The Girl With Arthritis

When you're tired, everything is painful. Joints are painful. Moving is painful. Colours, cold, light, and sound hurts too. Currently I'm curled up with a blanket because it's not nearly as painful as sitting up. Today is not a good day. It's odd how one day your on top of the world, and then the next day you don't think you can open your eyes, forget open the door and go out in the world. But you go out anyway, because you know you have to push on. And while you carry on, the world seems to want your attention more than ever. Things pop up from nowhere and need to be completed. People need you to be here and there and everywhere. And worse, pain demands to be felt. There are times I forget that despite youth promising energy, I still have arthritis and I am going to have days where I feel horrible. It's not so hard to push on than to accept reality. I'm a young kid. I want to go out and do things with my life. It's disappointing to have 'an old ...

A lot of people automatically call me Liz when they first hear my name. It's unfortunate for me, because I'm not too fond of the nickname. I prefer Elizabeth, that's just who I am. While I don't really correct friends anymore, I do introduce myself as Elizabeth and will correct them gently ("So Liz..." "Elizabeth, please."). And I do make a point to call another by the name they insist they like being called: I will never assume that Oliver prefers Ollie or that Grace doesn't enjoy her nickname. I'm not the type to really make assumptions. I don't assume everyone is healthy, but unfortunately a lot of people do. Someone once yelled at me for sitting on a train when there was clearly a disabled person in need of a seat: Himself (It was not visibly obvious he was handicap). I had put in a full day of stairs, walking and even running to catch a train and I was obviously exhausted. I'm quite aware he picked on me just because I'm yo...

A is for Arthur, who's full name is Juvenile Psoriatic Arthritis. B is for Biolgoic, of which is what I take. C is for Crash, which is what happens when I over do it. D is for DMARD, which a lot of people take. E is for Elizabeth, who enjoys writing her arthritis adventures for all to read. F is for Flare, of which Arthritis does sometimes. G is for Gentle, because that's how I treat my body. H is for Hospital, where I often am for Rheumatology and other fun. I is for Ice, because sometimes the cold helps. J is for Joints, that are often in pain. K is for Kind, as the people I meet through my blog. L is for Listen, so others can learn and spread word that we need a cure. M is for Methotrexate, who's name, relief and side effects are famous in the world of Arthritis. N is for NSAID, which dulls the pain sometimes. O is for Options, that we have because of growing research and scientific discoveries. P is for Paediatric, so we remember Children g...

Medicine has come a long way since it's very humble beginnings. I'd like to thank the people who invented life saving procedures and equipments. However, I have a message for the people who invented hospital gowns, Foley catheters, plasters (band aids) that are just TOO sticky, and braces that are extremely uncomfortable and inconvenient: I hate you. It's surprising how many things in medicine that are supposed to make us feel better, actually make everything feel worse. For example, after being injected with contrast for an MRI, the technician put a plaster over the injection site. After a bit, I decided to take it off. I didn't realise how sticky it was, so when I went the 'get it all over at once' method and just ripped it off.... Well, it looked like I burnt myself! My skin was so red and raw, I probably did take a layer of skin off. And, who likes the hospital gowns? They open in the back and you never know if you're giving the world a peek. I heard...

I carry a lot of guilt on my shoulders. 1.) I slow down the pace of life a lot for others. I feel like I ruin a lot for others. 2.) There are times I can't get up and do things so I often feel like a burden. 3.) I know the emotional toll arthritis has caused for my family and friends. I hate that I put them through that. 4.) I might have arthritis, but I know it's not as severe as some others who I've met. I've never needed surgery or braces or anything. I feel the immense guilt of not being able to relate and that I'm not strong enough because I'm complaining. 5.) I just take Enbrel and it's actually working.... Why did I find something? Why me? Why not someone who has it harder than me? 6.) I haven't  had a flare since I was eight. And I know people who are in and out of them. 7.) When people ask me how the arthritis is or how my medicines are working, I tend to bring down the mood. Even though it might be good news, people seem to always...

I haven't had a flare up since I was about eight, so rest assure that was a long time ago. It was also my only flare. I was in hospital for about 8 days due to it, but it was actually about two months long. At its peak, I had such a high fever I hallucinated a couple times. I actually didn't get diagnosed until a few  years later. I am very lucky, and I am grateful for that every single day Paediatric chronic pain, as well as adult pain, seems to be dismissed faster and takes longer to diagnose. Sometimes I wonder if doctors just think children are crying for attention or that parents are exaggerating or looking for attention. I know that a lot of people only believe in what they see and if there is proof. For doctors, it's no different. But sometimes I wonder if they have clouded vision when something such as pain is blatantly present.

I'm in a bit of a creative mood at the moment (though obviously not creative enought to create my own title). Today, as I sit and watch a medical series on television, it occured to me that the things doctors say make for some great entertainment. Just like what I'm watching: A man was brought into hospital but refused treatment. The doctor spent a long time trying to convince him that he needed immediate treatment, but the man refused. Walking away, the man collapsed and as the nurses were putting him on a gurney, the doctor said "You're all mine now." "You're all mine now." That sounds more like a mad scientist than a doctor. I think I would've been horrified if I were that man. Things ever said to me include (but are not limited to): "You better make sure the Methotrexate starts working soon." (I'll be sure to let my immune system know.) "Nothing appears to be wrong." (Oh really?) "I don't believe th...