One of my best friends — one who understands rheuma and who always listens when I need to vent — frequently tells me that I’m brave. That she admires my courage.
It embarrasses me a bit. It’s true that dealing with varying levels of pain on a daily basis takes a stiff upper lip. It takes a certain determination, a sort of bulling on through the pain. I’m not sure that’s courage, however. And I sure don’t feel very brave most of the time.
Instead, I simply do because, honestly, what’s the alternative? Sitting around moping, hiding under my covers or letting my aprehension toward pain hold me immobile just isn’t doable. I don’t feel particularly special just because I endure rheuma’s persistent pain. That’s not bravery — it’s pragmatism. I have a life to live, and I intend to keep living it the best I can.
That said, perhaps “courage” does fit in there somewhere. This is an excellent post about rheuma and courage, and how the two can intertwine. Do read it. It’s worth a few minutes of your time. And take a look at the website it’s part of as well. It’s called “Creaky Joints.” Cute.