The storm churned over the ocean during the night, with rolling thunder claps that shook our thin walls and rattled the windows; flashes of lightning flooded a grim sky suffocated by thick clouds that delivered a deluge from their pregnant bulk. The first roar of thunder woke me from a burning sleep, and my drowsy eyes were blinded by the fiery flash of lightning chasing the clouds across the sky; when that first flash lit up the room, it seemed to ignite my body, setting a smouldering flame under my joints.
The weather has been in constant flux in its frenzied transition from spring to summer. Warm air rises up and clashes with cold in a furious struggle, resulting in abrupt thunderstorms and erratic changes from rain to sun; this rapid change in pressure invigorates old lady RA, lighting up my dormant joints like dynamite. The last several days have seen an uncharacteristic summer resurgence of the old lady at her worst. Stiff, sore, swollen joints plague me, burning hot beneath my pale skin, a constant reminder of her malevolent presence. The memory of that wonderful rare day a few weeks ago has faded into her angry cloud cover. The fickle nature of arthritis is always astonishing – one day can be brilliant, the next you are peeling yourself from the bed as if you had been steamrolled into the mattress. Old lady RA is an impetuous sea hag, tossing the body around like a toy boat on the wild waves of the sea.
Stormy days will come and go with arthritis, but I hope to ease into the placid days of the summer solstice with clear skies, rising above the turbulent squall of RA.