SnRA, Enbrel, and Me: Still Hurting, Still Hoping (But Also Side-Eyeing My Joints)

Hey y’all —

Let’s talk about something that’s been sitting on my heart (and, unfortunately, in my finger joints): my SnRA journey and this new chapter with Enbrel.

So, I started Enbrel two weeks ago. Tomorrow is dose number three — which feels like a small milestone, especially for someone who’s never been one to casually stab herself with a needle once a week. 

Anyway, when I say I was hopeful starting Enbrel, I mean I was ready for it to be the superhero my joints had been begging for. I wanted that “I woke up and suddenly my fingers didn’t feel like they were dipped in battery acid” kind of magic. But so far? Nope. Still hurting.

Like, come on — I gave you two weeks. I gave you time. I gave you fridge space. I gave you thigh real estate. The least you could do is stop my fingers from feeling like someone’s twisting them every time I try to zip up my jeans or open a jar of pickles. The disrespect!

Now, I know the logical part of me (the one who tries to be patient and understand how long biologics can take) is whispering, “Sina, give it time. Some folks don’t feel full relief until after a month or more.” But the real me? She’s loud. She’s tired. And she’s currently side-eyeing every swollen knuckle wondering when the healing is gonna kick in.

And yes, I know… Enbrel isn’t a painkiller. It’s not here to slap a Band-Aid on inflammation. It’s here to modify the disease. That takes time. I get it. But I also have a life to live — people to love, stories to write, bologna sandwiches to make — and I need these hands to cooperate.

Which brings me to the question I keep turning over in my mind like one of those stress balls I can no longer grip properly:
How long do I give this before calling in backup — a rheumatologist right here in Wesley Chapel who can maybe tweak the plan or offer some local support?

I’ve been going through this mostly alone with one visit to the rheumatologist in Kentucky, who’s been great, but I’m starting to feel like I might need someone in my corner whose full-time job is decoding joint drama and in my new hometown.

So here’s where I’m landing for now:

I’m taking my third dose tomorrow (let’s go, Team Thigh).
I’m continuing to track my symptoms, pain levels, and energy — because the fatigue lately? Ma’am.
And I’m going to start looking into rheumatologists in Wesley Chapel — not because I’m giving up on Enbrel, but because I believe in being proactive and informed (and a little bossy when I need to be).

If you’ve been through this ride — Enbrel, SnRA, or anything remotely similar — slide into my inbox or comments. I’d love to hear how long it took for you to feel better, if you switched meds, or if you just needed to vent to someone who gets it.

Sometimes I feel like I’m walking a tightrope between grace and grit — giving my body the grace to heal at its own pace, while summoning the grit to advocate for myself when it’s not. And if you’re in the same boat? Just know: you’re not alone, and it’s okay to be hopeful and annoyed at the same time.

Sending love (and warmth to all our creaky joints),

Simply Sina. Simply Honest. Simply Holding On.