Grammie's Double Whammy

As my husband facilitates ideas to make my life easier in the house , I have been adjusting and attempting to modify my attitude. May 5th marks one year since my Rhuematologist officially diagnosed me with PsA. The Fibromyalgia determination came just two months ago. Being pronounced with autoimmune diseases is kind of like running a race without a finish line. I spent a long time trying to find out what was causing the pain and fatigue, only to discover there would never be a means to an end.  Thus begins a process much like grief:   Denial - Much like when I was diagnosed with depression, I just shook my head when it began to soak in that I had an autoimmune disease. So much so, that I refused to take the meds and began reading everything I could get my hands on that would discredit the diagnosis. Methotrexate? No, thank you. A chemo medicine for arthritis? Are you crazy? The realization that my doctor might be correct in his conclusions just spiraled into a slow burn...

One week before my third Remicade infusion, I went to see my Rhuematoligist.I wanted to ask him some questions about my Psoriatic Arthritis,and the length of time I may have to wait until the infusions began to work. I explained that I was experiencing more pain in new places, including my left elbow, arm and shoulder. The pain was chronic and overwhelming and I couldn't understand why I was getting worse. After an extensive overview of all my symptoms, my doctor examined all of my joints, while asking about the specifics along the way. He touched certain points on my neck and back that just about sent me through the roof! This was a bit alarming to me. Although I had been experiencing overall pain and malaise, I was stunned to realize those certain points were so painful. Folding his arms, Dr. Patel stepped back and paused. His diagnosis saturated my being with a cloak of misunderstanding. Fibromyalga. What? How is that possible? I already have two autoimmune diseases that ...

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 fr...

My high school friend,  Valerie, recently posted a comment on my Facebook page. She suggested that I was brave for sharing my story. I had to pause. When I think of bravery, I see images of firefighters running into burning buildings to save people. I am certainly not brave. Or am I? Sara Bareilles sings a song titled Brave. It is a favorite of mine that I have loved, since the moment I heard it. But I don't believe I ever really listened to what she was trying to say in the lyrics.  After contemplating Valerie's post, and revisiting the song and its video, my interpretation of her point is much clearer. And at such an important time in my life. Speak your truth and be brave. OK. I guess I'm brave. I literally feel like a new woman. Thank you, Valerie! Sharing my story and vulnerabilities is courageous. I know this because stories about people who have conquered their demons have resonated with me in a remarkable way. Telling a personal story exposes your pa...

I know. It has been a long time. Having spent the last few months angry, optimistic, irritated and hopeful, I am moving on. I have made dietary changes and incorporated new ideas into an overall wellness protocol. I still struggle with gluten free. This subject deserves some time, so I will save it for another post. Organic produce and grass fed meats have been an easy switch, thanks to this wonderful part of the country I live in. Exercise has only been in therapy form with limitations, due to a ruptured Achilles tendon and Plantar Fasciitis . A recumbent bike (thank you to my husband) in my living room has been a welcome addition to the process. The first ride in December was a difficult 3 minutes. This week, I am up to 30 minutes. Mental Health is still a struggle. After being robbed of the effective Pristiq, I have since been on the generic for Cymbalta. Now I spin the hamster wheel on the generic for Effexor (I hate insurance companies). Sunshine and movement ...