Month: August 2026

How many of us have heard this. “You’ve Been Seeing Your Doctor for Over a Year. Aren’t You Cured, Yet?”

Chronic illnesses are just that: chronic. They don’t simply stop because you have been seeing a doctor for a year, or five years, or twenty years. Sometimes you will feel better. Sometimes you will feel worse. Some illnesses go into remission for a while, while others can be managed well enough that symptoms become less noticeable. But managing a chronic illness is not the same thing as curing it.

Medicines are not cures. Yes, medications can relieve symptoms, slow the progression of a disease, reduce inflammation, prevent complications, or help keep an illness under control. Some can make an enormous difference in a person’s quality of life. But needing medication to keep a disease under control is treatment, not a cure.

Yoga is not a cure. For some people with chronic illnesses, yoga may help with flexibility, strength, balance, stress, or even social isolation. For others, certain movements may be difficult or inappropriate. Either way, yoga does not make the underlying chronic illness disappear.

Diet is not a cure. Good nutrition is important, and dietary changes can make a tremendous difference for certain symptoms and conditions. At the same time, some chronic illnesses severely restrict what a person can safely eat, so the diet that helped one person may actually be harmful to someone else. Food can be an important part of managing health without being a cure.

Braces are not a cure. Braces and other supportive devices can stabilize joints, improve alignment, reduce pain, protect weakened areas, and sometimes make everyday activities much easier. They are tools that help someone function with a condition. They do not eliminate the condition itself.

Vitamins are not a cure. People with certain chronic illnesses may need additional vitamins because of deficiencies, malabsorption, medications, or other medical problems, and correcting a deficiency can be extremely important. But taking extra vitamins does not cure an unrelated chronic disease simply because vitamins are “natural.”

Turmeric is not a cure. Turmeric and curcumin have been studied for possible anti-inflammatory effects, and some people may find them helpful as part of their overall care. That does not make them a replacement for appropriate medical treatment, nor does reducing a symptom mean the underlying disease has been cured.

Physical therapy is not a cure. Physical therapy can be incredibly valuable for maintaining or rebuilding strength, improving mobility and balance, reducing pain, preventing further loss of function, and helping someone adapt after surgery, injury, hospitalization, or prolonged immobility. Sometimes the goal of physical therapy is not to make someone “well.” It is to help them function as well and as safely as possible with the body they have.

Juicing is not a cure. Fruits and vegetables contain important nutrients, and some people enjoy juice as part of their diet. But turning those fruits and vegetables into juice does not give them the ability to cure autoimmune disease, neurological disease, cancer, genetic disorders, or other chronic illnesses. In fact, depending on someone’s medical condition, large amounts of juice may not even be appropriate for them.

I know this will offend some people, but prayer is not a cure. Prayer can bring comfort, hope, strength, peace, and a sense of connection to people who believe in it, and those things can be incredibly meaningful when someone is living with serious illness. But faithful people still become sick, and faithful people still die. I knew several women who were treated for cancer when I was. They were faithful, prayerful, kind, and generous, and they still died from cancer while I survived. Their deaths were not evidence that they didn’t pray hard enough, believe strongly enough, or deserve healing less than I did.

Essential oils are not a cure. Some people enjoy essential oils because they find certain scents relaxing, comforting, or helpful for things such as stress or nausea. There is nothing wrong with enjoying something that makes you feel better, provided it is used safely. But feeling better and being cured are two very different things.

Exercise is not a cure. Appropriate movement can help maintain strength, cardiovascular health, flexibility, balance, and independence, and for many people it is an important part of managing a chronic condition. But more exercise is not always better. With some illnesses, pushing beyond the body’s limits can worsen symptoms or trigger a significant setback. Exercise should be appropriate for the person and the condition, not prescribed by strangers as though it were a universal cure.

Avoiding sugar is not a cure. Reducing excessive added sugar can certainly be part of a healthy diet, and some people may find that dietary changes help them manage particular symptoms or health conditions. But eliminating sugar does not cure autoimmune diseases, genetic disorders, neurological diseases, or most other chronic illnesses. Our bodies also convert carbohydrates into glucose because glucose is an important source of energy. “Sugar causes inflammation” is often presented as though eliminating every source of sugar will eliminate inflammation and therefore eliminate disease, but human biology is far more complicated than that. You can make thoughtful choices about sugar without pretending that avoiding it is a cure.

Surgery is not always a cure. Surgery can repair damage, remove diseased tissue, replace damaged joints, correct structural problems, relieve symptoms, prevent complications, and sometimes treat one particular consequence of a chronic disease. But a successful surgery does not necessarily eliminate the disease that caused the damage in the first place. Someone can recover from surgery and still have the same chronic illness afterward.

Supplements are not a cure. There are supplements that have legitimate medical uses, particularly when someone has a documented deficiency or a condition that creates a specific nutritional need. But “supplement” does not automatically mean harmless, effective, or appropriate for everyone. Supplements can interact with medications, affect medical conditions, and sometimes cause harm. They should not be presented as cures simply because they can be purchased without a prescription.

There is an important difference between treatment, symptom relief, disease management, improved function, remission, and a cure. Something does not have to cure an illness to be worthwhile. A treatment that reduces pain, preserves mobility, prevents complications, or gives someone a better quality of life can be enormously valuable.

But when someone has a chronic illness, the goal of medical care is often not to “finally cure them.” The goal may be to control the disease, slow its progression, prevent additional damage, treat complications, preserve as much function as possible, and help that person live the best life they can.

So, if someone has been seeing doctors for years and is still sick, that doesn’t mean they haven’t tried hard enough, found the right diet, taken the right supplement, exercised enough, prayed enough, or discovered the right doctor.

Sometimes it simply means they have a chronic illness.

And chronic does not mean curable if you just try hard enough.

I watched a video earlier about a woman who uses a wheelchair full-time because of her disability. She was having a new wheelchair made, and someone asked how long she had been using her current one. She said more than five years. As those of us who use assistive devices know, insurance generally expects durable medical equipment such as wheelchairs to last for years before it will consider replacing them.

Then she was asked how much her wheelchair cost. It was not a power chair, but a custom manual wheelchair designed for someone who uses it full-time. She said it cost more than $10,000 when she got it, and that the replacement would cost over $13,000.

Think about that for a moment. She sat in that wheelchair every single day for more than five years. She used it inside her home, going to work, outdoors, indoors, and even in the shower. That is more than 1,825 days of constant use.

First, the fact that a manual wheelchair can cost more than $10,000 is astonishing when you consider that this is not some luxury item. It is a piece of equipment that allows a person to live their life. Yes, her insurance covered it, but by the end of those five years, it was worn down and needed to be replaced. In some ways, it is like being expected to wear the same pair of shoes every single day for five years.

That made me think back to when I used to get my orthopedic shoes through insurance. They cost about $500 a pair, and insurance would provide one pair each year. These were not ordinary shoes. They had orthopedic bracing built into them, so I couldn’t simply go to a shoe store and replace them when they wore out.

And I wore that one pair every single day. By the end of the year, they were usually in shreds. Unfortunately, when it was finally time for a replacement, the approval and fabrication process could take another six to eight months. In reality, that meant I sometimes wore the same pair of orthopedic shoes every day for a year and a half or longer. I certainly didn’t have an extra $500 lying around to purchase a second pair myself.

And trust me, these were some of the most butt-ugly shoes you have ever seen in your life. They definitely did not go well with professional work clothes! Still, they were leather, and every Sunday night I cleaned and polished them so they would look as presentable as possible for work. By about the ninth month, I usually had to start using black shoe dye to cover the scuffs, cracks, and worn areas. By the end of the year, and especially during the additional months I was waiting for the next pair, keeping them presentable became almost impossible. Black duct tape helped hold that pair together at that point.

More importantly, their appearance wasn’t the real problem. The orthopedic support and bracing wore down, too. As the shoes deteriorated, they stopped providing the support they were supposed to provide, and those were often the periods when I was more likely to fall or injure myself.

Most people don’t have to wear the same pair of shoes every single day for 360, 500, or 600 days. If their shoes wear out, they buy another pair. If they need different shoes for work, exercise, bad weather, or a special occasion, they probably have them.

When an assistive device is medically necessary, however, replacing it isn’t always as simple as recognizing that it is worn out and buying another one. There may be insurance requirements, medical documentation, evaluations, prescriptions, prior authorizations, vendors, fittings, fabrication, and months of waiting. Meanwhile, the person still needs that equipment every single day.

Everyone goes through difficulties, and I realize that. I am not sharing this because I think it is some extraordinary hardship that outweighs anyone else’s problems. I am sharing it because it is one of the countless ordinary realities of living with a disability that people who have never needed assistive equipment may simply never have had a reason to think about.

That is one reason disability awareness matters. It isn’t about deciding whose life is harder. It is about understanding that other people may encounter obstacles we have never experienced and may not even know exist.

Other people face struggles, too, of course, and their struggles deserve to be heard as well. Learning about the difficulties someone else faces does not diminish our own. The more we understand about one another’s lives, the more empathy we can have for one another. Sometimes empathy begins with something as simple as learning about a problem we never knew existed.

This is a very personal message for anyone who thinks people “on disability” are living the high life.

For 40 years, from the time I was 16 until I was 56, I paid into Social Security through FICA taxes, including the disability insurance program, with money withheld from every paycheck. The promise was simple: if the day came when a serious disability prevented me from continuing to work, that insurance would provide a measure of financial protection by replacing part of my lost income.

I never expected Social Security to provide my entire income or fund my entire retirement. I saved and invested for emergencies and for my future, just as people are encouraged to do. But I also paid for disability insurance through Social Security for four decades. When I eventually became disabled and could no longer work, receiving SSDI was not a handout. It was an earned insurance benefit from a system I had paid into throughout my working life.

Yet there is a tremendous gap between receiving SSDI and having enough money to live on. By the time I pay for Medicare, Part D prescription coverage, and my Medicare supplement, roughly half of my SSDI check is already gone. What remains is not even enough to cover my rent, much less food, utilities, transportation, medications, medical copays, and all the other ordinary expenses of living.

That is why it is so frustrating to hear people talk about SSDI as though disabled people are living comfortably at everyone else’s expense. Disability did not give me an easier life or a free ride. I lost my ability to earn the income I once earned, and the insurance I paid into for 40 years replaces only a fraction of it. Then a substantial portion of that benefit goes right back out the door just to maintain the health coverage I now need more than ever.

Yet there is a tremendous gap between receiving SSDI and having enough money to live on. By the time I pay for Medicare, Part D prescription coverage, and my Medicare supplement, roughly half of my SSDI check is already gone. My SSDI benefits are also subject to federal income tax.

When all is said and done, I have about $900 a month left for everything else: housing, utilities, transportation, food, medications, medical copays, and all the other ordinary expenses of living. Nine hundred dollars would not even cover the cost of renting a single room in someone else’s home in many places. I was fortunate enough to have the foresight and determination to buy a modest home when I was younger and still able to work, so I do not face that particular expense. But how many people could realistically support themselves on $900 a month?

And here is another frustrating part: eligibility for programs such as SNAP is generally based on income before I pay my Medicare premiums, Part D coverage, and Medicare supplement. Those are not frivolous expenses. They are what protect me from potentially devastating medical bills. Yet the money I must spend on health coverage does not simply disappear from the income calculation. On paper, it can look as though I have considerably more disposable income than I actually have. As a result, I do not qualify for SNAP or other forms of assistance that might otherwise help bridge the gap.

I am grateful that the disability insurance I paid into for 40 years was there when I needed it, but SSDI is hardly a financial windfall. I lost my ability to earn a full-time income at the same time that many of the expenses associated with being disabled increased. Receiving SSDI did not make disability financially advantageous. It provided a financial safety net when I could no longer support myself through work, but a safety net and financial security are two very different things.