The other day I had a conversation with my dad. And I am still a little baffled about it. I mentioned doing radioactive treatment for my disease at the end of 2019 and how I almost died, and he was like, "What, you did? Your disease was this serious?" And I was like...you drove me to the appointment, and yeah, yeah it is. What did you think was happening when I could barely walk and spent months in bed? How could my own father basically tune out of the fact I was close to death and if I hadn't done that procedure I would have died. I have told him countless times that I take my thyroid supplement at 9am and for an hour afterwards, I can't eat anything. And I can't eat before. So he makes me breakfast and expects me to eat it and I'm like, "I can't eat anything for an hour, I will have it later." And he's like, "Oh." Um. Oh? I have said this a million times.

I get there is probably some kind of memory issue going on because he's elderly, but there are times I feel like screaming. Because I must repeat myself over and over and over and over and over again about my condition. I wish people in my family would just understand it better. It makes me feel rude and unthankful every time he makes me breakfast at the wrong time and I have to say, "I'm sorry I can't eat this right now but thank you." I can't live the same way you do. I don't have the same routine that you do. But thank you.

My mom, I don't think she even cares I have a disease or what I went through. She didn't show any support or interest. The one time I did try to talk about it with her, she changed the subject to be about her and her health problems. I don't think she's aware I was very ill, almost crippled and close to dying. She never asked how I was doing, never asked about progress, never showed any kind of care or support when I went through that. When I could barely walk and move, I still got up to make tea and meals because no one would bother to do it for me or assist me. I remember one time I commented that, whenever I go to the ER, she never seems to care. Never asks what's going on and she just shrugged and said, "You always have some kind of medical problem so I just ignore it." Wow. Okay. If something had happened to me, I don't think she'd care. I hate that I feel that way, but I do. She'd just shrug.

No one in my family, even extended family, sent cards or flowers. I see movies and shows where people receive all this love and support through their illness and I wish I knew what that was like. In my family, I am the invisible one. The one that is usually passed over, the one no one really talks about or thinks about. The one that is never heard. During my illness, everything was about my brother and I was dragged through all this BS and drama. And no one cared I was fighting for my life during it all.

But at least I am alive, and I survived. So I am thankful to be here, even if no one else is.