Positive

“Last week I tested positive for rheumatoid arthritis.” I repeated this line over and over again to different people as my mother and I went around the administrative block, seeking attendance relaxation on medical grounds.  

“It is a peculiar case. Diseases like malaria or typhoid, we understand. But arthritis is something which is not as severe so we really don’t know what to say.”

It is not as severe, but it is here to stay and worsen if not controlled immediately, we explained. After 5 hours of doing this, we got some relief on that front and the next day we took the train home. At around 3 in the morning, I woke up in the train out of thirst. As I flexed my fingers to grab the water bottle, I felt the pain again. The pain killer was wearing off and the entire nightmare would start again in the morning. The struggle of standing, walking, grasping, knocking...the struggle of moving.

Out of habit I reflected on the week that was. I had been irritated by my inability to even hold my toothbrush properly and thus finally went to the doctor to get checked. I smiled when he said I need to get my RA Factor tested, sure he was off predicting the worst case scenario again. On being pushed by my father I got the test done anyway and after seeing the result, it was a while before I smiled again. My mother came to visit me after that and once the follow up tests confirmed the original report, it was decided that I must go back home to start my treatment properly. Soon some people in college got to know about it and they came to offer me comfort...at least in most cases.

“Hey, I heard you’re about to die.” I looked up at the boy who had called out to me like that. “Well, you know my FATHER has arthritis. He’s 60. You’re an oldie. Aren’t you embarrassed?,” he continued. “Is this how you feel good about yourself, by making such jokes? I understand it must be hard living with yourself when you waste Rs. 20,000 a month on trivialities while the sole earning member in your family is a retired man suffering from severe joint pain. We are not close enough for your joke to not be taken as offensive, mind you” (and a glare) is how I replied, mentally. “What!?!” in shrieky voice is all that I actually managed.

We reached home in the morning and the appointment with the specialist was scheduled for the noon. In the meantime my grandmother drilled into me the importance of not revealing to anyone that I have arthritis or that I am sick in any other way. One look at my mother’s exasperated expression confirmed my doubt- my grandma was worried about the negative marks this defect brings to me in the marriage market.

The doctor was consulted, medicines were bought and pitiful looks were exchanged. All this while I waited. I waited for it to hit me that now at the age of 23 I had two chronic disorders which are seldom seen in people my age and my entire life would feature a multitude of pills and tests. And eventually it did. It hit me when every night my mother would say things like how sad it was, especially at this age. And how people will not accept me easily. It hit me when my father suggested I stop trying for a job now because he wishes to spend some time with me at home for a few months. And blame it on the hormones, but for the next couple of days, I was not the easiest person to live with.

It has been 20 days now since I first tested positive. I returned to college today and the pain has more or less subsided as my body is adjusting to the medicines. (God bless science!) A healthier lifestyle is my mantra for now and honestly I feel...okay.

My day was quiet (all my friends are out for a couple of days). I went about my usual routine and I feel healthy as I prepare to turn in for the day. The breakdown of the previous days at this point seems like a pretty childish overreaction.  The fear, the sense of hopelessness, the frustration – all an unnecessary burden that I was not obligated to take in the first place. Our reaction in a given situation tends to get influenced by how others expect us to react. We get pressured to feel emotions which are expected to be felt normally. But would we, when isolated, when lying alone in the bed, be the same person? Would we feel the same way?

Last week I felt like a race horse facing just another hurdle, just another given, in her run for her variable victory. Last week, between all the people, all the ‘get well soon’ messages and all the health tips, I felt burdened despite the intended love. Right now, in the quiet of a breezy night, alone in my room, I feel the lightness of a peaceful mind and I for once mean it when I say I am okay.