Christmas Eve 2002 it hit. I woke up to take the dog out, the sun was just coming up. I had been up very late the night before prepping for Christmas morning and I was exhausted. A little problem, I can't move to get out of bed! I tap my husband to wake him up, I need help honey. He literally "rolled" me out of bed. My feet hit the floor and I cringed with pain. My mind racing, trying to figure out why they felt like I had run a marathon barefoot! Both feet felt broken, or at least that's how it felt to me! I chalked it up to wearing those beloved flip flops of mine!
There you have it, but little did I know my life would never be the same again. My oldest son was 13, my daughter was 11 and the baby was 8 when rheumatoid arthritis reared its ugly head. I was 36 years old, and I honestly have never been the same since. I was no longer super mom.
Months of visiting different doctors left me frustrated and without any explanation. They checked me for a lot of different diseases, a few tests came back odd, but no smoking gun. I saw a rheumatologist who basically told me I was having this terrible pain because of my childhood!!!! Well, maybe I am a bit nutty but this brutal pain that had spread to both of my arms and hands/wrists was real, and I knew I wasn't that nutty!
Anyhow, I was diagnosed finally, after having an MRI of both hands/wrists.
That was 10 years ago.
I've been through treatment after treatment. The only one that worked ended up giving me a stroke like drug reaction. You name it, I've tried it. Almost died from one infusion of Remicade.
I'm currently on no meds for RA, awaiting my new doctor since changing my insurance January 2013. Now I have to start all over with new doctors. Should be interesting.
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