I’ve had Rheumatoid Arthritis for a little over 4 years. In those 4 years, I’ve had plenty of good days and bad days. I’ve had my share of days where I cried on the way to work, in the bathroom at work, and on my way home because I felt so awful. I’ve had days where I’m exhausted from acting like everything is fine. Because explaining how bad I feel sounds even more exhausting.
Unless you’re my husband, you probably never noticed. But when I recently had knee surgery, I got noticed (yes, I’m a very awkward crutch user). I was (and still am) constantly offered assistance. Everyone has been overwhelmingly supportive- from making sure I don’t walk too much, to offering to fill up my water bottle. I feel incredibly blessed to have such supportive coworkers, friends, and family surrounding me.
But (you could feel a “but” coming, couldn’t you?)- as my knee gets stronger and I spend less time relying on my cane, my Rheumatoid Arthritis disease is still rearing its ugly head. But you can’t see it. It’s still giving me a daily fever, making opening a water bottle excruciating at times, making my body feel like it constantly has the flu. The tears are still falling. But you don’t see them.
Having an invisible disability that for a few months was made somewhat visible is rough now. To know how much support was around me, without having to ask for it, was awesome. It was absolutely incredible. As a fiercely independent person, I hate to admit that I’m going to miss the support. It seems like people think that because I’m stronger, because I’m more mobile, that I’m better. The truth is, my knee is better. My disease is not.