Seriously Dude?

Every morning , on my way to work, I drop B off at the high school.  We stop on our way to school and pick up his best friend, Chris.  B usually drives, since he's working towards a license in the spring.

This morning, Chris got into the back seat and said, "Dude! Where were you last night?  Why weren't you at rehearsal?"

"Dude!  Seriously? Rehearsal?" my mildly sleepy son repeated.

"Dude!" Chris admonished him, "Band practice!  Seriously!  For the concert tonight?  Where were you?"

"Dude!" said B, "I thought that was next week.  Oh crap!  Mom, we seriously have a concert tonight!"

I sighed as I recalled the old Rosanne Barr bit about some animals eating their young.  "What time do you need to be there tonight?" I asked them.

Silence.

"I dunno, Dude," Chris said.  "We'll check at school today.  Prolly around 6:30."

"I hope Mr. P isn't too pissed off at me for missing rehearsal, Dude," said B.

"Dude, he was like asking me where you were and stuff, and I was like I dunno Dude."

As B pulled up to the school, I asked them, "Can either of you use a sentence without DUDE in it?"

"Have a good day, Dude," my son told me with a self-satisfied smirk.  Apparently the answer to that question would be no, they can't.

(Please insert clever transition of subject here.  I can't think of one.}

If you Google Rheumatoid Arthritis (go ahead, you know you want to), you will get all kinds of crap, some very helpful information (mostly from the Mayo Clinic), lots of great blogs, and then a lot of propaganda-like misinformation from people who want to sell you supplements. The whole goal is managing your RA.  In fact, most of the articles you read are about how rheumatoid arthritis is managed.

I would like to know how one actually gets to the point of managing one's RA.  Mine is currently managing me, and I don't have it nearly as rough as some of the RA bloggers I read.  I can barely walk most of the time, and it hurts like hell when I do.  I smile and pretend I'm fine because it's too hard to explain to the other 300 people in our office who look at me strangely as I limp away.  But my hands, while stiff and swollen, still work.  I am still able to type fairly well, talk on the phone, attend meetings, and generally work all day even though I'm thoroughly and completely crispy fried to a crackly crunch at the end of it.  How long can I keep doing this?  I feel quite out of control with the physical manifestations of this disease.  RA decides how long it takes me to get ready in the morning.  It decides how early I go to bed at night.  It decides what's for dinner and even who is going to cook it.  RA decides if I'm going to attend a meeting or cancel it and reschedule and do that again four times before my boss thinks I'm avoiding a project.  RA stabs at me while in those meetings as it will jab me tonight at my son's band concert.  It will also decide if  I should sleep tonight and how well.  When and how do I get to the point of managing it instead of the other way around?

I know, I know.  It's a process.  I hear that a lot.  I'm just not enlightened enough for the "mindful journey" my lovely Buddhist daughter tells me this disease can be for me.  Have you ever tried to sit still and meditate when you're in a great deal of pain?  I know they say it can help, but it's hard for me to clear my mind of the "Ouch, oh crap, ouch," mantra that takes over the rest of my day.  I don't want to be mindful of my pain, thank you.  I'd rather have mindless oblivion, but I'm not going to get that while trying to function all day.  Dude!  Seriously?  How does this get managed?  My doc has been trying.  The meds are supposed to be kicking in.  But they aren't yet.

And my husband just let me know that he's going to leave work a couple of hours early and get a nap before the band concert.  He's really tired.  Dude!  Seriously?  I can't do that.  I am resentful and jealous as hell that he can not only leave work merely because he feels like napping, but that he's healthy and doesn't need one anywhere near as badly as I do right now.  See?  Failing at marriage #2...

Dude.  Seriously.

RA

Ok, here comes the bitching about rheumatoid arthritis.  Don't say you weren't warned.  (This doesn't require advice or sympathy, and heaven help you if you try to offer it.  Just understand.  I just need to get this off my chest because everyone else is tired my moping and groaning.)

This whole diagnosis is really craptacular.  I'm not sure what I expected, but it wasn't this.  I knew a little bit about RA prior to getting that life sentence, but nothing like I know now.  I thought it would get better once it was diagnosed and treated.  Silly me!  I genuinely like the rheumatologist I've got.  He's sharp, he's kind, and he's not the least bit condescending.  He's also not FIXING it, and I really wanted him to.  I don't think he's failing me.  I just don't think my expectations were realistic.  My personal medical experience prior to all the crap that led up to this diagnosis consisted of giving birth twice without drugs and the usual flu/cold type stuff.  I was totally unprepared for constant pain that only appears to be getting worse rather than better with treatment.  He said it would take a while for the methotrexate to kick in, and that I needed to be patient.  OK, I've done that for several months.  I also started taking prescription NSAIDS.  When it gets really bad, I go on a burst of prednisone that slows down the needle-like stabs in my joints, but doesn't stop them altogether.  My hands are getting MORE stiff rather than less.  The pain that started out in the knuckles of my feet has spread upward into the small bones and ankles.  Do you know how many bones we have in our feet?  I'm pretty sure each and every one of those tiny joints is now flaring.  My feet are incredibly ugly, not that they were ever attractive.  They're feet, after all.  But is this really necessary?

I blame myself.  Yes, I know they don't know what causes RA or how to cure it, but I must have done something to deserve this, right?  I didn't eat the right things, and I overeat.  I don't exercise enough.  I did too many stupid drugs in college that had probably been sprayed with atrazine.  I didn't say my prayers every night.  I was often a smartass as a kid, and I was rude to my parents.  I didn't appreciate better health when I had it. I did something six or seven lifetimes back that has me getting keel-hauled on the wheel of Samsara.  I wrote a bad check once, but it was an accident, and I paid the bank fees.  Or maybe I'm just possessed by demons.  Whatever the fuck it is, I'm truly sorry now.  Could the universe just accept my apology so that we can move on?  I am not the sort of person who is made stronger by terrible trials.  (Is anyone really, or do we just say that in a lame attempt to comfort ourselves and one another?)   I know I'm not made stronger by adversity.  I'm made a bit more cynical perhaps.  Sometimes I can even find some really dark humor in it all, but I don't need further character building.  I don't freaking have the strength or character required to deal with rheumatoid arthritis.  UNCLE!  I give!  I've had enough NOW LET ME UP!

Still not working, is it?  Sigh.