Some Steps Are Harder to Take

When I was twenty-four I learned that I had multiple sclerosis. It progressed rapidly: at twenty-seven I was in a wheelchair, and by the time I was thirty-five I had lost the use of my hands, in fact of nearly all my voluntary muscles except in the face. Then the illness slowed nearly to a stop. At sixty-one my mind is undamaged; I can see and hear, talk and laugh, and with assistance I can eat and drink.