I'm gonna start this off by saying I know people have it worse than me, no doubt. I am reminded everyday. If I turn on the news I see crime and murders and I thank God I live in a nice place where my child can go outside and play. When I go to the cancer center for my treatment and I see people with no hair, paper thin, dying of cancer. When I look around Julia's classroom and see the kids that worry if they will get dinner that night. People in my everyday life struggling with an illness also, or money problems, or relationship problems. I have it good and I know it.
I have noticed we live in a world of complainers. I'm not referring to the people that talk about their car breaking down, or a tree falling on their house, or a family member passing, you get the idea. Those people for the most part are positive they just have little little set backs. I'm talking about those negative Nellies. That always have the stupidest complaints about really nothing but it consumes their world. Those people with a 24 hour "why me?" negative attitude. Those people I just wanna shake and say live a day in my shoes. Your bad day is still better than my best day.
A good day for me is actually getting out of the house seeing family and friends or running errands. On those good days I still have the everyday complications of RA. On a good day I still lay in bed, not moving, looking around the room, knowing when I decide to use one of my many joints they will be stiff and painful. Sometime I lay there for a good hour because I don't want to move. On a good day I still have to rest while getting ready. Shower, rest, make up, rest, hair, rest, get dressed, now I'm ready for a nap. I'm not supposed to drive long distances because of the exhaustion so around town is it.
A good treatment day. I always stop and get my Dunkin iced caramel coffee. I check in at the front desk and pay my $50 (which adds up with all these treatments). I walk in and I find my seat and make sure my IV pole is on my left side. I wait for a nurse nervously as I know the pain involved. The nurse comes over and removes the pain patch I have covering my port because it's sitting on my brachial nerve (it runs across your chest and the nerves down to your fingertips branch off of it). I recline my chair and pull my shirt down so the port can be accessed. I feel the iodine and alcohol being rubbed over my port. It's moving around under my skin. The nurse palpitating the area pushing down on the port and moving it side to side to get a good grip on it. Now I'm getting sore. I see the one inch thick ass needle with a hook on the end coming at me and I reach for a hand to squeeze. Deep breath. Needle punctures skin followed by about 10 lbs of pressure. Shooting pains behind my breast and all down my arm. My port is difficult and sometimes they have to repeat this process a few times. Now I wait. Exhaustion will soon set in. 2 1/2 hours just sitting in a chair, veggin. I see other RA patients. Walking around, full of energy because their meds are working. Trying put the frustration out of my head. Time passes and the IV is done. I leave, leaning on my cane for support because I'm drained. Home we go.
Show me your bad day...I'll show you my good days.