I was 6 years old when my dad took me out in our backyard to teach me to throw and catch. It was on his bucket list after being diagnosed with cancer.
I had my own ailment. I had been diagnosed with Juvenile Idiopathic Arthritis (JIA) before age 2 and had developed a limp. Pain in my ankles, wrists, and fingers was part of life. So neither one of us had any expectations.
But something unexpected happened that afternoon — a miracle of sorts that I sometimes equate to him being a survivor. It took three tosses before I caught on.
“I’ve taught plenty of kids, but nobody’s ever learned so quick,” he said.
He was full of pride, and I couldn’t stop smiling. He asked my mom to sign me up for softball after he recovered. I was all for it. I had always wanted to play a sport, but JIA was always in the way.
As soon as I stepped on the dirt, I knew I wanted to play forever — and not just recreational softball. I wanted to play in high school, college, and as long as anyone would let me.
I loved it so much that I didn’t care about the JIA anymore. The pain was just a part of who I was, like having brown hair or green eyes. I learned to tolerate it and sometimes ignored it.
I didn’t have a choice. Since I live in Nevada, my family couldn’t find a doctor to treat me. None of them had offices here. So, I saw a doctor who traveled from California every few months and I also visited UCLA Medical Center. My treatment involved a weekly shot, a healthy diet, and physical activity.
Three seasons in, at the age of 8, I wanted something more. So I started training with Coach Sharon Nichols to become a pitcher. Good thing she was patient. My pitches went everywhere except over the plate. I worked with her once a week and practiced pitching the other six days. I also had three team practices and a batting coach. As I continued to work, something else happened— the swelling went down, and my joints didn’t hurt as much.
By age 10, I was good enough to leave recreational softball and join a competitive club team. It was one of my proudest moments, yet I had a major setback that same year.
One finger on my left hand started to lock up, a complication of JIA. Different doctors tried different things until one recommended surgery. It was scary to think about, but not as scary as giving up softball. After surgery, I trained harder.
I recovered, and then my JIA went into a clinical remission. The symptoms disappeared, and I worked my way off the medication for good.
Going into remission gave me the courage to set higher goals. I helped develop the softball program at my high school, serving as pitcher, lead batter, and team captain. Nobody expected much from us, but we made the state playoffs two years in a row. I was named our league’s pitcher of the year as a sophomore and currently rank as one of the top pitchers in the state. Now I’m visiting colleges interested in recruiting me to play for them.
It’s a dream come true. And by sharing my story as an advocate for all kids and teens with JIA, I hope it will inspire them to reach for their dreams too. JIA doesn’t have to define us. It can make us stronger.
