This is Curascript the automated voice told me. It’s week six and time to refill Humira again. I also had to speak with an RN to discuss progress and if there were any issues.
“I am seeing you are taking Humira for the diagnosis of Rheumatoid Arthritis. Is that correct?” the RN asked with a loud matter of fact tone. Eight months into this, it seems I should not be in shock to hear her question and reply yes. Instead, I froze realizing I have Rheumatoid Arthritis and after an awkward pause replied yes. I honestly do not remember what else the RN asked me as I slipped into a daze.
After spending the week laid up on the couch, I’ve been in a “what will my future be?” funk again. Will Humira help? How much longer will it take to know? How will I work again? Can I successfully work from home? What will I do? How will I do it? Should I get a conventional job? How could I do a conventional job in my state? Will I have to drive long distance? Will I be successful? Will I fail? Will I disappoint loved ones? Will I disappoint myself?
I sketched for awhile until my hands screamed no!
The hardest part of having an ill body is having a busy mind that is eager to make a game plan, create, and get going! Meanwhile, my body says… sloooooow down. It always wins.
One day I will find peace for these hard days and ease disappointment for my active brain trapped inside this achy and painful body. The start is to remind myself that this is one day and each day is its own. I suppose it may take more than eight months to fully embrace and realize this concept.
The storm is passing through but, the sun still found a way to shine brightly on this cold day.