I’ve had a wonderful, productive weekend. Went to the grocery store Saturday morning, got my hair highlighted and cut in the afternoon, and made a delicious, healthy meal, from scratch, for dinner. Got up early on Sunday, exercised, did laundry, and cleaned. After a short nap, I finished measuring and bagging my food for the week. Now here I am, blogging.
Isn’t this what “normal” people do on their weekends? (Well, they probably do more but you know what I mean) So why is this weekend any different? I didn’t inject methotrexate or Enbrel on Saturday morning as I have done for months. I’ve been fighting this nasty cold and instead of gambling, I decided to skip my injections and let my immune system have a fighting chance.
I’ll probably feel horrible in a few days but for right now, I’m thrilled. I haven’t been sipping ginger ale nonstop, only stopping to eat a few cheerios here and there. I haven’t slept for hours on end and accomplished absolutely nothing on Saturday or Sunday. I don’t feel like I’ve been hit by a truck and my stomach feels marvelous.
I know methotrexate and Enbrel are important. I know I need them. But times like this, I hate them. And I hate Rheumatoid Arthritis. I hate that the very medicine that helps keep my joints from being damaged, the medicine that hopefully helps protect my organs from this disease, also literally takes away days of my life.