Pull My Finger - The Saga Continues
It turns out my finger may be swollen for a reason. My doctor called me tonight at 4:30 to tell me I had elevated levels of rheumatoid factor, the factor that determines a propensity toward rheumatoid arthritis. I'm thinking this is crap because I was just at the gym and felt fine but wow....that's just shit. Have you ever noticed how doctors always call you on a Friday with something like this? It's like they want you to spend your entire weekend bummed out.
I googled rheumatoid arthritis. Big mistake. On Wikipedia it says people diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis are unable to work within 10 years. I'm not sure if that means people who work in a circuit board assembly factory or all people. Like if you work as say an usher in a movie theater, tear tickets, point to theater number 2, then could I still work? Sure rug weaving or make-up artistry are out for me. But I was never really in so I guess I can deal.
About ten years ago I went to see an ophthalmologist referred by a client. He was her brother-in-law or some other loose affiliation. I went in to get my eyes checked, no big deal. So he comes in all jolly in his faux Southern way and takes a look. Gets noticeably more serious and takes another look. Serious again and then says I have swelling of the optic nerve. So I'm thinking take two aspirins and call me in the morning.
Nope. Referred me to Duke Medical Center toute de suite. Turns out swelling of the optic nerve is a sign of a brain tumor. So I sat through a CAT Scan and if you haven't done that you really should. Particularly for the hyper set like myself, it is something. You have to sit still for a long time, stuffed in a tube while an IV is running into your arm and you're hearing a loud banging like a jackhammer. Not like a good New York jackhammer where you're probably close to a great slice of thin crust pizza if you just follow the banging. A CAT Scan is really loud because you're basically strapped into an echo chamber, no pizza in sight.
Anyway, it turns out I just have a weird optic nerve and all is well. No brain tumor. So I'm hoping for more of the same. Misdiagnosis on a Friday. But it still scares the crap out of me. First of all rheumatoid arthritis is a disease that seriously limits motion. And anyone who knows me knows I am constantly in motion. I can't sit still. Then there is the whole fear of an early death because I have this sort of second wind timeline that involves my living at least another 30 years and joining the Peace Corps at 60. I'm not going to make it to Namibia at 60 if I'm disabled.
I know I said I was the Wile E. Coyote of my own life and I have various and sundry martyr tendencies. But I don't really want to die early or be disabled. I want another chance. I want to be grand and fat and old. I want to be like those two crazy British women who ate duck fat all the time. Regrettably one of them died early with good reason but I want all of that. I will have that.
I'm spinning at 9:45 tomorrow so screw you arthritis!
I googled rheumatoid arthritis. Big mistake. On Wikipedia it says people diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis are unable to work within 10 years. I'm not sure if that means people who work in a circuit board assembly factory or all people. Like if you work as say an usher in a movie theater, tear tickets, point to theater number 2, then could I still work? Sure rug weaving or make-up artistry are out for me. But I was never really in so I guess I can deal.
About ten years ago I went to see an ophthalmologist referred by a client. He was her brother-in-law or some other loose affiliation. I went in to get my eyes checked, no big deal. So he comes in all jolly in his faux Southern way and takes a look. Gets noticeably more serious and takes another look. Serious again and then says I have swelling of the optic nerve. So I'm thinking take two aspirins and call me in the morning.
Nope. Referred me to Duke Medical Center toute de suite. Turns out swelling of the optic nerve is a sign of a brain tumor. So I sat through a CAT Scan and if you haven't done that you really should. Particularly for the hyper set like myself, it is something. You have to sit still for a long time, stuffed in a tube while an IV is running into your arm and you're hearing a loud banging like a jackhammer. Not like a good New York jackhammer where you're probably close to a great slice of thin crust pizza if you just follow the banging. A CAT Scan is really loud because you're basically strapped into an echo chamber, no pizza in sight.
Anyway, it turns out I just have a weird optic nerve and all is well. No brain tumor. So I'm hoping for more of the same. Misdiagnosis on a Friday. But it still scares the crap out of me. First of all rheumatoid arthritis is a disease that seriously limits motion. And anyone who knows me knows I am constantly in motion. I can't sit still. Then there is the whole fear of an early death because I have this sort of second wind timeline that involves my living at least another 30 years and joining the Peace Corps at 60. I'm not going to make it to Namibia at 60 if I'm disabled.
I know I said I was the Wile E. Coyote of my own life and I have various and sundry martyr tendencies. But I don't really want to die early or be disabled. I want another chance. I want to be grand and fat and old. I want to be like those two crazy British women who ate duck fat all the time. Regrettably one of them died early with good reason but I want all of that. I will have that.
I'm spinning at 9:45 tomorrow so screw you arthritis!
Labels: blog, rheumatoid arthritis
posted by Beck at
2:18 PM
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