rheumatoid

Roughly 70 years ago, my Uncle Max was treated for crippling Rheumatoid Arthritis. His hands were bunched up into balls and he needed a wheelchair for mobility beyond his own house.

I am 36 years old and Uncle Max died long before I was born. However, his story is still told in our family. Max is remembered partly because he was a very colorful person. He is also remembered because, for a short time, he was cured of his arthritis.  read more »