How it all began: Part 5

Meeker, our Welsh Springer Spaniel, was tethered to a short leash and mom was in control of the dog's path as we meandered over the open, rolling hills of brush in San Diego. Mom and I were talking when the subject of my disease was broached. She provided a bombshell in her normal, quiet way.

"Your doctor actually told me it is my fault you are sick," she said.

This conversation took place at least a decade ago, at a time when I was still trying to figure out what having arthritis meant in my life. There were, and remain, many things I don't know. Some for fear of knowing the truth. Some because, well, it's just hard to think about and ask your family about.

This revelation, however, never would have crossed my mind had mom not said anything. I mean, how was it even plausible that she would be to blame for me getting a crippling auto-immune disease? These things happen as happenstance. Doctors know how we get them, but not necessarily why. It's like winning the reverse lottery. A Bizzaro World-version of getting your just due.

Wait a second. Apparently my doctor, just a local rheumatologist, had other ideas.

How was this possible?

Mom went on to explain the doctor's backwards explanation, which provided a massive helping of guilt onto her in the process. It's not really important why he thought it was her fault because as any rational person, and especially doctor, would understand is the fat that the origination of arthritis is still unknown. We can't blame anyone for our disease but fate.

It has stuck with me, however. I still, years later, feel for mom and the guilt trip that doctor put on her. She has quietly carried it with her, despite the fact that she knows the truth, and that hurts me deeply.

None of us are to blame for other people's illnesses. The enemy has its ugly way of giving us these things but it is God who uses the tribulations to teach His message, through love, and most importantly to let us see how our faith in Jesus can bring us out healed and better for the experience.

Next up: G.I. Joe

Two and half decades of heavy reliance on legal drugs of all sorts takes a toll. They are a necessary, but no less shitty, evil. My disease’s greed for medicine has been just that. Besides the permanent joint damage left by years of steroids (cortisone), non-steroidal anti-inflammatory meds like Ibuprofen have killed my gut. It’s a problem that has gotten progressively worse, and is now being treated as inflammatory bowel syndrome. It’s a life-altering complication, one that has grown worse exponentially the last five years.

I worked full-time before getting laid-off in December of last year despite living with this problem. It silently sucks your life. It’s hard enough managing the arthritis without having to visit the rest room up to 20 times a day. Yes, 20 times a day. Not many folks in my world even know of the problem. Let’s face it, it’s an embarrassing one. But it’s one that will be dealt with tomorrow.

It’s brought on even further complications, like kidney failure and chronic kidney stones the size of marbles. That comes from severe dehydration. Emergency room kind of dehydration.

I go in for a long-awaited check of the interior ongoings of the gut. It’s called an enteroscopy, as well as an endoscopy. With hope, and God’s will, the problem will be officially diagnosed and treated. If it is, and I am hopeful that it will be, it will bring a dramatic change for the better in my life.

Yes it will.