One good thing

I cannot remember a time after I was in third grade that my body did not betray me in some way.

I lived using a vast array of supports my mother seemed to have on hand in our dining room buffet drawer. There were leather wrist supports that strapped around my wrist and gave it the strength to do whatever needed to be done. There were pigskin arm supports that must have been the forerunner of tennis elbow braces. There were ankle supports, arch supports, knee supports, even things for my neck which would sometimes not be able to turn without pain.

I would reach, or over reach for things and pop my shoulder sockets out, wake up unable to step on my feet or knees or lift things with my forearm.

I assumed all people lived this way and while I have found it painful and inconvenient I think it may have prepared me for old age better than people who were born being able to run, jump, and stand for hours at a time without a thought.

I cannot get out of bed, or stand up without putting my tennis shoes (with orthotics) on. If I do I know I risk being incapacitated for days, maybe weeks. And when I walk there is always pain. It just depends on how much on any given day.

But all these things have been a part of my life for nearly as long as I can remember. My husband blamed it on me being overweight, but his definition of that was far below what even modern medicine uses. It is just that I have some inherited form of weak joints. Everywhere my bones are separated from other bones is an opportunity for a mishap.

And yet I have played tennis, still walk, and function pretty much the same because it IS the same for me now that I am older, while many of my friends and family members are experiencing it for the first time.

They are having to wear special shoes more, get up more carefully, alter their lifestyles in ways that makes them feel old and depressed.

I am slightly more limited now than I was at thirty, but not much.

And that is one good thing!