Tag Archives: Dumb

On the wrong side of the karma stick

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I may have purposely forgotten to mention that I may have been a little rough on one of the nurses at my rheumatologist’s office last week.

I may have been a little frustrated that it took them 2 days to return an urgent call.  I may have been more frustrated because it takes at least 2 days to get a response on anything from them.  A two day turn around on a random question is gray area (in my opinion); a two day turn around on an urgent question is never acceptable (in my opinion).

I may have spoken a little harshly with the nurse who had the misfortune of calling me back after I left a second message asking for a response.  Perhaps a little more harshly than was warranted for said situation and definitely too harsh based on  the fact that she really was taking the time to try to understand what I was asking and trying to help me.

I may have been a complete brat and she definitely didn’t deserve that. As soon as I hung up the phone, I felt awful.

Enter karma.

At my appointment yesterday, I may have had my labs drawn by….you guessed it…the nurse who I was not terribly nice to on the phone.

I was immediately embarrassed and told her I was sorry for how I spoke to her on Friday.  That I was really frustrated but it was no excuse for me to talk to anyone that way, let alone someone who was trying to help me.

She was super nice about it, said she understood why I was frustrated and not to worry about it.

And then…don’t you see this coming…she got to go fishing in my arms.

No, I know she didn’t do it on purpose.  My veins just like to roll.  This is not the first time this has happened and I’m sure it won’t be the last.

Complete suckage yet simultaneously totally hysterical.

Moral of the story: Don’t yell at people who may have to stick needles in you.

Duh.

A New One For Those Keeping Tally

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Excuse the language.  Or if it bothers you, just skip this entry. I’m still a little upset.

“No, I don’t run anymore because I have Rheumatoid Arthritis.”

Momentary awkward pause while his hot little brain mulled this tidbit over.

“But…but…but you’re so pretty…”

Blink.

Swallow.

Vein twitch.

ARE YOU A F*CKING IDIOT?

At what point do you think that something like that would affect me having or not having RA or anything else for that matter?

Do you think immune systems ‘immuno-select’ who gets these things based on how people look or how much is in a bank account or what their last name is?

DID YOU FALL AND HIT YOUR HEAD ON CONCRETE?

That argument has just as much validity as you being very honest and telling me that “I’m dumb as a brick” and me responding with a whiny “but you look like an Abercrombie model.”

And what do I say to something like that? Um, thanks?  I think?

That’s almost as offensive as telling someone who’s lost 2 pounds that they look “SO MUCH BETTER.”

Really?

I mean  SERIOUSLY?

Seriously?

Can you at least follow it up with a well placed question like maybe ask me what RA is?  Anything? I realize that would ask an awful lot of the gerbil running the wheel in your head but just leaving it at that and then uncomfortably staring at me makes you look like Lord of the Douche, getting ready to do a little jig for me, and makes me feel awful about myself.

Yes, I know Mom.  I know I am being rude here.  You’re right- I was raised better than that.  No, please don’t give me the guilt trippy “I’ve raised horrible children” speech.  You’ve made that point numerous times in my life and I forgive you for making me so mean sometimes.  (I kid.) Yes, I will make sure to let everyone know that you sent me to Cotillion.  Twice.  Yes, I know it was expensive and I’m not entirely sure it was money well spent. Yes, I think you’re right that  maybe his parents didn’t send him because maybe (gasp) they didn’t think it was important.

I’d like to point out that it is YOUR daughter here, valedictorian of Cotillion, who is posting f-bombs online.

But seriously, “you’re so pretty?”

You’ve got to be kidding me.

To myself in a flare

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Dear Amanda- In-A-Flare,

Please print this out and carry it with you until your flare subsides.  Just a few observations on your recent behaviors and maybe a few tips to make things easier for you once you’re no longer a whiny b*tch.

-Your home: I know you’re hurting and I know you’re tired but really…it is BAD FOR BUSINESS when it starts to look like an episode of Hoarders.  FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, just put the dang clothes in the hamper.  Seriously.  This is only a little bit more effort than the floor and you can actually make it fun- aim for the basket.  SLAM DUNK. *imagined people cheering.*

-Your kitchen: Just because you don’t feel good doesn’t mean that you are suddenly Paula Deen cooking up some comfort food.  Nope, you’re Paula Deen getting hit with the ham….Amanda, you can barely boil water.  So don’t put yourself through the stress of “I think I’d feel better if I made myself some corned beef with veggies” because even on the best day YOU ARE COMPLETELY INCAPABLE OF MAKING CORNED BEEF, then you’ll be upset about it, and then you will leave the dishes in the kitchen for days because you don’t feel like cleaning them up.  And then the ants will get them.

-Showers: these should be taken daily.

-Those comfy sweat pants and the shirt with stains on it: should never be worn outside the home.  Also, should never be worn INSIDE the home if people are coming over.

-Other people who piss you off: for the most part are not doing it on purpose. Please take a deep breath or a quick walk before deciding how to respondto them.  Trust me on this one. Also, there is no conspiracy- never has been and probably never will be- so once and for all let this idea go. And finally, I realize you were really upset when that eighteen wheeler blew a retread on the highway directly in front of you.  I realize that it was scary that you had no room to avoid it and were very lucky that you had to run over it and didn’t damage your car.  HOWEVER, the appropriate response was to just stay put in traffic or pull off at the exit.  NEVER EVER EVER should you furiously dial his safe driver line marked on the back of his truck while speeding up and angrily waving the phone at him so he could see what you’re doing.  Please now go back and read that whole conspiracy bit again.

-Your mom: Should not be snapped at because you’re annoyed that she always says methotrOxate rather than methotrexate.  Seriously, you’re being really petty.  She’s asking about it because she cares and is concerned, remember what we just talked about regarding that whole conspiracy thing? 

-Major life decisions: don’t go there.  Just don’t. 

Keep in mind that while things suck right now that there are a lot of people working hard to get you feeling better.  In a month, this will all be a distant memory.

Feel better,

Amanda-Not-In-A-Flare

Just a few thoughts on a Sunday

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This is random and scattered.  Just a warning!

-I got my bill for my joint aspiration last month on Friday.  All in all, total cost of aspiration was about $400, most of which was covered by my insurance.  That’s a miracle.  Especially since it was coded as “in office surgery.” If I’d known I was having “surgery,” I would’ve made some special requests.  Namely that awesome laughing gas I received when they took my wisdom teeth.  

- I went to church with friends this morning.  I’m a bit of a church snob because my grandfather is a Methodist minister.  Let’s just say that Granddad would be none too impressed that I went in jeans and flip flops.  I was kinda weirded out by that too but with how my feet feel lately, flip flops are amazing.  Anyway, the pastor was talking about financial freedom and about how he’s not trying to tell us what to purchase and what not to purchase but rather that we need to make decisions that give us freedom from debt.  So I was bored (I know, it’s wrong to say I was bored at church…but I was) and started thinking about if there are any choices I could make that would give me freedom from RA.  Not freedom by not having it (trying to be realistic here) but freedom by marginalizing it, by “putting Baby in the corner.”  

I realize that I need to make better choices about my health.  I live how I live until I flare and then I get all self righteously indignant on how “I had a salad last week dang-it and it sure did have  lot of veggies and I chose the LOW FAT dressing too because that is how terribly committed I am to my health.”  But come on Amanda: if you were as terribly committed to taking better care of yourself as you say you are when you’re flaring, you would’ve had that salad chock full of veggies more recently than last week!

I do realize there are other things that factor into flares but with this one, I am my own worst enemy.  I am very successful at making dietary changes….for about two weeks.

And before I turn people off by appearing to be anything close to deep or broading, I will tell you that I got the silly giggles during the last song (hymn? is it still called a hymn in a contemporary setting?) when everyone around me was swaying with eyes closed and hands in the air.  

-And finally, you know you’re taking Prednisone when you walk in to pay for your gas and find yourself lustfully eyeing everything “Little Debbie.”  OMG Zebra Cakes.

Trying and failing to not to take things personally

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I limped in to Starbucks this morning to get my usual coffee and it was a bit more crowded than usual.  I was talking to my boss while I ordered and realized at some point after I told her to ‘hold on’ that I was getting some weird looks because I had my bluetooth in and my hair down.  So it totally looked like I was having a conversation with myself…and answering…and telling myself to wait so that I could order. 

What struck me as strange is that I couldn’t care less that it appeared to many people that I was chatting with the voices in my head. Nope, I was more concerned that they saw me limping.

Lately, I’ve been a little down and out on myself.  Having RA sucks and when you over-analyze things like I tend to do, you make life a whole heck of a lot harder for yourself than it should be.  

This past weekend, I went to my cousin’s wedding.  It took place in Virginia, on the banks of the Shenandoah, and she was beyond beautiful.  

Getting there was a challenge.  I’ve been traveling a TON lately and my RA is not as well controlled as I would like it to be.  I feel lousy. I tell you that because I’m hoping it’s because I’m burning the candle at both ends right now and that it will start behaving again. Like immediately.

Anyway, I only agreed to go to this wedding because I understood it to be a 4 hour drive.

It was a 7 hour drive.  One way.

You should probably also know that I refuse to watch wedding shows and romantic comedies.  Thank you recent heartbreaks.  And that I have avoided a lot of family events in recent years for other reasons.  And that I absolutely cannot stand the thought of anyone in my family noticing any sort of symptoms of RA in me or (gasp) commenting on them.  

So when I arrived at the hotel on Saturday, I sent my hot mess of a self to my room and took full advantage of the whirlpool tub.  It helped considerably both with making me more comfortable and calming me down.  

I arrived at the wedding site with my parents and brother.  Even though I was uncomfortable, I wore heels the whole time with no noticeable limping. 

And then the reception started.

There was really only one comment but it was enough to tick me off for the next three days. I expected a comment about marriage to which I had crafted a catch all response that was very truthful but didn’t give away much and would help me transition the conversation to ANYTHING else.  

But this is what I got:

“So, where’s your boyfriend?”  

“Oh, that was done awhile ago.”

“So where’s the new one?”

“There’s not one right now.  I’m just really focusing on getting myself together and that’ll come when it comes.”  Like it?  I thought it was good?

“You know, physiologically, the best age to have children is at age 19.”

“You know, I think they frown on that nowadays.”

“How old are you?”

“30.”

“Ohhhhhhhh…….”

My sweet grandmother jumped in and redirected the conversation right before I could respond with “so, how is your terminal cancer treating you?”

I stayed for probably another hour, fuming mad the whole time.  When I got back to the hotel, I took another bath and then dreamt about a boy I don’t need to be dreaming about.  And again last night.  And got emails referencing him yesterday and today.  WHAT IN THE WORLD.

He never actually said anything about my RA specifically.

And I have no way of knowing if said family member knows about my RA.  No idea.  He obviously didn’t know I was single.  Which leads me to believe that I’m not high on the family gossip hierarchy.  Which is awesome.  I also have no way of knowing if I would’ve been upset if he hadn’t said that in a way that I could easily link back to my health.  You can probably tell what I tacked on to the end of his sentence.

Thanks to the powers of my analytical skills, I felt like he threw it in my face which I am positive was not his intention.  He’s always been very blunt and not terribly PC but he’s never been malicious. 

I guess I need to get a better deflector statement and I need to have a serious talk with RA: it’s not all about you!

But it still hurts.

A Valentine’s Day Poem for my insurance company

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Roses are red.

Violets are blue.

Your customer service sucks completely.

I hate dealing with you.

Mad props to the call center dude who doesn’t really speak or understand English (especially English from the south) who asked me a bunch of pointless questions, put me on hold for 10 minutes, asked me the same pointless questions again and rudely, put me on hold again, and then hung up on me when I asked to be transferred to a supervisor.  

Karma, my friend, karma.

Still waiting on the rheumy appointment and now waiting on refills since my insurance changed on January 1st.  Having to get everything re-referred and re-preauthorized during a flare does not make me the happiest person in the world.

Hitting the proverbial wall

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This past week marked my 4th diagnosiversary.  January 11, 2006.  Woo hoo.  Did I plan any sort of celebratory event?  Um, no.  I do not celebrate things I’m not excited about.   I noted the date, rolled my eyes, and as best as I could tried to not think about it.  Unfortunately, my RA had different plans…

I’ve been fighting a low grade cold since before Thanksgiving.  I get almost better and then come in contact with someone who reinfects me.  It’s awesome.

I typically have “flares” when I’m either really stressed out or have any other sort of event that my immune system has to battle.  I swear, this RA thing is an absolute DIVA- if my immune system has to divert some of its forces to battle a cold, RA gets its panties in a wad and stages a mutiny.  This happens to me about twice a year.

I don’t have typical flares where all of a sudden my affected joints are completely swollen and locked.  Like I said, my flares are almost exclusively accompanied by a cold or flu. It’s more of a gradual thing and it’s more of a combination of different symptoms- I start to notice more swelling over a period of a few weeks that I can always find excuses for (overuse, increased exercise etc.), I usually start to experience minimal joint pain in joints that typically aren’t affected and then WHAM, my iron and potassium levels bite the big one.  The fallout from the drops in my iron and potassium are actually more incapacitating than the joint pain (now- this was not the case when I was newly diagnosed.)  This is usually followed by a dramatic increase in joint pain. Hence, hitting the proverbial wall.

Monday am, I awoke to increased swelling in my fingers despite having taken methotrexate on Sunday night.   That’s funny….but I’m on cold medicine so maybe it’s not working right.  I still figured nothing was amiss when Monday night I was in bed by 8:30pm.  I must’ve been tired- I don’t even remember falling asleep and I seriously feel like I was drugged.

It took me 45 minutes to get warm again after a client site visit on Tuesday.  I thought I bundled up enough.  Oh well, lunch will warm me up.  I seriously want the biggest rarest hamburger Cracker Barrel can give me.  And lots and lots of those salty steak fries! Those who are familiar with my eating habits would know that this is unusual.  

While driving on the highway back from my visit, I have to suddenly stop and take back roads because I’m so shaky.  I have this weird feeling that I am going to lose control of my car and slide sideways underneath a tractor trailer.  I’m never taking Mucinex again- makes me too jittery.

At a Tuesday evening dinner with my boss, I basically do not participate in any of the conversation because even though she’s talking to me about work, I can’t process any of the things she’s saying. I’m so tired.  All I want to do is go to bed.  This Mucinex and this cold have really knocked me out of whack.  And my feet are starting to hurt.  And my shoulder is sore right now too.  WTF!

On Wednesday morning, my coworker tells me that I look like I could be in Twilight.  Yay- I knew pale would finally come back in.  I know I’m sparkly like Edward.  When I finally looked in the mirror, I realize that I most certainly am NOT sparkly like Edward.  I have bags under my eyes and I’m gray.  I try to adjust my make up to hide this and end up looking like I’m wearing warpaint.  I decide to call it a day and go home and rest.  Afterall, this cold is kicking my ass.  My fingers really hurt, for some reason my left knee is bothering me, I’m bruised, I’m shaky, and I just can’t concentrate worth a damn.  I finally get my first thought that maybe it’s not just the cold at work here…

Wednesday evening, I leave my cave of a bedroom for a much needed haircut.  Hey, I am female- no cold gets in the way of beautification! LIGHTBULB!  EPIPHANY!  BREAKTHROUGH! When my hairdresser asks me what my favorite TV show is and even though I am concentrating intently on every word she’s saying, I DON’T UNDERSTAND THE QUESTION NOR DO I HAVE AN ANSWER.  I nod in agreement that I just love watching The Bachelor (oh, the horror).  To set the record straight, I do not love watching The Bachelor.  I the opposite of love watching The Bachelor. I would rather watch paint dry. Upside down.  Naked.  In Times Square.

All of a sudden, this whole experience is hauntingly familiar.  Extreme fatigue- check.  Bruising- check. Acting like a space cadet on crack. Extreme mental fogginess- check. Strange muscle pain- check.  Increased joint pain- check.  Joint pain in places that usually don’t bother me- check.  

Ohmygod- I’m having a flare.  And I’m anemic.  And I’m hypokalemic.  

When paying at the salon, they ask me if I want to schedule another visit.  I don’t understand a word that they’re saying but tell them ‘no, I have to go to the doctor.’  They stare at me and half-smile when they take my money and watch me walk out the door.  They think I’m crazy.

I locate my iron and potassium supplements I have stashed in my car. (I know, shouldn’t be kept in the car!)  I am able to get into the doctor the next day to verify that I am indeed super low on iron and potassium.  I am told to keep taking the supplements and come back next week for a recheck. Thursday night, I sleep soundly and awake Friday morning well rested yet not feeling drugged.  My joints still hurt though.

Over the weekend, I concentrated on resting.  The joints are still more swollen than normal but the knee has backed off.  The bruises are already fading, I can actually hold coherent conversations.  I still have a cold.

I need to restrategize to figure out a way to pinpoint this earlier.  I also need to figure out how to more consistently take my supplements.  That’s another post though.  Titled: You’re an adult dammit, remember to do this crap!

I’m feeling better.  More than a little bit.  And feeling extremely dumb!

Happy Diagnosiversary, RA.  You are one heck of a skank.

I needed to see someone who looked like me.

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Wednesday, January 11, 2006

“Your x-rays still show no new bone growth on either foot so we can rule out a stress fracture.  Your bloodwork, however, was much more revealing.  Your rheumatoid factor is a 68; it should be less than 20. Your CRP and ESR are also elevated.  These results, in conjunction with symmetrical joint swelling in your feet and hands all point strongly to rheumatoid arthritis.”

Blink.

“I’m going to start you on several medications today.  Celebrex for pain. Prednisone is a steroid that we’re going to start you on a high level and taper you down.  This will reduce the inflammation while the other medications start to work.  Methotrexate is a chemotherapy drug.  It can have some pretty nasty side effects so we’re going to start you low and build you up to 8 a week.  I’m also giving you a combination folic acid and vitamin B to help combat the side effects.”

Blink.  Chemo???

“We’re going to do this for two months and then re-evaluate to see if you need a biologic.  How do you feel about giving yourself shots?”

Blink.  Giving myself shots?  For what?  I don’t even know what it is that I have. Please just let me get out of here.   

I’d never even heard of rheumatoid arthritis.  When I thought about any sort of arthritis, all I could picture were the elderly folks my church youth group would visit with at the holidays and my great grandmother.  I mean, think about it: that’s generally what’s shown in advertising. At the time, I had no clue that there were many types and that they could affect people my age.  

To make matters worse, after getting home from the doctor that day, I decided to “educate” myself on rheumatoid arthritis.  How, you ask?  By using the END ALL BE ALL most reliable and authentic source of all information in the entire universe: ye merry olde interwebs.  Needless to say, I was much better off “uneducated.” I had no idea at the time that there was such a general misconception of what RA is.  To this day, I see pharmaceutical ads on TV and in magazines that are just wrong.  Hello Enbrel ad from 2009- I shall never forget you. But at the time, I took them as fact.

So I cried for hours and then took my raccoon eyed self to the mall where I dropped $200 on the cutest pair of incredibly fugly orthopedic dress shoes.  I remember thinking ‘so, I guess this is life now. So long running.’ Then I decided my best course of action was to hide this from everyone and would continue to do this for over 2 years.

Let’s just say this was the worst decision I could’ve ever made a decision that made everything harder and based on my own uninformed ideas and leave it at that, ok?  

So, what does Rheumatoid Arthritis look like?

Specifically, Rheumatoid Arthritis was 26 on that day.  A friend, a daughter, a sister, a coworker.  Loves running, kickboxing, reading, dancing. Very reluctant to let go of any of these things. Very sensitive and self conscious when she received  a diagnosis that she didn’t think she was representative of thanks to horrible misconceptions.

Except that she was.  Right on the money actually.

Demographically, RA is 20 – 40 at onset and two to three times more likely female than male.  Rheumatoid Arthritis is an autoimmune disorder in which the immune system attacks joints.  It is chronic yet also very treatable through combinations of very strong medications with many patients (yours truly included) able to eventually return to almost normal.

Yet the arthritis the public generally attributes to ALL autoimmune arthritis conditions is osteoarthritis- the condition caused by wear and tear  from aging or overuse and the ONLY one where “just go take a Tylenol” may yield positive results. 

That’s frightening.

“Buckle Me Up!” International Autoimmune Arthritis Movement is an up and coming non-profit dedicated to helping those suffering from autoimmune arthritis conditions by increasing understanding and awareness through education, partnerships, and support.  We are trying to raise money to finance legal fees and startup costs associated with filing 501(c)(3) paperwork.  

I can’t imagine how much this would’ve helped me when I was newly diagnosed.  Having information and support and people to talk to would’ve made everything so much easier and less scary.  And believe you me, it was a very scary and lonely time.  

It would mean the world to me if you would visit www.bucklemeupmovement.com/donate to read more about this and to donate $1.

Christmas Recap and RA Gifts!

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“Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night!”

Still my favorite quote that directly relates to Christmas.  

On Christmas morning, I woke up to a bunch of text messages from friends and family. I love that about the holidays- I’m not being sarcastic yet, I really do get a kick out of who I hear from on Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years, and my birthday. Sometimes it’s a very pleasant surprise! As Hugh Grant so eloquently states in Love Actually, phone calls made from the planes on 9/11 were not calls made out of hate but out of love.  (I realize if you haven’t seen that movie, you wouldn’t relate that quote to Christmas.  So go see- it’s one of my favorites!)

 Enter sarcasm. You may have noticed that I do not post about specific guys and myself.  That is purposeful.  But you may remember a gentleman I described a few weeks ago. The one who called me a “spoiled little girl who uses men to feed an ego and fill a void?” The one who has sent me 200 (seriously) text messages over the past few weeks, none of which were returned? Yes, that one. I’d like to thank him for the Merry Christmas text that included an up close picture of “himself.” Yes, you read that correctly. I thought it oh so appropriate how he thought sending that would help me more fully celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ. How…classy.

Hey, if you’re going to send something like that, be prepared to be called on it.  Be grateful that the picture is not posted- I promise you that NOBODY wants to see. For the record, I have never seen you unclothed and you have earned a spot in my history as the most bizarre thing a guy has ever sent me, hence it is mention-worthy. 

Ok, sarcasm complete. Back on track.

I am pleased to announce that I am new owner to two RA friendly gadgets. Ok, gifted with one and went out and found the other.  But still, I love that my family is getting into finding me cool ways to modify things I struggle with.

- Automatic wine bottle opener from Brookstone. It is glorious! You pop the plastic off the top of the wine bottle, set the bottle opener on it, press the button and it’s off! Fantabulous! The downside- I’m feeling the need to “practice” too much.

- Jar opener. My mom is having problems with osteoarthritis in her thumbs so my dad got her this nifty little gadget that helps you open jars. You fit it firmly around the jar top, secure it, and open the jar with the handle.  I went out and gifted myself with this yesterday- this isn’t the exact one I have but very similar.  

After gifts, we enjoyed all the Christmas trappings. My family has a tradition every holiday that we cook London broil. We’ve done this for years- probably stemming from the Easter where my dad managed to drop the whole hot turkey from the oven onto the kitchen floor directly into the cat food when he went to check on it. So London broil, sweet potatoes, cranberries…OH MY! Good times were had by all.

I sincerely hope you and yours had a wonderful holiday (whatever you choose to celebrate) and are gearing up to start off 2010 with a bang.

And hopefully no obscene text messages.

Operation Procrastination

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So, it’s exactly one week until Christmas and I have only bought 1 Christmas gift.  And everywhere around me is getting snow while I’m getting copious amounts of rain mixed with snow and sleet.  Which I fear may freeze tonight.  Why am I so scared?  Is it because I live in a really old neighborhood with massive trees everywhere that like to fall during ice?  NO! I’m on edge because I have spent the last few days deciding who I will buy what for, mapping out what is at which store, and determining most efficient routes to each.  I then put together a firm itinerary beginning at 7:30 am tomorrow.  Estimated duration of holiday shopping expedition? 2 hours.  Which would put me home to laze around right about when shopping conditions begin to deteriorate.

So yes, I’M SCREWED!!!

You see, Christmas shopping this year is about as appealing to me as having lunch with Miley Cyrus, Lindsey Lohan, and Kate Gosselin.  Ugh.  The thought of that invokes serious cringing.  I’ll have a vodka tonic, hold the tonic, side of Valium please.

Is it the waiting in long lines on my oh so comfortable RA eroded feet?

Is it the lingering discomfort of carrying around lots of bags on a still extremely sore shoulder?

Is it the close proximity to hordes of people who let their children run wild? (Note: many of my friends have children.  There is “active normal kid bored in a store” behavior and then there is “he was whining because he missed his nap so I gave him a Red Bull, fruit roll-up, and cookies” behavior.  It is this second type to which I am referring.)

Is it the close proximity  of my suppressed immune system to hordes of people who are hacking, coughing, and generally spraying colds, flu, and swine flu in my path?

Is it because it’s extremely cold and I’m extremely tired/worn down and worrying that it might throw me into a flare?

Maybe it’s all, maybe it’s none.  Maybe I’m just a Grinch!