By Heidi Johnson Wright
My first
nine years, I moved like a charged particle: buzzing with energy, always
in motion. Then the pain came. Within six months, the wildfire of juvenile
rheumatoid arthritis had spread to nearly every joint in my body. The pain was
horrendous. Its unceasing severity meant, within five years, that many of my
joints were catastrophically, permanently damaged.
By
ninth grade, my school day was exhausting. Most of my energy was spent dragging
myself from point A to point B on crutches. The effort I put into short bursts
of locomotion ground me down to a nub.
The
simplest, most sensible solution would have been for me to use a wheelchair for
mobility. But at that point in my life, it was unimaginable. Wheelchairs
were acceptable for the profoundly disabled and the elderly only. If you
drooled, wore diapers and spent your day making potholders, enjoy your seat on
wheels. But if you were capable of anything more, you better get your ass up
and move.
That same
year, my ankles became so painful I had no choice but to have both of them
surgically fused. My rehab was a long, painful slog to regain the ability to
walk. It left me no choice but to return to school in a wheelchair.
Serialized from New Mobility Magazine Digital
http://newmobility.unitedspinal.org/NM_Mar_18/#?page=34
No comments:
Post a Comment