My joint pains, and coordination issues continued, severely enough that once I outgrew my pushchair, the hospital decided that I needed a wheelchair. Safe to say, it was bubblegum pink – in true ‘Mali’ style.  Around the age of eight I was provided with a variety of support splints to wear and orthotics. The doctors decided I had juvenile arthritis and that, of course, they couldn’t do anything for this. It felt like we weren’t really getting anywhere, even as a child. 

All the way along, my consultants at the hospital would tell me ‘you’re going to outgrow these issues’, ‘Just wait until you’re 10, and you’ll get better’.

I knew I didn’t have the stamina of my peers, but couldn’t explain why.