GROWING UP IN PUBLIC

GROWING UP IN PUBLIC
FROM POSTER CHILD TO PRACTICING PROFESSIONAL

Editor's note:

Each day leading up to and including Valentine's Day, this blog will tell the story of my bride of 22 years in her own words.

By Heidi Johnson-Wright

In 1973, shortly after my ninth birthday, I was told by my pediatrician that the pain I'd had for several months in my shoulder and feet was caused by juvenile rheumatoid arthritis.

The week I'd spent in the hospital undergoing tests had yielded a diagnosis. My parents were confused, scared and disbelieving that their little girl had "an old people's disease."

I was anxious to take a pill and return to practicing handstands in the back yard.
Within a month the pain had found its way to nearly every joint in my body. It hurt my jaw to chew.

It hurt my shoulders and elbows to pull on a shirt. It hurt my wrists to carry my
schoolbooks. It hurt my fingers to write.

It hurt my hips and knees to climb stairs. It hurt my feet to walk from my bedroom to the bathroom when I got up in the morning.

It hurt.

No matter how much I tried to deny it, no matter how many reassurances from my parents and doctors that a remission was possible, I knew inside that my life would never be the same again. And, it seemed to me at the time, the change was not for the better.

My friends and classmates treated me funny -- acting either overly attentive or strangely aloof. Old ladies at church wanted to swap war stories about heating pads and Ben-Gay.

Strangers in shopping malls stared when I limped or struggled with doors. And, of course, the pain -- there was always the pain.

Ironically, the illness I was fighting so desperately would eventually send outstanding opportunities my way.

TOMORROW: Poster Child

Heidi Johnson-Wright is a licensed attorney and Americans with Disabilities Act expert living in the heart of Miami's Little Havana. She and her husband, Steve, write free-lance articles about travel, entertainment and enhancement of life for persons with disabilities.