Return of the TRex Arms

I don't know what I'm doing anymore.

And that needs to be ok.

I'm in one of the worst places someone with psoriatic arthritis could be: off treatment and waiting. Waiting for tests and test results and doctors to decide whether or not I can resume treatment. 

I was in the same place a couple years ago - off meds and undergoing testing on my liver. One day I noticed my arms were not functioning properly. I was in a ton of pain.  I took a nap. When I woke up and hour later, I couldn't lift my arms at all and the pain was excruciating. After a quick call to my parents, we were off  - my husband dropped me off at the ER and took the kids to their house for a sleepover, just in case my hospital stay was going to be more than a few hours.

Once in the ER, I was called to registration area and asked for my health insurance card. My tyrannosaurus rex arms elicited strange looks from the staff until I mentioned that the reason I was there was because my arms weren't working properly. Once in triage, the "How Do You Feel on a scale of one to ten" pain question was posited. I laughed, commenting that the Wong-Baker scale didn't go high enough for my particular pain level, and I didn't have a copy of the Brosh scale on me. The nurse commented that, for someone in pain, I certainly had a good sense of humor. I told her I figured I had two choices: I could cry, moan, complain, and make everyone around me miserable, or find the humor in my t-rex arms and the blessings of a caring family and hospital staff taking care of me, She said that was refreshing to hear. 

This morning I woke up with the same arm problems. I know from experience it just gets worse from here. 

I could dwell on this fact, or I can live my life to the fullest. I could wallow in my illness, or make the best of things. 

So I took a bunch of prednisone to start a taper, and moved on with my day, being mindful of pain and arm usage. Should my arms get worse, I know I can head to the ER for a couple shots of heavy duty meds I refuse to get prescriptions for and then be on my way. 

Now to figure out how to get around when neither my arms nor my legs are cooperating ... this should be interesting, but I'm sure we'll figure something out. 

I don't know what I'm doing, but that's ok. Life wouldn't be as interesting if I had everything figured out. 


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