Blood draw from my hand (because my arm veins wouldn’t cooperate), a shot of steroids–and no answers yet. Disappointed, trying to be patient with the process and my body, and in the midst of the worst flare-up I’ve ever had. Started last Wednesday with an ambulance transport from work, and an overnight in the hospital, and it’s far from over.
No results from my heart monitor, and my rheumatologist is being (too) cautious with medication and treatment.
So disappointment, frustration, and needles. But, also, pain drugs. Good pain drugs. I probably won’t remember writing this blog entry.
…to see the other side of this RA flareup. I go to the rheumatologist tomorrow to address the arm and wrist injuries that are causing this round of crushing fatigue–and I have never been so excited at the prospect of injections directly into my joints. I am going to also ask for a corticosteroid “booster shot”, because I need the extra help.
Substitute a CPAP mask for the rose…
So, I thought I would make a list of things that help, loved ones and objects that help me peer through the brainfog.
My husband, my sweet Owl, who watches over our roost when I cannot, and who builds and tends our nest for us. He still sees me behind the swollen joints, limitations, and frustrations, and is patient and giving beyond expectation, loving me even when I feel I am useless;
My best friend, my Bear, who has known me since I was a goofy tenth grader–and still loves me regardless. He has supported me when others have faded away with his same trustworthy, dependable love and strength;
Our dogs, who also sense when I am not okay, and either lean close in comfort, or distract me with silliness;
Tramadol, blessed painkiller, that eases my joints without adding to the brainfog stoned feeling that inflammation causes;
My Kindle, Fitzgerald (as in F. Scott), that makes reading possible even when I cannot sit up or properly grip a book;
And you, my readers, followers, likers, and commenters, who have shown me in just a short week that I am heard, understood, validated, and not alone.
Sometimes, the world is wide open to me, in all its joys and wonders. And sometimes, it is this small and insular: my husband, my best friend, my dogs, painkillers, my ereader, and this blog. I am so grateful that, when inflammation swells and crowds out the rest of the world, I am not alone.
I love you, Owl. I love you, Bear.
Now your Aurora must sleep. Thank you for being there, just the same, when I wake up again.
RAClaRA 