It all started about seven years ago.
I had just gotten home from an amazing vacation in Bermuda visiting some friends. I was sitting in my first class at a new school when I got the first twinges of what I would eventually be told was psoriatic arthritis. The nearly yearlong wait from first symptom to first rheumatologist appointment was horrific; the only thing my regular doctor would give me while I waited was an old-school prescription NSAID—so I mainlined that and took far more than the recommended daily dose of Aleve.
It’s crazy to think that one thing changed my life so drastically. I’ve had flares and good periods, been on so many drugs and met a ton of awesome people, in real life (thanks National Psoriasis Foundation volunteer conference) and online (thanks, blogging). But I guess it hasn’t changed much at the same time. I’m doing well in the field of my choice—one that’s demanding and difficult for the healthy. I’m married. And I’m happy.
As I sit here, thinking about my life and enjoying my drink of the month (a Dogfish Head Punkin Ale, yum), I’d say I’m doing pretty well for myself, with or without chronic illness. That’s not to say life is perfect—I’ve still got more pain and inflammation than I’d like, and I’m still grappling with some potentially life-altering decisions. But overall, life is pretty good. And I’ll take that.
