#HAWMC day two: abstemious

Abstemious: adj. \ab-STEE-mee-uhs\
1. Sparing in eating and drinking; temperate; abstinent.
2. Sparingly used or consumed; used with temperance or moderation.
3. Marked by or spent in abstinence.

Having psoriatic arthritis is a study in refraining. Though I often try to concentrate on everything I can do rather than what I can’t, to be upbeat and make the people around me feel good about my having a chronic, incurable illness, part of being a health advocate means sometimes I have to make it crystal clear what having two lifelong conditions is like.

And, sometimes, it’s marked with things I can’t do, with things from which I must abstain.

Take alcohol, for instance. I am on methotrexate, that wonderfully toxic drug that somehow lets me function more like a normal human being. But it brings with it the potential for liver damage. Since I like my liver and I’d like it to continue working, I have to cut out other things that have the potential to harm it. This is where me abstaining from alcohol comes in. This is harder than I thought it would be. Even though my parents, say, and my in-laws know I can’t drink—and know why—they all still insist on offering me glasses of wine or cosmopolitans. And, yes, I’ll admit that now and then I indulge. But for the most part, it’s not worth it.

Then there are days when I want to abstain from everything. Days my meds aren’t working the way they should and days when I’d love to hit pause on my life and just sleep until I felt better. But in all honesty, I take methotrexate and many other pills so that I don’t have to abstain from doing most of the things I love. And that makes giving up the few things I do have to let go that much easier, in the long run.

#HAWMC day one: acrostic

Though I am a few days late, I’m jumping on the WEGO Health Health Activist Writer’s Month Challenge. To rub? Write a post a day on a topic decided by the lovely people over at WEGO Health.

The first post? Write an acrostic poem using your disease. For once, I’m kind of jealous of Kerri for her diabetes. (Because it’s short, people! Geez.)

Without further ado, Psoriatic Arthritis: The Poem.

People often think psoriasis is contagious,

Something that can be caught from shaking hands.

Oh, how I wish they’d wake up and realize this:

Read my lips: The stupidity is more than I can stand!

I didn’t get the P because I don’t shower,

And PsA isn’t something that afflicts the old,

Tis true, they are both the result of the same power: an

Immune system that’s totally out of control.

Caring people can still make my burden lighter,

Although most days I need lots of pills, too;

Rarely predictable, this has turned me into a fighter,

To seem normal, a lot of acting I must do.

Help—though I may need it—is hard to ask for,

Running fast, just to stay in place.

It may seem strange to work so hard to go nowhere,

To use all my spoons to stay afloat,

It all seems worth it when I can be there

Stuck between the healthy and those in my same boat.