Three days ago, on Father’s Day, I lost someone very special to me. This person was, in large part, responsible for teaching me about living with Rheumatoid Arthritis and how to make the most of a body that was virtually worthless. The man didn’t have any disease at all (at least until the last few years of his life), but he knew hardship, and he knew how to overcome it. My maternal grandfather was my mentor, my teacher, and one of my greatest champions.
Fortunately, the winter in my area this past year was mild, so I didn’t have to deal with the freezing cold and its effect on my joints. Unfortunately, I have been told this means the summer months are going to be unbearably hot and humid, which is a death sentence for me.