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A Little Story

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I talk a lot about the house that I got sick in, where I lived from 1990-2007.

However, much worse was the house where I grew up. It was clear when we moved

into it that there was a mold problem, but this was the 1970's when basically no

one on the planet knew that mold could be dangerous.

I was " okay " until well into adulthood, other than some vague mood issues. But

it's clear in retrospect that all that exposure early in life primed me for

getting mold illness/CFS later on.

It's also clear in retrospect that the mold had a big effect on my family

members. For instance, everyone always told me what a lovely person my mother

was when she was younger. And she always did seem to me really caring and

well-meaning at her core.

She worked full-time and had a " normal life. " But she also was subject to

tremendous bouts of rage, continual mild depression and basic inertia.

People blamed it on her having gone through a bad marriage or having some sort

of mental disorder.

She clung fast to the house that I grew up in. I was very afraid to press her

on the matter. And though we weren't on " bad terms, " we talked only

occasionally.

Two months ago, a day before her 70th birthday, she had a fall. She hadn't

known she had osteoporosis, and so broke her pelvis, a vertebrae, a leg and an

elbow. A tendon was hanging on by a thread requiring surgery. A severe

hematoma required two pints of blood. She was in bed and unable to move for

weeks.

And throughout all this, she has been absolutely wonderful. Optimistic,

pleasant, charming, determined to recover, grateful for what other people do for

her. According to the people at the rehabilitation center, an inspiration to

others. I feel better after talking to her than I have anyone else in a long

time.

Hopefully the Fosamax will work. She's in good health apart from her bones, and

well may have a lot of good years ahead of her.

I just thank God she's away from the mold and appears to have no intention of

returning to it.

& #8232;Life is short. Then it's over. In the end, we lose everything anyway.

Figuring out how to make the most of it while we're here thus seems to me the

least we can do for ourselves and for those we care about.

Whatever that means for each of us, of course.

Merry Christmas, all.

Best,

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