#79 Psychotic Arthritis

It is the first day of June. Cold and rainy.

A woman selling boots in a shoe store said, "this weather is strange. I'm not sure if I like it or not."

I knew exactly what she meant and bought the boots.

I may have been in a dissociated state and retail therapy was not what the doctor ordered, however, what the doctor just ordered was emotionally expensive and my psyche was paying by avoiding the fact that my body is aging. It is undeniable and really, really obnoxious and rude.

I haven't told anyone this, but for the past few weeks I've been having quasi-hallucinations of cockroaches crawling up my legs. Lots of them are claiming real estate on each of my calves: from my ankles to right below my knees.  Being in the mental health profession sends amber alert warning signs signaling to not let this go too far. If it goes too far, it will surge past the edge of reality. Frankly, I don't have time for that at the moment, so I just notice them and their loving adherence to my lower legs.

Disgusting. But what can I do?

I quit a professional group last week. This is a problem I run into now and again. It's like I have x-ray vision and I can see through everyone and their self-deception which leads the train off the rails and things get very disorganized. I have no patience for that, and know for political reasons and some social ones, that I must keep my mouth shut and try to work it through and let the phase pass.

It didn't.

And the truth, which is exploding within me, must stay there and I made the decision to leave which is awkward and humiliating and makes me question myself, and the meaning or importance (necessity?) of truth, honesty and self deception. All topics which capture my imagination. Clearly, not anyone else's in the group, so call me the crazy one and let the roaches go at me.

I have been in physical therapy for the past seven weeks because my knees hurt. There has been very little improvement so today I went to a Bone Guy. After mutual amusement with my X-ray technician, I waited a long, long time in a freezing examination room. A young PA entered, pulled my X-ray up on the screen and proceeded to explain that I have osteoarthritis. He pointed to the cloudy white spaces where cartilage should be, like when I was "15".  I made a visual reference in my head and saw young, plump, healthy knees. Young.

Young knees with lots of cartilage.

I won't bore you with what came next, but I did receive cortisone injections in each knee and will receive more injections (once approved by my insurance company) which will mimic cartilage for six months, if I am lucky. Oil my knees up like the Tin Man and I'll do a creaky clanky little jig, in my lass sassy way.

So the truth is in my knees. It is really there, on the screen. Plain as day.