The Things We Don't See

"Just because you don't see it, doesn't mean it's not there."

Those are the exact words I’d like to tell people whenever they see me doing things and assume I’m okay.

Because I do look okay.

You might see me running a race, paddling a dragon boat, or playing pickleball. But you won’t see the pain, the stiffness, and the fatigue I had to go through every single day.

Three years.

It’s hard to believe that it’s already been three years since Rheumatoid Arthritis (RA) became an unwelcome guest in my life.

I remember three years ago, when I first started experiencing symptoms, I was in denial. I couldn’t even bring myself to admit to my friends that I might actually have it.

For the benefit of my non-Bisaya speaking readers, here's how the convo went.
Me: Guys, I have a question. What kind of doctor should one go to for rayuma?
Mae: Hahaah do you have a rayuma sar?
Me: hahaha. Not me. Asking for the old people here.

Because heck, how could someone like me, who was fit and active, have a disease like this?

But that’s the thing about RA. It doesn’t care about your gender, your age, or how healthy or physically active you are. It doesn’t look at how often you exercise or how strong you think your body is and decide that you are exempt. It can happen to anyone.

Initially, I didn’t want people to know. Partly because I didn’t want to keep explaining that RA isn't just an old people disease. I didn’t have the energy to give an RA 101 every time someone asked. But the more I learned about it, the more I realized that these misconceptions are exactly why awareness matters (it's RA Awareness Week, by the way).

That said, I’m still not going to write what RA is and what it actually feels like to live with RA. And no, it’s not because I’m fatigued. I’m just lazy. (Or you can check this out, everything was explained here.)

What I do want people to know is that having RA is not easy.

There are good days and there are days when my body reminds me that I can't always do things on my own terms. There are moments when I have to slow down, rest, adjust, or accept that some days won't go the way I planned.

But there are also days when I surprise myself.

When I finish a race.

When I get through a dragon boat session.

When I pick up a paddle and play another game of pickleball.

Three years in and with a slightly deformed pinky finger, I still don't know what the next few years will look like. There’s no cure for this, but I still believe in the possibility of a complete remission.

“There is hope. Just because you don’t see it, doesn’t mean it’s not there.” These are the exact words I remind myself every day.