What it's like

I was in so much pain last night I couldn't sleep. It's not unusual for me to wake up often through the night because of the pain, but most of the time exhaustion overcomes the pain at some point.

There is a spot on the top of my head that doesn't hurt. I try to concentrate all my attention on that spot.

I've said this a lot before, I'm sure, but you never realize how many joints you have until they all hurt. We all think of elbows and knees, but how often are you aware of every notch in your spine, every knuckle, your jaws, ribs, toes, every tiny bone meeting bone in your hands, your hips in their sockets, all resting uneasy at best, in searing and numbing pain at worst.

I take mental inventory of my body. Tonight's pain is numbing, swelling, and it feels as though my shoulders and hips are about to pop out of their sockets. The tips of my toes don't hurt, thankfully. I try to think of the spot on my head and my the tips of my toes--though not the toes themselves, because they hurt too.

My hands gnarl into claws trying to find a more comfortable position. I can't stop thinking about my hips. They clamor for attention until I am drowning in pain and even simple things like the feel of the bed and comforter seem like a distant echo.

I shuffle to the bathroom and break down into whimpers. I feel exposed and overwhelmed with sadness.

I come back to bed, and my husband grabs my hand.

"I'll make it all better," he says. "I'll get a job and find a cure for arthritis."

"Ok," I tell him. "Once you do, I'll get a kickass job and you can just be home or go to school and take cool classes."

"Ok."

I grab my stuffed animal and settle in for several more hours, hoping to doze off. I finally give up and drag myself downstairs, hoping that sitting on my desk chair will hurt a little less and I'll be able to nap.

I email in to work trying to explain why I can't come in.

I don't think I can make it back up the stairs if I need to.