It was an early summer morning in 1978 when I yelled out to my “mama”. On wakening I could barely move. I yelled out because it hurt to move, but it was more out of fear than anything. I had gone to bed the night before with no pain. I was an active girl, a tomboy in a lot of ways. My identical twin sister, and another sister who was only 15 months younger, would spend our waking moments outside playing baseball, climbing trees, traipsing in the woods, wading in the creek, riding bikes and swimming. This outcry put me in the car with my mom taking me to the family doctor.
This led to a weeks stay in the hospital for tests. At the end of the stay I was diagnosed with Juvenile Rheumatoid Arthritis or JRA. It is most known by Juvenile Idiopathic Arthritis or JIA today. I was referred to a Rheumatologist.
And so begins my story. I am 48 now. I hope to share my story along the way here. Not all at once as there’s so many years to share. I always told myself through these years that there had to be a reason for this. Maybe this is it. To tell all of you that life is precious. Even though I didn’t believe this at one time. You are precious.
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