My friend Yoni, the dentist, gave me very valuable advice the other day.

He said that two weeks before I see my dentist, I should floss every day.  This essentially reverses the entire year of not flossing -- and makes the dentist think that I am.

Brilliant!

It made me wonder, Is there something equivalent I can do for my rheumatologist?

I saw him (the rheumatologist) the other day, and I got to thinking about all of the visits I've had over 15 years.

There are the good days and bad days, the ups and downs.  Some days I felt great the day I saw him, others I felt terrible.

I wish there were something I could do two weeks leading up to the visit to paint a prettier picture. Or perhaps the opposite -- to have a really bad day so he sees what they're like, firsthand, instead of listening to me try to explain what it's like.

Either way, I'm six days into the flossing.  Eight days to go!

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I spent this week popping toothpicks in my eye-lids (to keep them open, that is) and soaking my feet in a hot tub of water every night -- all because of running 100 miles per hour attending the American College of Rheumatology's annual scientific meeting.

Or, as we know it, the Super Bowl of arthritis:  tens of thousands of rheumatologists from around the world descend on a city for a week (Philly this year) to share their experiences, exchange best practices, and envy the chic fashion style of the European physicians.  They're hot.

We're gathering lots of information about what's new and exciting, taking in the data at press conferences, and saying hi to old friends (doctors, nurses, and more) we have met and known throughout the years.

I find myself in sheer amazement at the size of this conference -- left pondering how many rheumatologists there are in the world.  Every corner, too!  From Kenya to Japan to Iceland to Milwaukee (yes, Milwaukee), there is a specialist who has dedicated his or her life to helping people like us feel better.

I've had early mornings and late nights these past several days -- fueled mainly by the energy I get from meeting everyone who is so excited about the world of rheumatology.

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Most people opt out of politics unless there's a juicy scandal involving an intern, a bag of money in the freezer, or an escort.  Which really grinds my gears, because when a subject like health care comes up, we all need to pay attention.  The old saying goes "if you don't have your health ..." -- so I ask myself, how could anyone afford to ignore what's going on?

Here's the problem:  it affects all of us (especially those with arthritis) because we're the ones living with a chronic condition who rely on good health care to live a decent life.

If you've ever gotten a referral, been prescribed multiple medications, needed a test (like an MRI) or even a second opinion, you've likely had difficulty navigating the complicated mess of approval, authorization, and reimbursement that is health insurance benefits.

It's hard not to get angry at the thought of an insurance company denying a claim.  I remember way back when I was prescribed a Prilosec (proton pump inhibitor) to keep the other medicine I was taking from causing an ulcer.  That one little pill (back then it was prescription-only) was so annoying to get approvals for, it must have taken a dozen phone calls a month between the doctor's office, pharmacy, insurance company and my mom.  And why?  Because an MBA graduate at the health insurance company made a formula that kicked back costly drugs because there were other alternatives available.

Even then I never understood how an insurance company could challenge a doctor's decision to prescribe a certain medicine.  Why even separate the two?  If we're going to get screwed by the insurance company, why not take out the middleman and have Blue Cross open clinics for their doctors to tell us up front that the medicine or tests we need aren't covered, so we won't even bother.

Whichever "side" or whatever opinion one might have about the health care conversation, it's best to at least get involved and know more.  And know more doesn't mean learn everything from Fox News or even MSNBC.  It comes down to learning and thinking about some of the complexities that comprise the issue.  Boiling down health care into small sound bites or news stories (like disruptive town hall meetings) doesn't scratch the surface.

And it doesn't do us any good if we're going to actually get hooked up and stop being jerked around.

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Nothing is more entertaining than a good wipe-out in front of all of your friends.  Especially when you land face first in the water of a pool.

After the shock of "I actually just fell into the freaking pool trying to catch a ball" wears off -- and the hysterical laughter from the deck subsides -- a smile from embarrassment can quickly turn into a very painful grimace.  Trust me.

In the course of that little poolside trip, I did a little damage to my left knee.  I must have pivoted wrong and, in the process of tripping, I twisted my knee in a way that isn't natural and definitely not recommended.  That night, and the following five or so, I was kept awake by the pain in my knee, from every little move I'd make.  It was swollen (though kept pretty normal from all of my regular anti-inflammatories) and very tender to the touch.  I could put weight on it, but didn't want to go near it because every time I'd touch it, it hurt so much that I'd get a stomach ache.

I hate that kind of pain!  When you get nauseated from another part of your body hurting so much -- that's a sign that something is wrong and/or you are paying the price for an accident.

After about a week now, the pain is slowly subsiding and my initial self-diagnosis (partial tear ... sounds official, doesn't it?) is probably right.  I don't think there is irreversible damage because I wouldn't have been able to walk to the bathroom just now if that were the case.

My travel schedule and work these past few weeks have been so rigorous that I didn't have the luxury to go to the doctor right away (although I promised myself that if it didn't start to get better in a week that I'd have to haul my butt there).  Which, in retrospect, was a pretty dumb thing to do.  My doctor isn't a last resort -- I shouldn't have treated him that way.

And trust me, it wouldn't be the first time -- and it ain't the last -- that I came to him after doing something stupid or by accident.

I always said that if I were to travel abroad, I'd want to do it as an ambassador. Well, I got my wish, kind of.

This December I took the plunge (as in the Ambien) and went to the Land Down Under -- Australia -- to visit a friend and experience life in another hemisphere. The toilets do flush in reverse, but besides that, everything is just as it is at home, only nicer. Including living with arthritis, which isn't so nice if you're dealt that card.

I had the opportunity to meet a new friend, Ainslie, who runs the Arthritis Foundation Australia (read: Arthritis Australia), and we sat and talked for hours about the similarities and differences facing our two distant, but similar worlds. While it wasn't exactly a sanctioned United Nations or State Department trip -- and though I didn't have chauffeured service in an armored car -- I still felt somewhat responsible for representing Americans with arthritis.

What I found fascinating was learning about some of the cultural issues facing a country like Australia, which is the exact same for us in America, but not as seemingly obvious.

For example, the really strong Greek community in Australia needs educating badly. I hadn't realized this was such a large demographic (I just assumed Australians liked Greek pastry shops), and could see how English-language materials might cause a problem.

And learning about the government and medical system here, with respect to all of the expensive drugs, has been fascinating. Everything I know about socialized medicine I learned from a pamphlet about Canada, so this was a good eye opener.

It has been exhausting and exhilarating at the same time. I wake up every morning praying for the "all quiet on the western front" (no flares) and knock-on-wood.

So far, so good.

To listen to Seth's chat with Arthritis Australia CEO Ainslie Cahill, click here.