I spend time trying to peer into the future, probably too many wasted moments. Is the past prologue? I wonder. I have traveled that road and know the answer. There are no predictors. My path has not been easy, though I do know it could have been worse. Much worse. I have written that I will live peacefully with my life as it is in this moment. Just do not make it worse, whoever you are.
What would you pay to know outcomes, to know, digest and cope? Sometimes I lose confidence in my ability to adjust to possible worst-case scenarios. I cannot drive them from my head. I want to know and want no part of it. I demand truth from my doctors. Suppose they knew. They don’t, of course, but that day will come. Would you want the truth?
Some illnesses have certain destinations. Not mine. I could land in a living heaven or hell. My father finished his race in a wheelchair. My experience thus far has been more brutal than his. I write too often about the wheelchair and white cane parked in the corner of my mind. You can tear up photos but not images projected in your mind in the dead of night.
I consider myself well adjusted. I wonder if that is true.