I thought it was about time that I told you the full story of my diagnosis. Really, it all started with a finger. The middle finger on my left hand to be exact. It was the summer before my freshman year of college. I was working at a summer camp and just enjoying the idea of the upcoming freedom I was about to experience when I first felt pain in my finger. At first I thought I had broken it, and I just kept it bandaged up in a finger splint for a while.
Then I started having problems with my feet, but I attributed that to walking around in flip flops and on hot sand all summer. (I’m from southern California and spent most of my summers at the beach.) Halfway through the summer I went to visit my future college for “Summer Welcome” (a program the school put on where it brought all the incoming freshman together to learn about the university). It was during that trip that I started experiencing pain in my left arm and shoulder.
That is when it became too much. I knew something was wrong, and talked to my doctor about what it could be. He advised taking a large dose of Advil and thought it could be a viral problem. I was leaving for my university so soon, however, that there wasn’t much more my doctor could do. Instead, my mother took action (have I mentioned how amazing she is?) and set me up with a rheumatologist at school. Unfortunately, the appointment wasn’t scheduled for quite a while.
When I first got to school, I got swept up in sorority rush, meeting new friends and getting use to being on my own. Within a few days, however, I started to feel it. I remember going to one sorority on one of the later days of recruitment and being in so much pain that I was a complete jerk to the girls I was talking to. Needless to say, I was not asked to join that house. (Luckily, I did find an amazing sorority to become a part of and met some amazing people through it.)
Looking back on it, it is a bit silly what took me to get to doctor.
One of the guys I became friends with in the dorm ended up having to go to the emergency room due to a not-very-serious problem with a toe that became swollen, so I decided to go with him. Kind of as an afterthought. Yeah, I said it was a bit silly.
So when I went there the doctor gave me some mild pain killers (not much better than my Advil) and told me to go to the university’s health center ASAP. So I did. And they drew blood, gave me some drugs for the pain and soon after I was diagnosed with RA (and my rheumatologist appointment was moved up through some pressure from the health center).
I remember getting the call saying my blood work had come back, and I had RA. Part of my kind of knew it was coming, but part of me was really scared. I remember calling my parents in a sort of shock and telling leaving a message on their answering machine. My mom kept that message on the machine for a long time (she may actually still have it; I’m not sure).
At that point, my parents thought I was going to come home from college. But as hard as it was, I knew I couldn’t leave. I couldn’t return home to just sit in my room. I knew I wasn’t going to let my life be ruled by my diagnosis. I had RA, but I also had a lot more. I had made friends at school. I had one of the most amazing roommates. (So many people have horror stories about freshman year roommates, but mine was the best roommate I could ever imagine. She was so understanding about the exhaustion that came with RA and helped make my life so much easier. I was really lucky) I had joined a great sorority. I was going to one of the most beautiful universities in the U.S. And I was in some incredible classes. I knew I had to stay.
So I did. They had me on prednisone for about nine months (read my post about prednisone to learn more about my experiences with the drug), but I eventually was able to get off it and was just on Enbrel and methotrexate for a while. I am now on methotrexate, Humira and Imuran.
I went through a lot while my doctors worked to get me on the correct drugs, but I know I am lucky I had such amazing rheumatologists, and that so many people have had such worse experiences trying to get diagnosed. But no matter how it happens, finding out you have RA is no picnic. That’s one thing I know for sure.
Until next time,
S.P.
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