The Single Gal's Guide to Rheumatoid Arthritis

So long, 2008!

Sorry for my silence the last week or two- I decided that I wanted to have a computer-free holiday, so that is exactly what I did! It was great fun and restful, and I hope that all of you had a wonderful holiday season, too.

I've just gotten back to NYC after being home in Virginia for about five days, but there is no rest for the wickid; I am heading off again early tomorrow morning to Charleston, where I will ring in the new year in southern style with two of my best friends. We are planning to eat gorgeous meals here and here, and I can't wait!

But, before it's time to thoroughly embrace the new year, it's good to look back at this past one and notice all the things that have happened and changed. 

Let's see. I started out the year in massive pain (though I slammed my feet into heels anyway and hobbled - literally- down the street to a New Year's Eve dinner at Gramercy Tavern).  Back in January, I was waiting for the evil insurance gods to grant my request for Enbrel, and I took my first shot on January 19th, 2008, overcoming my fear of needles.  I've come so far, in fact, that not only can I give myself a shot with a glass of wine in one hand, but I can also mix the meds up and assemble the needle, too!

My vocabulary has grown this year to include the regular use of words such as TNF inhibitors, biologics, SED rate, vial adapter, swirl and bail out.

I saw eight different doctors or health workers more times than I know how to count, swallowed roughly 2,500 pills and shot myself up approximately 80 times.

I lost two earrings (to two different pairs) and about nine pounds (some of which I have gained back in the last month, but I'm refusing to step on a scale until 2009, which means I'm still 'officially' down by nine).

I had, let's count them, ZERO dates.  (Wow. Must improve that in 2009 to at least one. That is pretty pathetic, even if I was saddled with a chronic disease.)

I drank at least 50 bottles of champagne all on my own (perhaps because of the above statistic?), and am the proud owner of seven new pairs of heels.

I think it is interesting to note that, even though 2008 was one of the hardest years for me, medically speaking, it was also a year when I traveled more than any other in recent memory.  In the last twelve months, I've made it to five countries (Latvia, Czech Republic, Peru, Argentina and Uruguay) as well as San Francisco (three times), Seattle, Charleston (assuming my flight goes as expected tomorrow), Boston, and Philadelphia, among others. 

I attended two weddings, baked well over 500 cupcakes and visited one of the New Seven Wonders of the World (Machu Picchu).

Oh yeah, and I became a (paid) writer and a comic strip! Not that many people can claim that one!

All in all, not such a bad year..... 

So, Happy New Year Wishes to everyone, and I'll be back in 2009 with some tales from Charleston!

RA: Living the glamorous life

Picture this: 11pm on a Wednesday night.  The rest of the city is out celebrating at holiday parties. I, however, am sitting at my kitchen table in the top I wore to work, my knickers, and big, gray, fuzzy slippers.  A glass of red wine sits in one hand while the other slowly swirls my unmixed enbrel around until it dissolves so I can give myself a shot and go to bed.

Having RA is so damn hot and exciting I can barely contain myself.

Comic Strip # 9: Holiday Madness!

'I must have been crazy.  I must have been full-blown, off my rocker, totally-possessed, post-diagnosis crazy.  That’s the only way to explain why last year for the holidays, though I was in the midst of my RA at its worst, I thought it would be a good idea to host my very own Thanksgiving meal for the first time AND throw a holiday party three weeks later for all my friends. (Warning to the newly diagnosed: do not try this at home!)'

Click here to see the comic strip by Jane Samborski and read the full post!

Do you have any crazy post-diagnosis stories of your own? Have you attempted to do the ridiculous during the holiday season in spite of your RA? If so, please share, so I know I'm not the only one!

Houston, we have a problem.

At 11pm this evening, after procrastinating profusely all night by watching episodes of Entourage, I went to my fridge and got out my new prescription of Enbrel that I had picked up earlier. It was still all snug in its innocent looking brown paper bag. 

I should have known.

I took the bag out of the fridge and set it down on my kitchen counter.  I opened the bag and peered in. Two odd boxes stared menacingly up at me.  They said Enbrel, alright, but they weren't the Enbrel I knew.  My stomach tightened.  I slid out one of the boxes and peered at the label, where I instantly spied the word 'kit.'  A knot appeared in my gut.  I gulped, then slowly opened up the box to reveal, to my horror, four 25mg mix trays instead of my normal prefilled, premixed syringes. This medicine was not mixed! The tray was filled with conspicuous looking foreign objects that, if put together correctly, could spell relief, but if done incorrectly, could only mean one thing: doom.

I felt panic rip through my bones, knowing that I needed to take a shot this evening, or else. I also knew that with my 8:30am flight in the morning, there was no hope of getting to the pharmacy, already closed, to make an exchange before flying off on my trip. 

What was a single gal with RA to do?????

First, I called one of my best friends who also takes Enbrel. She's hardcore and was one of the first to get on the drug years ago.  She had experience mixing these cocktail versions of the drug up, and she's an excellent bartender to boot. I dialed her number with shaking hands. The phone rang, and rang, but no luck; I got her voicemail.

My hopes were dashed.  There was only one thing left to do. I picked my phone back up, and called into Mission Control.

'Nurse, I got myself a first-class problem,' I explained.

'Relax. I'll talk you through it,' she said coolly.

I slowly laid out the different apparatus on my table and stripped to my skivvies, knowing what was coming at the end of all this.  There was a small vial filled with powder, a needle encompassed in a needle cover, a vial adapter, two alcohol swabs, a plunger and a small syringe of liquid. Bit by bit, with the clock ticking, we put them all together, mixing the liquid into the powder to make this medical concoction. Just when it seemed like this ordeal might soon be over,  the first batch foamed maliciously, as if to mock my injecting prowess. It was spoiled.

We moved on to a second kit. This time around, I felt like an expert, and swiftly and adeptly configured the medicine.  It was time to get this injection underway.

I pulled back on the plunger and filled the syringe with the magical substance and then prepared to give myself the shot.  Surprisingly, the needle slid in like butter, and the injection was, for once, pain free.

I gasped with relief.

I signed off with Mission Control, grateful once again that they were there to answer my call in the middle of the night. (And also grateful that they were sending me out a replacement dosage, stat.)

Then I poured myself a glass of wine. Crisis averted.

Seattle bound

Tomorrow morning, insanely early, I might add, I head out for a conference in Seattle.  Despite the obnoxious flight and everything that goes with it, I'm quite excited as I've never been to Seattle. And though I'm there for work, maybe I'll get lucky and run into Dr. McDreamy..... you never know.

I AM a glutton for punishment!

So, I read this article today, which is all about foods that cause inflammation in the body and can contribute to the yippee-funness of RA pain. 

It lists tomatoes, citrus fruits, bacon, eggs, cheese, soft drinks, chocolate, wine, processed meats and potato chips as the top ten evil-doers of arthritis. 

Let's see. What I have eaten today, you may ask?  (FYI, I am on a brief hiatus from my holier-than-thou diet.)  For lunch, I had a chicken parmesan panini (processed meat, tomato and cheese) and potato chips, and this evening, I indulged in wine and a chocolate covered alfajores from Buenos Aires.  That makes six out of ten.  Clearly, I am on a mission to do myself in.

What can I say? It's the holidays, work is stressful, the temperature in New York City is an ungodly 24 degrees, and further more, at this exact moment, I DON'T CARE!!!!!!!!!!!

Comic Strip #8: To tell or not to tell

'If you, like me, have a fun disease like rheumatoid arthritis, the question of whom you tell and when (not to mention how) can be one of the trickiest questions to navigate, and one that tends to keep popping up over and over again.'

To read the rest of the post and see the accompanying comic strip by Jane Samborski, click here!