I had my regular dose of reality check this month. While hooked up to an IV feeding the magic drug that prevents me from deteriorating, I chatted with a fellow arthritis patient. Ms. S is 75, has had RA since she was 35, lives alone, mows her own 2-acre lot and takes care of her house. She does all of this, despite the fact that her hands are bent beyond recognition and she is quite obviously in pain on a daily basis. I never heard her complain once during our morning infusion, even after the nurse had to stick her three times.
I’m sure throughout our lives we have all met people like this. People who have had it rough and yet never seem to whine or play the victim. People who never take for granted their independence, and in fact fight tooth and nail to keep it. When I asked Miss S why she never remarried after losing her husband to cancer, she said “Why on Earth would I do that? What man could possibly keep up with me?”
I admire Ms. S and all the others who share that same determination. The disease does not define her. It is part of her daily life but it is not part of her daily thoughts or focus. This is one of the reasons that I rarely write about having rheumatoid arthritis. I realized early on with the diagnosis that I could easily fall into a victim mentality if I let myself focus on being sick. I could convince myself that I was unique, that I had special needs, that I could make excuses. But I was lucky, because during my infusions I have met many people like Ms. S who remind me of the type of person I want to be.
