A friend of mine called me brave today, when referring to these writings. The truth is, I'm scared shitless!
Brave is for the first responders at 9/11. Brave is for the troops at Normandy. I'm not Brave.
I'm a decent writer, who has found a mechanism with which to cope with a possibly debilitating disease. The best that can be said about me is that I have good survival tactics. But bravery no. If I accept that honor I'd be a fraud.
I have minor symptoms. I'm lucky that the progression of the disease in me has been slow. But frankly the thoughts of loosing my ability to speak, to perform the functions of daily living, scare me so, that I choose not to face them.
Brave, I am not!