Naming the disease after a scientist, or doctor, or even a damn town (as was done for Lyme disease) would be better than calling it chronic fatigue syndrome.
It was a bit demoralizing to inflict such a price on my body for a tiny bit of normalcy -- a few minutes of conversation. But there is something truly magical about making a plan, carrying it out, and the outcome proving to be very close to how you envisioned it.
I used to love my body. I still love my body. I love the amazing things it can do despite being plagued by illness. I just don't love the way it looks. But that’s okay with me.
With the midterm elections less than a month away, I want to encourage everyone to vote, regardless of your political affiliations. At the very least it's the best way to ensure bills, like HR 620 or another bill that impacts your life, are handled properly.
I shudder to think about someone else with ME/CFS or Lyme being portrayed worse than me and, in turn, being used to marginalize a group of sick people. That's just not right.
You can’t dupe a person’s family into saying he’s a hypochondriac and expect him to just be happy that the film is “raising awareness.”
I feel like I should be thankful for every moment that I'm not too miserable to concentrate on my own thoughts. And I am! I'm incredibly grateful, but that mindfulness is hard to sustain when things don't get better.
A few years ago, when I was still on my feet walking the streets, I saw someone stop in the middle of the road and take a selfie. I remember giving a sardonic smile, shaking my head, and waiting for the sound of tires screeching on asphalt. This, of course, was before stopping traffic to... Continue Reading →
One evening a couple weeks ago I woke up from a nap and groggily checked my phone, then my email. Sitting in my inbox was a message from Daniel Jones, editor of the Modern Love column at The New York Times. Even if you haven't heard his name, it's likely you've read, or perhaps even... Continue Reading →