The emphasis in The CFIDS Chronicle has usually been on living within our respective envelopes. I do my best, but I find that the problem is not that I want to live outside my envelope, it’s that healthy people keep invading it.

I’ve been thinking lately, out of necessity, about how to keep people out of my envelope. I don’t know where these people come from or what they hope to accomplish. I do know that they’ll take whatever they can get from anyone who happens to be available, and because fending them off is exhausting, I’m an easy target.

First, there are the "Pseudo-Carers." These individuals believe I will feel better if induced to rehash my symptoms every time they ask how I am. They ask frequently. They ask persistently. They believe that they’re doing me a favor by persisting beyond my curt, "I’m fine." It’s very difficult to get rid of these people. Monosyllables don’t usually work, at least not without using them for several hours, after which I feel as if I’ve tried to swim across the Pacific. 

Saying, "I’d rather not talk about it" doesn’t work; apparently, they see that as a signal that I’m depressed and need to be drawn out of my envelope. I’ve found that a combination of tactics is necessary. I use the curt monosyllables while staring intently at their chins and excusing myself from the immediate vicinity. They find this disconcerting, and I can make my escape or watch them wander off to mingle with more cooperative people.

Then there are the "Pseudo-Doctors," these who have heard about some miracle "cure" for chronic fatigue and immune dysfunction syndrome (CFIDS) and who think I should get on the ball and spend another few thousand dollars that I don’t have trying to catch the zephyr. They believe I’m accustomed to trying all kinds of things; what’s one more stint as a guinea pig going to hurt? Oddly, these people never offer to sponsor the treatment.

Pseudo-doctors are a particularly tenacious crowd. Lying is the best method for getting rid of them. I can be reasonably well assured they don’t know anything about the treatment beyond what an enthusiastic paid commercial on Saturday afternoon told them, so I say that I’ve heard about it and am considering it. That usually puts an end to their questioning. Then I confess my sins and take a nap.

There are also the "Most Definitely Needy." They know I’m unemployed and thus assume that I should act as an unpaid psychotherapist, listening for hours about their latest crises. This group encompasses the absolute strangers who seem to have no sense of appropriateness. They tell me about their divorce and custody battles while I’m trying to move through the express checkout at the grocery store. Once I’ve paid, I make a beeline for the parking lot to escape. Next project: buy a T-shirt that says "If I give you a quarter, will you call someone who cares?" to wear whenever I’m out of the house. For those who corner me at home, I find a lounge chair, mention that I listen better with my eyes closed, and take a nap. Snoring is inadvisable.

Even more dangerous are the "Just-Plain-Vicious people."  They know nothing and are often incompetent at whatever they do. They take an instant dislike to anyone who doesn’t measure up to their lofty opinions of themselves. Anyone who is chronically ill will be on their hit lists. I have yet to invent anything better than avoidance for dealing with these people--screening calls, blocking e-mails, refusing to see them--although it would be gratifying to go postal if only I had the oomph.

Finally, there are the "Project People," who believe that staying home and napping cannot be the best therapy for anything, and make it their mission in life to find things to occupy my time. Refusing has become easier with practice and with knowing how I’ll feel after they’ve finished with me. 

Wrong:  "Just do it."  Right:  "Just say no."