HOW I ENDED UP IN A WHEEL CHAIR

People often ask me if I will be able to walk now that I have lost over 200 pounds and my answer may give them the impression that I’m just lazy. I am semi-mobile, which means that I can stand for short times and walk a little, just not very far.

When I was in my mid-40’s I was diagnosed with Sever Plaque Psoriasis, an Auto-immune disorder, and all the stuff that comes with it, especially Psoriatic Arthritis. It’s related to Rheumatoid Arthritis and my joints are inflamed and swollen and extremely painful, but I manage it with Medication. Methotrexate and Humira to be specific.  They keep my own skin from eating me alive and my joints from stopping me from being able to move at all. For a long time I felt sorry for myself and became housebound due to my lack of mobility. This lasted for almost five years until I got my first Power Chair.  Suddenly, I was mobile again!  I could go outside and get to my appointments and meet people again. My life began improving for the better.

Now, on to the other cause. I rode Motorcycles for almost 40 years and have had my fair share of accidents, mostly minor, and enjoyed feeling the Sun and Wind in my face.  It’s something I really miss and wish I could still do it.  While I was getting a chest X-Ray prior to being subscribed Humira, I was asked if I ever had back problems or numbness anywhere.  I had noticed some numbness in my right hand, but I attributed to having had half my right hand ring finger amputated.  When I asked why, the Doctor showed me two spots on my spine that looked, off, for lack of a better term. It seems that I had mangled two vertebra in my lower back and from what was pointed out to me they happened several years apart and are putting pressure on my spinal cord. Not a lot, but enough to impair my ambulatory motor functions.  Surgery would be risky and may do more damage than good, so I live with it.  To me, a little pain and numbness is much more preferable to possibly being paralyzed.  As I looked back, I remember hitting some deep potholes on my Motorcycle, apparently about 10 years apart.

 So much for being Stoic and Macho, suffering in silence!