Chapter Four: "Be a good girl, and walk for mommy!"

One day, I was with my mom at the super market. She had to carry me because I was having a bad day. This one woman asked me why my mom had to carry me. From what my mom had told me, she said something like "Why don't you be a big girl and walk for mommy?" or "Aren't you a little big for mommy to be carrying you?". My mom's reply: "She has arthritis...!" That shut her up.

Some people are just so rude. When there is someone with a disability walking, limping, or wheeling by, I don't sit there and stare at them. They're just another person to me. They have places to go, important people to see who love them just as they would love "anyone else", and there's just as much hope for them if not more because they can make a difference by spreading awareness about whatever it is they may be diagnosed with.

My parents had taken me on a trip to Disney World I guess as a sympathy trip for me. It was fun. Even though I had to be in a stroller, it didn't bother me. I didn't think twice as to why I was in one. I knew I had been limping that morning, but it didn't really matter to me or even occur to me that it was the exact reason I was being pushed along in one. I still had fun there, and that's what matters.

I wonder what people thought if they saw me. I didn't care or even think about it for that matter, therefore I don't remember or even care to. I'm sure the way society is though, I was glanced upon by some.

I remember one morning in our hotel room when I woke up that morning, I was limping of course. That's the way every morning went. I remember my parents joking and trying to make me laugh about it. "Alright, quit the limping!" I laughed and actually found it amusing. I still wasn't bothered by this disease yet. I was too young to understand how bad it was, and we had no idea it would actually get worse, for no one wants to think about that. All we wanted to do was hope and pray for improvement.

Well, ironically, the people at my church/school prayed for me, and ironically it got worse and worse the more they prayed. It eventually traveled to my wrist. My right wrist got a bit swollen and it hurt to move it. It still didn't phase me. I just thought oops it's in my wrist now. Sure it was painful, but I was apathetic towards it. As long as I could still play on the swing sets and do my thing, it didn't matter.

I still had my family who loved me, and cared about me, and spoiled me. When I was in pain, some would treat me like a princess. I was such a lucky kid in that way. You know how many kids are out there who don't have families who care for them? I can't even imagine.

I was happy to have my mom who would give me my meds and drag me to doctors' appointments and emergency room visits (which she still does), and my grandparents on boths sides of the family to spoil me, and my godmother who always made me laugh. They all still do pretty much.