It happened years ago. In those days, if you were one of the early appointments at my rheumatology clinic, you’d to queue to present your appointment card at the desk as later appointments often came in good time with a view to getting in as soon as possible.
On this particular day the queue was exceptionally long. We were all transferring our weight from one aching limb to another, leaning against the wall or the desk if we were fortunate enough to have reached that haven.
The very little, very old, very bent woman hobbled with great difficulty and determination to the desk. “Am I in the right place for the arthritis clinic, love?” she asked.
The receptionist glanced up. “Yes, just stand at the end of the queue.”
The old girl put her handbag down on the floor. Painfully she swivelled round so that her gaze could travel slowly from the receptionist all the way down the queue and then back up again. She looked astonished. “Nay lass” she laughed. “If I could do that I wouldn’t be here.”
There’s humour in arthritis. Let’s find it. Share your anecdotes. Laughter's the best medicine.
“There is always a well-known solution to every human problem - neat, plausible, and wrong.” H.L. Mencken