me to help me grow. I didn’t buy it. I accepted the idea that disease is a part of the brokenness of the world, and worked on thanking God for the good hours, gritting my teeth through the pain and surviving.

But all the other things—the drugs, the car, the poison oak---I had a culprit—I finally had something to be angry at. I let myself revel in that anger for a few days—finally aware that my emotions might not be purely rational.

That girl who hit my car? She’s a 17 year old kid---just like my Young Life girls. Suddenly, I knew that anger at her or her insurance wouldn’t make me feel better.

The prednisone? It’s keeping the poison oak from spreading and making my entire body puffy and itchy. I’ve hated it so much, but it’s still helping me,

The poison oak? Hard to have a good attitude here—I mean it’s a stupid itchy plant that, as far as I know, does nothing good for anyone or anything. But as I mentioned, it’s not spreading nearly as fast as it has in the past.

It’s hard to feel like a victim when you’re thankful. It’s even harder once you learn how to forgive. Sure, I wish my brand new car was still as flawless as it had been before the accident—but I forgive that girl---she’s just like I was and my girls are now, a teen driver who makes mistakes. Sure, I wish Prednisone had no side effects, but I’m glad it’s effective. Sure, I wish I hadn’t gotten poison oak, but considering how bad it’s been in the past, I’m glad it’s under control.

And then I come full circle. I have no one to blame for this disease. The people on my message board lash out and are so angry about the months and years this disease has stolen from them. They go from doctor to doctor, hoping that one of them will be able to give them something other than a faceless disease to blame. I don’t want to be like that. I don’t want to be barely containing my anger all the time. I want to live my life leaning on the one who has seen my every thought and emotion in the past 5 months and still thinks I’m beautiful.