Humble Beginnings: A Writer's Ramblings
In the words of a song from one of my all time favourite musicals…
“Let’s start at the very beginning,
A very good place to start…”
All this began with sore feet.
Doing karate, I initially assumed that all the barefoot work was causing my middle aged feet to protest. Loudly. So I did all the right things - traded in my heels for comfy sneakers, diligently soaked them (my feet, not my sneakers) in warm, magnesium infused water and took the time to rest.
My feet were still sore.
Months went by without improvement so I finally relinquished that I needed a doctor’s input – I was convinced that something other than a sports related injury was going on here. The doctor checked my blood pressure as a matter of course and found it unusually high and despite the fact I kept mentioning about my feet, chose to ignore that as a separate issue. To be fair, I guess she was focusing on the potential heart attack as opposed to tender tootsies.
So as I embarked on a myriad of tests relating to hypertension, I decided to sort my feet out myself by visiting a podiatrist. They look after feet, right? After a few visits of having my feet taped, I eventually insisted on an x-ray to see what was going on in there. To this day I’m not convinced anyone has ever seen that x-ray other than the lady at the lab who took it for me.
If I didn’t have high blood pressure prior to this starting, I certainly would have it now.
But then, after almost twelve months, something changed. Not only were my feet sore but every now and then an ankle would swell. Then a knuckle. Then a thumb.
Now, my good people, this is the lesson I want everyone to take from this blog entry. Nobody knows your body as well as you do. Plain and simple. If doctors start looking at you as if you’re crazy but you know your feet are bloody sore {insert relevant ailment here}, keep pushing. Turns out I was on the right track the whole time. I even specifically asked if the two issues could be related in any way.
Please understand I’m not blaming anyone here, that’s not my intention – General Practitioners are forced to make a diagnosis based on the facts we present them, usually in a space of 5 minutes. How can they possibly get it right each and every time? I will say though, the best quality in a doctor is one that just sits and listens. Thank goodness I finally found me one of those.
And so, to add a little more salt to the wound, I have been waiting about 3 months to see a specialist with a disease that is reportedly best treated when detected early – and that is through the private system. It’s not his fault it took over a year to make a diagnosis but it is frustrating to say the least! However, and please sound triumphant fanfare at this announcement, next week will mark the beginning of my official Rheumatoid Arthritis (RA) journey with my first visit to a rheumatologist.
Since I was first diagnosed, the main answer to questions such as, “How will that affect you later on, Sharyn?” and “Can you still do karate?” and “Will you always be able to walk, mum?” was the stock standard, “I’ll know more when I see the specialist.” My list of specific questions is prepared and my expectations are high. I’ve always believed that knowledge can empower which is why I love researching, especially for my novels, so why should this be any different?
I sincerely hope this guy lives up to the reputation I have created for him.
