Nope, There Is No Cure

Just when I think I have a handle on the implications of living with psoriatic arthritis, the monster rears its ugly head again, and I’m knocked down a few more pegs. I get all the blocks in my tower aligned, and believe it or not, there are a few days when I can almost forget that I have psoriatic arthritis at all. And all the lessons I’ve learned about life with PsA along the way seem to fade as well.

There is no fix

I’ve been lucky enough (if you can call it that I suppose) the past couple months to have found a medication that works about 85%. Life was moving at a semi-normal pace. Sure, it wore off a week early and only worked mostly, but compared to what I was going thru, I was more than willing to accept that. But with each passing month, that week before my next round of shots continued to get worse and worse. And I was confronted with the seemingly simple fact that when it really comes down to it, there is no fix, no cure, no end, to psoriatic arthritis at all.

I thought I had accepted that. I thought I had powered my way through that “seemingly” simple concept and moved past it. Well, turns out, not so much...

There I was, back to square one. My feet hurt so bad I could barely shuffle my way to the bathroom. My hands couldn’t hold my morning cup of java and by 3:00 pm, fatigue wouldn’t allow me to even get out of bed. I was once again faced with the realization that even though I tried to forget it, even though I thought I had accepted it, I really hadn’t. Again, I found myself struggling with accepting the fact that there is no cure for psoriatic arthritis.

There is no cure

Sure, we can find medicine the attempt to slow its progress. We can change our diet, use heat and ice to manage some symptoms. We can even use steroid shots to try and knock back our flares. But when it comes down to it, it never really goes away. We are never cured. We are simply managing it better some days than others.

All questions, no answers

That’s a tough pill to swallow. It’s a hard reality to face. And I suppose, acceptance will come in stages, if at all. And really, if I do “accept” it, does that mean I’m giving up? Does that mean I’m okay with the fact that there is no cure? How can I attempt to balance the two paradoxical ideas?

I either accept the fact that there is no cure, and I suppose, be okay with that. Or, I fight to prove that the whole idea is wrong. That we can and will find a cure.

Oh, how I wish I had the answer. I wish that I knew which side to land on. I wish I knew how to balance acceptance of the current prognosis with the possibility of hope for the future.  Who know, maybe I’ll never figure it out. But I do know one thing and that’s even though each new hurdle seems like one step forward, two steps back. I can only do the best I can and keep pushing forward and accept the trials and triumphs as they come.

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