R.A. AND ME by Cherie Bennett When I was in my late twenties – at the time I was an actress in New York – I woke up one morning with really nasty pain in my shoulders which I promptly decided to ignore. Soon, though, my hands hurt, my feet hurt and I started running a low-grade fever that wouldn't go away. Little did I realize that I would be joining the ranks of Pierre-August Renoir, Kathleen Turner, Lucille Ball, James Coburn, author Mary Felstiner, and millions of other women and men (alas, a lot more women than men) around the world who have the lovely disease called rheumatoid arthritis. When I got my diagnosis, confirmed by every medical test known to mankind, I thought "Arthritis? Old people get that. I can't have arthritis." I was wrong. Rheumatoid arthritis (R.A.) isn't like the kind you get when you're older and it's not the kind football players get in their knees from being tackled too many times. It's a systemic auto-immune disorder where your immune system goes into overdrive. Not only does it attack viruses, it goes to work on your own joints. The good news -- I get many fewer colds than most people. The bad news -- don't ask me to run a marathon. Or even a mile. Or even walk quickly from the ticket area to Gate 79 at the airport. I had to stop dancing, and the really great high heels I loved – history. Many years ago, R.A. was a scary diagnosis. Fortunately now, there are a slew of medications available, and the disease is treated aggressively. I look absolutely normal and you would not know I have R.A. unless I'm having a really bad day and I'm walking very slowly, or if you look down at my deeply ugly but very supportive shoes. Obviously this disease has not affected my work (take a look at my writing output over the last decade or so!), raise my child, and have a very productive life. Alas, there is no cure. My husband always says: when the cure comes, we'll read about it on the front page of the New York Times. Living with R.A. means accommodating your body. It means some days you are stiff, you hurt, and you're tired. The disorder tends to ebb and flow. When it ebbs, great. When it flares, you slow your pace. That's just the way it goes, and that's the way it has gone for me for almost two decades, now. Fortunately, most everyone has been extremely understanding. And fortunately, I'm a writer and not a dancer. I don't wear R.A. on my sleeve. I don't believe a person is his or her disability. I spend a lot more time thinking about my writing, my family, my society, and my life than I do thinking about R.A. On the other hand, it is what it is. It has changed me, and I did not pick it. But believe it or not, I believe it has changed me for the better and has made me a better and more sensitive writer. For more information on R.A. in the 21st century, follow these links: www.arthritis.org www.mayoclinic.com/health/rheumatoid-arthritis/DS00020 www.niams.nih.gov/hi/topics/arthritis/rahandout.htm