I had one week before my rheumatologist appointment, meaning one week to Google every related illness and RA horror story known to man. Cancer? Lupus? Rheumatoid Arthritis? Something worse? Permanent disability, 10-15 years off your life, systemic disease spreading, scary drugs, high medical bills. I read it all.
It was probably one of the scariest weeks of my life. I cried myself to sleep and came to terms with the worst case scenarios. High medical bills? I was about to turn 29 and loved my apartment, but I could move back home with my parents to save money. Disability? This one gave me shivers, but I could deal. I could work from home some days and adapt as necessary. Not being able to have children? This one sucked. It was a hard one to think about, but I even made peace with perhaps never having children of my own.
On Thursday, one day before my appointment, I got the call from the lab. “We got your results, and based on your blood tests, which show you’ve tested high for Rheumatoid Factor and Anti-CCP, we believe you have Rheumatoid Arthritis.”
“Shit,” I thought. “Um, OK, um…Thanks,” I said. I’d read, I’d mentally prepared myself for a range of diseases and this one wasn’t as bad as some of the possibilities, but it still stung. It still ripped me apart and made me wonder, “Now what?”
Apparently “now what” is spending the night at my parents like a kid and getting all my tears out, so that I wouldn’t cry at my appointment the next day. I was DETERMINED not to cry at the doctor’s. And, guess what? I didn’t. But that appointment’s the topic for another blog.