You only think about it when it stops working
Most days, it stays silent
No blinking lights. No alarms.
It protects you without asking for applause.
But then something changes
A scratch becomes an infection
A breath becomes a wheeze
You wonder when your body forgot how to defend itself
You never really knew what it was defending
Just that it did
Until it didn’t
Then you hear the word
Immunology
And suddenly you want to know everything
Suddenly you want to know everything
They tell you it’s about cells
But it feels more like memory
A memory your body keeps without telling you
Of every fight
Every invader
Every close call
You didn’t know your white blood cells had stories
You didn’t know T-cells could forget
Or overreact
You just knew something felt off
And you wanted someone to name it
And you wanted someone to name it
You sit in a waiting room
You read words you can’t pronounce
You google them anyway
The diagrams don’t help
The explanations are sterile
You want a sentence, not a textbook
Your blood is drawn
They say your immune system might be confused
As if it’s a person
Wandering
Trying to do the right thing
And sometimes doing too much
Your immune system might be confused
They mention autoimmune
You nod like you understand
But all you hear is your body
Turning against itself
And still believing it’s protecting you
They mention allergies
Overreactions
As if defense can become danger
As if your body’s love for you
Could become smothering
You think of every time you itched
Coughed
Swelled
And now it has a name
As if your body’s love for you could become smothering
They mention inflammation
You always thought that was just about pain
But it turns out
It’s more complicated
It’s in the joints, yes
But also in the shadows of the mind
They say chronic
You pause
Because you weren’t expecting permanence
You thought it was a phase
A thing you’d grow out of
But instead, it grew roots
You weren’t expecting permanence
You ask what you can do
They tell you
Regulate, support, modulate
None of the words feel like actions
They feel like waiting rooms
Like management
Like compromise
You think about fevers
You think about vaccines
You think about the balance between inside and outside
And you start to realize
Immunology isn’t about illness
It’s about borders
It’s about borders
What comes in
What stays out
What gets remembered
What gets forgiven
Your body is a country
Your immune system its guard
Sometimes it opens the gates
Sometimes it forgets who belongs
And sometimes it locks everything down
Even what it needs
You realize
Balance isn’t strength
It’s surrender
And learning when to fight
Learning when to fight
They mention immunodeficiency
You think of absence
Of empty rooms where warriors should be
Of colds that don’t leave
Of wounds that take too long
You think of people who live behind masks
Not because they’re afraid
But because they know too much
You remember that a sneeze for one person
Is an avalanche for another
And you stop calling things minor
You stop calling things minor
They mention immunotherapy
You hear promise
Not cure
But possibility
Not certainty
But effort
It’s not about eliminating the war
It’s about teaching peace
To cells that don’t trust anything anymore
Even you
You wonder how long it will take
You wonder how long your body can keep learning
Without forgetting
Teaching peace to cells that don’t trust anything anymore
You read that the immune system remembers
But only what it believes is dangerous
What about what’s familiar
What about what was once safe
And now isn’t
You wonder how your body decides what matters
What to attack
What to protect
What to mourn
You think about grief
And wonder if your body feels it too
You wonder if your body feels grief
You ask if it can be fixed
They say not fixed
But understood
Supported
Held
You imagine your cells
Like small versions of you
Trying their best
Tired
Reactive
Hopeful
And suddenly it doesn’t feel so foreign
Suddenly it doesn’t feel so foreign
You stop looking for a cure
You start looking for patterns
You track
You learn
You listen
Your body has been speaking this whole time
Not in words
But in symptoms
And now you’re learning to reply
Not with fear
But with recognition
Now you’re learning to reply
You stop fighting every signal
You start asking what it’s trying to say
Why now
Why here
Why this
Immunology isn’t a thing you know
It’s a relationship
A language
A long negotiation between what you are
And what you’ve survived
And you’re still here
Which means
The conversation isn’t over