Arthur and Ritis

You've heard the phrase, 'This too, shall pass'.  Arther and Ritis are not the sort to just pass through.  They come to stay.  It's been 30 years since arthritis first made its presence known while I was putting up shelves in my garage.

Rheumatoid Arthritis (RA) was difficult to diagnose, its symptoms much like those of other auto-immune diseases.  Even with a diagnosis, attempts to find a drug that might slow the disease's progression were many.  Each one came with side effects--an extra hundred pounds, as if I needed any help to achieve that, a 'moon' face, continuous nausea, the unsettling warning on the label, bolded and all in caps listing possible death as one--and battles with medical insurance companies who considered any treatment quackery.

Gold injections wiped me out.  Three months into the six-month trial, this treatment had to be abandoned.  My white count was dangerously low.  Then miracle of miracles, I went into remission!  Symptom-free, 100 pounds lighter, minor disfigurement, and  I had my life back!  My struggles to drive my stick shift vehicle with only two, maybe three fingers all told working, or willing a leg to clutch and brake, needing help with the simplest tasks or being hoisted atop a horse for a girl scout outing despite fist-sized cysts behind both knees, falling in the street amidst moving cars, my worry being ruined nylon hose--my only pair, all became funny tales to repeat given that I had been blessed with a sweet respite.

Symptoms returned, gradually at first, and then with a vengeance.  As if RA needed company, Osteo joined Arthur and Ritis somewhere along the passage of years.  With new drugs, older ones re-visited, more information available about living with this sometimes fatal malady, RA has come to be another way to define who I am.  I'd prefer that it didn't rule my life quite so much.  I like to think I'm still in charge, that I'm much more than the disease but in recent years, I have often felt a forced submission.  There are fewer simple flairs and more extended time periods of RA activity, more struggles to get my body to work, given the permanent damage that has taken place.  When RA loosens its grip a bit, accomplishing simple things is a bit of a thrill--holding a toothbrush, putting on and tying my own shoes, chewing food with minimal pain, being able to carry a tune, stepping up-stepping down, driving a car, grocery shopping, laundry, getting in and out of bed--a car--a chair--a warm shower, having energy enough to smile, converse, laugh.  Feeling confident again to do even simple things feels good, too.

Finally, my rate of inflammation, over the moon at 167 some months ago, has finally dropped to the normal rate of 4!  I like the number 4.  It's part of who I am.