When my rheumatoid arthritis became more aggressive, I clung to the idea of still being a ‘walking person’. Letting go of that gave me more freedom than I could have imagined

It started like any normal day – or normal for us, at least. My partner, Stewart, helped me out of bed and on to the wheeled office chair I kept next to it. Then I propelled myself to the top of the stairs before leaning precariously on my crutches as I made my way down, slowly and dangerously, with lots of swearing at the pain (I find it helps). Then, on the way out to the car, I missed my footing and fell.

Not for the first time, Stewart was caught between concern and frustration. Wasn’t it time, he asked, for me to consider using a wheelchair? Once again, I rejected the suggestion.