At the age of 17, I was a junior in high school making plans for my future. I knew what I wanted to do with my life, and stubbornly refused to listen to anyone who would attempt to convince me otherwise.
However, none of my plans including me meeting you. I convinced myself that the doctor was wrong. I was just like the other students. The only reason that I took the medicine was because of my mom. She always diligently checked to see I took my medicine when I was supposed to. Naturally, a few weeks later I had another seizure.
I’m not sure how this happened, but I had convinced myself that if I took my medicine regularly and did everything right, you would go away. It happened for others, right? I carried this belief into college, and managed to do well for myself.
Until a fateful summer when I tried to do too much. I had another seizure. It finally dawned on me that you were not going to go away. I lost a lot of weight after that. I wasn’t taking care of myself or going on a diet. I got depressed and ate only enough to make sure I would stay out of the ER. Worst of all, I didn’t tell anyone.
That was a long time ago. Gradually I learned how to live with you, but it wasn’t an easy process. I am not going to say that I am happy with some of the limitations that I have been forced to live with.
I will stop here for now. I have much more to say about how you have affected my life, but I like to keep my letters brief.
What would you write in a letter to your chronic illness?