Diagnosis proved my suspicion

Ever since I was a young boy, I knew something wasn't right. When it came to activities, I just couldn't do what the other kids did. The heat of summer bothered me; I tired easily, and I had trouble keeping up. I was always very thin and somewhat shorter than the others. As you can guess, I came under fire at times by my peers. It was a pretty frustrating and lonely experience. Thank God I had an active imagination.

It's hard to believe it's only been 10 years since a kidney biopsy affirmed my suspicions: I had Fabry disease. My very first reaction wasn't fear or anger, but more of a "That explains everything" moment. Of course, it didn't help that my doctor explained it as "fascinating" - after I came out of my life rewind, I almost asked him to repeat what he said. I'm glad I didn't, because I probably would have punched him in the face. But I digress.

In society, good things can come from bad situations. You hear or read about them all the time; Countless stories of courageous battles with cancer and other illness. Those people are true heroes. They are admired and cheered on, blessed and thanked endlessly for the work they do to help others. But what you don't hear are the instances where someone is stricken with illness and withdraws from family, friends, and society. My situation wasn't that drastic, but it did eventually cause me to question why. Why me? I have to admit, I was always a bit selfish. I think that was built in as a defense mechanism over time because I had taken shit from so many people in my young life. I had taken enough. That, in turn, made me bitter. I sought out answers to my questions, so I went to church to meet with a pastor and signed up for an adult religion course. When the course was over, I asked him why. Why was I sick? For what purpose? And the thing is, I knew he didn't have an answer before I finished asking the question. I was looking for validity, a free pass for the way I was feeling. There is no free pass.

Of course I wasn't the only one, and I knew that. It happens every day to the most wonderful people on the planet. I was by no means "wonderful." I had an enormous chip on my shoulder - and I did exactly what my mother told me not to do: Throw caution to the wind. That's when I experienced problems at home. I won't go into details out of respect for my family, but I felt there was more to life than going through the motions. Now that I look back at it, I took the coward's way out. I felt I deserved more, but who the hell was I to deserve more? It's been four years now, and I have to say that turned out to be the best move for all of us.

So, little by little, I try to carry on. Family and friends have definitely helped me to live for me instead of living for illness. I still struggle at times when I see "normal" men jogging down the street, walking arm-in-arm with a beautiful woman. Sure, I sometimes say "Lucky bastard" aloud when I drive by. It's all a process - growing and learning about myself, about tolerance and acceptance of what is. I'll get there eventually.