Time to face the music.

I was looking at my sick days for the year the other day and counted them all up.  I am sitting at 18 days in the last year.  16 days of that are arthritis days.  That doesn't include days I took vacation days rather than sick days.  It's time to face the music and start thinking about applying for Family Medical Leave Act (FMLA).  I haven't done much research on it yet.  Honestly I have been stalling hoping it wasn't going to be a reality.  One of those if you ignore it, it doesn't exist kind of things, but unfortunately it does exist. 

I talked to a friend the other day who has Chron's disease.  She suggested I look into FMLA.  She is on it, and said it offers a level of protection against being discriminated against at work because of your illness or disability.  It kind of feels like giving up to admit I am at the point that I need to go on FMLA, but the truth of the matter is I am at that point.  So Thursday when I go to see my Dr I am going to have him help me fill out the paperwork.  I am going to give in.

I wish I didn't have this decision to make.  I've known it would come to this at some point.  Just as I know the day will come when I can't work.  It doesn't make the path any less rocky when you know those rocks are waiting for you to climb over them.

I guess it's time to start doing that research.  Let the fun begin!

April Showers bring May flowers, but it's August!

I am one of those people who are sensitive to atmospheric change.  This means that when storms are building my pain levels increase the more they build.  Usually I dread spring because in DFW we are  bombarded with storms.  Somehow this year it seems like storm season started early and it doesn't seem to be ending.  For 2-3 days now we've had sporadic storms.  They are all around us.  This means the arthritis is constantly flared up.  Being it is now a few days into this I am starting to get worn down.  I try to stay positive about things.  Tell myself it will get better soon.  Practice my deep cleansing breathing techniques.  Count down the minutes at work till I can get home to take some pain meds.  This also leads to my inner worry wart rearing it's ugly head.

I am realistic that I have a limited amount of time that I can continue working, at least in my field.  I had hoped I could make it about 5 more years to get my kids through college and pay off my car.  Days like today I can't imagine making it through the year let alone through 5.  I also don't know what I want to do when I grow up.  I've had a good run as a Metrologist.  I'm good at what I do.  I am just very aware that every year I am more and more limited of what I can do.  The stiffness in my hands impedes my ability to do many things already, lifting things is difficult and aggravates my joints, and just getting out of bed to go to work is challenging most days and just not going to happen more and more frequently.

I am fortunate that I am a service connected disabled vet.  No not fortunate in that I got hurt in the Army, but that I have options.  I have the option of using vocational rehab through the VA, but what is it I want to do?  What can I do that I won't hate, that I can make a living at, and that I will continue being able to do as my condition worsens.  So many questions to swirl through my pain overloaded brain.

After it's all said and done and I waste hours and days worrying I remind myself that worrying is just that.  A waste of time.  I can't control the progression of my arthritis, I can't control the future.  What I can do is be as productive and positive today as I can be.  Remind myself of my blessings.  My loving and supportive family, a boyfriend who treats me like a princess even when I'm the evil witch, a good job in this horrendous economy, and a sharp mind even on days it likes to throw all the worst case scenarios at me.  I am blessed today.  What tomorrow brings will continue to be a mystery and an adventure.

Ready, set GO......ohhhh now wait a minute....

Here I am again on the couch when I should be at work.  I have been described as bull headed by people who really love and care about me, and that isn't necessarily a complimentary trait to have when you have PA.

We are in the process of reorganizing the lab I work in.  It's been going on all week (I'm pretty sure it will NEVER be done).  Anywho, this reorganization involves a lot of moving of heavy equipment, packing, moving and unpacking files and manuals, cleaning etc.  I refuse to let my coworkers be stuck with all the heavy lifting while I sit back, sip my diet coke and watch.  So I decide to take the lightest weight group, the files.  Yes, I packed 25 boxes about the size of cases of paper, loaded them each on a rolly cart, and piled them in the new designated area.  5 years ago this would have been something I considered a decent workout, but by no means the end of the day.  Just this process took me out for a whole day.  Yesterday I sat on my couch, hopped up on vicodin.  I really hate taking narcotics, but it's an unfortunate necessary evil for myself and many people with chronic pain conditions.  This morning I was feeling pretty good and rested (thanks to 15 hours on the couch)  I even got up early, made myself a pico and feta omelet, sipped on a strong chai tea, and shaved my legs while I took my shower!  Today is going to be a good arthritis day!! 

Once arriving at work I started in with the refiling of all those files.  Box after box I lugged them onto my rolly cart, filed them, flattened the box for the recycle bin, and started the process all over again.  About at box 5 I started noticing the familiar burn.  When I was in the army that burn was a good thing.  It meant you were pushing yourself to the max, building strength and endurance.  Now that burn is the precursor to a bad day.  I could feel my feet starting to swell, my shoulders and hips getting that deep in the joint pain and my lower back throbbing.  Due to that old Army mentality that my drill sergeants so dutifully programmed into my head I pushed through.  By box 10 my fingers were tingling, my toes were seizing up, and my feet had swollen enough that my flip flops were in danger of leaving permanent indentations in my feet.  I was pretty sure railroad workers were pounding those ginormous railroad nails into my hips, and my back could have been the base beat at a rave.  Yep over did it again so off to home we go.

On my way home I stopped at Tom Thumb since my day on the couch yesterday consumed all my bottled water.  Any of you that have spent time in DFW during the summer know that the water stinks when the heat starts rising.  I don't just mean the quality but it actually smells.  Something to do with algae in the reservoirs.  Now I'm not really a water snob.  I've drank out of the tap all over the world and survived to tell the story, but my boyfriend is a plumber and has convinced us we really need to drink bottled water.  All that is really neither here now there, but to say I needed water.  I get a stocker to help me load it into my cart (impromptu walker) and waddle my way to the front of the store. On the way I find Ben & Jerry's on sale (score!) so my slow trip from water to check out felt a bit like a blessing and a curse.  At the checkout the nice young man rings up my water and ice cream and of course asks if I'd like help out.  It always amuses me the expression I get when I say "yes, yes I would".  I probably should be insulted to some degree, but I am blessed with a dry, cynical, and sometimes cruel sense of humor.  I tell him I need help and I can see the almost double take, the scan up and down to see what could possibly be wrong with me, and the thought process across the boy's face that says he thinks I'm just a high maintenance lazy house wife.  There isn't anyone to help me right there so he announces my laziness over the intercom.  At this point I'm ready for a full on show of just how screwed up I am.  The poor kid who ended up helping me was either cursing the 20 minute walk to the 4th parking space from the door or thrilled that he got an extra break for the day.

And now here we are.. On the couch, vicodin consumed, Ben & Jerry's in the freezer missing yet another partial day at work.  Someday I'll learn not to "push through the pain".  Hopefully the Humira I started last week will kick in soon.  My daughter said last night that my skin looks better than it has in months so I have hope!

Info on Humira.. One of the biological medications used for PA.