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Oct 23, 2010, 09:38 AM
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Member Since: Jun 2007
Location: Chicago, Illinois
Posts: 5,518
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Hi Gus - good thread. 
My world came crumbling down on me in November, 1996. I was diagnosed with an extremely rare form of an incurable, untreatable, progressive and deadly illness - familial amyloidosis. I was told I had only a few years left of eyesight and physical mobility. My mother had always been very sick and lost her eyesight, but I thought it was due to diabetes. Doctors didn't know about amyloidosis back then - they labeled her a hypochondriac. By the time she was diagnosed I no longer believed anything she said. I was diagnosed five years after my mother died.
This threw me into a deep depression. I hated mom - she hated me too because she had always blamed my birth for causing all her problems. It was just a coincidence that the symptoms of her illness appeared shortly after I was born. However, I did feel sorry for her because she struggled with a life of pain that just kept getting worse.
It took a long time to work things out with my mother. It's not easy holding a conversation with a gravestone, but it was much easier seeing her side of the story while wearing her shoes and feeling the same pain.
My life is over now. I'm homebound, disabled and can no longer work or drive. I have to keep the shades closed during the day because my eyes are extremely sensitive to light. My vision is a kaleidoscope, but I feel blessed to still have a pinhole in the center of clear vision.
I sat and cried over this for a very long time, contemplating suicide. Knowing how I felt when my mother attempted suicide, I realized suicide is not an option because it would destroy my husband and son. I thought about what I'd want my husband and son and people in general to say about me after I'm gone. People don't know what to say about a person who has committed suicide.
I started to look outside myself at the people around me. I may be all alone with this illness, but there are so many out there who struggle with life and pain as I do. Rather than dwell on all the pain and loss, I'd rather cherish what I have left. There are no guarantees in life, so cherish every moment - be it good, bad or ugly. 
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