A Journey Through the Early Days of RA: From Diagnosis to Adapting to Life
When I was 33 years old, my world changed dramatically. I was diagnosed with severe rheumatoid arthritis (RA), a condition that would become an intricate part of my daily life. At that time, I was a mother to two young sons—one was just 3 years old, and the other was a teenager of 13. Little did we know how much our lives were about to be tested.
One morning, I woke up and found that I couldn’t move from my neck down. Panic set in as I realized the gravity of my situation. My ex-husband had to help me out of bed, get me dressed, and navigate me down the stairs to the car. The journey to our GP’s office was arduous. Each step was a struggle, but we managed to arrive.
The GP observed me as I walked painfully down the hallway to the exam room. I described my symptoms: excruciating joint pain, stiffness in my hands, aching knees, and sore feet. The simple act of getting in and out of the car had become a Herculean task. My GP noted the warmth in my joints, the stiffness in my hands, and their tender nature. She informed me that I would need to see a rheumatologist, but it would take about six weeks to get an appointment.
At that time, I knew very little about arthritis. I had always associated it with elderly people and couldn’t comprehend that someone my age could suffer from it. Desperate for answers, I reached out to the Arthritis Society. I provided them with the scant details I had and they promised to send me information to help me better understand my condition.
The early days were incredibly exhausting. Each morning was a battle to start the day, and navigating through my daily routine became increasingly difficult. The first medication I was prescribed was a high dose of prednisone. It was potent and initially provided significant relief from the pain and stiffness. My oldest son went to school every day, and while I managed to get him ready, I found myself increasingly unable to keep up with the needs of my 3-year-old. Simple tasks like picking him up and holding him became impossible. Thankfully, he was old enough to climb onto my lap and offer me comforting hugs.
Every action, from cooking to washing dishes (without the convenience of a dishwasher), now involved dealing with pain, stiffness, and swelling. The medication, while effective in some ways, left me feeling an overwhelming fatigue that I had never experienced before. I was constantly fighting through the day, grappling with symptoms that I barely understood, and longing for my old life back.
As a family, we navigated through the uncertain early days of my diagnosis. I questioned how long this would last and clung to the hope that things would eventually get better. I used to be part of a recreational bowling league and wondered when I might be able to return to the sport I enjoyed. Initially, I hoped this ordeal would be as fleeting as the flu, but I was stunned when I learned from the Arthritis Society that RA was a chronic disease with no cure. The gravity of this realization was hard to digest.
At the time of my diagnosis, my husband and I were considering expanding our family, hoping for a daughter. The prospect of facing this chronic illness while pursuing that dream was daunting, and the road ahead seemed both uncertain and challenging.
This journey through the early days of RA was just the beginning, and adapting to this new reality became a significant part of our lives. Each day presented its own set of challenges and adjustments, but with time, resilience, and support, we learned to navigate this new path together.