More about the morphea

Monday, August 11th, 2008

I spent all of last week, apart from one blog entry posted using my iPhone, offline. I was recovering from my biopsy, and had my stitches out the previous Friday but will have to wait at least another fortnight for the results, and even longer to see my GP, who’s on his annual leave until early September. The doctor who performed the biopsy, however, was confident that cancer is unlikely, and that I have a rare autoimmune disorder called morphea scleroderma.

I don’t have UK statistics, but I’ve read that 25 out of every million Americans develop morphea each year, the majority (over two-thirds) being children and, of the adults, the majority are female. Go figure—once again, not for me the common diseases and disorders, oh no. Set this alongside my Mal de Debarquement Syndrome, all I need to complete my exotic collection are horns on my head, three eyes, and a blue face.

When the diagnosis is confirmed it will mean a number of options need to be considered. One of those is a course of steroids, which should stop the disorder from progressing further, at least outwardly. I may say yes, I may say no. It all depends on how long a course of steroids is proposed. However, the affected arm has steadily become weaker over time, and painful. I had the pain long before I had my biopsy, which for a while didn’t help on the pain front, but I never once thought it could be arthritis, which it is likely to be because that’s something that comes with the morphea. I simply never connected the internal problems of my arm with the external, despite all the symptoms coming along at more or less the same time.

The pain used to be rare, eventually at some point over the past year-and-a-half becoming more frequent. It’s now with me most days, all day. I wouldn’t describe it as chronic. It’s a pain, but I wouldn’t say it’s very painful—if that makes sense? Usually it’s a dull ache, but there are occasions when it drives me nuts as it has a tendency to become a stabbing, knife-like sensation, particularly in my elbow, fingers, and shoulder. The arm itself always feels heavy, and sometimes like it isn’t a part of me, just hanging there. Weird, but that’s how it is. Thankfully, so far, it hasn’t affected my ability to write, although an extreme symptom of morphea can be partial paralysis. But if that’s going to happen, it hasn’t happened yet. There’s no reason to surmise that it will. Okay, maybe a little itsy-bitsy reason, but I’m not going to sweat unduly over what may happen or may not.

I do find, at times, I can’t carry a bottle of soft drink or carton of milk in the hand of the affected arm, let alone anything heavier like garden tools or shopping bags.

I did go through a bleak frame of mind last week, but for the most part I’ve overcome the ability of the fears that have arisen to take away my energy to do anything. I’ve resumed writing my children’s novel with renewed vigour, and so far have written at least 3,000 more words after not going anywhere near it for months. You might think this is because I’m frightened that I may have a limited time left to me when it comes to typing, but I’m not overly crapping myself, and it’s not why I’ve gone back to the book. I just want to get it written. I want to complete the first draft. That’s my goal. And then, my next goal will be to complete a second draft. From there, I’ll see what I think of what I’ve managed up to that point, and maybe start sending out a synopsis to publishers along with sample chapters.

I want to be one of the one per cent of wannabe novelists who actually finishes the novel. And the only person who can make that happen is me. That’s why, when I’m on my own in the house, the phone is going unanswered, my inbox of emails is getting bigger, and the vacuum cleaner stays in the hall. I’m writing. Apart from my duty of care to the animals, everything else is sidelined.

What a difference a week makes, eh? I’ve assimilated the news from the doctor who performed the biopsy, to such an extent that I’ve gone from upset to resignation to a determination to not only keep going, but to get done the things I’ve long prevaricated over. I’m feeling perversely great under the circumstances, and am chewing over the idea right now of shedding some of my non-writing, non-home-related commitments. Blogging? I’m not sure where I stand on the blogging front yet, but I definitely need to achieve a work-life-blog balance that hasn’t been evidenced for a while.

It’s the wrong time of year to be talking about a spring clean, but that’s what it feels like I’m undertaking where my life is concerned right now. Now, where’s my broom…?

categories: healthy planet, rattle bag