What is this nausea in my big toe?
On my left foot. Right
Now. How dare that toe mimic
The sickness of my hands?
This toe-nausea burps memories
All buried in the far deepest
pit of my mind. I’ve
dreamt-begged the source
To never never return never.
But now I have this big toe that
longs to puke. I move it, slow
With my breath held but it
Rewards me with pulsing throbs
And I cannot believe it.
I visited my rheumatologist last Saturday morning. My blood tests finally match how I feel, with a wildly elevated sed rate and CRP levels. Seems stupid to feel so triumphant, but I can’t help it because now there’s proof the pain’s not all in my head.
So much for that remission I already knew I wasn’t “in.”
My doc, a bit subdued, is increasing my Plaquenil dosage. It’s the only one of the three DMARDs I take every day that isn’t already maxed out. And I’m to start taking Lodine, an NSAID I’ve not tried before, as soon as it arrives in the mail.
Then I wait three months. Or maybe six, if I’m feeling exceptionally patient and brave in the face of growing pain and danger of disability. And then, if I still have belly-aches in my hands (and toes … sigh), we’re loading for bear. I’ll start shooting up Humira.
I’m shaking the threat of it at my grubby old dragon like a shaman’s rattle, hoping to scare him back into his pit again.
Shaking … from the threat of it, too.
Please forgive the bad poetry. Sometimes the ol’ mood demands it and I just have to give in.