Enbrel, Escape Plans, and a Semi-Permanent Vacation
Well, folks, hold onto your pill organizers and heated blankets—Mama’s finally getting some medicine for her SnRA! Next Thursday, I’ll be saying hello to my very first prescription of Enbrel, and let me tell you, I am manifesting miracles, mobility, and maybe even the ability to open a jar without cussing someone out.
If you’re wondering what SnRA is, think of it as rheumatoid arthritis’s sassier, sneakier cousin who shows up uninvited, wrecks the place, and then acts like you’re the dramatic one. Rude.
So yes, I’m thrilled. I’m hopeful. I’m also kinda terrified I’ll finally feel what it’s like to not walk around like the Tin Man after a bender. Please pray with me, chant, send vibes, do a dance—whatever works. I’m ready for some relief.
Meanwhile, tomorrow we say “see ya later” to Florida—but not really, because we got our official Florida licenses this week, which means we’re official Florida residents now, baby! (I can legally complain about tourists, humidity, and people who don’t use their blinkers.)
We’re headed back to Kentucky for our last two weeks there, which, thanks to the DMV, now counts as a vacation. That’s right—pack the sunscreen and sarcasm, because this is a getaway. A slightly chilly, questionably relaxing, emotionally charged “vacation,” but a vacation nonetheless.
So, to sum it up:
- I’m getting Enbrel and hoping the pain in my hands will at least give me a semi-break.
- Tomorrow afternoon we’re packing up for yet another 12-14 hour all night drive.
- And we’re entering a new era: Florida Me. (Yes, I’ll still say “y’all.” Yes, I’ll still drink sweet tea.)
Stay tuned for updates on whether this medicine works, whether I cry when I finally receive the prescription (very likely), and whether Kentucky decides to give me one last seasonal allergy slap before we leave.
With love, sass, and a heating pad in my suitcase! Muah!
