I Feel Guilty About My Daughter’s Disease
I should have pushed harder, sooner
The day the doctor at the hospital in the big city informed me that my nine-year-old daughter had Juvenile Rheumatoid Arthritis, now called Juvenile Idiopathic Arthritis (JIA), I was floored. I knew something had been wrong, but I never imagined it would be that.
The decision to take her to the big city hospital was due to the fact we had spent the previous fourteen months at the local orthopedic with no luck. My daughter had already undergone eleven joint aspirations. That was eleven needles being stuck in her knee to drain out the fluid.
Sometimes her knee looked like she had an orange under the skin, other times it was as big as a basketball. She missed school a lot, and not just because of the pain. I would sit with her most nights and hold her until she tired enough to fall asleep. Nothing worked.
As a single mother raising her and her older brother, it was hard. There was no one to lean on. I had a boyfriend and he was very understanding, but he didn’t understand. Her father was no help, he was only good for bouncing checks and avoiding spending valuable time with them.
I was alone.
At the big city hospital, the doctor recommended a treatment filled with steroids, monthly fluid…
