Some days I feel as if a wildfire is running unchecked in my body. I wonder where the water buckets, hoses and such are as this fire seems to rage out of control. Other days there is a faint burning ember in a few of my joints, nothing that requires such a huge rush for the cooling water. While this fire is rushing in my body there are no signs of what is happening to the causal on-looker.
Those who know me well can see the faint glow of the fanning flames as they are reflected in my eyes through pain. Or their glow has escaped from deep within my body to surface near my skin, primarily my cheeks and bridge of nose as a rosy pink. Hidden within my pants or long sleeves may be red, swollen joints as indicators of the fire getting out of control.
The truth is there is no water to put this fire out. There are strong medications with strong side-effects to tame the flames. There are doctors and nurses in place of fire fighters. And for fire hoses there are needles and tubing. During these fires even my tears are dry and hot, as if they too have been consumed by the out of control fire.
Somehow though the fire is always settled down, on a good day the fire is nothing but a few embers and I can forget I have lupus. I live for those days, I hope for more embers and less wild flames. When the flames fan up into a wall I have to rely on others to help put it out, and I am reminded how special those normal moments are.
Today the winds shifted, the flames fanned up and I saw some doctors and nurses who did their magic. Now I’m waiting hoping for embers and ash.