When the body says "no"

When I am introduced to a church, one of the first things I tell the congregation about is my weird inability to digest certain meat products. I want them to know that I will not be trying everything at the potluck dinner, can sometimes be overly cautious about what I eat to avoid getting sick, and will constantly ask what is in a dish I’m unfamiliar with. 
    But I am much less open with some of my other medical concerns, even when they can lay me up for days, maybe because they have such power over me. 
    In 2008, I was diagnosed with IBS - Irritable Bowel Syndrome. It is as unpleasant as it sounds. My colon sometimes spasms for unknown reasons, causing pain and a whole host of bodily ramifications. It took almost a year for the diagnosis and the shrug of the shoulders from doctors about what could be done. 
    There are certain things that I can do to limit a potential flareup, including being cautious about certain foods and exercising. Still, there is no guarantee that a flareup won’t pop up - sometimes from stress, sometimes because I accidentally ate something that triggers a reaction, but mainly with no prompting.
    I remember the embarrassment of being at a lunch meeting with a colleague when I had to excuse myself because I suddenly felt a flareup coming on with fierce intensity. A cocktail of prescriptions later, I felt human enough to re-engage in the meeting, but not well overall. 
    Or the time that I was having a flareup during VBS week, which zapped every remaining bit of energy I had to be present, even if I couldn’t be engaged at my usual level. I was so disappointed in myself, even if others did not notice. 
    IBS falls into the category of invisible illnesses that are not seen and often are not talked about. Also in this category is PCOS, polycystic ovarian syndrome, which I have known that I have had since high school,
    Invisible illnesses are hard to explain to people, but explanations are far too often met with the refrain, “Well, you look fine” or “Just push through.” Yet, an illness is an illness; if we are honest, the United States and the church aren’t always sure what to do with diseases. If you cannot be treated and return to be a valuable part of the workforce quickly, we devalue your humanity in America. If you cannot pray for a cure, we aren’t always sure what to do as the church. 
    Yet, sometimes my body says “no more.” When flare-ups happen. When exhaustion is overwhelming. When another doctor returns with a diagnosis but no promise of a cure. 
    What would it look like to be clergy who feel safe to make our invisible illnesses visible? As clear and visible as I make my weird inability to digest meat. What if we are the people who say that our value doesn’t lie in our productivity or pushing through but in our belatedness alone? What could change? What possibilities could emerge just beyond the horizon?