Today is infusion day. Remicade. A biologic drug that is supposed to ultimately stop pain and joint damage. We shall see. Thus far I have used methotrexate and Humira injections to no avail. I began Remicade in December of 2014, however my therapy was stalled by viruses I had in January. So, now we begin again. Hopefully I will be able to maintain a schedule of Remicade infusions that will allow the drug to actually work. Here's why I want it to.
It has been a difficult winter. December and January (even into February) are cold dark months. There is less sunshine. The cold envelops a body in such a way that people with normal joints, tendons, and ligaments can feel stiff and uncomfortable. Add psoriatic arthritis, or any autoimmune disease for that matter, sprinkle in clinical depression, and you have a mixture of ingredients that whip up an unsavory recipe. I have felt so isolated.
Blogging and posting on Facebook is a constant reminder, however, that I am NOT alone. Feedback from those of you who read what I post fuels me in ways that surprise me sometimes. It is helpful to realize that there are people out there searching for answers. If someone happens upon my posts and are led in a direction of positivity or helpful resources, then I have made a difference. Let me tell you... there is something very powerful in realizing you've made a difference, when you struggle to move, let alone find purpose everyday.
Health issues have a way of overshadowing everything you do. I work constantly at keeping my head above water. Some days it is just plain easy. Other days, well... I am grateful that I have my faith. I have realized a myriad of truths, during this process of finding my way with an autoimmune disease. The first one, and probably the most important, is being kind to myself. This proves to be a necessity... not a luxury. Maybe even the single most priority I should have. The world may suggest on a daily basis what an appropriate day may look like for me. Simply spoken, I no longer care. I define my life and live by my own rules now. Letting go has been my first kindness to myself. I am finding this becomes easier as I go. I work within my means to make life easier for myself and my family. Our lives are not conventional and that's okay.
Today's kindness? After a shower and another cup of coffee, I will drive to Atlanta to receive my infusion. No other expectations. The first infusion wiped me out and that's OK. My husband and grand daughter will grab a bite out because they certainly would not expect Grammie to cook tonight. I might stop at red box and select a movie. Maybe pick up Chinese.
If I accomplish anything else, I will consider it gravy.
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