I wrote last year about the physical side of my particular chronic illness, psoriatic arthritis. Most of what I said in that post is still true: I’m still on methotrexate, still not pain-free, still not doing everything I should to take care of myself. There have been some promising steps made toward new treatments in the last year, but (as far as I know) nothing new has hit the market, so treatment options are functionally the same. Some of the particulars of my situation have changed (different parts of my body hurt), and I assume so will my medication after I see a rheumatologist again. (I waited four months for an appointment in Virginia and then had to cancel because I was moving. Now I’m waiting again. It’s been a rough year.) But not enough has changed that I need to write a new post about facts and figures or about my symptoms. What I wrote last year is true enough.
I have, in the intervening year, promised some folks that I would write about the mental side of chronic illness; but I’ve found that it’s really more than one post. I want to write about how chronic illness messes with my plans, about the isolation that comes from being different (in this particular way), and about hope, at a minimum. I feel like there might be more than three posts coming, but we’ll see.
I missed World Arthritis Day and International Psoriasis Day. Sorry.
On the bright side, it’s November, now, which many folks celebrate as some kind of writing month. I believe I’ll do some hybrid of NaNoWriMo and NaNonFiWriMo, aiming not for one giant work, but just to get some writing done every day, hopefully hitting a total of 50,000 words in the month. (They are not all going on this blog.) The posts I’m writing as part of that effort will be a little less strongly edited than normal (though I always try hard to fall more on the “ship it” side of bloggerdom, anyway; perfectionism is overrated); I’ll try to remember to label them as part of writing month, to make that clear.
Finally, I hope this goes without saying, but I write from my own perspective. I do not presume to speak for everyone with disabilities (how could I? I don’t have experience with them all) or everyone with chronic illness. We’re all individuals, with individual strengths and weaknesses and situations and challenges. People with disabilities are people, and we vary as much as people without disabilities vary.
Here’s the series: