Tag: arthritis

Bone Body Mind: Ankle Reflections

~ Linda Wright

After Loving Our Own Bones by Julia Watts Belser

In 1968, I tossed a prosthetic ankle brace into my closet. Wearing that brace had caused a purple welt on the back of my knee. A hematoma formed from the pressure of the strap. The brace had to be modified more than once before I could wear it without injury and, when that was done it did not give the support that my ankle needed. I wore it for almost a year before throwing it into my parent’s attic forever.

In addition to being less than functional, it exposed me as a cripple. The looks strangers gave me were of pity. At nineteen, I did not love my own bones, yet I would rather use a wheelchair if necessary, than do additional harm to my body.

Osteoarthritis in both of my ankles, both knees, both shoulders, one hip and, one wrist, is the legacy of my congenital bleeding disorder. Over the years however, I have become proud of my identity as a disabled person and learned the power of coming out of the crip closet.

Since that first brace, almost sixty years has passed. The doctor looked at my X-ray and ordered me a new brace. After I wore it once, I refused to wear it again. Instead I did physical therapy for what the doctor called “serious arthritis.” That helped to make walking more stable. For the second time in my life I tossed another prosthetic support aside.

When the ankle became inflamed and so painful a few weeks ago that it would not bare my weight, I pulled the brace out from the closet. My bones may be fragile, fused, and misshapen but, I care for them.

A Belated Valentine to My Body

~ Linda Wright

Dear Body,

In our 63 years, I have often forgotten to thank you or to say how much I love you. I do love you and I have come to admire so many of your features. While others of my generation look in the mirror and frown at the wrinkles on their face, the imperfections in their skin tone, thinning hair, and flabby chins I laugh. These superficial things mean little to me.

I remember when you and I were young and I saw you for the first time in a mirror. You were quite a charmer then. I smiled to see
the blonde baby curls that transformed over the years to brown with golden strands and I smile today when I see that gold has turned to silver.

You have done many hard and complex tasks for me over the years. You have endured my anger and my frustration at the things you cannot do and repaid me with a gentleness. Perhaps the thing I admire the most about you is your ability to heal and to learn new and different ways of responding when you have been assaulted.

Without fibrinogen you have faced many challenges that most other bodies have not confronted. You have adapted to blood that will not clot and made me trust you when others told me you would be unfaithful. When the doctors judged you as being weak you proved them wrong. They said you would desert me in less than 10 years and when you did not they said you would leave before we had spent 20 years together. So now after 63 years, I love you even more. I am so grateful for the gifts you continue to give me.

I’m sorry that I ever doubted you. I am sorry that I have wasted so much of our time together worrying about you.

You have never lied to me even though I have often ignored your warnings. Yes, I have even come to value the pain and fatigue you give me. You tell me when to slow down, get some rest, and when to call for medical assistance. I apologize for the times I have not paid attention to your needs, the weight I have gained, the times I have delayed treating an injury, and my stubborn streak that has overruled you.

Last week when I sat in the doctor’s office filling out the five-page medical history, I checked off the list that is your resume: bleeding disorder, stroke, arthritis, seizure, high blood pressure, and cataracts. What great life experience you have had, I thought to myself. So, with confidence I check off the box that says “good,” beside overall health.

Then I smile.

Comfort Food

~ Linda Wright

As if it were yesterday, I remember Nathan’s honesty. I had used a wheel chair to get through the major airports as I traveled to the Annual Meeting of the National Hemophilia Association. I was on the Board of Directors at that time and Nate was Chairman of the Board.

At breakfast one morning, we shared some pleasant conversation and then I began to open up about my declining ability to walk without the aide of a cane or wheel chair. He listened patiently. As a man with hemophilia, he had personal experience with joint injuries and the aftermath of arthritis. Then, when I had finished my story enumerating the doctors that I had consulted with no satisfaction, Nate said, “Lose 30 pounds and you will be able to walk fine.” It was shocking to hear the truth so plainly stated. It was so unadorned with sympathy that I found myself without access to my usual excuses.
 
After my return home from that conference, I did in fact lose those unnecessary pounds. As my clothing began to be too big for me, each step I took was less painful. Down ten pounds, I put aside the cane I had been leaning on for support. Down twenty pounds, I didn’t limp. Down thirty, and I could walk easily with no pain. I was exuberant. I vowed never to gain that weight back.
 
I kept up the new eating plan for years and it would be nice if I could say that I was able to go away and sin no more. But, sins have a way of repeating, despite confession and atonement.
 
More than thirty years have past and the scale I stand upon now reads very close to what it was back then. Not only do my ankles hurt but so do my knees and back. At my last medical checkup the doctor wouldn’t let me out of the office until she got my blood pressure to go down. So I’ve pulled out the dusty low calorie cookbooks, stocked up on lots of vegetables and put measuring utensils next to each serving bowl.
 
 
Every saint has a past and every sinner has a future.
Oscar Wilde