Neverending list of medical bologna

Three years ago I threw my back out and spent a week in the hospital. Five months later, it happened again. I have no memory of going to the hospital this time but I was there again for a week. Recovering at home, my psoriasis raged completely out of control! Within three days, my body was covered in lesions that cracked and bled. The itch was so bad that I thought I was losing my mind! Oh, wait…it wasn’t my mind that I was losing. It was my hair. What!?!? This progressed even after seeing the dermatologist and having him tell me that psoriasis does not cause hair loss nor does the methotrexate he put me on. Faith lost in my dermo right then and there.

Back pain, psoriasis outbreak, hair loss, and then came the hand and elbow pain and swelling. Fast forward to the present… My life has become a constant stream of doctor appointments. Nothing else. In addition to PsA diagnosis a little more than a year ago, there is depression so severe that I stay in bed for days. I lost my job during my second back injury, for which I have no explanation. I spent six days in psych unit due to depression meds being dosed incorrectly…thank you to the mental health system that treats people (not according to their health history) but based on the drug company’s latest and greatest cure-all pill! My cognitive functions are suffering. I no longer care if any housework is done. I have times that showering occurs maybe every 7-10 days. I isolate from everyone because I no longer feel like being “happy”, and I feel worthless because I can no longer go out and make a living. Heck, I can’t even balance my checkbook anymore. All the while, the pain is still here. All of this is invisible to people around me except my husband and my son. I feel awful for what they are going through – because

I am no longer a loving wife or a caring mother. I am a burden – from where I see things.
PsA was the proverbial straw to break the camels back (pun intended!). Seeing my rheumatologist in a month to start yet another medication.

I’m 50 years old and this has ruined me. Physically, mentally, socially, financially, and any other “-ally” words you can think of. What’s next? Another doctor appointment. Sigh…

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