Lupus Detention House May 2026

One more day survived is one more day the warden didn't win. Disclaimer: This blog post is based on personal metaphor and experience. Lupus affects everyone differently. If you are struggling with a chronic illness, please consult your rheumatologist or a mental health professional.

Plaquenil (Hydroxychloroquine) is the silent guard. It stands in the corner, doing its job quietly, trying to calm the riot. I don't see it working, but I know the horror stories of what happens when it leaves.

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Yesterday, I was granted "yard time"—I went for a 20-minute walk in the sun. Today, because of photosensitivity, the sun is the enemy. The fluorescent lights in the grocery store trigger a migraine. The meal they serve (a delicious, healthy salad) contains alfalfa sprouts, which can trigger a flare.

I fight for one good hour. One pain-free meal. One laugh that doesn't hurt my ribs. If you are reading this and you recognize these walls, I see you. I see you dragging your heating pad like a security blanket. I see you tracking your rashes and your fevers like a lawyer tracking evidence. lupus detention house

But you can change the nature of the sentence. Over the years, I have learned that while I cannot unlock the cell door, I can paint the walls.

When you look healthy on the outside, but your kidneys are staging a revolt on the inside, people don't see a prisoner. They see someone who "doesn't look sick." They see a lazy person who cancels plans. They see a flake. One more day survived is one more day the warden didn't win

We are serving a life sentence. But we are not dead yet. And as long as my heart is still beating—even if it is beating out of rhythm due to lupus myocarditis—I will be scratching tally marks on the wall.