Hi, cheyne

Whereas you were told ‘hadn’t the brains’ (which is impossible to believe!), I was told just the opposite: everything I did was applauded by parents and teachers alike. Being treated like that is equally damaging, perhaps more so. I was set up to believe I couldn’t fail at anything, no matter what I might lay my hand to. The comeuppance came in college; suddenly I was surrounded by people who could do things better than I could. Still, a belief in my invincibility lingered. That sense of invincibility persisted throughout my life, down to these recent years. Hearing that I had PN, an incurable disease, was a tough morsel to swallow. ‘What do you mean by incurable, doctor? Don’t you know I’m invincible? You’d better recheck your charts.’ What a fool I was! These past 18 to 24 months (since my diagnosis) have been a lesson in vulnerability––in vulnerability and in how to ask for help. I still tell friends not to rush in to help me unless I’ve asked for help. I’m stubborn that way, and I expect I will always be. When I’ve asked for help, and a friend steps up to lend a hand, I’ll be sincerely grateful and sure to say so. But if I find help is being offered when I’ve not asked for any, I’ll say––as politely as I can––‘Please, let me do this for myself.’ So, on the one hand, I’ve learned the rewards of vulnerability, but on the other hand, I’m still ‘me,’ a stubborn loner who enjoys being a loner and wishes to remain one so long as body, mind, and spirit hold out.

Cheers,
Ray