I wasn’t sad. I wasn’t thinking of dying. I only thought of loss of control.
At the time I already had difficulty staying up, doing my work, so my employees reported to me in the makeshift bedroom I set up in the office. I needed help to go to the bathroom… my strength was not there.
I advertised and hired a personal trainer a week earlier, to train me so I can walk, stand, and do my work…
It so happened, that by the time I got back to the office, the trainer was waiting already.
Continue reading “In 1993, at age 46, my general practitioner declared me incurable.”