When I was six years old I developed juvenile rheumatoid arthritis.
That’s a fact I’ve stated many times in the last 12 months. I’ve told big groups and I’ve told reporters.
It’s strange to say it so bluntly and so publicly. In nearly 50 years of having arthritis, it has never been the first thing I would tell people—or even something I would deliberately draw attention to—despite it being physically obvious.
The decision to write a memoir, telling the story of growing up with juvenile rheumatoid arthritis (JRA) and dealing with the resultant damaged joints as an adult, was a big one.