Betrayal

My hands have betrayed me.
That is how it feels. I had expected that one day they would,since RA runs in my family, but not so soon.
I'm only 26. And already my hands are failing me. Or, to be more precise, my wrists.
They ache. They are sore and weak. It hurts me to knit more than a few rows at a time. It hurts me to type, to hold my daughter, to hold a book. And that hurts my heart.
Maybe its silly and melodramatic of me, but so what.
Because my hands are failing me.
They have betrayed my trust in them to do the things I want them to do.
They are weak, and because they are weak I am weak.