I am breathing. I am trying to hold my body in grace and not succumb to a pity party. Today, I hurt, and I am also swollen and exhausted. I’ve known that there was something more wrong with me that what the doctors were diagnosing because no one could explain the swelling.
I had a doctor send my labs to a rheumatologist once. The office declined to see me. I guess my labs weren’t definitive enough. Several years later, here I am, swollen, exhausted, rashy, and itchy. I keep thinking that if everything weren’t so siloed, maybe just maybe, this could have been treated sooner. Then I remember, it wouldn’t matter. Psoriatic arthritis is a chronic condition, and I will be managing this too.
Then in July, I broke out with this spot. Just one spot.
Now it is everywhere. It is easy to say, it doesn’t bother me. I will still wear what I want. It is my body. This is a disease. There isn’t anything I can do about it. But, days like today when I feel like crap, it is harder to defiantly say that.
I am starting a new treatment in two weeks. I am hopeful, and that scares me. I don’t want my hopes dashed, and be right back where I am or worse. Tonight, I can honestly say, I just want to cry. I hurt. I hurt so much I couldn’t walk today. I hurt so much I just want to cry.
This is one of the rare occasions that I wish I had a part-time fusser. Someone to listen, fuss over me, pamper me, and say, “It will be okay.” Hey, the job is open. The pay is crap, but you get to deal with me. Wait that isn’t much of a selling point, is it?
I am going to lay back down. Rest. Hope for a better tomorrow. Maybe I can look at myself and say. “I love you.” And perhaps when I say, “Love. Patience and Consistency,” the words won’t ring as hollow as they do today.