Goodness gracious.  It has been some time.  We have been semi-staycationing this week, taking over my in-laws' digs for a week in the countryside, and have also had the pleasure of a few-days-visit from my sister, so all things interwebular have sort of fallen by the wayside (I thought maybe I had coined a new word there, with "interwebular", but computer says no). 

I have also been dealing with an RA flare-up, which is likely self-induced at least in part as I lived life in the fast lane on Tuesday and ate a sandwich.  What have I ever done to you, bread and mayo, except enjoyed your deliciousness?  The only plus to my food allergy felony was that my rheumatologist was able to detect swelling in my joints at my appointment on Thursday, for the first time ever.  This is good because it added credence to my diagnosis.  Previously, the fact that I was never actually flaring up when my appointments were scheduled was sort of annoying, and it made me wonder about the accuracy of the diagnosis (my line of thinking went that perhaps they only gave me the sensation of being swollen, rather than actually being so).  But no.  Swollen.  Lots of them.  And she confirmed my suspicion that the food allergies bring on flare-ups because they kick my immune system into gear, my faulty immune system which for some unknown reason doesn't realize that my joints are not the enemy.

This is what I imagine is happening in my body...

The Invasion
An Extremely Short Play Based on Dubious Science
by Kirsi

A lowly idiotic antibody, Private Shit-for-Brains, enters the scene, bumbling and tripping over his tiny antibody feet.  He rushes to his superior, Major Fuck Up, who is lounging on a red blood cell, admiring his medal for bravery in the Battle of the Sore Throat.

Private Shit-for-Brains:  Major General!  Sir!  We're being invaded!  It's mayonnaise, sir!

Major Fuck Up:  Mayonnaise?

Private:  And bread, sir!  In the stomach!

Major:  Those egg and gluten fuckers think they can sneak in here in a sandwich?  I wasn't produced by a plasma cell yesterday!  Attack!

Private:  Should we attack the joints while we're at it, sir? 

Major:  Why the fuck not?  Attack them all! 

And scene.  Man, it is really nice to know that those thousands of dollars I spent getting my drama degree have not gone to waste.  Requests for production rights are now being accepted.  For the film version, might I suggest Jonah Hill and Gene Hackman?

So the upshot of the confirmation of swelling in my joints is that my rheumatologist suggested that it's time I start medication to offer some symptom relief and potentially slow down joint damage.  Going into the appointment I wouldn't have thought I would have so readily agreed to this, but as soon as she suggested it I knew she was right (it helped that she spoke to me without any hint of the condescension that has irritated me in the past).  Even though my RA doesn't seem to cause me a lot of trouble at the moment, it is sort of grumbling along and slowly causing damage.  And I'm only 33.  I plan on being around for another 40 or 50 years and I would like to have full use of my body for as much of that time as I can.  So it's time.

I've started a drug called Plaquenil which will take a few months to begin to have any effect.  I'll meet again with my rheumatologist at that time to assess if it is helping and if the side effects have been manageable, at which point we'll make the decision to either continue with it or change medication.  I have tried not to read too much about the side effects because they're a little scary, what with eye damage and blue skin and such.  Fortunately they're pretty uncommon, it seems, and most people tolerate the drug very well.  So far I'm experiencing some dizziness and drowsiness, and a bit of nausea, but I'm hoping these will pass as my body adjusts. 

What I'm having the most trouble with is the idea that I'm now likely to be on medication for the rest of my life.  That bothers me.  If it works then it's better than the alternative, of course, by which I mean joint pain and damage and perhaps damage to my other organs (because RA can be a motherfucker like that), but the alternative is not necessarily prevented by the medication.  Likely just delayed.  Delayed is great, delayed buys me time and that is something for which I already feel tremendously grateful, but I don't really like even taking a Tylenol so I'm having a hard time with the idea of having a powerful drug in my body on a regular basis.

Okay, I just reread that paragraph.  What the hell am I whining about?  If it provides some relief, buys me a few more healthy years, then taking a pill every day is an extraordinarily small price to pay.

There's a plus side to having a disease, I've found out.  It makes you think long and hard about your priorities, and putting the time that you're healthy to the best possible use.  D and I are doing a lot of thinking these days about how to get what we want out of life now, to travel and have the experiences we want to have and do the things we want to do sooner rather than later.  Which I think is a pretty good way of thinking about things even if there isn't a health issue to act as a catalyst, because who knows what the future holds for any of us?  I thought I knew, but then the world didn't end back in May, so now I have no fucking clue (man, this whole topic brings out the sweary in me).  Saving for retirement is great and important and all, but who knows if I'll be able to amble over the Irish hillside at the age of 65?  For that matter, who knows if you will?  I think we'd best go do it immediately.

Or if not immediately, perhaps after I enjoy these gluten-, dairy-, delicious-free yucca pulp crackers?  Is that better, body?  Are we happy now?

I've been thinking, for a long time really, about getting back into this whole online journal thing (I hesitate to use the word blog only because it is kind of an ugly word, isn't it?  But I suppose that's what this is).  For those of you who already know me, you may recall that I once wrote fairly prolifically on my own site and later on blogspot.  And then I just stopped. 

There were reasons, one of which was a serious case of morning sickness.  Since I last wrote, over four years ago, I have become a mother.  Twice.  Two fascinating, hilarious, stunning wee ladies.   And life has become both ridiculously fun and ridiculously busy.

So there hasn't been much time to write, and not much inclination either.  Whatever this will be, this blog here, it won't be about my children.  While they are my favourite subject of discussion with friends and family, the internet does not need to know about them.  I'm sure that I'll share anecdotes from time to time (I do spend at least 12 waking hours with these glorious people each and every day) but the bottom line is that they are mine and they are special and I don't want to share.  And the absolute last thing (okay, maybe second to last thing) that the internet needs is another mommy blog.

Yet as a mom, and one of the stay-at-home varieties at that, I don't have a hell of a lot else to talk about.  Which brings me to this site's raison d'être, as it were.  I need to find other things to talk about.  I need to get Twinkle Twinkle Little Star out of my head, at least for a few shining golden minutes now and then.

Don't get me wrong.  I absolutely adore being a mother.  My girls are the most incredible life forms in the universe.  That's just scientific fact.  But I have this vague notion that perhaps I may have been somebody before becoming a mommy, and I'm trying hard to remember who that person was.  I know that she watched a lot of TV and slept in and I suspect she could go somewhere on the spur of the moment, just because she wanted to.  The idea!  It's also possible she had likes and dislikes and interests outside of Winnie the Pooh and Robeez.  I would like to reacquaint myself with that person.  I'm pretty sure she's still around here somewhere.  Likely at the bottom of the toy box.

I think that writing here might help me in this mission.  I have always felt my most true self in written form.  As some of you know, in person I am often a mumbling, inarticulate ball of anxiety.  I don't think I'm the most socially inept person around; I'm just not that great with people.  I do however get along very nicely with words.  There's no backspace in the real world (t-shirt idea?), and not enough time to construct exactly what I want to say with the precise words to say it best, at least not without standing there for several minutes looking like an idiot.  The internet can't give me a weird look when I say something that is clearly funny only to me.  I hope.  All that said, I'm going to push myself to be as uncensored as possible, and not analyze every little word and phrase to death.

I've been told all my life that I'm a good writer, that writing is what I should be doing, and despite my incessant self-doubt and many anxieties, I do believe that to be true.  Writing something well, finding the perfect word, expressing exactly what I want to say...these things fill me with great joy when they happen.  But I haven't been writing.  I've been afraid to really try.  I think I've been afraid that if I really try, I will discover that, well will you look at that, I can't actually write very well at all.  As it turns out, I'm quite terrible at it.  And there's my one thing, the one talent I was supposed to have, out the window.  What's left?  Well, I've recently come to the conclusion that if that really were to happen (and I don't think it will) there's a damn lot left, thank you very much.  For one thing, I can build a mean dining room fort.  I'm also pretty good at peekaboo.  And there are at least two people in the world who appreciate those talents, and they happen to be the two most important people in the world.

And it really all comes down to those two little people.  How can I teach my daughters to be true to themselves, to be fearless and create the life they want, if I don't do the same?  They push me every day to be a better woman.

As a stay-at-home mum, I have no social life to speak of (perhaps this shouldn't be a generalization) and there's a genuine danger here that I'll turn this into my social life instead of creating a real one.  But I'm trying to view this as a testing ground, a place to play around with ideas and opinions and discover what I actually think and believe about things, which I can hopefully translate into real life conversations with actual live people. 

And a note on opinions: I need to get me some of those.  I do know, dear friends, that I'm a fencesitter and a peacemaker and extremely conflict averse.  It comes from the point of view that, in most cases, I don't have enough information to form an informed opinion (formally), which I think is an accurate and useful approach but it's also an excuse.  "So get information, lady.  It's called the internet."  So you can look forward to some opinions about stuff, and things, and shit.

And that's another thing.  I'm swearing here.  I don't get to in my everyday life what with these small people always hanging about so there will be swearing here, mom.

Life is getting no less busy but I like this place here.  For one thing, it's purple.  So pretty.  Will I keep up with this regularly?  Who knows.  When it stops being fun and starts feeling like work, I'll stop.  But I'll try to keep it fun.

So what is this?  I have no fucking clue (you see?).  Let's find out together. 

P.S. Clearly editing for length was not something I worried about here.  Sorry about that.  Prepare a snack in advance next time.