More Than a Disease

You've might have heard me mention my book once or twice on air, hoping people love it and concerned when some, like this next lady, do not.

Trisha L. e-mails me:

"As an MS (search) sufferer myself, I'm very disappointed in your book. You gloss over the illness we share and essentially tell all those suffering to suck it up and move on. If I saw you, I'd fling your book back at you."

Wow, I'm sorry you feel that way, Trisha.

The point of my book was not make light of those suffering, but not to make them victims either.

You're hurting. Frankly, a lot of days, I'm hurting. But, Trisha, should we be defined by what ails us, or what makes us?

You and I are more than our diseases.

We aren't petri dishes, or causes. We're people just trying to do our thing.

Trisha, I demand no sympathy, or special privileges. Nor, I think, in your heart, do you.

If I don't get good ratings, I get a good swift kick in the butt — disease, or no disease.

That's the way of my business. And so it should be: No favors, no dispensations, no crutches.

We spend a lot of time in this country complaining about how we're getting hosed in this country. True enough.

Diseases are not fun. Just like losing a child isn't. Or a job. Or all your money. Or any one of the myriad of hardships the heroes I wrote about in my book had to deal with. But deal, they did. Never making excuses. Never asking for favors. Always fighting on.

You have every right to be angry, Trisha. I just choose not to be.

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