Mr. Parsons

I watched as Angie went back to her tent and disappear for the night. She was rather quiet tonight and had little to say at the campfire. There was a chance she was feeling rather outnumbered and alone without Josh here. I walked out to Nicholas who was last person sitting at the fire. He was wrapped up in a blanket, and keeping as warm as he could. It wasn't that cold out, but he still clung to the wrap as if there was a blizzard outside. Nic saw me getting closer and greeted me with a forced smile.

"Hey boss," Nic started, "Not ready to call it a night?"

"I'm getting there," I admitted, "But I thought I'd clean up a bit since I still have too much energy."

"I know the feeling," Nic replied, "I can't sleep until I have no energy left."

"None?" I repeated.

"Not a lick," Nic confirmed. "If I'm not near exhaustion, I can't fall asleep. I'll just be staring at the ceiling, and if I'm doing that I might as well be working."

"Is that a part of your condition?" I asked him, mildly curious.

"Kind of," Nic said, squirming in his seat.

"What is this condition called?" I asked him, curious to know more.

"It's called Ankylosing Spondilitis," Nic answered, sighing deeply. "It took me a while to learn how to say it properly, still can't spell it."

"I've never heard of it," I confessed.

"Not that surprising," Nic said, "It's not widely know, and only effect less than a percent of the population. It's hard to get help from anyone, even some medical personal because even some of them have never heard of it before."

"That has to be frustrating," I added, feeling a bit bad about it.

"You get used to it," Nic said, pretending like it wasn't a big deal.

"What does this do exactly?" I asked him.

"I've heard someone else who had it describe it as arthritis on crack," Nic answered, "It's not entirely accurate as my condition is much worse than that, but people seem to understand it a bit easier when described that way."

"What's the complicated way to explain it?" I asked him, as I didn't want the dumbed down version.

"It's an inflammatory disease," Nic started, "You get it from one of your parents, and in this case it was from my mother's side. Over time, it can cause some of our bones in the spine to fuse together, and that can make us less flexible and result in a hunched posture. I'm on different meds to slow down the process and to manage pain, and those are actually more responsible for my insomnia rather than the disease."

"That's unfortunate," I said walking closer, "Is it worth the side effects?"

"Most of the time, I would say yes." Nic said, "But sometimes when I have a bad flare, nothing seems to help and I just gotta ride it out."

"A flare?" I asked, sounding rather confused.

"People with my conditions get flares," Nic explained, "They comes out of nowhere and can sometimes leave us bedridden for days depending on where we're hit."

"On where you're hit?" I again repeated.

"The flares effect my joints the most," Nic again explained, "And it can be any joint on my body. From the shoulders all the way down to the knuckles of my toes."

"That's terrible," I said, sounding rather sympathetic. "Is there any one part that hurts the most when flaring up?"

"The ribs," Nic answered, "They hurt the most and it can be difficult to breathe deeply when they're flaring. It doesn't matter how many pain meds I take, it still hurts like a mother..."

"That's alright," I interrupted, waving a hand. "I get the point."

"Sorry about that," Nic said, "I don't mean to dump this on you."

"I'm sorry you have to suffer alone," I said, as I could hardly believe it.

"It's what we do," Nic said, "People who suffer with what I have rarely talk. It just doesn't seem worth the effort. Half of the people don't understand what's going on, while the other half thinks we're faking it for attention or to get out of work."

"And you've learned to hide it and work with it," I said, noting how I rarely see this side of him during the days at the office. "Why is it so different not?"

"Usually I get sore late at night," Nic answered, "The meds I take in the morning and mid-afternoon start to wear off around now as well."

"I thought you said no meds could help the pain?" I asked, remembering what he said earlier.

"That is true," Nic answered, as he nodded to concur, "But these meds I take are not pain killers, but rather anti-inflammatories, and other pills meant to increase mobility and not lower pain. I try to avoid pain killers, cause if you abuse them the body gets used to them and I'd rather save them for days when I'm really hurting."

"They can also be addictive," I added, "So it's wise to not take too many if you don't have to. I had no idea you were feeling this way. How long have you been suffering like this?"

"I was diagnosed about five years ago," Nic answered, "And I don't need any special treatment. I can and will perform my job as expected when I return to work on Monday."

"I have no doubt about that," I said, "You've never shown any signs that it has been effecting your work so far."

"I'll be alright," Nic said, trying to reassure himself as much as me. "The cold has been getting to me and I prefer to stay outside with the warm fire."

"The fire is nice," I said, looking back at Nic. "Will you be alright in the tent?"

"I'll be alright," Nic tried to reassure me again.

"I have an inflatable mattress," I offered, "Will that help?"

"I didn't want special treatment, Sir." Nic reminded me.

"That's not what this is," I countered, "I have this on hand to offer help to anyone at the camp who might need it. So nothing special here, alright?"

"Alright," Nic said, letting out a sigh. "Could you help me set it up?"

"Of course!" I replied, "It can be tricky. Let's go!"