After leaving the doctor’s office, I rushed home.  I wanted to scream; I wanted to

punch something, anything.  I ran upstairs to my bedroom; I felt safe there.  My

 bedroom was my haven, my calm, when the world did not seem right or fair. I clung to

my pillow and cried. I did not want to have this disease.  This was a disease that

elderly women got, but not me!  I was not old! 

     “God,” I cried. “Heal me.  Do not let me go through this.  I cannot handle it.  I do not want to use a cane or be in a wheel chair.”

     I have faced many challenges in my life, but this challenge was more than I could

bear.  God was asking too much of me.  After my tears, I was angry. 

    “Why me?”  I yelled at God.  Then the thought came into my head, “why not me?”

    After I got over my initial “pity party”, my husband and I talked to all of our children. 

They were all as shocked as I had been.  My doctor had talked about different

medications and different options, but I was not sure about any of them.  As a family

we discussed what the next steps should be, but in the end, the decision would be mine

 to make. 

    There were days that I was just okay, and there were days that I was a little bit better. It was a process that I had to go through; and finally, I knew that I had to be proactive where my health was concerned. 

    I researched the options, talked with my family and friends, and decided to make an

 appointment with a bone specialist.  This doctor specializes in Osteoporosis and Fibromyalgia (which I also have).

    Because I have the bones of an eighty-year-old woman, the doctor encouraged me to take Forteo.  I balked.  Forteo is a daily injection in the abdomen or thigh.  There was no way I was going to give myself a shot.  I was told that Forteo not only helped

strengthen bones, it also helped to reduce further bone loss.  So with a deep sigh of

resignation, I agreed. 

     Do I like giving myself a shot every night?  No!  However, the effects out way the risks. I feel so much stronger. I still find it hard to believe that I have osteoporosis; that is why it is called the silent disease.  You don’t know you have it until you fall and break a bone.  That is what I want to prevent.  That is why I chose to be proactive in my fight

against osteoporosis.  I am not going to sit around and mope.  I am not going to live in

fear that I will fall because then I probably will.  I still exercise.  I ride my bike; I run, and I jump rope.  I try to be as active as I can be.  I may have the bones of an eighty-year-old woman, but I still have the body and the coordination of a fifty-five year old.  I will not settle for weakness because I am still mentally and physically strong.  I will always have osteoporosis, but I will not let it defeat me.  This disease will not rob me of my joy and my choice to be happy, no matter what!