Instead, I will write…

It’s been a very long weekend. As predicated my husband went to work at 8am & is not expected home until sometime in the wee small hours of tomorrow morning. The boys have been pretty good to be fair to them, but my patience was wearing thin by dinnertime. Even when I finally get them to bed there is still a bunch of chores to do before I can relax.

Tomorrow is getting closer. My Rheumatologist only see’s me between regular appointments if he has cause to be concerned about something. Tomorrow he is seeing me when he doesn’t even have a clinic day. This means he is concerned & wants to help me get well again as soon as possible. It is now 4 months since my knee flared up. It is possible that very soon I am going to have it injected with steroids – something I probably should have agreed to do a couple of months ago. The thought of having this procedure scares me. I know what it’s like to have joints injected, it can be excruciating.

I’m sure when he sees it he will agree that this is what needs to be done. It is what my orthopedic surgeon suggests. I currently have two physicians trying to do what is best for me, because I fall between two specialties. The really worrying part is that the type of arthritis I have does not usually flare up in knees, or other limbs for that matter, therefore the question I hope can be answered tomorrow is, ‘why in me?’

I know that question may never be answered. I have been a bit atypical from the beginning, so it shouldn’t be a surprise that something like this has happened. It still doesn’t make it any easier; ‘it’ is bad enough without other parts of me getting involved. Right now I’m sat here with a cat on my feet, & my dog snuggled by my side, kids asleep, & no prospect of seeing hubby for a comforting hug, & I could really use a glass if wine. I’m trying get out of the habit of pouring a glass most nights, especially when I feel like this – it’s not the answer. Instead I will write…

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