Having no pain is definitely a gain

I’m on my way to my two-hour infusion of a drug that has given me back jogging, cardio kickboxing, weightlifting and painless days free of the effects of rheumatoid arthritis. In other words, my life. I do this six times a year. I stay in the moment and hope it keeps working, which is a new attitude for this professional worrier.

The only part I don’t like is when Patricia, the nurse, attempts to get an IV into a vein in my hand. Although my hands have tons of ropy veins -- along with the freckles my mom warned me about when I was a beach-crazy teen -- these veins literally turn against me.

Patricia says they roll around, but she eventually gets the IV in. I pity the girl that subbed a few times for her, because it took her several tries, and I almost fainted. She was there for a few more infusion days, and we both got increasingly nervous around each other.

However, even faint-prone little Sue Clark is grateful to have an IV, a blood draw to see how this conquering angel of a drug is affecting the rest of me, and anything else I used to be squeamish about. I’m a lot more into gratitude these days, and may I say a special blessing to the Irvine Unified School District and Blue Shield for keeping me on board until age 65.

Gratitude and attitude are so individual. My daughter has been doing some work in which she analyzes interviews of indigent HIV patients being helped by a clinic at UCLA.

“What’s amazing to me, Mom,” she said recently, “is their answers to a question that asks them to rate the quality of their life from 1 [really bad] to 10 [great]. The vast majority say a nine or ten!”

We decided it’s all about perspective. When I was tracking down the family culprit who gave me the rheumatoid arthritis gene, I finally found out that Uncle Roy, a former pro baseball player, who is still physically active, had had it since he was 30. I was shocked.

“You never told me about it,” I said. “And they didn’t have the medicines that I have. What did you do?”

“Not much, just took Indocin or aspirin.”

“Indocin!! That’s tough on your stomach,” I nagged him.

“I did fine, and I’m still golfing,” this 80-year-old cheerily replied. Uncle Roy is a sunny-natured guy and was from birth. He is also a notorious punster, so I told him his form of arthritis (ankylosing spondylitis) should be called “uncle-osing”. That set him off for more puns, but that’s the price you pay with Uncle Roy.

My blood drawing I choose to see as a time to chat and joke with Ahmad, my favorite Dracula. My vein searching and infusion is a good chance to tease Patricia and read a good book, although if I get into a room with a talker, I automatically go into counselor mode.

My disease I’m powerless over. Maybe someday the meds will stop working. But to have been in such pain and to now be free of it has changed my perspective. I can’t say that if I had HIV, I would rate my life a 10. But once again, these folks are getting help and know people care about them. Maybe their life improves by having someone in their corner.

For me, pain and then no pain means a high quality life. Needles and veins equal good care.

But then, it’s all relative. (Please don’t tell Uncle Roy I made a pun.)

* SUE CLARK lives in Costa Mesa and is a therapist in Newport Beach. She can be reached at [email protected].

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