When Tiny Tim Can’t Ditch the Crutch: Other Sorts of Stories

The serious but nonfatal illness story that people most enjoy telling and hearing about starts with someone heading down a wrong path in life. A serious illness or accident intervenes, shaking the person up. He or she then recovers physically as well as spiritually.

It’s a wonderful story and people are highly receptive to hearing it. Illness or accident, however, can strike people at any stage of life and sometimes take forms from which physical recovery is impossible.

For me, disease onset came in the prime of life. At age thirty-seven, I was old enough to be mature but young enough to be physically active and feel great. In sum, I was very happy and had been for many years.

So for me, the story wasn't about being snapped out of mental unwellness by disease but of learning not to endlessly grieve the loss of a way of life that I'd truly loved and the shutting down of possibilities I’d hoped for – to keep on keeping on until "my way became easy and my burden light.” I don't often quote scripture, but that line feels about right for what I've experienced.

My physical status is still a burden, and with disease progression, an ever-increasing one. Physically, the right word for my day to day life is “grueling.” I can’t gloss that over. Yet in some very real and critically important sense – critical to my sanity – I’ve been carrying this burden lightly for years.

Thanks to folks who extended holiday greetings via email, Facebook, and comments threads and Happy Holidays to all…