Faking it With Ankylosing Spondylitis

I am a faker. I admit it. But I bet it is not what you are thinking. I fake people out about how well I am doing. In fact, I am a class-A top-of-the-heap professional faker regarding Ankylosing Spondylitis (AS). I can fake all kinds of people out. It is not helpful overall, but damn I am good at it.

I elude faker catchers

Sure, we have systems designed to catch fakers. As a society, we set up elaborate hurdles to outcomes such as disability and workers’ compensation. Oh yes, we can catch the fakers, alright.  But few people care about my kind of faking. What is funny is that most of society is delighted when I say I am alright and keep on going.

All those systems designed to catch fakers were worthless in my way. I blew right through those little speed bumps when it came to my faking while working. No one raised a single objection. Society was along for the faking ride.

The problem is that those formal systems are not designed to catch my type of faking. What is my secret to great faking?

I knew I was faking nine out of ten times when I responded

 
But I was so good at faking that people believed me. They wanted to be faked out, and I politely obliged. I did that out of custom or expediency, maybe both. Let’s face it no one wanted to hear how I was feeling. I did not want to say how awful my pain was; I only wished to say how it was not.

If I did share the real story a few times I was treated like a different kind of faker, the kind that is not believed.  Or worse yet, I felt pitied and that led to me having to tell the story a second, third, or fourth time. With each iteration, I would think why am I talking about this, why didn’t I just say I am okay? All I wanted was to be left alone. So, I made my short and sweet answer up. My best defense was to use catchphrases. My usual responses to how I felt was: okay, good, or sometimes hanging in there. I told myself most people did not want to know anyway.

Once a faker, always a faker

Of course, my faking is not all behind me. Here is an example. When my doctor enters the exam room, she says; Rick, how are you doing? Good, I tell her. It is automatic. It is out of my mouth, and I do not even know I am saying it. She then asks how my joints, fatigue, and stiffness are. 

Oh great, I say, well-controlled, damn near perfect. At that moment, there sits Rick, a class-A faker.  

Luckily, my doctor does not believe me. She has dealt with fakers like me before. So, she questions more.

She does not need to do that. She could say great and make the appointment short. She could say see you in 4 months; then call out next, like an assembly line. Instead, she looks at my joints, pulls and grabs my arm and legs, listens to my heart, and checks my blood work. Luckily, she knows a faker when she encounters one.

Do you know who else is not fooled by my faking?  My wife, Sheryl, is like a bloodhound sniffing out my faking. She is a faker detector. She tells people he is not okay. Sheryl says no matter what he says he is not simply okay.

She tells the doctor; listen, he sleeps all day; I see him grimace when he tries to open a jar or lay down. His feet, ankles, and hands are oftentimes swollen. It is crazy what she tells doctors. That is when I say oh, doctor, don’t listen to her; let’s say I am good, and let’s go on. It is easier than complaining, I think.

Do you have a faker spotter?

I hope so. See, most of us are good at faking. We fake out our friends, medical professionals, and employers; heck, we even fake out ourselves. But I hope you have at least one truth-teller amid all that faking. The one who sees it and reports it like it is. Sheryl (my wife) is my last line of defense against destruction. I wish I could tell the truth and say it like it is. Instead, I am a faker. When it comes to our health, many of us are.

Are you a good faker? Or am I the only one?