Living With Arthritis

Three years ago my oldest brother, who has both osteoporosis and osteoarthritis, shared his collection of old photos at a family reunion. One photo caught our eye. It was of my father hanging clothes on the outdoor clothesline.

"Grandpa hung up the laundry?" my niece Joan asked with surprise. "Of course! Your granddad was liberated long before it became popular," my younger sister Monica replied emphatically.

That wasn't how I remember it, I thought at the time. In the rural communities of the '50s and early '60s of my youth, the roles for men and women were clearly set. My father didn't hang up the laundry because he was "liberated"; he did so because he understood my mother's pain. Because he had empathy for her suffering, he knew when he needed to cross the typical male/female role boundaries.

I turned 60 in March, about the same age as my father when my brother took that picture. I think about my father helping my mother do laundry. Lately I have wondered, when my father suffered from osteoarthritis in the end years of his life, did my mother understand his pain? There were no male roles for her to assume to prove she did. There was only my subjective evaluation of how they treated each other at the end of their lives.

I've observed how many older couples deal with chronic illnesses and the diseases of aging. Trapped in the pain of physical deterioration, it's difficult for them to express and show compassion for each other's suffering. If you're consumed with your own suffering, isn't it understandable not to acknowledge or care about another's?

There are days when I experience little or no pain, only stiffness. Stiff is good, I think. But I never know when another flare-up will again disrupt my life. People sometimes ask me how I'm doing. Remembering my mother's often-used phrase, I reply simply, "I'm fine." People are either talkers or listeners. I'm a listener. It's easier. Besides, how can I really describe how I feel and how RA has affected me?