The Seated View

Almost exactly a year ago, HealthCentral released a series of immersive multimedia stories, featuring people living with different conditions. The rheumatoid arthritis story "starred" me. This week, I'm proud to present the update to the Live Bold Live Now story, featuring myself and my buddy Brad Carlson talking about how we've created a life with RA.  The last year has seen many changes for me, chief among them discovering that I keep getting better at  a level I never imagined would happen, having the ability to travel farther than I have in the last 10 years. Another wonderful addition to my life is working with Show Us Your Hands! and the exciting new direction we've launched earlier this week. To watch the update, hop on over to the Live Bold Live Now RA page on HealthCentral. I'm really pleased with it and hope you'll like it, too.   

Last week, I mentioned having been immersed in Something Special as a reason for having been rather absent lately. Today, I am proud and very excited to share that Something Special with you: the new website and photo book for Show Us Your Hands!: "To celebrate our third anniversary, Show Us Your Hands! is proud to present our new website at www.suyh.org and the new, revised edition of the Our Hands Can photo book , now available on Amazon. These represent a new direction for the organization, one that respects our history while branching out onto an exciting path to unite the inflammatory arthritis community and raise awareness about these serious diseases." You can read more about our new path, check out the beautiful brand-new Show Us Your Hands! website .

Image credit: dvarg Today is the 10 th anniversary of my first injection of a biologic. A t 3:35 PM, to be exact. Today is the 10 th anniversary of me getting a second chance, of being given the gift of getting back my life. Ten years ago, I thought I’d celebrated my last Christmas. I had nothing left — a severe RA flare had eaten everything: my strength, my ability, my social life, my energy, my hope. I felt burned to the ground, a pile of rubble and ashes. On January 7, 2005, the funding came through and I got my first shot of a biologic. I went home, took a nap, and woke up a different person . I still remember that feeling, although it is hard to describe. I remember waking up, knowing that the medication was working. Feeling somehow different, as if a few drops of energy had begun to trickle back in. As if the swelling and pain were infinitesimally reduced. It continued and gradually, I rose out of the ashes. What was not gradual, however, was my embrace of...

Well, hi there! Remember me? I've woefully neglected the blog for the better part of two weeks while immersed in making Something Special, which I can't talk about quite yet. Stay tuned! In between the "making Something Special," Christmas happened and it was a wonderful break from working. The weather cooperated, which after last winter means that it was warm for the season with no snow. Not very Christmasy, but not very cold, either. It is now. Cold, that is. It's minus plenty, my windows are frozen, and Lucy spends most of her time burrowed under my covers. Yes, that lump is my darling cat. She's a bit weird. So instead of shivering, let's travel back in time, to the warmth of Christmas. I'd borrowed The Boy's camera, if by borrow , you mean asked to use it for a few minutes and then "forget" to give it back. But with these types of photos, I wasn't about to voluntarily relinquish it. Christmas is, as I ...

Wishing you and yours a very glædelig jul!   

In my last appointment with my rheumatologist, we discussed how most of the pain I have is related not to active RA (thank you, Humira!), but rather RA damage and fibromyalgia. And then she said something that’s stuck in my head since: “That’s the tragedy of Fibro. If someone has RA or lupus, we can treat it. We can’t do much about fibromyalgia.” Tragedy? Instinctively, I recoiled from the concept. It’s a really big word, a word I’d normally apply to devastating events in the news, such as the Ebola outbreak, the Holocaust, or the Australian woman who killed all her kids. Those are tragedies. My Fibro? Sure, I’d rather be without it, but it’s not on the same scale. Is it? I thought about it. I can see how, from a doctor’s point of view, an untreatable condition that causes high levels of chronic pain, preventing your patient from living their life to the fullest could be considered a tragedy. Doctors, after all, really like to fix things. Their goal is for you ...