"I'm going to get through this"

In April, I woke up one morning with a sore thumb in my left hand. I went to tap class unconcerned. I was so excited that I was finally after three years of classes up on point--well, sort of--it's a bit of an optical illusion. I went for a wonderfully greasy breakfast at a downtown diner with my tap mates. I complained about my thumbie and how the pain was creeping into the rest of my hand.

Someone said, "You better get it checked out before it falls off." I laughed, but the pain was getting so bad I went straight to the walk-in clinic afterwards. The doctor was puzzled, put my on steroids, sent me for blood tests and made me promise to come back as soon as the tests came in, but the initial diagnosis was a "weird funky" form of arthritis.

A part of my brain became very practical. I contacted my next-door neighbour, who is a rheumy and got all his details for surely I would be given a referral at my next appointment. He came by immediately and said he would get me in a few days.

The blood tests were negative for RA, thank goodness, but also showed a massive inflammation in my body. I handed the doctor the business card from my neighbour. The pain and swelling had moved into my other hand, my ankles and jaw. Thus, began a long process of diagnosis and treatment--scary at first as it could have been lymphoma, sarcoidosis or other weirdness, in the end I was grateful it was psoaritic arthritis (PA), as it seemed the most palatable of the options.

The first week was hell--dragging myself to work, unable to hold the chalk, I had to ask my students to write notes on the board, but heck they have better handwriting than me anyways. After massive doses of steriods and starting on a chemo drug (methotrexate) things settled a bit, but there were frequent flareups.

By July, I needed a cane as my right ankle dragged and I was afraid I might fall. I went on a Baltic cruise, but couldn't enjoy it for the pain and fatigue. There wasn't enough relief with the pills, so now I'm on injections of two meds that are supposed to help, things started to ease off, but I woke up last Monday and couldn't walk. I called the school to let them know I'd be late as I couldn't walk and had to wait for the medical shop to open.

I got a pair of forearm crutches by 9:15 a.m. and headed into school; soldiering through the pain as usual. The stairs seemed especially cruel and taunting that day. The looks of pity and shock on my colleagues and students faces was hard to bear, as were my constant need to be upbeat and positive that it was a "temporary" situation. My fear ever present that if my hands get too bad to use the crutches, then how will I get to work? When I got home that Monday, my handicapped parking pass was in my mailbox--just in time.

This week has been more difficult than I could ever have imagined. It was hard enough with a cane with just one hand free, but now I have zero hands free. I don't remember it being so tough when I was regularly on crutches for sprained ankles as a kid, but being a grown up is a lot more complex.

I have three classes in three different classrooms and no hands to push around my cart, but that's what minions are for. I have many willing caring students who are happy to fetch my cart, fetch water, take attendance sheets down, and community service students who are now my "legs" for delivering memos and running errands. My colleagues are so very kind to watch out for me, carrying my caf tray, finding me a comfie chair in long meetings, inviting me out with them. On Friday, we went to dinner and the "Mama Mia Sing-A-Long" for some therapeutic Abba singing.

A lyric keeps running through my head, "I'm going to get through this, I'm going to get through this", but part of me is worried that the drugs aren't going to work and I'll be in a scooter soon. How can I teach when all my classes and office are on the third floor and a big part of my job is being out and about in the community with my work experience students?

I think I'm a wee bit better after resting this weekend. I long for the pool, which I'll go to this afternoon to stretch out. I dreamt of paddling my outrigger last night--woke up sad that I moved it to my parents' lake house and haven't been able to hold a paddle since that day in April, I miss my tap dance classes and friends. But I'm trying to focus on what I can do--teach, help with the new knitter's club at the school, go to movies, read, be productive and that's a lot. I'm hoping to hang on to those things.