Kiss of death

I haven't written in a while. Honestly I have been so achy and exhausted all of the time that I just haven't had the energy. For the past month or so my hands have been hurting really bad in the morning. My back and hips feel like I just slept in a sleeping bag. In a tent. On top of a rock. So being a genius, I decided to do a little online research. And let me tell you, don't do online research unless you are prepared to have the crap scared out of you with some worst case scenarios. But I also know enough to plug in the symptoms and the hand pain with the feverish joints was the biggie. And it returns... drum roll please.... rhuematoid arthritis!!! And the crowd goes wild!

I am not stupid enough to self diagnose so I did what any chick would do and stood up and asked the lady on the other side of the wall who is out a lot from work for various illnesses if she goes to a rhuematologist. Hey, it wasn't the classiest move but after the last incident with that jerk who claims to be a Dr but refuses to follow the basic Hippocratic Oath, I wasn't taking any chances. Because I am totally able to spot a fellow sickly person, I was able to get the name of a rheumatologist.

I visited there on Friday. And after being poked, prodded and pheloboted (I needed a word that started with P and the guy who draws blood is a phlebotomist!), I was told that he was about 99% sure that I have RA. YEAHHHH!!!! I have never been in so much pain. I have had a lot of pain and I have a fairly high pain tolerance... I did the first 3 days after the c-section with no pain meds, then I realized that you don't get extra points for bravery. You do possibly get a husband who ganks your pain pills so you go through the worst of it wanting to remove his head with your fingernails but that is a whole other story.

I realized that if I test for RA that I have a few things to look forward to... steroids. Which lead to weight gain. Which lead to more pressure on the already painful joints. Which leads to more pain. I had just decided to start a fitness plan when this crap came up to bite me in the arse. And fitness, well, it is not the fan of a person in pain. Walking means that you are left unable to move. I can't even imagine what delights lifting weights would bring on... would my head explode literally?!?! And I am already on the roids... day 1 I was thinking, this ain't so bad. I'm not so hungry. Day 2 has left me a little sick to my stomach. I just hope day 3 doesn't find me curled up with a large cheese pizza, a double batch of brownies and a 2 liter!

And then it hit me that my child has hit even a lower point in the gene pool if I have this disease. His paternal grandmother has Lupus which is just another form of an equally evil beast. So on both sides he has the potential to spend his 30's sitting on the couch and crying after his kid goes to bed.

I'm really not having a pity party. I'd like to have a pity party. Unfortunately, I tend to invite Mr. Chocolate Cake and Miss Phish Food to the party... and I am pretty sure that would just make matters worse!