As people arrive, those already in place around the table share some good-natured banter, swapping restaurant reviews and parenting tips. There's a friendly, relaxed camaraderie in this room, which is simply a partitioned-off meeting room in a hospital. There's no obvious similarity among the people in the group; they might be homeowners waiting to meet with city councilmen, or members of a book club or volunteer committee.

But in fact their common bond is arthritis. Even their diagnoses vary tremendously - rheumatoid arthritis, lupus, Fibromyalgia, Sjögren's syndrome, osteoarthritis, dermatomyositis … the list continues. What is the same is that they are largely alone battling similar problems in a world of employers who don't understand, friends who urge them to stay positive, and family members who have heard about it too much and too often.

As the last few people arrive, Frances Rolander, who started the monthly support group nine years ago, asks people to introduce themselves. Donna and Joe Huser, a couple who are longtime veterans of the group, start. Donna has dermatomyositis, rheumatoid arthritis and a host of other problems stemming from those conditions. Joe began coming to the group meetings with Donna when she was too weak to come on her own, but he quickly found that the meetings helped him immeasurably in understanding what his wife was going through. He's now developed osteoarthritis, which, he likes to joke, he got from the group.

Kathy Barker is a spunky, early-30-something who seems the picture of health except for the splints she wears to support her thumbs, which have been all but destroyed by osteoarthritis. Lisa Kenney, who's there for the first time, was diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis seven months ago and is learning how to cope with an illness while raising two young children and running a household. Jeanie Thigpen is recovering from knee surgery and walks with a cane. One hesitant young woman introduces herself only as Ruth.

There's palpable sense of relief in the room, a letting down of the guard. Here, at least, people understand what everyone's been going through. No need for explanations or defending health decisions; no need to worry about pity, or callousness, or faking good cheer. There's just a feeling of being heard, understood and supported by people who have stood in your shoes.

Some may come to the group skeptically, expecting to hear people whining and asking, "why me?" But complaining is not what this group is about.

There's a matter-of-factness here that accepts and validates the depth of pain and fear each of the members has seen, yet allows a layer of humor and irony that buoys the group and keeps it from becoming maudlin. In fact, the feeling in the room is upbeat. The message seems to be, "There is life after arthritis, and the bad times will get better."