It's been the better part of a month and I've blogged absolutely nothing. Wow. If you recall my previous blog, I used to post something nearly every day. I can't even claim I've been too busy or too flare-y from the RA. I've been too lazy and had nothing much constructive to say, I guess.
Rheumatoid Arthritis seems to be moving through my system like wildfire, and the Enbrel doesn't seem to be having much effect. I've heard various frightening things about diminishing returns - if you start on one biologic and it doesn't do you any good, you're not going to get much better on another. My rheumatologist seems to think he can still get me comfortable and functional. I like the man, but I'm starting to lose faith.
My husband is tired of the RA and pretty much just wants the old wife I used to be. He doesn't like this version. She's got too many problems and doesn't do as much. I think my son feels pretty much the same.
Oh, lord. I'm wallowing in self-pity. I really don't feel that badly right now. Just a bit discouraged.
I've been talking to one of my dearest friends during my commute in the morning through the miracles of cell phone and Skype. I can't tell you how much that improves my days! She and I have a long and colorful history, and I miss her so terribly. The sound of her voice and her recent company have been enormously helpful.
My family of origin, however? Batshit crazy as always. I talked to my sister the other night and found myself laughing (aloud and quite inappropriately) at her complaints. It never ceases to amaze me that my family can turn a garden hose into a major international incident without an real provocation. I love them, though.