This week, I was at a loss for what to write about. I have been penning this column for about two years now, and that adds up to almost 60 posts. As you can imagine, coming up with topics for sixty articles can be challenging, especially since my life is more or less routine. I don’t chase after super-villains or host a game show for a living – I’m a writer, as you all well know. So, with nothing to write about, I decided to write about nothing. Just like the TV show about nothing that became a hit, I’m going to write this column about nothing in particular at all, and may be some of you will obtain some insight into just what it takes to live with R.A.
For those of you who haven’t been paying attention, my girlfriend recently moved in with me. As you can imagine, that meant packing up her apartment and moving some of her stuff into my place. The majority of it, though, is sitting in storage until we can get a bigger place together. Because we knew this ahead of time, we had to make sure all of her belongings were packed into boxes and wrapped in bubble wrap in preparation for up to a year in a dingy, damp, dirty, ten by ten metal room. This translated into a week of early mornings and late nights lifting, reaching, and re-organizing. Anyone with Rheumatoid Arthritis can tell you that lack of sleep is the quickest way to incur a flare up, and if you add physical exertion on top of it, you are pretty much guaranteed to be in pain. Knowing this, and despite the protestations of my girlfriend, I continued to help with the packing and moving until every last item was locked up in the storage unit. I was rewarded for this perseverance with a grapefruit-sized right ankle.