I’m tired of having only negative things to say when I post to RheumaBlog. After all, there are lots of positive things that happen in my life every day; it’s not all doom and gloom. But the fact is that I wake up each morning stiff as a corpse. The first hour of each day aches, literally; the dose of painkiller that I took before retiring the night before has worn off completely. The new, first-thing-in-the-morning dose takes about an hour to work. My creaky joints loosen up some. Even then, the pain isn’t gone. The drug dulls it and sends it into the background, but it’s still there, mocking me, reminding me each time I move that I have rheumatoid arthritis and its co-morbidity, trochanteric bursitis, and that the many therapeutic drugs I take to keep it under control don’t seem to work very well.