Uncertainty

I was worried sick before the beginning of school going into the third grade. Grades three through five were held in the mysterious upstairs portion of my elementary school and I had never been up those dark and daunting stairs. Where would my classroom be? What if I couldn't find the right room? What would happen if I wandered into the fifth grade class on accident? All of these things ate away at me day after day until the first day of school. I got off the bus and without incident ended up in the right classroom with the rest of the third graders.

Needless to say when my rheumatologist asked me how well I handle uncertainty there was a definite pause on my part. I was relieved when he said it was a leading question because, well, he is not a psychiatrist and most likely does not want to hear the musings of third grade Renee.

I have been experiencing symptoms for the past year that had my primary care physician refer me to a rheumatologist. My symptoms are vague but mostly consist of fatigue, muscle pain/weakness, symmetrical pain in most of my small joints and morning stiffness. (I suppose that it's what I get for giggling every time it was mentioned during therapeutics in college!) All of my lab work came back fine which to most people would be great, but it doesn't lend itself for an easy diagnosis. Here lies the uncertain part. I have been tentatively diagnosed with sero-negative mild rheumatoid arthritis and placed on medication to help with the swelling of my joints to prevent permanent tissue damage. My doctor is following up with more labs and I had a chest xray done as well. In the meantime, I will be back to see him in three months.

I was lucky enough to learn at a pretty early age that constant worrying about the unknown does not assist the outcome of the situation. (Thank goodness I didn't walk into the fifth grade classroom!) So I don't want anyone else (like you Mom) to worry either. We are all given our own tests in life and it is how we handle them that defines us. Now that doesn't mean that I'm not going to complain about how I feel on any given day, but I won't be complaining here. Fortunatley for me (not for her) my Aunt Jane was diagnosed with RA in 2001 and had already been like a great big hug to me.

For now I'm going to focus on things that are certain, like the mountain of laundry that needs to be folded and the two little boys downstairs with their dad who need to be tickled.