I remember much of what I saw on television when I was a kid. As I cope with my daily aches, I’m reminded of the commercials promoting arthritis medications. Not much has changed, but I remember my young thoughts. I was only five or six, but I was thankful that I wouldn’t have to endure arthritis when I was older. They would have a cure by then.
Thirty-three or so years later and I can tell I was mistaken. All of those Ben Gay and Anacin commercials with withered old people reflect a broken innocence. It was remarkable that I was cognizant of the deleterious nature of arthritis. I just gave science too much credit. I also remember conversations with my dad where everyone would have flying cars. At least we have the Slap Chop.
I like reading stories of other people with ankylosing spondylitis. It seems that everyone has their own combination of a litany of symptoms. I’m heartbroken to see those with fused spines. Their bodies are hunched and contorted, forever frozen in place. I wonder if that is my future.
The pain is constant and is exasperated by inactivity. It is exasperated by activity. I also have osteoarthritis in some of my joints and flat feet. The pain gets worse at night. I shuffle around like an old man in the morning.
My kids have a raw deal as I never feel well enough to participate in many activities. They take it in stride. They tell me to “hobble like the wind.”
I mentioned that I screwed up my Humira shot nine days ago. The insurance company has been difficult so I probably won’t have my next shot until Thursday. I’m ready to have a few consistent shots under my belt.
I’m encouraged by the fact that I will have a handicap placard one day. I’m also looking forward to the senior citizen’s discount at Denny’s. It seems that old people get all the perks. I say this facetiously, but I’m dead serious when I say I want a placard and a fifty five cent discount off my Grand Slam.
I forgot to mention that one day I’m going to get a cane with flames on it. Everything is faster with flames.