Yesterday was actually a pretty decent day. Considering my wrists, hip and right knee could really feel the fall on Sunday’s excursion I was actually in a lot less pain than I expected. Despite not sleeping well, I had enough energy to function and even exercise. It wasn’t perfect and there were some complications but over all I felt like I might be on the “up” end.
Its been a few weeks since starting new meds and from what I’ve read, the Planquenil itself is usually in full effect by this point. I am really hopeful that at the very least the increase in energy (or rather lack of fatigue is a better way of putting it) as well as much less joint swelling is thanks to it and not just random luck.
Unfortunately I’ve learned that being hopeful about something that is completely out of my control can lead to some pretty emotional disappointment.
Today didn’t start off so great. It’s dreary, wet, cloudy and just gross outside. As anyone with SAD (seasonal affective dissorder) knows that even when the days start getting longer and lighter a morning full of clouds can drastically effect the overall mood of the day.
After turning on the lights, stretching out and attempting to just shake it off I recieved a phone call from my rheumatologist’s office requesting an appointment change as my doctor will be away when mine is scheduled. Now instead of May 2nd it’s May 19th. I just LOST IT.
I’m not even sure exactly why this was such a big deal. I mean May to begin with feels like forever a way (at least when you’re practically counting the seconds go by because every day feels like eternity). It’s not like there was anything special about the appointment, no promise of a miracle cure or new treatment guaranteed to put me back at 100% so why exactly was there all sorts of built up hope that May 2nd was such a good day anyways?
Maybe I did accidentally build it up in my head. That on May 2nd the tests would come back and the diagnosis was wrong, its something else that’s simple to fix. That she’d mention something new and exciting that would cure everything I suffer from and I could leave happy and healthy. I really don’t know.
I think it was a coping mechanism. Building up this date months away and subconsciously convincing myself that if I just waited for it, if I just managed to get by until then everything would be OK.
I think this is something that I’ve done before, and maybe something that many of us chronically ill people do. Whether on purpose or not we create false hope. Even fully knowing that is all it is, it somehow helps. Like giving a finish line, if we just keep going on truckin’ we will make it.
The problem is when the date is finally reached or it gets changed all of a sudden, reality sinks in. Do I create another finish line to cross? Do I need a date in mind to make it through each current day? Or am I ready to just face reality and stop holding onto false hope?