If you have not yet delved into the far reaching depths and or earlier updates of this blog, you may not know that whilst having Lupus, I also work full time. As many of us familiar with the disease know, it comes in all shapes and sizes (a bit like my waistline over the past 5 years) as well as severity. To work full time for anyone is demanding, the relief of the approaching weekend and Saturday morning lie ins to recuperate, is notable if not from the sighs of my husband (the lovely and hardworking SuperMark) on a Friday morning, then the literary cheers, whoops of glee and photos with glasses of wine in hand on my Facebook feed on a Friday evening. But for anyone working full time with a condition like mine, the reward of making it through a working week is far more of a celebration than the usual Friday night 'Beer 'o' clock' festivities. To make it through to 5.30pm on a Friday when you suffer with chronic pain, fatigue, nausea, sore joints and a belly full of toxic medication is a rewarding and honourable achievement, because there was at one point in your life, when you thought you may never work again.
