Patti Edmon Artist

I'm lying on the sofa while my mother-in-law is cleaning out the refrigerator, cutting up the fruit she brought, along with the rest of my grocery list. Wow, I really have it made. Except, no bon bons, no soap operas. Nausea, swollen painful joints and the kind of fatigue that kicks you flat. September 13 - 19th is National Chronic Invisible Illness Week. I wrote a post last year and now, here it is again. The biggest difference is that, along with the disability came Medicare. A donut hole?? What that means is that if I want the same medications that allowed me a better quality of life than this - I have to cough up several thousand dollars every year. Hopefully, my empathetic, fabulously wonderful rheumatologist, a word unrecognized by my spell check, will succeed in procuring a supply from the drug companies that, until their patents expire (my theory, opinion, not fact) gouge $1750 for the two injections I need every month. Forget the very costly eye drops that prevent the blur...