pink clematis

We met the latest member of staff at the immunology department last week, a Greek doctor, very polite and ever so well dressed in his starched white coat, silk tie and blue argyle socks. My guess is he is probably not a day older than 35. But in my experience - and there is research to back this up - young experts who want to get ahead and become senior experts work hard to stay on top by reading, attending conferences, checking with colleagues and all that stuff doctors are meant to do before the know-all rot sets in. 

This time, R came along because he had time to make sure I mention all the shit that's been happening and not be full of smiles and I-can-copes until the door hits me in my back on the way out. For this purpose and also to show off how organised he is, R had made a nifty list using some app on his phone and he basically read out all the items one by one in his gravelly low voice while I tried to pretend he wasn't there and that I was actually quite well and surely believing is seeing.

But our Greek expert was right on the ball and after some tsk tsk tsk and a rather painful examination of my hands and feet, he put me back on all the drugs his colleague had dropped so swiftly three months ago. Experiment failed? I asked. Afraid so, he replied.

Fun fact: If the joints in your hands and feet hurt at night when you are all rested and just try to sleep, it's called arthritis (-itis meaining inflammation), if they hurt when you move them but are ok at night it's called arthrosis (old age and wear and tear damage), if they hurt regardless of what time of day or night and whether you move them or not, it's called rheumatoid arthritis (which is another word for you-are-fucked). 

So basically, my immune system has become bored with the blood vessels and has moved onto joints and tendons. 

lemon

There is a pattern here. Because back in the day, in the summer of 2000 to be exact, it started with autoimmune hepatitis, something I decided to almost completely ignore because: disbelief and being arrogant and ignorant and convinced that all doctors are in cahoots with the pharma industry. I actually considered filing a complaint when after the first liver biopsy it was suggested that I put my name on the transplant list just in case. 

For a long time, I thought I had shown them all (them being the medical cahooters) how in tune I was with my body when my liver recovered after 18 months of healthy diet, meditation, no alcohol and some herbal stuff. I did not want to know that 18 months actually means 18 months of ongoing stressful damaging inflammation caused by a hyperactive immune system and that a swift course of steroids plus immune suppressing drugs, 3-4 weeks max., would have brought it back in line. Hindsight. Haha.

Anyway, the pattern: autoimmune hepatitis turned into ulcerative colitis turned into autoimmune  vasculitis and now rheumatoid arthritis. Even I can see that and I can be blind to facts like the next person. Plus: my liver values are slightly up again. My lung function is somewhat reduced and who knows what the cardiologist will find next week.

In short: I am slowly climbing down the steroid mountain again, reducing weekly in tiny steps, back on immune suppressing chemo etc. Yawn. Old stuff. 

no idea

But today is warm and mostly sunny and I am out on the patio, lazing on the sunbed R fixed for me, the beehives from my neighbour's garden are humming, I am reading and dozing (I am on official actual holidays from work), in between I wash a window or two, fold some laundry and pretend that all is well. 

Can someone tell me what this last plant is? The bees love it.