Blind inspiration

Someone inspired me recently. And the inspirer (if that’s a word) had no idea it was happening. To me, this is the best kind of inspiration because you know it’s pure, notsomething done with intentions of any kind.

 

I call it blind inspiration because the story itself can inspire people who’ve never met the so-called inspirer.

 

Many of you know that my daughter, Allie, has juvenile arthritis — juvenile idiopathic arthritis, or JIA, specifically — which is an autoimmune disease. She likes to call it a condition, because she doesn’t like to tell people she has a disease. Can’t blame her there.

 

As the Arthritis Foundation likes to say, JIA is not your grandmother’s arthritis. It causes kids’ joints to swell, like arthritis does in adults, but the cause comes from kids’ own bodies. A child’s natural defenses attack their own joints, thinking they are repelling an intruder. The cause is unknown and there is not currently a cure.

 

But this isn’t about the disease — sorry, condition — but how a fifth grader I know is dealing with it.

 

Remember when you were 10 or 11? I sure do. Fifth grade was a blast and I see several similarities between Allie’s childhood and mine. We were both in the crossing guard (it’s called safety patrol now) and that’s still a position of pride and responsibility in elementary school. My life then consisted of outdoor recess, gym class and lunch — to pack or buy was the most difficult decision of the day.

 

But that’s where the similarities end.

 

I didn’t need to take prescription medication twice a day to protect my body from itself. I didn’t need to worry about how that same medication lowers my immune system and makes me more susceptible to other conditions.

 

And I certainly didn’t have a friend who had JIA — in almost every single joint in her body since she was 18 months old — like Allie’s friend, who I’ll call E.

 

Please don’t get me wrong, my daughter is an inspiration to me every single day. But her friend E is an inspiration forall of us. She takes immune suppression drugs so strong they’re used for chemotherapy. She doesn’t take pills, she gets injections. Yet she still smiles and laughs and plays. She’s still a kid.

 

And she’s a great friend.

Allie knows she can ask E anything and, if she’s facing something new, E has probably already been through it. She helps Allie deal with all of the questions she has running around in her head — Why me? What did I do? And, perhaps most important of all, she helps Allie know that she’s not alone.

 

Allie’s friend E didn’t set out to inspire me or anyone else. She wasn’t trying to become the subject of a blog post somewhere. She’s just being a true friend.

 

Thank you, E.  You’re an inspiration to all of us.