However I mark the onset of my illness, I’m more than five years in. Whether I start the clock in the spring, when I was struck with a thunderbolt fever, or the following summer, when I found myself growing increasingly exhausted or in the fall, when chest pains finally sent me to the hospital — I’m five years past it all.
By winter, ill health had forced me out of the family business, and since then, most of my previous goals have become unattainable.
At an age when I’d hoped to be enjoying my empty nest, I’m mostly confined to it. No hikes in the desert, no travel to far-flung destinations, no earning a living or saving for retirement.
Read more on themighty.com