An 81! Dang you, FA

My niece has left for school, and I am officially sad. Not because she has left. Because it reminds me of  how hard my first year at school was.

I was lonesome. I didn’t know that I had a major disease. I thought I was just clumsy.  I did not have time to write out my test answers — once I learned I had Friedreich’s ataxia, I would  ask for and get more time.  But because of time (at least that is what I tell myself), I got the lowest grade on a report card since fourth-grade math  — an  81. I remember someone I knew looking at me in disgust when I grabbed his arm to keep from  falling. There was worse, but FA was the root cause of the vast majority.


I don’t feel as if I have accomplished a great thing by improving. My dogs were the main reason. Plus, I have miles to go to be where I want, and  FA  will keep me from getting there.

Two caveats: I know I am lucky. I will not be alone in the miles to go or where I end up. Also, this should not be read as a reason not to tell me about my niece.