At 38 (almost 2 years ago) I was diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis. I lived a relatively healthy, "normal" life until I woke with extreme joint pain one day. The diagnosis rocked my world. I went (and am going) through the usual stages of grief. Before I was diagnosed but after the symptoms appeared I went to a bad place. After diagnosis I still mourn for my old life. When I have a "flare" (joint pain) I dive into depression, not knowing if my medication has stopped working, my condition has gotten worse or some other factor (diet, stress etc.)

I think about my disease every. single. day. I worry about my kids, and my wife. I don't want to be a burden to them, and I don't want my kids to have this horrible disease passed to them (there's a genetic factor). I worry about my future. When the pain is bad I have a hard time working (typing, using the mouse, sitting etc.) which has me thinking about what happens when I can't work at all.

I could write a novel, but I just wanted to say that in a nutshell ... life goes on. I now have a greater sense of empathy for others dealing with pain, and also realize that even your loved ones can't fully understand your pain - it's yours, and yours alone to bear.