A Hidden Secret

Multiple Sclerosis: a disease in which the immune system eats away at the protective covering of nerves

I was watching a Buzzfeed video (yes, I know I should not become addicted to these videos) and there was an ad playing about multiple sclerosis. I normally just try to skip the ad as fast as possible because I want to watch the video. However, after further thought, this action—adopted by almost everyone—is a signal of our rejection of viewing chronic illnesses. We are not interested in learning about a disease that many people around the world suffer. Yet, the commercials are also at fault. If you look below, the images show happy, active people who look perfectly “normal.” It is as if this magical medication was able to cure their illness and keep their nervous system intact. Not to mention, the last photo states, “real people, real stories.” If the ad is truly a demonstration of people who suffer from multiple sclerosis, why do none of people have a slight motor disability? Sure, a drug can slow down the progression of the disease and alleviate a few symptoms, but the people would still have some issues—including the side effects the lady on the picture seems happy about.

People who are initially diagnosed with this degenerative disease are told the same facts: there are no cures, there are only treatments to help alleviate symptoms, you will end up in a wheelchair, and you will live until your imminent death. Not only do these people come to the salient realization that their future will not be what they imagined, but they also have to deal with the physical and emotional abuse society throws towards them. Scathing remarks—cripple—are precariously used to describe people with disabilities, causing a feeling of inadequacy; they compare themselves and see only the ideal body types being displayed. While “normal” people may have surgery done to enhance their appearances, disabled people cannot escape it. They cannot hide from society and mask who they are: they are thrown into a society that neglects the need for accessible facilities. Take Troy High School for example. The hallways are far too crowded to give students on wheelchairs space to maneuver; the defunct elevator moves at a snail’s pace, almost suggesting that getting to the students’ destination in a timely manner is not important; the classrooms have tables that are too high to reach.

Furthermore, this daily struggle is not simply faced during their childhood—it is a continuous cycle that they must face. I recently watched What Would You Do? and how deaf discrimination pays a roll in job employment. The show set up a scenario where a manager openly said that he would not accept the deaf girl’s application. As with most episodes, there are always many Samaritans who object the injustice presented. However, only one man brought himself to go against the manager’s judgement, stating that rejecting an application based on a disability is outright discriminatory. Not to mention, there were several human resource workers who not only supported the manager’s decision, but also gave him advice on how to handle the situation better: accept the application but write a note reminding yourself that the applicant is “unfit.”

Our society is not just unaccustomed to seeing disabled people, but it believes that these people are not inherently equal to everyone else. As Mairs states, “for the disable person, these include self-degradation and a subtle kind of self-alienation not unlike that experience by other minorities” (14). Although many people with disabilities are able to come to terms with their body, many still struggle with internal hatred: the belief that they are not as valuable and are the rejects of society.

Even though I do not have a disability, I suffer from a chronic disease that I still have not completely come to terms with. Not even my closest friends know what I suffer through. Compared to people with a disability, I am given the luxury of hiding my secret from the world. I remember when I first showed symptoms and was diagnosed I always asked, “Why me?” From then on, I have always hidden it away from society. Although it is an extremely common illness, I still cannot find the strength to tell anyone the specifics except for my family. I worry that people’s image of me will transition from the diligent junior to the junior with the disease. It has irrevocably changed me mentally and physically. Even to this day I wonder what my life would be like without having to deal with it. I have experienced the searing glances people give that make you feel less of a person; I have seen the ads displaying the perfect people “suffering” from my disease. I have felt like certain things are inaccessible to me; I have felt the internal torment of badly wanting a new life. Despite my reservations about telling people, I have learned to appreciate who I am. That statement may sound paradoxical, but there is a difference between revealing something to the world and understanding who you are. In the future, I hope that I become as brave as people who suffer from disabilities—to not care about what other people think of me.