I wake to the sound of “Breakdown” by Tom Petty.
Ironic, I think.
I open my eyes and watch the ceiling fan spin and spin and spin. Desperately wishing my body felt as such one fluid being within continuous movement.
I snap out of it and begin the process of opening my hands. One frozen, painful, useless knuckle at a time. Quickly realizing I need back up, I give myself a brief pep talk and will myself to roll over and reach for the heating pad. I’ll figure out how to grab it with these worthless nubs when I get there.
After three tries, I bite my lip and ignore the excruciating pain radiating from my neck, to my shoulder, to my elbow and landing at a jolting shock down into my wrist. I manage to nudge the heating pad down to my stomach and wrap it around my hands.
After thirty minutes of determination and mind over matter, I’ve managed to get my hands at least resembling flat. I will myself to sit up even though my knees feel like cracked porcelain. When I stand I realize my ankles are far worse off.
An epsom salt bath is clearly my only shot at making it into the real world today.
Off I hobble, to the bath where I stare at the faucet. Turning it looks like an impossible feat, but it must be done. I will myself to do so which suddenly feels comparable to placing my hands in a blender.
Got it. Thank God, I hear myself say aloud.
I turn to get the epsom salt. I decide not to give my mind enough time to evaluate the situation. I spontaneously go in for the kill as if I can beat my mind to the task before it has a chance to set all of my internal alarms off.
My body laughs in my face. My mind taunts me.
No matter how hard I try, the ziplock seal is far too strong for such a meek grip.
Hot water itself will have to do.
Two hours later, bathed, dressed, as ready as I’ll ever be for the day, I enter the real world.
“Hello, how are you this morning?”, she asks.
I force a smile. “I’m great, how are you?”
Rheumatoid Arthritis is what you’d find at the top of my medical charts. Diagnosed at 22 years old after about a year of ignoring all of the signs and symptoms.
Now, nearly a decade of battling everything that comes with it; the shocking, depressing, daunting diagnosis. The daily struggles of finding the courage, strength, and mental toughness to push through every day life, engulfed in chronic pain. A rapidly deteriorating body. Attempting to maintain a positive outlook… has been trying to say the least.
Day in and day out, I do it. For my amazing husband who supports me and loves me and cares for me unconditionally. For my little girl who I expect to take life by the horns. To never back down no matter what life throws at her. She’ll know it’s always possible to overcome, because I do. For my mom, now that I’m blessed with the understanding of how so very much a mother feels her child’s pain. And because my siblings are the kind of people who are worth fighting for.
RA is humbling. It makes you appreciate small feats and realize, ironically… things could always be worse.
It forces even the most independent to ask for help.
To those of you who battle with maintaining a healthy body and mind: I think of you often. I pray for you daily. You are not alone. Focus on what you do have… it’s the only way to beat the unrelenting reminders of what you don’t.