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“Having a chronic illness, Molly thought, was like being invaded. Her grandmother back in Michigan used to tell about the day one of their cows got loose and wandered into the parlor, and the awful time they had getting her out. That was exactly what Molly's arthritis was like: as if some big old cow had got into her house and wouldn't go away. It just sat there, taking up space in her life and making everything more difficult, mooing loudly from time to time and making cow pies, and all she could do really was edge around it and put up with it.

When other people first became aware of the cow, they expressed concern and anxiety. They suggested strategies for getting the animal out of Molly's parlor: remedies and doctors and procedures, some mainstream and some New Age. They related anecdotes of friends who had removed their own cows in one way or another. But after a while they had exhausted their suggestions. Then they usually began to pretend that the cow wasn't there, and they preferred for Molly to go along with the pretense.”
― Alison Lurie, The Last Resort

“Then I remember that God is really, really old. So maybe God has God arthritis. And maybe that's why the world sucks. Maybe God's hands and fingers don't work as well as they used to.”
― Sherman Alexie, Flight

“Irony of the day: arthritis medication with a cap that old people can't get off, because of their arthritis.”
― Kelli Jae Baeli

“I went out into the corridor. I asked a nurse if she knew where the people with arthritis went. She said lots of them went to Ward 34 on the top floor. She said she thought that was a silly place to put people with bad bones who had such trouble walking and climbing stairs.”
― David Almond, Skellig

“Tell me a secret no one knows, Lord of Night, and I'll tell you mine.'

I braced myself for whatever horrible truth was about to come my way. But Rhysand said, 'My right knee gets a twinge of pain when it rains. I wrecked it during the War, and it's hurt ever since.'

The Bone Carver bit out a harsh laugh, even as I gaped at Rhys. 'You always were my favourite.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Mist and Fury

“When I asked him how this cramping might affect his sword arm, he assured me it was only the narrow grip of the writing instruments that troubled him.
“If we fought with pens,â€� he said, “I would be forced to fall upon mine.”
― Andrew Levkoff, A Mixture of Madness

“Giving up flesh foods may help cure arthritis. This has become evident from a widely acclaimed study conducted in 1991 by Norwegian researchers. This study showed that meatless diets relieved rheumatoid arthritis symptoms in nine out of ten patients. This was because animal fat incites joint inflammation, according to researchers. Dr. Jens Kjeldsen-Kragh, M.D., of the Institute of Immunology and Rheumatology at the National Rheumatism Hospital of Oslo, conducted a study about the usefulness of vegetarian foods in arthritis.”
― H.K. Bakhru, Healing Through Natural Foods

“Dr. Jens Kjeldsen-Kragh, M.D., of the Institute of Immunology and Rheumatology at the National Rheumatism Hospital of Oslo, conducted a study about the usefulness of vegetarian foods in arthritis. He found that switching to a vegetarian diet resulted in improved grip strength and much less pain, joint swelling, tenderness and morning stiffness in about 90 per cent of a group of arthritis patients, compared with controls eating an ordinary diet. The patients noticed improvement within a month, and it lasted throughout the entire year-long experiment. Dr. Kjeldsen-Kragh concluded that about 70 per cent of the patients improved because they avoided fats that are likely to instigate the inflammation process.”
― H.K. Bakhru

“Fasting followed by a vegetarian diet has a favorable influence on disease activity in some patients with rheumatoid arthritis. This effect cannot be explained entirely by psychobiologic factors, immunosuppression secondary to energy deprivation, changes in the plasma concentration of eicosanoid precursors, or changes in antibody activity against dietary antigens. Changes in disease activity were found to be associated with concurrent alterations in the fecal microflora and in the antibody activity against P. mirabilis. These findings may indicate that the beneficial effect of dietary treatment is caused by alterations in the microflora secondary to changes in the diet.”
― Jens Kjeldsen-Kragh

“It is known that if the symptoms of MC remain untreated indefinitely, additional autoimmune issues are likely to become a reality, and even if the issues are later resolved, permanent damage can remain, especially in the case of arthritis symptoms. In addition, permanent residual neurological damage can result from untreated gluten sensitivity. (Hadjivassiliou, Grunewald, & Davies-Jones, 2002)”
― Wayne Persky, Microscopic Colitis: Revised Edition

“With tinny drumbeats, the rain pounds the roof
My teary eyes compete
They can't keep up

Breathe
Let it go
Breathe

The vice on my chest tightens its razoring grip
I gasp
No relief

If only tears could soothe the pain
Then, I would look upon the tidal waves against these walls without fear
Crush and roll me, I'd plead,
Mold my body anew

But with these tears come no healing,
Just death, slow and determined

This old girl, this old woman, this old soul lives here inside
A tortoise outgrowing this hare's body
This youthful skin encasing a crumbling frame

I smooth the matted web of curls off my sweaty neck
And roll my eyes at the clock

How slowly the time squeaks by here in this room,
In this comfortless bed

I abandon the warmth from under my blanket tower and shiver

The draft rattles my spine
One by one, striking my vertebrae
Like a spoon chiming empty wine glasses,
Hitting the same fragile note till
my neck shakes the chill away

I swipe along the naked floor
with a toe for the slippers beneath the bed
Plush fabric caresses my feet

Stand!
Get up

With both hands, Gravity jerks me back down

Ugh! This cursed bed!
No more, I want no more of it

I try again
My legs quiver in search of my former strength

Come on, old girl, Come on, old woman, Come on, old soul,
Don't quit now

The floor shakes beneath me,
Hoping I trip and fall

To the living room window, I trudge
My joints grind like gravel under tires
More pain no amount of tears can soothe away

Pinching the embroidered curtain between my knuckles,
I find solace in the gloom
The wind humming against the window,
Makes the house creak and groan

Years ago, the cold numbed my pain
But can it numb me again,
This wretched body and fractured soul?

Outside I venture with chants fluttering my lips,
Desperate solemn pleas
For comfort, For mercy
For ease, For health

I open the plush throw spiraled around my shoulders
And tiptoe around the porch's rain-soaked boards

The chilly air moves through me like Death on a mission,
My body, an empty gorge with no barriers to stop him,
No flesh or bone

My highest and lowest extremities grow numb
But my feeble knees and crippling bones turn half-stone, half-bone
Half-alive, half-dead
No better, just worse

The merciless wind freezes my tears
My chin tumbles in despair
I cover myself and sniffle

Earth’s scent funnels up my nose:
Decay with traces of life in its perfume

The treetops and their slender branches sway,
Defying the bitter gusts

As I turn to seek shelter, the last browned leaf breaks away
It drifts, it floats
At the weary tree’s feet, it makes its bed alongside the others

Like a pile of corpses, they lie
Furled and crinkled with age

No one mourns their death
Or hurries to honor the fallen with thoughtful burials
No rage-filled cries echo their protests at the paws trampling their fragile bodies,
Or at the desecration by the animals seeking morning relief
And new boundaries to mark

Soon, the stark canopy stretching over the pitiful sight
Will replace them with vibrant buds and leaves
Until the wasting season again returns

For now, more misery will barricade my bones as winter creeps in
Unless Death meets me first to end it”
― Jalynn Gray-Wells, Broken Hearts of Queens

“My grandfather's
name was Arthur, and he talked all the time about

his arthritis but pronounced it autha-itis, so for months
I thought it was a condition unique to him, that he

had his own special burden, just like my brother
and me.”
― Michael Kleber-Diggs, Worldly Things