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"Which One of You Is It This Time?" The Chaos of Overlapping Chronic Illnesses

by Antonia@UnremarkableMe

There’s a particular kind of madness that sets in when you live with multiple chronic illnesses. It’s not just the pain or the fatigue or the headrush when you stand up too quickly (though those are all strong contenders). It’s the daily mental gymnastics of figuring out which of your many misbehaving body parts is currently throwing the tantrum. Is this nausea a Chiari thing? An EDS thing? POTS? MCAS? Is it just lunch betrayal? Who knows! Certainly not my medical team.

Welcome to the carnival of overlapping illness—where every symptom is a mystery, and you’re the detective, the suspect, and the victim all at once.


The Symptom Masquerade Ball

Chronic illnesses aren’t polite enough to take turns. They show up to the same party wearing the same outfit, all claiming to be the star. Fatigue? Everybody wants credit for that one. Brain fog? A group effort. Joint pain? Don’t even get me started.

The result? A never-ending guessing game that leaves you doubting your own intuition and occasionally Googling phrases like “can a spinal cord stab you from the inside?”

Spoiler: it can’t. But it sure feels like it sometimes.


Diagnosing the Indistinct

Here’s the fun part: when your symptoms overlap, diagnoses become... murky. Doctors might say, “That’s just part of your EDS,” or “It’s probably anxiety,” because your chart is already a novella and no one wants to write the sequel. This is called diagnostic overshadowing—when one diagnosis hogs the spotlight and prevents others from getting the attention they deserve.

And when you do get a new diagnosis? It often explains things retroactively, but rarely comes with a neat solution. It’s like being handed a new label without a corresponding cure. A party favour you didn’t ask for.


Treatment or Trial and Error?

Now that we’ve established that nothing is simple, let’s talk about treatment. What helps one condition might make another worse. For example: salt helps my POTS, but aggravates my MCAS. Painkillers might help my joints, but mess with my stomach. It’s a constant game of “choose your discomfort.”

Most days, you’re not following a treatment plan—you’re playing medical whack-a-mole with no clear winner.


The Mental Load of Managing the Mystery

Living with overlapping illnesses isn’t just physically exhausting—it’s mentally exhausting. You have to:

  • Track symptoms across weeks and cycles

  • Communicate clearly with doctors who may not believe you

  • Do the research yourself (because no one else is)

  • And worst of all, try to stay hopeful

It’s like being a part-time detective and full-time patient, with no pension and a very questionable HR department.


What Helps (Sometimes)

Here’s what I’ve learned that occasionally cuts through the noise:

  • Symptom journaling (with grace for skipped days) helps spot patterns doctors miss.

  • Community insight is gold—people living it often know more than textbooks.

  • Multidisciplinary care is the dream, but rare. Push for it if you can.

  • Your instincts matter. If it feels off, it probably is. You’re the expert on your own chaos.


Final Thoughts: You’re Not Broken—You’re Complicated

And there’s strength in that. Living with overlapping chronic conditions means you’ve become fluent in a language most people don’t even know exists. It’s hard. It’s messy. It’s isolating. But you’re not alone.

Whether you’re currently arguing with your spine, negotiating with your heart rate, or trying to get through a conversation without forgetting every noun—you’re still here. Still fabulous. Still fighting.

And yes, on any given day I might be:

  • Holding a hot water bottle like a Victorian ghost wife,

  • Googling “is it normal for joints to sound like that?”

  • Explaining to a doctor that, no, my pain isn’t caused by stress—unless you count the stress of repeatedly having to prove that it’s not caused by stress.

It’s a full-time job with no sick leave, questionable coworkers (looking at you, body), and zero health benefits. But damn if we don’t show up anyway.

So here’s to the medically mysterious. The chronically confused. The people whose symptoms can’t be neatly color-coded or pinned down on a chart.

We may not know exactly what’s wrong on any given Tuesday, but we know something is—and we’ll keep pushing, questioning, and advocating until someone listens. Or until we forget what we were saying mid-sentence and just go have a nap.

Either way: we’ve earned it.


Resources & Links

If you're navigating overlapping conditions, here are some good starting points:


 
 
 

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