Ramadan with IA

 

Ramadan has always been a deeply meaningful time for me, a month of reflection, gratitude, and spiritual reset. But living with rheumatoid arthritis (RA) has changed the way I experience fasting. It has taught me something unexpected: that Ramadan is not about perfection, but about compassion, including compassion towards yourself.

 

I’m a busy mum of two, a clinical pharmacist, a university lecturer, and a carer to my daughter who has special educational needs. Life rarely slows down, and RA adds another layer of unpredictability to an already full schedule. Fatigue, joint stiffness, and flare-ups don’t pause for Ramadan. Yet each year, I approach the month with intention, planning, and a willingness to adapt.

 

 

One of the hardest lessons I’ve learned is accepting that my Ramadan may look different from others’. RA is an autoimmune condition that doesn’t follow a timetable. Some mornings I wake up with painful, stiff hands that make simple tasks — opening jars, dressing children, even holding a mug can feel overwhelming.

 

Fasting can sometimes intensify fatigue or dehydration, particularly when inflammation is active. Early on, I struggled with guilt if I needed to break a fast or choose not to fast during a flare. But Islam places strong emphasis on health and wellbeing; exemptions exist for those with illness for a reason. Understanding that caring for my health is not a failure, but an act of faith, has been incredibly freeing.

 

Now, I approach fasting flexibly. Some days I fast fully; other days I prioritise rest, medication timing, and recovery. Removing that internal pressure has allowed me to engage more meaningfully with the spiritual aspects of Ramadan.

 

 

My professional background as a clinical pharmacist definitely influences how I prepare for Ramadan. Medication timing becomes especially important. Many people with RA take disease-modifying treatments or anti-inflammatory medicines that require careful scheduling with food or hydration.

 

Before Ramadan begins, I review my treatment plan and discuss adjustments with my healthcare team if needed. I also focus on practical strategies: staying well hydrated between sunset and dawn, choosing balanced meals with protein and slow-release carbohydrates, and pacing my energy throughout the day.

 

I’ve learned that conserving energy is essential. I prioritise tasks, simplify meals, and accept help when it’s offered — something I’m still learning to do without hesitation.

 

 

Ramadan as a parent brings its own joys and challenges. School runs, bedtime routines, work deadlines, and teaching responsibilities continue regardless of how my joints feel. As a lecturer and clinician, I’m often supporting others while quietly managing my own symptoms.

 

The invisible nature of RA can be difficult. From the outside, I may appear capable and energetic, but fatigue can feel overwhelming, a deep exhaustion that rest alone doesn’t fix. During Ramadan, I try to build small moments of rest into my day, even if it’s just sitting quietly for a few minutes between responsibilities.

 

Caring for a child with additional needs also requires emotional and physical energy. Some days are harder than others, and I’ve learned to redefine productivity — success might simply mean getting through the day gently rather than achieving everything on my list.

 

 

Living with RA has reshaped my understanding of Ramadan. Worship is no longer measured by how much I physically do, but by intention and mindfulness. Sometimes my acts of devotion are quieter: patience during pain, gratitude during fatigue, or kindness towards myself when my body needs rest.

 

Ramadan with chronic illness teaches resilience, but also humility. It reminds me that faith is not about pushing beyond our limits, but recognising them.

 

For anyone living with inflammatory arthritis and wondering whether they are “doing Ramadan right,” I want to say this: your experience is valid. Your adaptations are valid. Your health matters.