As I have mentioned, things have been a little rough on me lately. Okay, very rough is more accurate. The whole pain, hand issue was perpetuating some negative feelings for longer than I would care to admit. I tried to find out what was wrong but finally, when I had been taking far too many ibuprophen pills daily, and pain was spreading I decided to seriously get to it and find a specialist.
I went to a hand, wrist specialist. He basically gave me a hand splint to wear at night...a prescription for hand physical therapy, a prescription for an MRI and another appointment.
To make an exceeding long, boring story short, after the MRI, I was referred to a rheumatologist, after saying he would not give me a cortisone shot until after the appointment, which was his assurance I would make the appointment.
I made the appointment, he took all the information, read the MRI report and ordered me to give up 5 vials of blood and come back. The problem to me was an almost 2 week wait for results...but I have been living with the problem since February so what's another few days.
Then I had my epiphany about drawing with the left hand, so that by the next morning, 9th of Aug. (a day before I turned 63) I had managed to pull myself up out of the depression I had allowed to engulf me. Then came the call from the doctor's office, "Your blood results have come in and the doctor would like to see you, we had a cancellation today..."
A few hours later I was in his office along with my husband hearing some rather overwhelming news. I had all of the markers for RA, and not only did I have them but at levels of 250% -400% of the normal range. Then he told me of the options for treatment of the disease.
I got a TB test (a requirement before proceeding with some new drug), a shot of cortisone in my knuckle....yeoweee!! and a kiss from Hubby. Of course I still had to drive home alone...not fun left handed but then the thought of being out of this pain was worth it.
Back to the right handed drawing for now!
The next day was my birthday. This is how it went.
“Hi Sheila. How are ya?”
“Fine daddy.” I looked over at Paul and smiled. It is my birthday and I was hoping daddy would call. I’d called him earlier but he wasn’t home, so I spoke with his wife. Meanwhile I figured he didn’t get my message and Paul took me out for dinner.
“Jean told me you met with the doctor and have...uhhh...”
“Rheumatoid Arthritis. Yeah.”
“Oh well, it could have been worse.”
I smiled. “Yep, it sure could have. Hey, you calling to wish me a Happy Birthday?”
“What? I called you? When?”
“Uh, just now. You are calling to wish me a Happy Birthday aren’t you?”
“Whose birthday? I called?”
“Dad, I’m out to dinner and the waitress just brought me a slice of cake with a candle...I’ll blow it out with you.” I hastily made a wish and blew it out into the phone. Paul smiled and nodded his approval. “I made a wish.”
“No dad, it’s me, Sheila.”
“Oh, yeah. Sorry.”
“Dad can we talk tomorrow?”
“Oh I am going to play golf tomorrow. Every week my friend Rudy and I play golf at 6:30 am. I’m home by 10.”
I sighed. “Well dad, I’m going to call you tomorrow after golf then.”
“Ok. Goodnight then.” I heard him disconnect.
Paul looked at me questioningly. I smiled. “Dad was confused, I’ll speak with him tomorrow. It happens.”
Ring. Ring. I look at my iPhone and it says I have a call from Dad. Again.
“I’m so embarrassed. Happy Birthday.”
“Oh, don’t worry Dad. Thanks.”
“I feel horrible I missed your birthday.”
“Dad, today is my birthday, you didn’t miss it.”
“Dad, I’m eating my birthday cake with Paul in a restaurant, can I call you in the morning?”
“I love you Dad. Goodnight.”