After a really crummy summer – health-wise – I seem to have gone into remission from lupus. No inflammation. Not even a twinge of arthritic pain in a knuckle. Even my blood work was perfect before we left home for this road trip. This is a first in six years.
I am ecstatic of course. Before becoming ill I was a morning person, going out for 20-30 kilometre trail runs with my malamute before work. Then lupus came along and put an end to all that joyous freedom.
I have forgotten how magnificent it is to wake in the morning and not feel pain. My hands flex into fists again. My knees lift me out of bed without trouble and carry me down the trails. I am again leaping out of bed as soon as the sun is rising, crawling out of the warmth of my sleeping bag to stand out in the cold above a canyon and watch yellow light fall across the land.
While on the road I have been keeping in touch with two friends each battling far worse autoimmune illnesses than me. It is nice to speak with others who understand what autoimmune illness does to your body, your mind, your spirit. This illness is difficult to explain to people who cannot feel our joint pain or understand the full weight of fatigue – fatigue that is much more crushing than your “I’m jet lagged” tiredness or your “oh, I couldn’t sleep last night” fatigue.
The sun I’ve been frolicking about in these past few weeks have been divine. And I am most definitely grateful for where I am – physically in the desert and in my health.