I often wonder why people, most of whom have never even heard of my illness, let alone lived with it, believe they’ve discovered a ‘cure’ that somehow escaped the knowledge of doctors and researchers who have dedicated their entire careers to this condition. Yet, I’m expected not only to be grateful for these unsolicited and often dangerous suggestions but also to gamble with my health and well-being on the basis of hearsay and unproven treatments.
Why would I take such a risk? Why should anyone? And why would someone without medical expertise in this specific field think it appropriate to try to persuade me otherwise?
I have to ask, why would someone even suggest this to me, much less expect me to try it? Do they not consider the possible outcome if their ‘miracle cure’ goes wrong?
Is my health so trivial to them that they can toss out reckless advice without thought for the consequences? Or is it simply that my honesty about the depth of my illness makes them so uncomfortable that they feel compelled to fill the silence with quick fixes, regardless of how harmful those fixes might be?
At times, it feels less like concern and more like dismissal; as though they care more about easing their own discomfort than about truly supporting me. And if that is the case, then I cannot help but wonder: do they care about me at all?
I also find myself wondering, do they believe I’m not really trying to get better? Do they truly think there’s some easy “cure” I’ve simply overlooked, as though I haven’t spent years seeking help, researching treatments, and enduring therapies?
Sometimes, I even question whether they assume I don’t actually want to get well, as if living with a serious illness is somehow a choice. That thought crosses my mind more than I care to admit, and it stings; not because it’s true, but because it reveals how little they understand the reality of living with a chronic condition.
I have doctors and medical professionals who have tried, and who continue to try, every option available. They haven’t given up, and neither have I. But part of this journey means facing reality: that not every illness has an easy fix, and that sometimes the best we can do is manage, adapt, and keep searching for ways to live as fully as possible.
I’ve endured the fallout of failed treatments: side effects strong enough to drop an elephant, one new medical issue piling onto another, dangerous drug interactions, worsening symptoms, and an ever-growing list of physical and mental limitations, all in the name of being open-minded and willing to try anything that might offer relief. And yet, despite all that I’ve risked and suffered in pursuit of wellness, there are still people who imply that I’m not ‘doing enough’ or that I’ve somehow overlooked an easy fix. Their casual suggestions dismiss not only my life-experience but also the years of effort, sacrifice, and resilience it has taken just to keep going.
The truth is, my persistence is proof of my strength. I have faced setbacks that could have broken me, yet I continue to show up, to adapt, and to live as fully as I can within the limits my body places on me. My willingness to keep trying; despite pain, disappointment, and uncertainty, shows that I haven’t given up on myself or on life. If anything, it proves that resilience is not about finding a cure, but about finding the courage to carry on in the face of what cannot be cured.
Like the old English proverb says, “That which cannot be cured must be endured.” I have endured. I continue to endure. Not because I’ve given up, but because true strength lies in living fully, even when there is no cure.
by Jan Mariet, 9/26/2025








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