Now, on to the shits and giggles of this post. Remember how I was suggested to the exclusive and often times elusive DUKE Rheumatology? Remember how a couple of months ago all I could be scheduled for was late November? Remember how my doctor told me to call them everyday until I got in? I decided I did not have the energy to call, so I decided against it and I was going to wait my time. Well, an odd twist of events happened. A couple of days after my surgery Duke called. I was a bit spaced out on Demarol and the nurse told me that after reviewing my file I am considered a "critical care patient". My fuzziness was kind like "oh, okay thanks for calling". The nurse laughed and asked if I was okay and I stated how I just had surgery and was out of it. She said she would get what she needed from my current Rheumy and I couldn't remember how I left off with that lady. Hell, my fuzziness did not even remember her name or number or where I wrote it down. This past week DUKE called again and said since I was a "critical care" patient the doctor could see me September 10th! September 10th?!?! I laughed and said that is what critical gets you bumped up to? The nurse even laughed. She apologized but I said well I guess that is better than late November. Hopefully I get moved up even further because this past week Rita took a Rheumatological dump.
Summer sucks for Rita. I know warm (here is more like blistering) weather helps other RA patients' joints and bones.....mine being a hell raiser is opposite. Rita just despises the heat and she definitely takes it out on me. While others were enjoying 4th of July festivities of eating, swimming, and playing....Rita decided to attack my ankles with full swelling force. Whew, did she ever. My feet were literally swelling out of my shoes. I was in so much pain and my ankles locked due to the massive amounts of swelling. My fiance was down for the 4th and even through my pain, crankiness, and disfigurement he still loves me and tells me I am beautiful. I don't think many men sign up for women with what I consider to be more than cankles...it's more like club ankles. My mom wanted me to document my swelling for DUKE.
I laughed because I still feel like I have to prove to doctors that I have RA. Why and what gives with that is beyond me. All of my numbers light up and yell "HELLO THIS BODY IS AT WAR!" and my joints show it too but I still have that mindset that I have to fight to prove. It's a weird feeling that I cannot really describe. I guess it goes back to my childhood and telling my parents that "my legs hurt". They were telling me it was growing pains. Then they took me to the doctors when my knees were the size of watermelons and no doctor took the time to hear them out. So, I went many many years undiagnosed and in pain without crucial meds to help get my immune system under some sort of normalcy.
Weird how past medical hangups get you now. Not many normal healthy people have those types of hangups ahaha.
Here are pictures of my documented club ankles.
I really get grossed out by Rita and looking at the swelling and disfigurement with your own eyes is one thing, but seeing the proof through the lens of a camera is another.