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Showing posts from August, 2014

Blood Donation Blues

I have to admit, I've said "Having arthritis is so stupid" in a serious conversation. It's a very frustrating thing to have. Insulting it doesn't take arthritis away but it does make you feel a little better. I think the thing that's so frustrating is that much of what happens when you have arthritis is out of your control. You really don't get much choice in things you want to do when your body isn't well, especially with a disease that isn't always well controlled.People commonly have dreams, or rather nightmares, about losing control. But it's very hard to deal with something out of your control in real life, especially the way it so intimately is involved in your world. A few months ago my school was advertising a blood drive, and I was very excited. I had always wanted to donate blood, and my friends and I were going to give together. But being the person I am, I did my homework before the day of the blood drive. I found out that people

The RA Lie

I've been told a lie under any circumstance is wrong, but there are times the truth is not understood. I don't encourage lying, but I understand it. That is because I lie about my diagnosis. Rheumatoid arthritis isn't too common, but most people have at least heard it's name in passing. But compared to psoriatic arthritis, it's practically a celebrity. RA is just more commonly diagnosed, so it's more likely to hear about. In fact, many people with psoriatic arthritis will not be diagnosed or will be misdiagnosed with RA due to rheumatologists overlooking psoriasis or because you just don't have psoriasis (my case). I was said to have JIA when I was younger, until another rheumatologist distinguished it as juvenile onset psoriatic arthritis due to my family history, nail changes, and many other distinguishing symptoms. But even then, I've been told many times I could pass as having RA. If you tell someone you have psoriatic arthritis, they look at you

After He Left

I never liked him, and I don't think he liked me. That was fine by me. I was very quiet and an easy target. He was very loud and brash, and even at my ripe age of eleven I found him extremely obnoxious. I was glad when we didn't have classes together- it meant I could get my work done without comments that turned me red in anger and embarrassment. I was often picked on by my classmates, but he made my blood boil- somehow, he always knew just what to say or do to make me angry. One time he sprayed a pungent cologne in my face, and laughed when I scowled. Every day, I wished he would go away. I hated him, and I don't think he ever liked me. I haven't thought about him in years, and I don't think he thought of me either. Why would we when there was no reason to? We went on to go to different schools in different towns, and we never crossed paths again. With no mutual friends- not even Facebook friends- there was no reason we would ever need to remember each other,