From healthcentral.com
RA columnist Lene Andersen shares the ways aging with a chronic condition has changed her—sometimes for the better
There is no part of my life that rheumatoid arthritis (RA) hasn’t touched, so it’s no surprise that the changes that have occurred as I’ve gotten older are also tinted by having this lifelong chronic illness. Maturing with RA has come with not just physical shifts in my body, but also with mental and emotional changes, too. And it might surprise you to know that these shifts have not all been in a downhill direction.
When I was young, my mother told me that when women turn 40, they come into their own. For many women, this is the first “older” birthday, the one that transitions you from youth to the beginning of middle-age, and I was surrounded by friends who dreaded the big 4-0. I wasn’t one of them. Thanks to my mother’s prediction, I couldn’t wait to become stronger, more independent, and self-assured. This anticipation of a new level of empowerment grew even more intense for me when I neared my 60th birthday. I am not yet as wise as I hope to become, but it is true that the simple act of me living through events and spending some time thinking about what did or didn’t work has nurtured a level of insight that I didn’t have several decades ago. And that insight has created some significant changes in the way I now live my life and accommodate my RA, as well as my age.
Aging means I am now managing additional chronic conditions on top of my RA. As we grow older, we have a higher risk of medical conditions that can affect the way we function. If you already have a chronic illness such as RA, this process may have started much earlier, meaning you may face these physical challenges sooner than your peers. So it has been for me, most obviously in becoming a wheelchair user in my teens, but as I got closer to my 60s, I started noticing physical changes that I hadn’t expected to hit quite yet. Throughout my life, RA has meant it takes me longer to heal after an illness or injury and now that I’m in my early 60s, that time is extended even further, often challenging my patience (the level of which has not increased with the years).
In the RA community, we joke that this condition likes to bring its friends along for company—that is, other chronic conditions—and it turns out that so does age. Over the past several decades, I have slowly added a few conditions to my life, including asthma and fibromyalgia, but now that collection is growing faster, adding gastroparesis, more intense GERD, and a few others. I try to stay ahead of this by paying more attention to how I feel, prioritizing pacing myself, and ongoing conversations with my family doctor about how we can together support my health.
Growing older has sharpened my perspective—in a good way. The knowledge that I have fewer years ahead of me than I have behind me might sound as if it would make me want to move faster so I can do everything possible in the time remaining, but the opposite has happened. I now have an awareness of time being more precious; that focusing on things other than my most deeply held dreams and aspirations risks me not getting to them at all. And so, I am more focused on how I want to live my life, what I want to accomplish, and being more ruthless about the boundaries necessary to create the conditions that enable me to do this.
The person I am now owes much to the work I’ve done in the last few decades, investing time and effort in figuring out how to live well with chronic illness and disability. I have come closer to dismantling the idea that my worth is tied to my productivity, to understanding that pushing through pain only hurts me in the long run, and learning (often the hard way) that being kind to my body and respecting its needs made for a better way to live with RA. In fact, by slowing down and doing less I create the conditions that allow me to hone my focus and, if you will, live the rest of my life authentically.
Currently, this looks like writing a novel. It’s not my first attempt (or even my first book), but it’s the one I intend to finish, investing the time and effort to nurture the story that won’t leave my mind. For a few years, I tried to honour both this dream and my commitment to freelance and advocacy work, but at this time in my life, the effects of RA (and age) meant such scattered effort halted my progress and eroded my health. Ten years ago, I prioritized differently, but my new-found awareness of a realistic limit in available time clarified my view and there was only one decision to make: To put the book—and most importantly, myself—first.
Maturity has brought me to a place where I now prioritize my own needs. In our culture, women are taught to meet the needs of others before ourselves, and the challenges of living with a chronic illness can enhance that, making it seem more important to keep showing up for others even if it causes RA flares. But turning 60 changed that for me. My family and friends are essential to my happiness, but I am old enough, and perhaps wise enough, to realize all the way into my oft-aching bones this truth: If I don’t meet my own needs first, I do not bring my best self to my relationships with others.
Turning 60 has, in a way, applied the Serenity Prayer to my life with RA. At long last, I have (mostly) learned to accept the things I cannot change, such as the effects of RA on how I live my life and rolling with whatever unpredictable changes occur on a day-to-day. This has given me the courage to change the things I can and do so now, putting my needs first, be they a nap or writing a novel. And lastly, I feel the beginnings of the wisdom to know the difference between what deserves the work involved in change and that which is a wasted effort.
RA affecting how I age was to be expected. But what has been a surprise is that so far, this has felt much less like the stain our youth-obsessed culture dreads and more a gentle wash. In my experience so far, aging is an enhancement like the colours of the sunrise on a new morning’s clouds: Transformative, beautiful, and altogether a stunning bonus to another stage of life.
Lene Andersen, MSW, Patient Advocate: Lene Andersen is an author, health and disability advocate, and photographer living in Toronto. Lene (pronounced Lena) has lived with rheumatoid arthritis since she was four years old and uses her experience to help others with chronic illness.
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