Angry Blotches

She was misdiagnosed by multiple doctors, but never stopped asking questions

- Nicholas Hune-Brown

TODAY, WHEN ARNA Shefrin thinks about the illness that overtook her almost five years ago, she suspects it was stress that woke something dormant inside her.

It was September 2016, and the 67-year-old had taken a rare trip to her hometown of Winnipeg. She and her husband, Hersh, had left the city after she’d graduated from the University of Manitoba in 1970 and she hadn’t looked back since, pursuing a career as a dental hygienist, educator and clinical researcher. That weekend, her alma mater was holding a gala dinner to recognize her accomplishments. At the event, speaking to an audience with bright lights in her eyes left her feeling on edge.

She got through it, though, and on her trip home to Menlo Park, California, she allowed herself to relax. Midflight, she awoke with excruciating pain in her hip bone. By the time she was home, all of her joints were on fire—her ankles, knees, wrists. Within a week, she was covered with angry red blotches from her neck to her ankles. “It was like a time-lapse photograph,” says Shefrin. “If you watched them for five to 10 minutes, you would see them change shape.”

As the weeks went on, her condition only got worse. On some days, she was so weak she could barely leave her bed.

In late December, Shefrin went to her gynecologist for a checkup. Around that time she also completed a routine blood test with her general practitioner. When her GP called her back with her results, she could hear the concern in his voice: “Arna, I think you need to see a hematologist.”