I walked into the room. At the age of 34, I was 20 years younger than every other patient in the ever-so-exciting “Joint Replacement Class.” I had walked this path already once before, and now 15 years later, here I was again.
We were told to sit around the table, and then it happened — one of the most embarrassing and isolating experiences in my journey with chronic illness — one that to this day, I have never forgotten.
There I sat, waiting for my joint replacement class to begin. Patients were told to sit around the table, while families sat on the outskirts of the room.
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