A day on crutches

Firstly smile: always smile. This is not just for my benefit but mostly for those who see me. A smiling cripple is far more socially acceptable than a non-smiling one.

A smile means you're ok, they need not worry, feel guilt, open the door or carry your books. A smile on the face of a person born on crutches is their passport to ignorance and no delay.

A smile is essential.

Also essential is to be well dressed. Good designer clothes, excellent make-up, nice shoes and of course a good bag. A well dressed cripple breaks the rules, confounds them and more importantly, it is armour, self defence, a strong weapon in your ability to face the world.

Dress well, smell nice, wear good lingerie.

This is why Arthritis is a performance. It is not enough to act normal, act fine. You must thesp every moment, be as gracious as Noel Coward, as English as the man in a Bowler Hat, 27th in line in the queue for a stamp, as theatrical in your delivery of your life as Alison Steadman in Abigails Party. If you act your little heart out every single day; head held high, pride on your arm, you're equal.

Never let them see you cry, take medication or be less than perfect.

When work ends, you leave and there comes a moment every day, when you round the corner to the car and the air is sucked from your body. Your bones become jelly, your self esteem zero and your energy nil.

Sitting in the car, waiting for the pain to stop enough to be able to drive can be a long wait. On the journey home, every bone will scream at the restriction of sitting still, every muscle will ache, complain and twitch, every sinew will burn with fire.

Immersion in the deepest, hottest bath, enjoying the benefits of zero G for a while is joy.

Each day is a performance and as I said, no actress could ever put on such as performance as we who suffer from Arthritis. We are the elite.