August 2019. I was midway through a waitressing shift when I noticed a bump on the back of my hand.
It was a little sore, but I figured I’d knocked it on something. A week later, the same bump appeared on the same spot on my other hand.
Then came the cold. My hands felt icy on my early morning runs. Then sore.
Maybe it was the grips I was using for deadlifts?
I started Googling. “Bilateral symptoms” popped up—a common sign of Rheumatoid Arthritis. I read about this horrifying autoimmune condition I’d never really heard of.
Surely not. I must be overtraining. I didn’t want to go to the doctor. I didn’t want to be told to stop training.
I asked my stepfather, a GP, about RA. He said it was unlikely.
I was more than happy to settle for that answer. I took Naproxen and booked an osteopath—my back and hips were starting to ache too.
Then my big toe hurt. Then the other one.
Must be my shoes. I emailed Hoka. Maybe they were faulty. Then my knees joined in. Definitely the Hokas.
But my hands kept getting worse—swollen, painful, weak. I couldn’t even lift a coffee cup off the bench. A disaster for a waitress. I rinsed them in hot water every chance I got. It helped—for a moment.
I was exhausted. Stairs became a challenge. Twisting the knob on the coffee machine. Flicking a light switch. Getting dressed. Tying my hair back. Making it through the day.
I stopped going to the gym. I hobbled around the block with my dogs. Running was out of the question.
I tried swimming. The next day, I couldn’t lift my arms.
My jaw started to hurt when I ate. My neck ached at night. I couldn’t lift my head off the pillow. I had to slide out of bed sideways and half-crawl to the bathroom.
I quit my job. I lived off savings. I walked a few dogs for cash—even though walking my own was a struggle.
Eventually, I saw my stepfather again. He was shocked by how much I’d deteriorated. He arranged for me to see a colleague. I was scared, but I went.
She was kind. Gentle. She ran all the tests and gave me prednisolone while we waited for results. It worked almost immediately. I thought, Maybe I’m going to be okay.
I felt better. I was walking a client’s dog when the phone calls came. First from my stepfather. Then from the doctor.
I’d tested negative for a few things. But positive for RA.
I asked her, “Will I be able to run again?”
She took a deep breath and said quickly, “Yes.”
“Then I will be ok” I said.
