Comfort?

 

Sometimes, I take great pleasure in knowing the names of successful and accomplished people who have also had Rheumatoid Arthritis. Although many genes create varied presentation of this illness, knowing they persevered and overcame the same-named chronic condition gives me great solace.

But should it? 

Should the knowledge that other people shared the label, the discomfort, the sadness, the fatigue, the frustration and the inconvenience bring me comfort or solace?

Glenn Frey, one of the founding members of The Eagles band, apparently suffered from Rheumatoid Arthritis for more than 15 years and never commented on the chronic condition that may have contributed to his death at the young age of 68. Should his having the same-named illness inspire me?

Lucille Ball's family disputes that she had Rheumatoid Arthritis or any other condition, but in her own autobiography, she described severe and debilitating pain in her legs that eventually went away. She was however, a friend of the Arthritis Foundation until her death. Should her suffering or healing affect me at all?

Caroline Wozniacki talks about her experience with the shocking diagnosis of Rheumatoid Arthritis after achieving elite status as a global tennis player. I selfishly wonder if anyone accused her of eating too many water crackers or causing her own illness with her diet. Should her difficulty bring me comfort?

Paula Abdul, whose music played in the background of my college study days on a smuggled, forbidden, battery-operated, Walkman radio, tortured her body with dance, choreography and more. Her winding career and journey have included music, television, and videos, as well as car accidents, a plane crash and other various and sundry incidents. I can't help but wonder about the role of chronic pain in her life and in fact, the role of Rheumatoid Arthritis. 

I have little or nothing in common with any of these people. I am not a musician. I am not an actress or athlete and I am absolutely not a performer or choreographer. The only intersection of their lives with mine is a single thread of a life-altering, pain inducing, chronic and unending condition called Rheumatoid Arthritis. 

In the end, I think their journeys are each made more difficult by the snooping press and gossip rags. This condition is challenging enough without people blaming, shaming, judging, asking, evaluating, and criticizing every action, inaction, decision or indecision. It's hard enough. But what does bring me some modicum of comfort is that each of them managed to keep going. Who knows if they managed by declaring random "pajama days", taking injectable medications, smoking pot, seeking alternative cures, or modifying their diets. No one knows any of the details, but what is important and what gives me fuel, what gives me comfort, is that they kept going.