I got a friend of mine inside of my body, and his name is Lupus. He hit me just as I turned 59 during December 2004. When he calls on me, my body and I talk.
We have long heated arguments, sometimes they last for hours and sometimes they last for seconds. At the end we usually make up and agree to disagree, and then go our separate ways. I’m gonna take you through my day, as if you were me, to understand how this works.
You see when he came, he started off by making a merry-go-round of my head. The doorway to the hall and the stairs looked like it was on the other side of the bedroom. The doorway to the bathroom looked like it was in the place of the doorway to the hall and stairs, and the dresser looked like it was rolling towards the hallway. I’d close my eyes for a few moments and clear my head just enough to see my stash of pills on it and grab them before he made the world spin around again.
Now Lupus is pretty good about letting me see what instructions I have on the medicine bottles, but today my vision has gotten blurry. The mixture of white and light blue all seem mixed together forming some kind of gooey liquid that’s almost like Mylanta. The text of my instructions seems harder to read. I squint and squint and squint. Finally putting the pills in my mouth, I grab a small blue cup of water that sits on the dresser. I take a sip, and in shock realize its own my urine. Lupus has a way of surprising the bladder glands and giving few chances for you to relieve yourself in the toilet.
You would think that because I am near my bathroom in this bedroom I have, Lupus would let me get there so that I could take these pills to finish the argument he has with my body. I grab my cane with the pills still in my mouth and balance myself with sure and slow steps towards the bathroom. Halfway there, Lupus decides that he is feeling ignored and suddenly shuts down my right knee. I stand in one place at this point, too far from the bed and dresser, and still too far from the bathroom. The pills still sit in my mouth, so I wait.
Article comments
1 - Mary K. Williams
Lupus can be pretty devastating - and it certainly seems so from reading this piece. I was tested for Lupus a few years back, and though the actual diagnosis of Fibromyalgia isn't a picnic - I do consider myself very lucky.
2 - Ana Chan
I have lupus myself. I was diagnosed a little less than a year ago. I'm not sure if it's the debilitating affects of the disease or the fact I have such a disease that makes me feel like I'm fighting a war I can't win.