This morning I noticed that my index fingernail looked kind of… weird. What the fuck did I do to it? I wondered. Shortly after, I realized that the same fingernail on my other hand looked the same — as if the nail had arched into an hourglass shape on its own. I looked at my other fingernails and they all looked fine… except for both of the index fingers’ nails.

My right index fingernail

The photo is kind of blurred — you can thank my Kodak software, which deleted the nice, clean photos Mike took, when I transferred them to my laptop, so now I just have the ones I took on my own with my BlackBerry — but you can still see the clubbing.

Fingernail clubbing

Okay, this one is clearer, and you can see it a lot better.

Anyway, when I first noticed it this morning, I tried to ignore it. I made it all the way to the end of my work day, and then I broke down and did some sleuthing on Google. It turns out that my fingernail “deformity” is a medical condition called fingernail clubbing. I only figured it out after Googling “nail deformities” or something like that, and found this slideshow. Obviously, my case is not as bad as the image they use, but the description fits. As soon as I read “clubbing is also associated with inflammatory bowel disease,” I went into SUPER GOOGLE MODE and Googled “nail clubbing.” I learned that:

• nail clubbing is not painful (so at least there’s that)
• it could be a whole lot worse than the case I have
• it’s a definite sign of something going bananas in my body — most likely inflammatory bowel disease

Since Inflammatory Bowel Disease is caused by Rheumatoid Arthritis, I’m guessing that this is just a happy little chain reaction. I always knew that you could see your general health in your fingernails, but damn. As the day has done on, the clubbing has gotten worse, and is now in most of my fingernails. I have a feeling it’s going to get worse… but as sick as this might sound, I’m hoping it does; come Monday, if it’s still there, I’m calling out of work and calling my rheumatologist. I cannot wait until Thursday when I see my gastroenterologist. This could be a very important piece of the puzzle, though I might not like the final answer.

I’ve accepted that this is all my reality. For the past two weeks, I have been in nonstop pain (except, of course, when I take my medications). I have spent an awful lot of time laying in bed. Last night, I finally broke down in tears as I drove to pick up Mike from work. I’m tired, and I’m tired of being in pain. I’m tired of popping pills to try to alleviate said pain. I am on a 24/7 pill schedule (which I created through trial and error last weekend).

At 6:30am, I wake up to my alarm. It takes me almost ten minutes to get out of bed most mornings, because I’m so stiff. Usually, taking Tramadol and Tylenol Extra Strength the night before helps with the morning stiffness. (Please, please do not hold back your morning stiffness jokes in the comments. I could use the inappropriate giggles.) When I finally make it out of bed and into the bathroom, I take a Skelaxin. Skelaxin only works for the first half of the day (though I am still experimenting with the timing of the second dose). Later on at night, I take my Tramadol/Tylenol cocktail. If I take it too close to my last dose of Skelaxin, I get really fucking dizzy and physically cannot be vertical. (There’s a joke in there. I’m leaving it up to you, dear readers. Comment away!)

I go to sleep shortly after, and then I wake up in the morning and do it all over again.

It is fucking exhausting.

But here we are. I have finally accepted this as reality. My Mystery Autoimmune Disease is kicking my ass. I’m terrified that I’m going to end up unable to work a job where I leave the house and work in an office for eight hours. This entire last week has been hell. My feet have been too swollen to wear regular shoes, like sneakers, so I’ve been wearing my Nike sandals. I don’t know if it’s because the joints are swollen or what, but about an hour into wearing anything other than my Nike sandals, I have to get my feet the hell out of those shoes — as if I’ve been standing on them all day. Top that with intense joint pain 24/7, and fatigue, and the Inflammatory Bowel issues, and by the end of my work day, I’m completely spent. You wanna talk about being out of spoons? Every day this week, I’ve had two or three spoons a day. Today I actually felt good. I was still in pain, of course, and constipated, but the pain was a 3/10 instead of a 7/10 or 10/10 or 100/10 (like last night). Even then, eight o’clock smacked me in the face with a good dose of fatigue.

I have been trying for days to write about this, and kept hitting a wall. (Yesterday, I didn’t even try. I just laid in bed watching Batman Beyond.) This afternoon, while driving home, I accepted this as my reality. Like my mom said, tomorrow this flareup could be over and I could feel kinda normal. I hate to say it, but I feel like normal of four years ago is far behind me, and that the only thing ahead of me is illness — nail clubbing and all.

But I’m not just going to give up. I might not be able to get better like you can with a sinus infection or the flu, but I can hold on to my dreams. I can hold on to the fact that I have a man who loves me so much that he will lead me to my bed when my medications overlap, tuck me in, and do everything I would normally do — like save my blog drafts before shutting down my laptop, move my comics to a safe place so that Squirt doesn’t mistake them for chew toys, and get my earplugs — so that I can avoid being vertical and falling over. I can hold on to the fact that my cat comforts me when I’m in agony. I can hold on to the fact that I have awesome family and friends (both off- and online).

I have to admit, I never thought this disease would take me to a day where I’d have to stay in bed, but I’ve found that this is my reality more and more. Fortunately, I have a nice collection of DVDs and books for those days when I just have to stay in bed.