When your doctor gives you prescriptions, do you “take as directed” or do you disregard the instructions and “take as needed?” Would you follow the doctor’s orders if one of the scripts read, “laugh at least one time every four to six hours?”
Living with a chronic illness and constant pain is no laughing matter. Over the past 23 years, rheumatoid arthritis (RA) has challenged me on a daily basis. In the beginning, the attack on my body was so drastic and devastating, I faced most of the challenges with anger; followed by tears. Then one day, fearing my tears would never end, I chose to laugh rather than cry. Learning to laugh at myself actually lightened the harsh circumstances and made the challenges more bearable.
In 1996, my left elbow deteriorated and the bones in my arm naturally fused at a right angle with my palm up. I lost 95 percent of the usage. Because RA affects the joints symmetrically, seven months later, my right arm followed the same pattern. For a better understanding of my mobility (or lack of), imagine having both arms in 90-degree elbow casts at the same time. Now factor in fused wrists and arthritis in the shoulders.
Having extreme upper limitations, activities of daily living and personal care were more than complicated. I did not touch my face for 11 months and I was unable to reach the top halves of shirts (buttons, collars, etc.). In order for me to dress myself, I had to be creative. Some styles were off limits and many had to be altered.
One day, while home alone, I decided to wear a cropped fisherman’s sweater with a turtleneck. Without anticipating a problem, I bent over in the usual manner, put my arms and head in the appropriate holes and began the motions needed for me to get into a sweater. As the snug turtleneck came over my face, I raised up to allow the lower portion of the sweater to fall in place. Realizing the neck was too tight to slide over my head, I attempted to grab the sweater’s bottom half, but it was nowhere near my range. Being cropped, it was too high for my 90-degree arms to reach. I was stuck!
Because of the tightness of the sweater’s sleeves and the turtleneck around my head, my shoulders were hunched up while my bent arms dangled in front of me. The fabric around my face was slightly stretched allowing enough light to see and keep my balance. While maneuvering around the house, making several attempts to get the sweater either on or off, I had a vision of what I looked like then I flashed back in time.
Do you remember the robot from the mid ’60s television show, “Lost in Space”? If not, ask someone who’s 40-something or older. Knowing there was nobody around to witness my behavior, I began rotating my upper torso back and forth causing my arms to swing, as I repeatedly shouted, “Danger Will Robinson, Danger!”
From that day forward, whenever I get stuck in my clothes (or anything else), I think of the robot and laugh. Having a sense of humor and making a bad situation silly, is far better than crying and being angry.
