The start of it all

The summer of 1998 I had just completed my Junior year of High School. I was looking forward to the long awaited Senior year to begin and the search for a College was on! I was on the school's Cheerleading Squad and knew that a college with a great Cheer Squad or Dance team was my goal! Our High School Squad was tough to measure up to. We danced, we cheered and we stunted. At that time around this area most schools did very minimal stunting. That's what set us apart. We got a few weeks off after school ended and then Cheer practice started for that upcoming season. 4 hours a day, a few times a week. It was tough, but I loved it.

June came and went, and in July my dear friend that I had known since Kindergarten called and asked if I was interested in a summer job at a local fruit stand. 12 hour days in 100+ degree central California weather wasn't ideal but I had a little extra money. I figured I was going to need that for college applications. So cheer practice during the week, work on the weekends. That was my life.

After stunting during the day it was no surprise to me that my hands and shoulders were sore. After all I was lifting girls that weighed not much less than I did. I had them standing on my hands for basket tosses, weighing down my wrists for full extensions and climbing on my shoulders for pyramids. Then at work restocking the fruit required going from the heat into the freezer loading the hand truck and then wheeling it out to stock up. I'd leave the freezers practically frozen myself! These tasks all of a sudden were becoming more and more difficult and I couldn't figure out why!

At the end of that month my family took out annual camping trip. It was from the backseat that I said "Mom, my hands are swollen!" She replied "Well, maybe it's the altitude change." "Ya, maybe. I just can't really move my fingers" I said. "Let's see what happens after we are back home" Moms always know how to fix things! I was sure I had just overdone it that week and after our trip and being home to rest up I'd be good to go that following week. Boy was I wrong! My knuckles were so red and swollen that with each stunt I held back tears. I refused to quit. It would be better soon, it HAD to! I was only 16, and very athletic! In my mind this was just a little bump in the road. Desperate for answers I scoured every medical book my parents had in the house! (The internet wasn't as accessible then) When I came across the definition of Arthritis I was scared. Words like crippled, deformity, no cure, chronic put me into a panic. I said to my Mom I think this might be what is wrong with my hands! She said "Honey, you are to young for arthritis! Let's give it a week and if they still hurt we'll go to the Dr." It didn't take a week to convince me.

A few days later I got out of bed to start my day only to realize I couldn't stand. My feet were so swollen and sore I couldn't take a single step let alone stand on them. I fell onto my bed, panicked, crying and screaming for my mom! My sweet younger brother came in picked me up and carried me to the bathroom to soak my feet in warm water to help the swelling. Without stepping foot into a Doctor's office my fear was confirmed at that moment. I was 16 and had arthritis....