As the Red Carpet Rolled Out, Arthritis Stepped In

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"Welcome to the 67th Annual Academy Awards," the handsome young valet attendant said as he opened the door of our black town car. As he reached in to help me out, I quickly slipped out of my sneakers and into heels. I stepped onto the red carpet, reached for my husband's hand and took my first deep breath of the fresh spring air that was alive with anticipation of the evening to come. Thousands of anxious, screaming fans overflowed from the temporary bleachers lining the boulevard. The thunder of their cheers made the wooden structures sway. Hundreds of paparazzi crowded shoulder-to-shoulder, yelling celebrity names in hopes of getting that one perfect shot. Producers dressed in their black-on-black event outfits pushed through the crowds, talking on their headsets, confirming which stars had arrived and were ready for live television interviews. Publicists, their worker-bee status obvious from their non-jeweled business attire, scurried behind their celebrities, making sure every hair was in place, each piece of lint removed, before the red-carpet cameras rolled.