The arthritis tease

A poem about living with the flare and remission cycle, the unpredictability of tomorrow and trying to pace with chronic pain.

Whisper it like I almost don’t believe,
But today, when I woke, I was virtually pain-free!

Gone were the burning joints, numbered four or five.
For a second, I rose and thought I had died!

I push, and I poke; jog up and down.
I wait months for relief, so why try to make it hurt now?

A surge in energy, oh, it’s been such a long while,
Since I got out of bed and descended stairs with a smile.

Then the fear hits, but how long will it last?
Has the flare subsided? Has the suffering passed?

Sometimes a false hope hurts more than the disease.
Is this remission or an arthritis tease?

Time spent worrying is more time that it takes.
So I declutter my mind to make the most of this break.

I walk through the fields and whizz through my chores.
How long before my painkillers? ‘It doesn’t matter no more!’

After a day of achievement, I retire to off bed.
For the first time in months, asleep as the pillow hits my head.

I sleep like a log, I can’t believe my luck.
I go to get up, what’s that pain in my feet?
‘Oh, fuck!’

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