This weekend was tough. After three weeks, the Simponi shot has apparently completely worn off. I woke up Saturday morning almost unable to even get out of bed and didn’t even consider going to my water aerobics class. My husband had to leave town early Sunday, so he was somewhat insistent that we do dinner and a movie on Saturday night. I hinted that he really needed the time to get packed and organized for this trip and that we could just stay home and watch old scary Halloween movies instead.
I haven’t yet gotten to the point where I tell him, or anyone else, that my RA makes me feel bad enough that I can’t do things. I hate saying no when my husband is trying to do something nice or fun for me. I guess that’s the next step in my multi-step program of accepting/dealing with this disease.
I keep telling myself that RA hasn’t changed who I am, that I’m still the vivacious, independent person I was.
It’s a lie. All I have to do is look in my closet for the truth.
For most of my adult life, I’ve worn 3″ high heels. My shoe racks were filled with all different colors and styles. High heels make your legs look longer and enhances your butt. It also makes you carry yourself in a posture that is both confident and compelling. (Don’t even get me started on toe cleavage!) I have a total of two pairs of 3″ high heels in my closet today — both holdovers from a previous time. I wear them only on various special occasions (much to the chagrin of my orthopedic surgeon and my rheumatologist) when I need to be dressed for the best and I know that I won’t be on my feet for very long.
I’ve written a couple of posts about the disease being visible or invisible. Well, my high heels were my signature. They were the “S” on my SuperWoman cape. I’ve been in more board rooms, airports, meeting rooms and nightclubs than I can count, all exuding the confidence that looking your best in 3″ high heels can bring.
I’m definitely still me, but swollen ankles and high heels don’t match. And I miss the person who used to be able to wear them.
Thanks for checking in.
Oh, I do empathize, Carla. I haven’t been able to wear heels higher than an inch for more than 20 years. Even those are painful. But I’ve sure tried. I’ll pick out a nice pair of pumps at the shoestore and try them on, admiring how great they make my feet and legs look while I’m sitting. Then I stand up.
A couple of steps later I’m grimacing in pain. Off go the shoes. I put my old, comfortable, ugly ones back on and stalk out of the shoestore.
I don’t have a lot of shoes now, and few that would pass as “pretty.” But I’m used to it, and while my “look” isn’t as nice as it once was, I’m still the same me. I do my best to see beyond how people dress to the real person behind the facade of clothes and get to know them for themselves, not their power suits or their sleek high heels. I hope they’ll do the same for me.
Carla, I can completely relate. I have R.A. as well- was diagnosed when I was 22. I am a slave for fashion so it destroys me when I can’t wear my favorite things because of an arthritis flare. If you ever get a chance check out my blog http://brittanyblog.wordpress.com/2009/01/
Hang in there girl, you still rock without heels. :)
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I love this post! You’ve captured my exact feelings! I’m sitting in a conference room waiting to refi my house and I’m fighting the urge to cry…you’ve perfectly put into words why I’m so sad and emotionally attached to My beautiful shoes. I went shoe shopping a few weeks ago and had to fight back tears. Great post…glad to know someone else feels the same way.
Reblogged this on Texas Ginger's Joints and commented:
Love this post! Captures my feelings exactly!