Progress

I posted this on FB yesterday as a thank-you to the seminary classmates who sent the t-shirt to me at a time when wearing t-shirts in public wasn't gonna happen.  Now I can both wear it and do it, and I'm very grateful for the encouragement.

The other day I made my first visit to a physical therapist so that I can begin to address some of the winter's damage.  I realized that I AM making progress ~ in March, my first attempts at walking got me about halfway down the block ("Mom, give yourself a break; you've hardly left that chair since mid-November, and it's going to take some time," my son pointed out), and now I can make three miles easily.

And in the rest of my life?  I have been very much affected by Walt Farrell's death and, as the Josh anniversary date of September 2 approaches, I can also see how far I have come since those dark days.  I don't just preach like a girl. I preach like a mother who has walked through hell and begun to understand resurrection in ways that would have not been possible otherwise.

Self Diagnosis

I.do.not.want.to.have.rheumatoid.arthritis.

Last night The Lovely Daughter and I were curled up in bed reading and talking and somehow, don't ask me how, we got onto the subject of my various aches and pains. Probably because I tried to do something like move.

"Mom," she asked, "do you ever mention to your doctor how many parts of you hurt?"

"No," I said.

"You LIE to the doctor?" she demanded.

"Not exactly," I said. "It doesn't really come up."

"How can it not come up?"

"How would it? She asks whether I am healthy (other than the strep/sinus/whatever infection I'm there for), and I say that I weigh too much but my BP is fine and I walk three miles most days and I'm fine."

"Mom. Think about it. Your knees, your hips, your back, your shoulders, your elbows."

"Well, I am a little concerned about this recent problem where my shoulders and upper arms hurt when I raise my hands high to stretch. I can't understand why that is happening."

"Mom! And what about that last sickness, the one where you mostly slept for five weeks?"

"I did a lot of other things besides sleep."

"You didn't do a single thing you didn't absolutely have to do."

We started looking around online. My symptoms sound ominously like RA. Especially the symmetrical part. And my back.

Now I remember. This conversation got started because I said that I am beginning to feel like my spine is frozen in place.

Who knew you could get arthritis in your spine? Not me.

We read some more. It is all extremely disturbing. This thing does not stop with a few achy joints. This is lifelong, degenerative, all-encompassing. It involves problematic meds. It involves health insurability problems. (Maybe not anymore.) I read all of Songbird's entries. I think about my grandmother's gnarled fingers and complaints about back and joint pain. I realize that I have, very, very, very gradually gotten used to compensating for almost constant pain.

I am not a hypochondriac. Far from it. People tell me all the time about symptoms which have propelled them into a doctor's office and I think, "Really? Is that something I should be paying attention to?"

I sure hope we are completely off base about this.