Is this really happening to me? This illness? How could this have happened?
Of course I’ve been living with it for years. I’ve figured out how to live with this body. I love this body. I love this life.
There’s much to be done. I don’t have to do it all. I must do some.
My husband and father think I should write. I think so too. I’ve always believed it was my top talent.
Did the universe give me MS to force me to write? That seems kind of cruel. I guess it could be worse.