Auto-immune fun and games

The move so far has been pretty smooth. For all that I’ve had the occasional hiccup as I’ve got used to having fewer shops available at the times I’d have had them in London, we’ve managed quite well. The only near catastrophe was the lack of an ingredient for H’s food tech lesson, and that was remedied by a drive to Threshfield. Not ideal or particularly environmentally friendly, but no harm done.

One thing I had felt I had a little more time to sort out was GP registration. I’d arranged a final prescription from my GP in London, and therefore had time to register with the new GP and then see them to arrange referrals. I had chosen to drive down the east side of the valley to get there, and this was among the views that awaited me.

I’m constantly reminded of how lucky I am to be here. The cloudy skies and the rain hemmed me in easily in London. Here, they transform the landscape.  And while I stay warm indoors with the cats, I get to see the sky change from blue through to carbon steel and back again, sometimes within the briefest of timeframes. It is never dull.

What is dull, on the other hand, is being in full auto-immune flare. My psoriasis was the first warning, and is now out of control across my face. There’s only so much exfoliating and moisturising anyone can do, so I’m stuck with it and voluntarily staying home. If it was just the psoriasis, I’d probably be finding life more bearable, but the psoriasis has, as ever, brought with it psoriatic arthritis.

Most of the time, I struggle with the back pain and the fibromyalgia. I take painkillers and I learn to manage my energy levels, and I accept that I can’t lift things, have no stamina, can’t quite do what I used to. But when the arthritis flares, my usual resort of crochet or knitting or even simple embroidery is no longer an option.

I’m due to see the rheumatologist at the end of April. 3 weeks away. Tick. Tock.