This One is For the Diseased

Spring does not look kindly upon those with autoimmune diseases. Perhaps it is because of the changing seasons, or maybe it's because of the finicky weather, but for whatever reason, the spring months usually bring with them a host of aches and pains that for many, including myself, settle in the bones and joints.

I've been waking up stiff and sore for months now. One morning last week, I woke up to find that I couldn't open my left hand.

"Look!" I said, jabbing my husband with my new club.
"That's very impressive," he said and put the pillow over his head.

Getting the kids ready for school proved to be a challenge. Everyone poured their own cereal which resulted in a volcano of Honeycomb the size of Mount St. Helens.

"That's enough!" I yelled and swatted the box of cereal out of my son's hands with such force that its contents sprayed across the kitchen floor.

There are certain advantages to having one's hand curled permanently into a claw.

After breakfast, I called my next door neighbor Sandy, who has severe Rheumatoid Arthritis and a hot tub that I covet. When she didn't pick up the phone, I sauntered over to her house and pounded on her door. To preserve my status as the most sickly neighbor, it was imperative that she see my claw.

"I know you're in there!" I called. No answer.

It was lunchtime before Sandy made an appearance. I practically tripped over myself running outside to greet her.

"Where were you this morning?" I wanted to know.

That's when Sandy told me that her knees were so stiff that her husband had to lift her out of bed. Later in the morning, she got on the toilet only to find that she couldn't get herself off of it.

After hearing about Sandy's morning, I put away my claw and slouched back home, defeated.

How, after all, am I supposed to compete with that?

***
To my fellow diseased readers: I hope you're hanging in there. Summer is almost here.!