‘What do you mean, How did I catch it? It’s not the common
cold or an STD!’ I questioned my cousin. My sister and I, and our two cousins
had met up in the village to go for a bag of chips and a catch up. I told them
about my arthritis. Now that I knew what was wrong at least I could explain to
people. It was easier than trying to explain that I felt sore a lot and for no
apparent reason. Of course *Shane would ask something ridiculous. Although at
least his reaction made me laugh, I mean I had to laugh at the fact that he
thought this was something I could give him. That if he accidently touched me,
or if I coughed close to him he might ‘catch’ it. It reminded me of when we
were young children playing in the back yard and *Shane thought we would give
him cooties because we were girls!
My parents had told my Nana, whose reaction was just as I
had imagined.’ Oh the poor creator, oh god isn’t that awful. Well at least she
wouldn’t be able to wear those shoes anymore. Those high heels are dangerous
things!’ My aunts and uncles were very inquisitive about how I was feeling and
if my medicine would help much, but in general they just expected me to get on
with it. I liked that though if I’m honest. More than anything I wanted things
to go back to normal and while they would never be exactly the same as they
were at the very least they could be similar.
My younger sister was amazing! She gave me a huge hug when I
told her and asked loads of questions so she would know how to help if I was
having a bad day. There is only two years between us and we have always been
close. At that time of my life I really needed her and she really came through.
She had just the right amount of sympathy for me to make me feel like I wasn’t
an idiot for feeling like my world had been turned upside down whilst having
just the right amount of nonchalance to make me see that it wasn’t the end of
my world… just a big change.
Telling my family wasn’t really what scared me. I knew
they’d be supportive if I ever needed help. I knew that they’d understand if I
needed to sit out on a family occasion or needed to walk a bit slower than
everyone else. It was the dreaded fear that every 15 year old is possessed by
at one point or another. What would my friends think, my class mates, the boy I
liked at school? Would they think I was boring when I couldn’t jump that fence,
or lazy when I’d come last in the fun run? (Which I walked)
My mam rang the school to talk my year head. She explained
that packing my heavy books into my school bag and walking fast to my next
class was sometimes going to prove quite difficult for me. That sometimes even
writing would be hard as my fingers and wrists were very badly affected. I was
in Transition Year at the time and my year head also happened to be my English
teacher. I thought he was wonderful, I really respected him and still do and I
loved my classes with him. Yet there was one day I had a fleeting moment of
anger towards him that looking back was quite immature of me. He told everyone
in the class all that my mam had said. That I had arthritis, that some of our
more physical trips out would prove difficult if not impossible for me and that
to make sure I didn’t need any help carrying my bag to my next class. He was
just trying to help and make me feel as though my class mates would understand.
I didn’t feel as though they would however. I felt like I was the ‘special’ kid
who needed help. I thought they were all laughing, thinking, “this weirdo has a
granny disease!” In hindsight, I don’t think any of them thought that. In fact
most of them if I’m honest, didn’t care. I really shouldn’t have been so
insecure, but at that age everything is, ‘a big deal’.
As I got older telling people wasn’t an issue. I didn’t
exactly go shouting it from the roof tops or introducing myself as ‘Gloria, the
girl with arthritis’ but I wasn’t so insecure about telling people. Most people
are surprised and don’t realise that you can even be diagnosed with arthritis
during childhood. I find friends are often very accommodating and don’t seem to
mind opening bottles or even carrying a heavy shopping bag or two.
One encounter with a friend made me wonder though. *James
was on my course for a year where we became quite friendly, about six months
after the course was finished he began dating my sister *Kirsty. One night as
we were all out in Limerick city, I happened to be quite sore, I couldn’t move
my right arm without a lot of pain. I soldiered on and my sister was great. She
carried my handbag, ordered any drinks I was having and carried them to my table.
She also ordered my food and took it out of the bag, salted my chips and opened
my curry sauce in Supermacs later that night. I was very grateful to her, I’d
managed to have a good night out because of her and my friends help. However as
we were leaving *Kirsty held out my jacket to help me put it on. I heard *James
say something quietly to her. He asked her ‘Could she do anything herself?’ At
first I was kind of taken back, nobody that night had complained about me
needing help. I suddenly felt like a great burden. * Kirsty quickly answered
him back telling him to get off my case, that I was sore and that arthritis can
be very painful. He looked at her and me laughing… He honestly hadn’t known all
this time that I had a condition of any sort other than a big mouth!
That got me thinking, my friends often carried most, if not
all of the recording equipment when we went out filming, they helped carrying
my shopping bags to the train station for me after college, they poured my tea
from the pot at lunch and *James had seen all this and what? He hadn’t realised
there was a reason they were doing this. ‘Oh god!’, I kept thinking, he just
thought I was a lazy cow. He couldn’t have thought anything else, but that I
was sickeningly lazy and made my friends do everything that required any sort
of effort.
I have to say I was worried who else saw me as lazy and
sometimes I still do. I often think is it better to be thought of as the girl
who is being lazy or the one with the excuses?
I haven’t really decided yet……………….
No comments:
Post a Comment