GOLF BALLS, GOLD, AND GOD

It’s very strange and remarkable how the human brain works. And although my brain isn’t all that remarkable in and of itself, the impact that a diagnosis had on it amazes me still today

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For several years I had been experiencing vague symptoms that no one could figure out. Once the culprit was pinpointed, however, the disease reared its hideous head and attacked in full force. To say that it staggered me is a pitiful understatement. It was more like something picked me up and slammed me into a wall of bricks.

Our apartment in Germany was floored with some type of tile material. It had a slight give to it, but it could never be described as cushioned. I invested in several large room-sized rugs, but the long hallway separating the master bedroom to the bathroom remained mostly bare.

Within a few weeks of the tentative diagnosis of RA (several of my blood chemistry tests indicated a possibility of Lupus); I was barely able to walk without shoes. It felt like someone had slipped golf balls under the skin of my feet, where my metatarsal bones had previously resided. The pain was horrible, but I think the surprise was even worse. I would arise every morning and “ouch!” and “oof!” my way to the bathroom, bent nearly double and holding on to the wall the entire trip.

To say it was painful is a laugh. And I did laugh, but only in an effort to keep from crying. If you want a good idea of what it was like, fill your tennis shoes with marbles and run around the block a couple of times. Or have a major league player use your feet for batting practice and then try walking. Either way, you should get some idea of that which I speak. Mind numbing pain. But as bad as it was, other things were happening within my body that could draw my attention away from it.

The doctors had tried starting me out on massive doses of coated aspirin. There were a number of other drugs, too. It’s been so long ago, I can’t recall, but I know I was taking handfuls of pills several times a day. The ecotrin may have helped some, but I mostly remember constant tinnitus and bouts of blacking out upon standing.

Within a few short months I began seeing a Rheumatologist, and he immediately started me on gold shots. There were two choices at that time; solganol, or myochrysine. Solganol was a thick, viscous, dull yellow fluid that was supposed to slowly make its way through the body. Of course, it didn’t work that way with me. Doc would stab the needle into my backside, and immediately my mouth tasted like I was sucking on pennies. He couldn’t understand it. Nor could he understand it when I began having side effects that had only been reported in users of myochrysine. That was the first time I heard the phrase, “You’re not the typical patient.” It’s happened many, many times since then. I wonder if all rheumatoid patients are atypical.

I don’t know if the gold was effective in any way, because the pain and swelling continued to increase. For the first time in my life I began to be plagued with constant fear of someone assaulting me. Possibly it was side-effects from the drugs, I don’t know. But I would hobble down the sidewalk and think, “What if someone decided to mug me? What if they knocked me down? It would hurt soooo very bad. And I don’t know if I could get back up again.”

I know that’s absolutely weird! But that’s how my mind was malfunctioning at the time. Most of my joints were screaming in pain already. I was just trying to keep most of the noise inside. But my elbows didn’t want to straighten out. My fingers could barely manage the keyboard (and I desperately needed to keep my job!) Walking was becoming a feat of epic proportions. And picking up my child brought tears to my eyes.

Aside from feelings of frustration and humiliation (have you ever had to ask your husband to help you brush your teeth, or help you up from the toilet?) I was angry. I was so very angry at God for making me go through this trial. And I don’t handle anger very well, especially when it’s directed at someone who has never failed me.

So now I have added shame to my list. And more fear. I didn’t know if I was going to be able to move if things continued as they were. The doctor warned me that if we didn’t get the disease under control, I would end up in a wheelchair in a few short years. I was thinking more in terms of months, and a few times I was looking forward to it. It would cut down on the pain of walking, at least.

But I mostly feared my anger. I’m an emotionally driven person, so whatever I feel, I do it with gusto. This level of anger was something totally alien to me. And I didn’t want to be angry with God. He might decide to zap me with a lightning bolt out of heaven. That thought had merit at times. Just put me out of my misery, please!

Of course, He didn’t. He got me through the anger. Well, different drugs had a big role in that, too. But it would be years later before that happened.

I truly don’t want to stop on a negative thought. Suffice it to say that it’s been a long journey, and now I hope that it lasts for many years to come. There is so much in my life to be thankful for, and in a very strange, twisted way, RA has played an important, but unwelcome, part in all of it.

I hope your week is blessed. I hope I will be able to return for another episode next week. We’re all the way up to the letter H. I have no clue what that’s going to be about.

Harmony