For the past few weeks, I haven’t been writing or blogging. Thankfully, it’s not writer’s block. It’s more personal.
After years of seeing specialists and enduring countless diagnostic tests, I was finally diagnosed with Rheumatoid Arthritis.
In so many ways, it’s a relief. And a vindication. For years, my primary doctor and I were convinced that there was something systemic and persistent wrong with me, but so many specialists treated me like I was nothing more than an overly-sensitive, dramatic female. My blood tests were normal, so clearly I was fine, right?
Except I wasn’t.
And I had the fevers to prove it.
God bless my allergist, he wasn’t satisfied with things either. He ran a number of new tests, and one of those came back abnormal. Twice. It wasn’t enough to diagnose anything, but it proved that something truly was wrong. My primary doctor was tired of dealing with specialists who didn’t take my case seriously, so he sent me to see the Chief of Rheumatology for a major hospital.
My new rheumatologist is amazing. He’s higher ranking than any rheumatologist I’ve seen, but he has shown the most compassion and concern. For a year, he’s seen me once a month. For the past two months – as my symptoms flared up despite strong medications – he’s been on the phone with me once a week. And with the data he collected by sticking with me all that time, he was finally able to diagnose Rheumatoid Arthritis.
And lots of homework. The past few weeks have been taken up with appointments, research, insurance paperwork, and jumping through hoops with a specialty pharmacy.
I’ve been in the weeds for a bit.
I’ve still got a few more hurdles to tackle, but I’m itching to get back to my writing as soon as possible. It’s a compulsion for me, and the best therapy I know.
See you back here soon!