The Alchemy of Illness

Illness can limit life or open a path to transformation.

Excerpted with permission from "The Alchemy of Illness" by Kat Duff, Bell Tower Books, a division of Random House.

One of the most difficult things that sick and disabled people encounter is the discomfort that many well and able-bodied people feel in the face of infirmity. I have felt that uncomfortability when faced with people who are disfigured or disabled in ways that I am not. I get nervous and worry about saying or doing the wrong thing. But beneath the superficial nervousness is a more visceral anxiety that makes me sweat: a deep resistance to those who are so obviously marked and limited by their fates. I have caught myself cataloguing the differences between us in my mind, as if the simple acknowledgment of our commonality would enable their disasters somehow to infect me and spoil that slim vestige of health and hope I cling to in my own corner of misery.

Before the advent of modern medicine, people gave thanks for good health, counting it as an unexpected blessing.

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Likewise, I have come to realize that many people are deeply disturbed by my continuing illness; they want to help but also need to reassure themselves that disasters like disease can be avoided and, if necessary, easily remedied. It's hard to swallow the fact that we have little or no say over the extent and timing of our illnesses.

Before the advent of modern medicine, people gave thanks for good health, counting it as an unexpected blessing. Now we've come to assume well-being and regard illness as a temporary breakdown of normal "perfect" health.

Myths, fairy tales and great works of literature, which abound with cripples and hunchbacks, one-eyed monsters and big-nosed lovers, suggest that these abnormalities are not only normal but somehow necessary in the plot of life, they shape our characters and destinies, forge our greatnesses and smallnesses, while entertaining and instructing others. However, that sensibility has been lost in recent years. People go jogging three months after a coronary, undergo surgery to correct upturned noses, starve themselves to lose weight, risking health and wealth to attain some mythical ideal of the norm.


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Kat Duff
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