The trees are motionless. Their leaves, although green, droop towards the ground, oppressed by the unbroken heat. The concrete sizzles, seeming lax and spongy beneath my sneakers – I can feel the burn through the thin layer of my rubber soles. The birds peep with idle energy, gazing down at the brown earth from their leafy perches. Swollen pollen floats on the air, igniting dormant allergies, the dry earth swallows up crops with little water to sustain them, flash floods swarm over cracked soil that no longer has the ability to absorb moisture. I slather on the SPF 60+ to prevent the fierce rays of the sun from razing my white skin and waking the sensitivity of my medication under the ultra violet rays.
This is the year of El Nino, a warm weather phenomena born from the heated waters of the Pacific Ocean. I have always relished the sultry heat of summer. The hot dry weather is the catalyst for my reprieve from the discomfort of RA. Our summer season usually reaches its peak in July but this year it has arrived a couple of months early, bringing with it all the trouble of climate change. My home in Vancouver B.C. Canada has always been renowned for its lush greenery, abundant rain forests, lakes, parks, and majestic mountains. Nestled in the harbour of the Pacific Ocean, our temperate city is protected from the extreme weather that assaults the rest of the world. We have four seasons that flow gently into one another. Our winters are cool, but not frigid; our spring is temperate; our summers warm, but not sizzling; our fall mild and rich with vivid colors. This year has been unusually dry, turning our verdant grass into a crusted brown, forcing our trees to bow beneath the brunt of the smouldering heat – one can almost feel the popping of electricity in the static air. It’s as if Mother Nature herself is in a flare, smothered by pollutants clogging her joints, wrecked by fires, floods, drought and storms.
An arthritis flare, like the capriciousness of climate change, will burn through the body like a brush fire with no forecast as to when it will abate. I am conflicted in these hot dry days. I can’t help but feel a little selfish, glad to see the symptoms of RA sinking into the shadows like a vampire avoiding the light of day. The arid weather has done wonders for me. My morning stiffness is greatly diminished, my energy restored, and I’ve been able to rise above the fog of fatigue. This may not be the case for everyone – I’ve always believed that arthritis is a very personal disease. We may experience similar symptoms but the circumstances under which they manifest are unique to each person – some thrive in the dry heat, while others turn to cooler temperatures to smother the burn.
Climate change is making life on this planet precarious. On the one hand, I want our earth to be strong and sustain life as long as possible, in spite of the advantage we have taken – on the other hand, Mother Nature’s flare, although not ideal for our future, has been favourable to me. But I am not so self-centered as to wish this parched predicament to continue for long – I hope that there will be some respite to alleviate the droughts and fires, to refresh the crops and restore balance to a world wracked by the wantonness of global warming. Until that time, I will walk the selfish road, reveling in my comfort and hoping for the day when the volatile flames of arthritis will be only the drought we will have to endure.
Leave a Comment
The information on this site are stories based on my personal experiences and is not intended for medical advice. All content provided on this blog is for informational purposes only. The owner of this blog makes no representations as to the accuracy or completeness of any information on this site or found by following any link on this site. The owner will not be liable for any errors or omissions in this information nor for the availability of this information. The owner will not be liable for any losses, injuries, or damages from the display or use of this information. All content is original and owned by the author and shall not be used or duplicated without express and written permission.
If You Like What You See
Some people have inquired if there’s a place to donate on my blog. This is for those who would like to offer extra support for my work and I thank you for this.
A bigger thank you to all my readers who offer ongoing support simply by stopping by for a visit. I enjoy writing and interacting with you.
J.G. Chayko is a writer, actress, and international arthritis advocate who’s been involved in theatre for more than 30 years and has published poetry, fiction, and creative non-fiction.
Your description is nothing less than perfect.
Thank you :). It’s been like desert temperatures on our usually mild west coast. But that’s just fine with me 🙂 . Hope all is well with you.
It’s been hot here as well, but probably not as bad as the desert temperatures you’re facing. I suppose it’s just going to get hotter from here on in.
As far as I read, you suffer the “old lady in your bones” mostly in silence with hardly any complaints at all, enjoy your respite without any guilt what so ever, it’s your turn. 🙂
Thank you, I am enjoying my respite. I never know how long it will last, so I take advantage of every moment. I hope all is well with you. Cheers.
“This year has been unusually dry, turning our verdant grass into a crusted brown, forcing our trees to bow beneath the brunt of the smouldering heat – one can almost feel the popping of electricity in the static air. It’s as if Mother Nature herself is in a flare …”
Fabulous imagery, JG! And, living in California and enduring the drought as well, I’m very familiar with how it looks and feels. I can’t tell you, though, how sad it makes me to imagine your gorgeous, green Northwest dried out and oppressed by the sun and lack of rain. My fingers are crossed that El Nino brings us rain this fall and winter, and breaks the long drought.
I’m glad to hear that the warmth and dryness has made your Old Lady creep back into her cave, though. I wish it would do the same for my rheuma-dragon, but as you wrote, we’re all different. Instead of repressing him, the dryness and heat is making him rampage.
I do love your writing! I look forward to it each week. Here’s wishing you a good week to come, little-to-no-pain, and days full of simple joys. 😀
I wish I could send you the rain we usually have at this time of year. June tends to be cooler and wetter before the dryness of July. It was a bit shocking to almost have summer temperatures in May. We’ve had some struggles with forest fires too early this year. I hope you get some cooler weather to douse your dragon, and that your pain will not prevent you from getting back to your love of painting. I can’t wait to see some of your pictures. Wishing you well, and hoping that cooler weather will come to relieve you and your poor ravaged homeland. Hugs xo