After another lonnnnng night of flipping from one hip to the other, over and over again to relieve the ache, I got up stiff, in pain and grumbling again this morning. I don’t like to grumble, so the fact that I was doing it just made me even more grumbly.
But then I thought, “Hey. You’re stiff and achy, but you did just roll right out of bed. Lots of people with RA can’t do that. They have to lay there for a long time, hurting like hell, before they can work up enough courage to face the pain and make their bodies move. Be glad.”
And so I am. My RA is being pretty decent to me right now, keeping its presence down to random stabs and twinges. Hands ache, but tolerably, and there’s no impairment. I’m glad. Grateful. Believe me.
It’s the hip bursitis driving me nuts and ruining my sleep each night. And as we all know, missed sleep only sets us up for more pain, which causes more missed sleep, which… you get my drift. I’m doing the stretching exercises Joe assigned me religiously. I’m icing and heating. But I hurt a little more each day.
So I’m grumbly.
I can walk. Maybe not for long distances, and I can’t stay on my feet for more than 20 minutes or so before the pain goes ugly, but I can walk. Lots of people with RA can’t. I’ve been there. I’ve been through times when every single step was unbelievable agony. I’ve been totally immobilized by pain. But not now. I can walk. I can move.
I’m grateful. It’s a blessing.
The pain I’m dealing with in my hips is like loud background noise. Mostly, I’m used to it and don’t hear it anymore. But now and then it intrudes, rudely, snapping my attention to it. I growl and do my best to ignore it. Mostly, I’m successful.
In the past, I’ve had rheuma pain that, as hard as I tried, I couldn’t ignore. The pain became my world; I lived within its filter. It filled my every waking moment and colored every perception.
I’m deeply grateful that this bursitis pain, as mean as it is, isn’t as bad as that. So grateful.
Up at my house in Camino, it’s snowing and it’s been snowing off and on for weeks. Steve, Matt and Cary have had to dig out their cars and put chains on to get to work and to the grocery store. But here at Mom’s place in the low foothills, it’s only raining. It’s 20 degrees warmer down here. She has central heat. I don’t have to cart heavy firewood into the house from the woodpile or feed the woodstove to stay warm.
So, stop with the grumping, I tell myself. Chin up, chest out and all that rot. Smile. I’ll see the pain doctor in a couple of days. He may have a solution; I live in hope. And later next week, I’ll see Joe again. Maybe he’ll have some more ideas, too. More hope. Bursitis, unlike rheumatoid arthritis, is curable.
Grumbling begets grumbling. I’m determined to stop doing it.