My doctor here tried "Don't know what it is, eat some ibuprofen, bye" at me through winter, but I demanded* getting to know what the next step in identifying the problem was and in the end (after all the tests turned out negative) I got an appointmnt with a specialist.
Who spoke to me briefly, poked at my ankles and knees, and informed me I have arthritis and that she wanted to inject cortison into my knees and big toes to begin with just for some pain relief and to lessen inflammation. I also got a prescription for malaria medicines to slow the process down.
My type of arthritis is related to psoriasis and is an autoimmunological response similar to psoriasis, except it is inside the joints not on the skin.
My initial reaction was relief. I have something with a name and there are things that will help. I almost started crying and kept saying thank you! to the doctor who gave me strange looks at this behaviour.
On the metro home, the second reaction struck. Simultaneously bursting into my mind: "What an old crone I am" crashing with "But I am barely 20" (not quite true, as I am soon no longer anything 20-ish) inside my head. The white and the green, crashing, mixing.
Oh, and the clinic did not have a card reader. Cash only. Had to go find an ATM and come back. Heh. Nice in a way, quaint. And they only charged me half of what they said it would cost in the letter I got with the description of how to get there and stuff. Meant I could buy some veggies and eat a salad as a reeeally late lunch when I got home.
* Footnote: I actually demanded it and did not give in or give up. I would not have managed if I had not discovered I could send e-mails to the doctor. Hooray for the internetz!