According to Sigmund Freud, Denial is a defense mechanism in which a person is faced with a fact that is too uncomfortable to accept and rejects it instead, insisting that it is not true despite what may be overwhelming evidence. The person may use: 1) Simple denial to deny the reality of the unpleasant fact altogether; 2) Minimization to admit the fact but deny its seriousness; or 3) Projection by admitting both the fact and seriousness but deny responsibility.
A medical dictionary defines denial as a psychological defense mechanism in which confrontation with a personal problem or with reality is avoided by denying the existence of the problem or reality, characterized by refusal to acknowledge painful realities, thoughts or feelings.
Do these words describe you or your emotions related to the diagnosis of your chronic illness? For me, they are inaccurate. Yes, my diagnosis is uncomfortable [more like painful] to accept, but I have never denied the reality, seriousness or responsibilities.
Approximately nine years after being diagnosed, I was given a prescription for a cane. During my follow up visit, the doctor who wrote the prescription asked why I was not using the walking aide. I replied, “I am not ready to let the world see me with a cane.” By this, he concluded I was “in denial” and felt I needed professional counseling in order to accept my future.
After replaying our discussion in my mind and giving great thought to his conclusion, I responded with a four-page letter, sharing MY realities, thoughts and feelings on the subject.
While writing this blog and remembering the letter I wrote in 1995, curiosity got the better of me and I wanted to see if I could find a copy. When I opened the extremely full filing drawer – honest to God – the letter was caught in the drawer above and pulled itself out. Shocked, I actually made the “dun, dun, dun duuun,” sound out loud! How did it know?
As I read the letter, chills ran through me because of the depth of what I wrote 15 years ago and how everything in it (my predictions, as well as other docs) came true. I was also touched by my beliefs (strengths and determination) at that time versus today – they are so much alike! When I think about what my family and I have experienced in the past 15 years, the letter boggles my mind even more!
Below are a few lines from that letter. I’m sure many of you can relate.
“I am running a never ending obstacle course. I have an illness, which is not curable, yet treatable to a certain degree, with an extreme amount of compromise. My illness has caused me to feel a tremendous loss in my life.
“My life became uprooted. I need some time to digest this reality. ‘… A cane. What comes next, the wheelchair? Yes.’
“Bit by bit the qualities which make up Annette have been taken away. I have been stripped of my independence and physical strengths. I can no longer be the amateur athlete or hard working, independent female I’ve always portrayed. Not too mention, I had to give up the simplest tasks. I can’t take walks in the woods with my family, get on the floor to drive trucks with my son or get on my knees to dust the bottoms of furniture. I can no longer play with my favorite toys such as water ski’s, basketball, bicycle, etc.
“This is all very hard, but I think I’m coping rather well. Don’t forget, I’m still living life, raising a child, battling colds, flu’s and dental visits, I attend PTA meetings and cheer for my favorite T-ball and college basketball teams.”
I have the utmost respect for this physician and have always appreciated our candor doctor-patient relationship. That is why I felt the need to express firsthand, the REAL reality of living day by day with my illness. To go from strong and healthy to limited and dependent takes courage, determination and inner strength. A driving force resulting from acceptance, not denial.
In my opinion, “You’re in denial,” is a poor choice of words when referring to us.
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