When chronic illness becomes a new kind of normal, it also becomes a cruel existence, one in which pain is a constant torture and exhaustion is as frequent as breathing.
I could see all kinds of things that I had missed when I was stuck in my bed. I could feel the breeze swirling around me; I could see hummingbirds buzzing around a tree branch above the roof. I didn't realize it until later, but it was the first time I had been outside in two years.
It seemed like something that could easily sound inauthentic or fake, the thought of which made me cringe, but in the end he not only did justice to my writing, he managed to accurately convey the struggle of me trying to speak.
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.
I eventually snap out of it and remember: Oh hey, there's another person here, someone helping me and we're supposed to be working together. But I don't want to work together, not on things I've done alone my entire life ...