Though not as bad as yours, sir, my experience with waking up one morning in late September to a massive explosion of floaters in my right eye and fitting an emergency visit to my eye doctors who took one look and said “I’m not a retina guy” has led me down a rabbits hole of knowing more about my detaching retina than I care to know.
Three surgeries later, I’m on my first month of having my eye filled with a silicon gel that will be here for at least three, a band of a silicon sewed onto my eye compressing my eye with the hope it will force my retina back into place.
I knew I was subject to this for a long time, a high myopic, but when the hammer fell, I guess that knowledge calmed me as I joked with the Dr, the anesthesiologist, the nurses, before going into a four hour surgery this last time. Thankfully, they put me full out.
No idea if left will follow.
Thank you for helping people understand eyes and vision can be taken away. Enjoy what you can. God Bless.
3
Sonnet 19: When I consider how my light is spent
BY JOHN MILTON
When I consider how my light is spent,
Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide,
And that one Talent which is death to hide
Lodged with me useless, though my Soul more bent
To serve therewith my Maker, and present
My true account, lest he returning chide;
“Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?”
I fondly ask. But patience, to prevent
That murmur, soon replies, “God doth not need
Either man’s work or his own gifts; who best
Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best. His state
Is Kingly. Thousands at his bidding speed
And post o’er Land and Ocean without rest:
They also serve who only stand and wait.”
64
I am sorry I was not aware of your health difficulties. But I do applaud your joie de vivre and willingness to both trial a treatment and share your story. I had the chance to jump at a clinical trial for cancer in my early 30s. 20+ years later, living life to the fullest. It did not become a standard protocol, but It apparently worked for me and I would never trade the experience. I wish for you a life impacted by, but not hampered by your illness. It seems you are certainly on that road.
79
Dear Frank
Your precision is grateful clarity to me. My hope is for your left eye to hold on above the battling fray. Frank, thank you for your generosity to share your condition,so rare to me your reader, and. as I am not alone, to those reading and awaiting your columns as well. Thank you too for your beloved dog, who forever your buddy, runs with you in the park. Frank you inspire, give strength, and keep your readers living in many ways. Thank you dear Frank.
Thank you New York Times.
89
I am saving this piece Frank Bruni and I'm going to read it from time to time. I will think of you and hope for a cure for your malady and those of so many more around the world. You are right....we never know what we can do until we have to and we never know who will rise to the occasion and who may not be able to keep on going. Every one of us has needs to maintain this perspective. I have a child who wears hearing aids (cause of hearing loss....to this point one of those great unknowns in life). Like vision, hearing is critical for the acquisition of language & knowledge. Occasionally, I worry about what the future holds...will better hearing aids be developed? A cure for this hearing loss? Will he become deaf? How will his future be altered? Will he flourish and thrive?
I've had cancer....will it come back again or a new one arise? As a physician, I see the worries of the patients I care for and their families. I've had the injections....yes, one gets more skilled at administering them to one's self. All we can do is try to treat others kindly, do our best, encourage the ill, the discouraged, the tearful and support the next generation to do their best, rise to their potential, surmount the obstacles and hope to make the world a better place for more on this planet. There's magic in the valleys and hope on the horizon.
As I tell my child, we all have something that will slow us down, make us worry or feel different....but we can overcome & enjoy our journey,
82
My pharmacist, who I got to know well after barely surviving a terrible accident and going through eight surgeries, once told me that trauma survivors are in a kind of club. No one wanted to become a member but when we are unfortunate enough to join, we start noticing other club members and can truly talk to them about our experiences much more than with those not in our club. I’ve found that the type of trauma, whether it’s a devastating diagnosis, a death of a loved one, or an accident like mine, doesn’t matter much. What matters is that we see each other especially when we are suffering, sharing how we truly are, and taking and providing strength to continue to carry our burden.
53
I can't focus my right eye sharply on anything, near or far, with or without current glasses, and it's been that way for years. Thank goodness for left eyes!
18
Good luck!
12
Dear Frank, Your column is a perfect expression of the core of the Stoic philosophy. Said Epictetus: “It’s not what happens to you, but how you respond that matters.”
38
Finally, Mr. Bruni an article I read all the way, get away from the Trump nonsense, Frank your better than that.
God thank you for everything you’ve given me
God thank you for everything you taken from me
God thank you for everything you’ve left me
11
We have a wall hanging in our bathroom, across from the toilet. It has an embroidered image of the Buddha and a quote attributed to him: “A happy person is not a person with a certain set of circumstances, but rather a person with a certain set of attitudes”. It is good to contemplate that statement once or twice a day.
30
Mr Bruni. Can you share some of your compassion with our leaders who are wanting?
23
Bless your heart, Mr. Bruni.
15
Good luck, Frank!
17
I wish you well. And I wish you had explained more about your blind friend— what kind of work does he do that he can manage without sight?
4
Your column begins by trashing the serenity Prayer. Then you proceed to tell us how the concepts in the prayer have worked for you. Am I missing something, or are you? I am uncertain if readers are meant to see that you came around to embrace the concepts or if you are unaware that you eventually espoused the concepts of the prayer in your medical journey.
I think it's a lot of chutzpah to trash a prayer that has saved millions of lives around the world. lives of alcoholics and drug addicts. You need to cultivate even more humility. Try attending a few AA and Alanon meetings and report back to us.
15
“... I found myself thinking less about blindness in my future and more about the blindness in my past.”
This is my takeaway from this insightful article. Thank you.
34
Lovely piece, but—
God can give you lemons, as you wrote here, or God can give you lemons that are grenades of fire and poison. The former can lead to the kinds of growth and awareness that show us what we're made of and heighten our empathy for others who struggle. The latter can wreck you from the inside out. These are the people with the "grace" that inspires you. They don't grow new appendages, like starfish. And I think some of them—well, me, at times—doesn't like the expectation of showing grace to those who seek inspiration. All this to say, you've got a challenging lot, to be sure. But lucky you are that this challenge can build you up if you're any good at taking it on with the right outlook. For others—for many—the challenges are not so chock full of opportunity.
8
Congratulations Frank you have discovered one of life's best secrets to live in the moment and to not wallow in self pity for more than a fleeting moment. I wish you well.
15
Your thoughts remind me of my inspiring cousin, Doug Greene, fighting back from too early glaucoma to sustain a life of exploration and compassion:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DHeBMXyuK1g
https://www.amazon.com/Grief-Grace-Journey-Turning-Transformation-ebook
Your two best lines:
"This wasn’t as clear to me before, and I found myself thinking less about blindness in my future and more about the blindness in my past." and
"...after we traded the usual courtesies, I thought: We can go on like this for another 10 minutes or we can have a more meaningful conversation." Great to remember; we don't have time for the alternative.
13
I was given not much hope with bone on bone arthritis years ago. The Orthopedist said I was too young because the implant at the time would need to be replace due to the longevity of the technology. He offered me narcotics to treat the pain. I declined the offer as I had been treating my pain with anti-inflammatory supplements and was having pain relief. I decided to continue looking for pain relief in natural products and avoided the NSAIDs like ibuprofen because I felt like taking it would be a vicious cycle and I would become dependent on it! A recent times article: https://www.nytimes.com/2019/08/07/well/live/arthritis-tied-to-heart-disease-pain-relievers-may-be-to-blame.html?searchResultPosition=2
revealed the devastating effects these drugs can have on the body of arthritis sufferers! I am thankful I never took it and continued to look for natural substances to treat my pain. I did find a very effective cocktail which I took and continue to take. The doctors showed no interest in my regime and I pursued looking in this area on my own. I finally found a surgeon and got my total hip replacement August 2018, the doctor said it should last 30 years! My other hip was going down and I now need to get that replaced too! But I continue to look for my pain relief in natural substances and have great confidence in them for healing also. With the new science of anti-aging we have real choices for healing not available before. There is hope for healing I do believe!
8
Thank you for participating in the study.
Keep hoping.
Maybe you are in the placebo group, and maybe your lack of response to the placebo will strengthen the statistics for the effectiveness of the real drug — and then maybe you will have access to the drug as soon as it gets approved.
10
I have always valued your writing but now I must admit I have fallen in love with you and your approach to life and its participants.
Wish I could, thru this message hug you or give you a kiss on the cheek (aren't you glad its not in person?).
You have been given a gift- not of your liking- but one that will open up new awareness to you of the joys of life each and every day.
I love you Frank Bruni
5
Mr. Bruni, Please don't go blind - do whatever it takes - but never, ever, ever lose your voice. It makes us all better.
17
I was sitting around feeling sorry for myself this a.m., due to various issues. None of which were serious.
Thanks, Frank, for showing me how insignificant my "problems" are. My best to you.
14
Te decay of the body with which we completely identify is an aid to accepting death in a less fearful way. Perhaps even fearless. Maybe even one will be able to die consciously and aware. That's what the wise men says. Hoping they are right and thinking they are. But still, there are so many cruelties perpetrated on all sentient beings as to make one realize that acceptance of pain and suffering is impossible most of the time. So, what's the answer in this? Heck if I know. The answer does not, however, lie in the body.
3
Thank you for this column, Frank Bruni. I so wish you well on your journey.
6
Frank, your words are golden, your columns are thought provoking ,
I wish you all the best
7
God bless you, Mr. Bruni. You never fail to move and challenge and inspire me. I, too, am struggling with my eyes. Thank you for this essay. Please don't stop writing.
7
I'm about to start my fourth and final ivf cycle, and in the times I've taken breaks, I miss stabbing myself. It's hard to not become addicted to the hope of it.
9
At first, I thought you were kidding. Then I wondered if you, like me, might be a Type 1 diabetic. I read on. Since diagnosed, I have taken about 5-6 injections, plus 3-7 blood sugar checks daily, about 2 thousand times your number.
Sorry your therapy didn't work as completely as hoped, but for all my injections, the insulins and continuous blood meters keep me alive and well-controlled every single day. It's not just my eye sight, but each organ that's affected by this disease. I don't have any option but to keep stabbing myself!
9
I'm wondering if you received the drug or the placebo and if the latter, did the drug work on those receiving it?
1
I’m so sorry for your problem, and I can sympathize. I, too, have a tagalong eye after a lifetime of eye problems. One copes. I’m grateful beyond belief for scalable fonts, doodads like scleral lenses, lasers, and text to speech. I can get information ... my sine qua non.
There is a flip side and that’s my 77 yo husband. Extremely nearsighted, his impairment wasn’t noticed until he flunked his driver’s test. Then came the coke-bottle-bottom glasses. At 40, he had LASIK and got even better. At 75, he had his cataracts done and has 20/20 vision ... far, far better than original equipment!
Hang in there Frank. Sick ppl know things well ppl don’t.
12
Seems to me Mr. Bruni misunderstood The Serenity Prayer and his lead is therefore deceptive. Nobody ever said wisdom produced objective answers. Indeed, his column presents the results of seeking serenity and gaining wisdom.
10
A wonderful piece of writing.
5
Beautiful words; thank you Frank.
6
It's called compassion. And, you are right. It makes your life better as well as everyone you come in contact with. I hope it continues to flourish for you.
6
Frank, I’ve lived 76 years with a left eye that has been all but useless since birth. Thirty years ago I got contact lens and lost two from my left eye and didn’t even know it until I tried to remove them and they weren’t there. Now I wear one contact - a significant savings over the years. There is that. What I haven’t lived with is a medical estimate that there are odds that I will lose the sight in my good eye. That is concerning, and I can emphasize because it has crossed my mind on more than one occasion that protecting my vision was not to be taken lightly. Still, as you so wisely write, we do what we can do and we do our best not to be distracted from all the light that we can see. But, you know, vision is about more than eyesight, and you have a 20/20 brain.
21
Aww, Frank. Lovely insight. My son was born with orthopedic birth anomalies and we attended clinics that included children much more disabled than he for several years. For me, it was a lesson in perspective and humility and created a profound respect for the other children and parents. It banished any self-pity I may have felt and I am sure it influenced the way my son grew up to be confident and empowered.
I continue to wish you a healthy future and peace of mind.
13
Thank you so much for this article. A couple of years ago I had two operations for two different cancers. I was very fortunate that both were stage one. I was however given a drug (amiodarone) for a heart rhythm problem I had after the second operation. The drug, according to my Neuro-opthamologist destroyed much of the optic nerves in my left eye and some in my right eye. I can no longer drive, hike in the mountains, or read books or magazines. Fortunately I can read on my phone or tablet by enlarging the font. Mr. Bruni is so correct when he says can now see the "blindness in his past.". I never thought about the "Americans with Disabilities Act." Now I see it's results all the time.
18
I became a Type 1 diabetic when I was 12 in 1965, and injected myself with different varieties of insulin a few times a day until 2001, when I got my first insulin pump. I felt different and ashamed of my diabetes and told no one about my shots until I'd graduated from high school. This was the time when all the books about diabetes told you that you would go blind (retinopathy) or your kidneys would stop functioning one day not too far in the future. I'm 67 now, and have lived through 54 years of the disease in decent shape, with a few bumps. I empathize and wish you the best of luck with your treatment. Insight can help even when your sight becomes a little shaky.
9
There is an awful lot of drama here over the simple act of injecting oneself with medication “52” times. I’ve had to do regular injections into the adipose tissue over my stomach. Yes, it hurt, yes, it sometimes bled and left dark bruises. Yes, I hated it. But it was not a big deal. It did not change my world. One of my siblings injects insulin daily. I know many women who went through fertility injection protocols, multiple times. I know trans people who have gone through hormone injections. It’s something you know has to be done, so you raw a breath hold it, and plunge. And it’s over for the time being.
I’m very sorry for your troubles, Frank Bruno, but this statement made me gag:
"I even, in a strange way, came to look forward to my injections: They set me apart, giving my life its own signature rhythm, its own particular grit.”
Good grief.
1
Thank you for this gracious column, Frank. You neglected to mention your contribution by participating in the clinical trials. I wish you all the best in persevering. Your column is one of the reasons that I subscribe to the Times.
7
Serenity NOW.... ah, a good reminder that the Costanza approach never worked but this prayer and an attitude of gratitude has changed my life in ways I could never have imagined. Thanks Frank....stay on the path!
There is a sign hanging in the oncology department of Mass General Hospital by Nietzsche and it reads:
"You never know how strong you are
Until strong is the only choice."
Having lived through surviving impossible odds, I know that to be true.
31
Thank you Frank for sharing your insights into the things that you have gained (new senses, new perspectives, empathy, understanding, wisdom) when you encounter setbacks in life. Thinking about my blindness in the past more so than my blindness in the future - it resonates with me deeply. I wish you all the best.
5
Dear Frank, Your words bring truth and hope, as so many of us must struggle to find ways to go forward in spite of tremendous challenges and losses. Your experience in hospitals resonated for me, as I raised a son with very serious heart complications, who eventually died at the age of 21. His death was a life changing ordeal but I’ve found that my ability to connect with others who are suffering is something I’m grateful for.
11
Your courage and your writing. All of it. Are inspiring. Thank you.
11
Dear Frank, Thanks for the optiism. I have been going through a similar siuation on my malaria reduction communication job in Guinea. The project was already underway when I arrived last year and was so well done that there was little that I thought deserved attention so I spent a great deal of time thinking about what I could do that was value added. So I came up with an economic incentive system that could be used in many poorer countries where an increase in the GDP per capita could result in an overall improvement of the country's socioeconomic status - basically fewer days absence and children not misssing school days which leads to a positive GDP ($$$) and the country's survival - so says Jeffrey Sachs, not me. The way I tried to boost my colleagues spirits was to suggest being the first in sub-Saharan Africa to eliminate malaria was probaby better in the country competitions than being the country with the most swimmers arriving on the island of Lampedusa. Probably.
6
Great description of hospitals "hallways that reeked of disinfectant and dread...".
Frank, you've given me lots of great columns over the years and I appreciate that. At least you can continue writing if the blindness happens. If it does you can still share your skill and I might add - your perfect touch of humor.
We need you.
Hang in there, I know this can't be easy.
6
Bravo, Frank Bruni. Having a child with profound disability, I am used to being pitied by others. Often people will tell me they can't imagine how hard my life must be, and that they feel they have no right to complain about anything in their own lives. I simply don't understand. I feel incredibly fortunate to have had these tough experiences, and have learned so much along the way. I can't imagine the person I might have become if not for my special son.
25
Thank you for sharing this. Many people continue their lives with disability - visible and invisible. Some, like you, learn to find strength with the adaptations, some choose rage, and others (or maybe most of us) alternate between the two depending on whatever else we may be dealing with at any given time. I have independent pool therapy several times a week where the example is all around me of those who choose to adapt and get on with life. They are often the kindest people in the pool, the first to help when someone else is struggling, and the last to complain (not that I am opposed to complaining or to listening to others do so). Many deal with far worse than I, and that is always a reminder to me to be grateful for what I can do. You seem to be making that same choice.
11
Thank you Frank, for this and so many of your most readable and thought-provoking articles, and sincere best wishes for the future.
3
This has brought me to tears, as I am navigating the latest of my life's traumas -- losing a sibling to early-onset Alzheimer's. There is only me to do the care-taking and I am overwhelmed and terrified, for both of us. Though I am utterly alone in this particular struggle, I am grateful to Mr. Bruni -- who has long been one of my favorite writers -- for reminding me that there is a whole universe out there of people fighting their private battles, and they are coping, somehow, and so will I.
18
As a physician and a patient, I salute you, Frank for sharing your journey to acquiring serenity; we all must travel this same tortuous path healthcare path eventually. Here's wishing you success in this treatment protocol or the next. Please continue to share your astute observations, political and otherwise.
8
I lost my eye when I was 10 due to a bottle rocket set off by my neighbours. The chance of an infection spreading has decreased over time but yeah, becoming blind is a scary thought. I've also lived through other and dare I say even overcome more serious medical issues. I consider myself to be one of the luckiest people in the world.
I don't think health-related issues are what take away from your enjoyment in life esp. if you're reasonably well off. It really is more environmental - the neighbours you have, the friends you have, the partners, etc. and how YOU handle them that determines what happens. Look at Trump - poor guy, all that wealth, a reasonable health, and he still is unhappy everyone doesn't love him.
--Ram
http://ram.org
14
Reply to Rick Gage
Actually I am always aware of what delivery guys are going through in terms of the weather or fatigue and often initiate
an interchange on the subject while sharing an elevator ride.
Aging makes me more and more aware of others. About time.
I must say.
7
This is a great piece, thank you for sharing your story and your perspective. Thanks also for participating in medical research - everyone will benefit long-term, I hope you will benefit too. Good luck!
3
I overcame a dysfunctional family and a crippling anxiety disorder to get a doctorate and a faculty position at the best school in the country for my discipline.
And then a mosquito bit me. I got Dengue Fever while on a trip to Central America while working on a documentary. Two years and $35,000 for a Medical Misery Tour left me with a diagnosis of Chronic Exhaustion Syndrome. (Because Fatigue is too mild a term.)
But at least my achievements left me with a decent disability pension, much better than many other disabled people get. So now I live in Oregon, ride my motorcycle when I'm not too tired, smoke dope, and listen to rock 'n' roll records and watch movies–that was my field of expertise, so it's doing research. When life hands you lemons, make lemonade. When life hands you lemonade, add vodka and turn up the Pink Floyd.
24
Mr. Bruni, your response to your misfortune is an example of mindfulness which continues to change my life in positive ways. Like so many of life's experiences, 'you can profit from them or be destroyed' but do not underestimate your strengths.
May good fortune and the force be with you.
7
Every time I read one of your stories about your vision it brings me comfort. About ten years ago I lost a lot of the vision in my right eye after a freak accident. A spider bit me just above my eye and the poison caused permanent ulcers on my cornea. I’m very lucky to have vision coverage from work, but no matter what my ophthalmologist does it will never improve, and sometimes it gets worse. So most of the time I just deal with it, but there are times when I’m tired, and my vision is even worse, and then I cannot stop thinking about what would happen if my left eye were damaged as well.
9
Bravo, Mr. Bruni! And not for your emerging insights (which many below have mentioned and I too salute). Rather for being willing to be part of a trial, not knowing if you have been in the experimental or the control group. I am a scientist and this design is the gold standard for making medical progress. Yes the first treatment didn't improve your vision, but the study did serve to check off a path such that other scientists and physicians now will not waste further time on it.
8
I cannot begin to express, let alone even identify, all the emotions I experience when I read your columns, Mr. Bruni. Once again I have been stopped in my tracks to reflect on your gift, and the reminder to be grateful. I wish you the best.
11
My daughter lost sight in one eye before she was nine. Today as an adult, she is an attorney. Law school has a demanding reading routine, and she managed with lots and lots of lamps. My worry is the same as Frank’s, her good eye won’t last for her lifetime.
8
I like it Bruni, this is an essay in human courage of a fine form, it speaks to the daily courage many of us, and at the end of the day, everyone, needs to handle the often hard physical facts of life. It's real and relevant, much different than the Rambo fantasy type of courage, which in a way is a denial of real life.
7
After struggling with blurry vision in one eye after cataract surgery a few years ago along with multiple annoying floaters and now facing similar surgery in the other eye, I have discovered the hard way what my dad meant about the preciousness of good vision. Life is tough, especially the older you get. Not a religious person, but I will pray for you Frank and everyone who suffers health issues of any kind. Good health is worth all the money in the world. Oh and BTW I like your columns (most of the time anyway!).
5
What an inspiration!! It's so easy to fall into the cesspool of self pity until we determine that there are more productive ways of moving forward with life. As with so many of life's crossroads, it's a choice we frequently are forced to make.
Thank you Frank Bruni for a marvelous essay. I've seen you on numerous panels and would never have guessed your struggle. Your empathy for the suffering of others is wondrous. Thank you!!
14
Frank I rode in last time and said thank you and I’m doing it again. Thank you for your writing and your courage and your willingness to share this with us. As a nurse and sometimes a patient it is good to have the lessons that you teach us.
You are definitely the ‘Man’ as it’s said. A good example.
David
5
There are so many stories here, about dealing with health and the carp that goes with problems. There are many, many sturdy people in this world. Thanks Mr. Bruni for bringing yours and theirs out. Kudos and best of everything to you all.
6
Your essay is a great example of the various ways individuals learn compassion for others. Thank you.
8
Thanks for this inspiring column Mr. Bruni. I read it with interest, as a stroke recently reduced the vision in my one sighted eye, but did not rob me of all sight. I can still function, navigate, and read, and I'm thankful for what sight I still have.
6
Thank you for this wonderful article, Frank. I was diagnosed with Parkinson’s a few years ago at age 52 and I often describe it is one of the best things that ever happened to me. Having a chronic disease with no certain outcome brings appreciation for the present moment, a greater empathy for those who quietly and valiantly fight their own battles and a desire to engage with other people about things that really matter in life. Good luck in your personal battle. You write with such wisdom and humanity. This poor world needs your voice.
19
You're an inspiration Frank. Thank you for this incredible column.
6
A thoughtful, touching article. I hope the treatments cure you. Friends and fellow patients are helpful to be there during the bad times. Good to have a dog as well! Take care.
9
Wow. I have a similar affliction in my left eye ( at least w/ the blurry view), That was brought on by none other than MYSELF, and now I wear safety goggles all the time and that statement about not having a spare eyeball after you lose one rings SOOO true, that now I actually wear safety goggles and not macho-muscle it through cutting, or trimming operations (with a hi speed tile cutter saw & CARBIDE blade, for an absolutely smooth finish cut on some old redwood that turns out to be meaningless, because it gets weathered... lots of moisture, but it was such a smooth of a cut, I like to brag!). I think with bright on my affliction though is not something with the nerves in the eyeball but exposure to what turns out to be toxic Redwood splinters in the eyeball; first, the eyeball went from blue to a copper-green, now it is just dark (black), And everything is blurry but I do you see the compensations I’ve made, especially when driving.. I still don’t like wearing goggles, but do more often now at 2/3 of a century old!
3
Thank you, Mr. Bruni. The human condition is mortal. Courage to share openly our anxieties about it alleviates others suffering, which builds self worth. Your experience has drawn you and others together, bringing each of us the gift of connection, and acceptance of life as it is, not what we planned it to be.
7
I did not know you were suffering from this desease and I hope that you will improve with this treatment.
You are showing an extraordinary strength of mind which will serve you to fight and never give up.
I wish you the best in your struggle and in everything you do. You are certainly an example in courage and determination.
For a while I lost a significant part of my hearing and I cannot tell you the suffering I went through so in a way I can understand your pain, although I have to confess I did not display the level of courage that you have. Best of luck.
2
"And after we traded the usual courtesies, I thought: We can go on like this for another 10 minutes or we can have a more meaningful conversation."
This was one of the gifts that my year of breast cancer treatment brought me: the courage to push beyond the superficial and polite in conversations with friends and even strangers -- to speak to the hardships, challenges, and joys that we all an encounter as humans, whether a life-threatening disease present or not. I had some of the most honest and vulnerable conversations of my life that year... it's something I actually miss about cancer, as strange as that may sound. And I still strive for those kinds of real conversations now that I'm in remission, although they don't come as naturally as they did during my cancer year. Especially with the ubiquitous artificial realities of social media, I think we need this kind of real talk more now than ever.
18
As I was reading this remarkable column, it occurred to me that you have transcended the ordinary "box" that we find ourselves stuck in. Your consciousness seems to have expanded into an entirely new and wonderful place.
This should give all of us humans a big boost. Thanks very much!
14
Thanks Frank for the poke in the eye -- no pun. Your brilliant piece today reminding us to stop whining about the the aches and pains that befall us -- and be grateful to embrace the opportunity to exceed our limitations.
9
Thanks for telling us your story. It is something I try to keep in mind every day and often find hard to do. My mind keeps returning to the multiple things I need to do or problems I need to solve. In a way, this is a good thing, an essential survival feature bestowed upon us by evolution. But looking up from throwing sticks off the path I have set for myself to the majesty of the trees around me is essential, as is, realizing it is a gift to be still walking the path of life at 76 years of age.
4
I wish you well and thank you so much for sharing about your experience--I have been following along. In the beginning it was out of interest and admiration, but over the summer I developed my own wearingly obstinate health problems, so I have a different perspective. Everything you say is so true--how so much depends on our attitude. You have helped me adjust mine today, no small feat! A heartfelt thank you.
11
Ah the wisdom of looking around you and being grateful for your challenges . One of the best life lessons I have found.
11
Thank you so much for this piece, it’s exactly what I needed to read today. I’m 29 with a rare spinal condition. After 6 years of treatment with no success, I’ve found myself become very weary, outraged, self-pitying, and defeated. I appreciate this honest and raw perspective... it’s a good reminder that I’m not alone or unique in my situation. I can change my attitude and see it as an opportunity empowerment and growth. I should be cognizant and grateful for what I do have (my spine is screwy, but I’m blessed to have 2 functioning eyeballs). Thank you!
30
"While you have no control over much of what befalls you, you have plenty of control over your perspective on it, your attitude about it." Those of us with long experience in 12-step programs have learned that this is the wisdom behind the Serenity Prayer. I'm happy for you that you have discovered this, Mr. Bruni, though very sorry for the trauma that showed it to you. Thank you for your perceptive essays, which I nearly always enjoy, none more than this. I wish you a full recovery.
16
Keep writing Frank because there is not enough research into eye related issues.
And for the rest of you, go get your eyes and retina tested every year even if you do not wear glasses because there is not enough awareness of problems that can be diagnosed. Retinal lattice has no symptoms until you have a retinal detachment. Not good. I continue to wonder if my extra optic nerve (yes, a non functional third one next to my eye socket on the surface) might have been a tip off or not. A great grand parents sudden unexplained blindness at 38 should have been a possible warning.
8
I admire your attitude, your wisdom, your courage and your openness. You're an inspiration to all of us.
13
I have had extreme pain for several years following two cancer surgeries. I am 34. It has been very, very hard - actually, impossible - to "stay positive" and "accept" my situation, as so many who seem to be in better straits advise.
It brought me comfort to read this column today and to feel less alone.
25
While I disagree with Mr. Bruni on most political matters, when he writes about his ailment, I pay attention. No human being (in my idealized world) should ever suffer from such afflictions. He is to be commended for making the great human effort to do what he can to maintain the eyesight that he has left.
I trust that he keeps trying plus that something can ultimately be done to restore the eyesight in the orb which no longer sees while maintaining the vision in his "good" eye.
His "contrary" viewpoints on the important matters of the day are part of what Makes America Great.
2
Thanks as always for your reflections.
I highly recommend these two books: "The Brain's Way of Healing" by Norman Doidge (chapter 6 in particular) and "Perfect Vision: The Original Bates Method Classic Revised into Plain English" by Michael Arnold, M.D., L.Ac.
2
Frank,
You may have lost sight in one eye, but you certainly have clarity of vision.
From one who has been there with auto-injectables for years due to autoimmune disorders, I tip my hat to you for so thoughtfully and graciously identifying the silver linings. You are a treasure.
11
Brave guy! The anxiety and time spent on an illness like this must be like having a second job. Hoping for good outcomes!
3
Thanks for the reminder - attitude is everything. It's a universally recurring theme, in some ways recurring daily for each of us, the consolation of perspective.
Yesterday I was reminded of a condition I have that for years overwhelmed me with terror and trauma and either depression or a battle to stave it off. Even though it gets more frequent as I get older now I consider it an annoyance and inconvenience and am grateful it's not something worse.
Similarly I have some nerve damage from an old surgery that left me with a limp. However I'm free of any pain and am grateful for that too on a daily basis.
Good to be frequently reminded that we are not what happens to us, we are our response to what happens to us. At a minimum, our personal tragedies can lead us to greater empathy and listening. Here's hoping your good eye stays that way.
5
Thanks for your inspiring article. Yes, our afflictions can help us see others better and when we listen more deeply and see more clearly, we open our hearts and become more compassionate human beings.
Good for you Frank! I applaud your courage and insight. You're an inspiration.
1
My dad is 94 and lost an eye in a game-gone-bad (mumblety-peg) when Dad was 5. Dad compensated over the years despite many operations and serious pain until he was about 45. Although Dad could never quite hit a baseball, even today he skis masterfully, reads voluminously, plays tennis, can beat me in golf, and drives a car for Mom (96) and himself very well. Dad never asked for sympathy and just muscled on through, if that's the right word. I often wondered as a kid about why that experience didn't hinder his life in a big way. People meeting him can't help but notice the blank, scarred eye that was destroyed. At this point, I've come to the conclusion that the accident made Dad tougher, more resilient and more empathetic. I wish the same for you, Mr. Bruni. I'd also say that I'd pray that you have Dad's outcome, but that would be impolitic for the Times audience, so I'll just keep that part to myself if I do pray for you.
9
@Dave Oedel
There is nothing impolitic about praying. I'm an atheist, but I pray in my own way. All positive thoughts should be welcomed!
1
Thank you for this column which speaks to ALL of us, and may your other eye stay healthy for many decades to come.
6
As a nurse, I question this headline.
There's an enormous difference between self-injecting medication as treatment or cure, as many people with diabetes due twice a day, and stabbing oneself multiple times.
Still: wishing the author and all paients full recovery.
7
Dear Frank,
Your wisdom and incisive writing have been a source of insight and hope for many years. Your current observations about your situation and how to cope, are as wise and inspiring as always. The most important wisdom you share is : "While you have no control over much of what befalls you, you have plenty of control over your perspective on it, your attitude about it." This is the wisdom that the ancient Stoics have offered. And this is what the "serenity prayer" means.
3
Your thoughts encapsulate one of the most frustrating aspects of the human condition. Many can only see what they do not have rather than the myriad blessings they DO have. Maybe someday there will be a pill to cure human pessimism.
5
Good luck, Frank. Rooting for you.
3
Beautiful! After retirement, for twenty years, I volunteered to drive chemo/radiation patients to their appointments . I marveled at their courage, strength and humanity. I changed me as it has changed Mr. Bruni. C’est la vie.
9
When anyone with an affliction or problems feels better because they are not as bad off as others, that really diminishes the prospects of those with worse (or the worst) afflictions and just uses their suffering to make one feel better about oneself. One shouldn't need not to be totally blind in order to appreciate having sight in at least one eye.
And even without having an affliction, one can ask others meaningful questions about theirs and let them see you don't define them by their impairments. There are many ways to do that, some including 'dark' humor that on the surface might seem politically incorrect, but which actually help create a bond between you and the person with the disability. "How do you open jars having just one arm?"
So, Frank, you could have talked meaningfully with that school official about HER impairment without having to be impaired yourself. Empathy and understanding should not require having the same or similar problem. They should be about awareness of the other person and their likely difficulties, not about you and your problems. You shouldn't have to be hard of hearing to know that those who are might benefit from listening devices or sitting closer to a speaker or from asking them how else you can help them benefit from an experience that involves sound. In correspondence or in conversation that they can hear, you can ask them how they cope, what the biggest problems are, what they have been able to overcome and how, etc.
4
Lessons I learned as a twice cancer patient. It was mostly the very young I saw with needles in their arms who gave me my fortitude, my perspective, as you say. We can choose to lie down when illness and troubles hit or we can choose to stand up. I have chosen to stand up.
7
Since the Force is always with us....I say May the Focus and Faith always be with you! As always thanks for your wonderful share.
1
Frank, you are an inspiration. The humanity of your words is astonishing. Thank you!
2
Dear Mr. Bruni, I hope you will look into the story of David Webber who reversed serious damage to his optic nerve (he'd become so blind that he could no longer work) through the Feldenkrais Method of Somatic Education. There are very specific and gentle guided movement lessons that can (in some cases) help retrain the eye muscles...slowly, over time. You are in Manhattan, so you can visit the Feldenkrais Institute of NY or simply Google "David Webber Seeing Clearly" to get started. You might be pleasantly surprised by the effects on your eyes and on your whole being, because what we do with our eyes impacts the rest of our functioning. Often, our habits of moving and using our eyes are unconscious -- we don't even notice what we are doing until a problem arises. People who read, write, and spend a lot of time at the computer gradually restrict the eyes' natural range of movement. I guarantee that trying the Feldenkrais Method will be more pleasant than injecting yourself. It's definitely worth a "shot" (pun intended).
4
I too have an eye that can’t focus. Macular damage from a “laquer crack” when I was pregnant 13 years ago. I know your fear that something will happen to the other eye but the worry gets less as time goes on. You have to appreciate that you can still read and see. It’s amazing how the good eye takes over. A word of warning though: your depth perception will be off, and in the wrong lighting you won’t see that last step on the staircase. I’ve had 3 bad spills and damaged my knees. So please be careful on the stairs..,you won’t know you have a problem until you start falling! Good luck.
464
@Judy - Also - be careful pouring water (or tea or any liquid) into a glass or cup. You could water the table cloth. No depth perception.
25
It's too bad that Frank can't write more articles like this, and fewer filled with the kind of hatred he exhibits towards most things conservative and all things Trump.
Like Frank, whenever I go to the local clinic for nothing more than blood tests to monitor any negative effects of the couple of pills I take daily for the really quite minor problems of somewhat elevated blood pressure and elevated cholesterol (no negative effects, and the two conditions are under perfect control; no other physical problems, even minor ones, and I am 80) and see much younger people with major health problems they don't deserve, I feel pretty good about my lot in life, even to the point of still donating a pint of blood every two months.
I do admire the way Frank regards and handles his much more serious condition. I just wish a bit more of the charity and humanity he exhibits towards the less healthy or otherwise-infirmed might rub off on his political writings.
3
I’m grateful that you shared this, Frank. Best of luck!
3
Beautifully written and truly inspiring. I'm so sorry you've been forced to experience this, but I'm also so grateful you've taken this pain and challenge and found in it strength and wisdom, and that you've also had the generosity and strength to put this in words and share it with us all. Know that you continue to make a difference, and touch and transform lives, in ever deeper ways.
3
This column was a thoughtful take on so many issues. Good health along with a caring circle of friends and family are the most important things we have. An illness or injury can shake up one’s entire world order.
I retired from medical practice a little over a year ago. Despite treatment for two cancers along the way, I considered myself very healthy—until a year ago when I had routine cataract surgery that went wrong. In that year I had three corrective surgeries, all done by terrific experts in the field, yet my rebuilt eye is barely functional. I’ve made many compensatory actions, such as no longer driving on the highway.
That great circle of mine still worries about my eye. However, I finally decided, after a year which also included friends battling—and sometimes losing to—cancer and others struggling with severe pain, that I can’t make my vision issue define my life. I accept where I am and try to be better about reaching out to others. I wish Frank well.
516
So many of the words Frank Bruni writes are precious. Not because they are so unique or creative- but because they are imbued with a fearless honesty that can help all of us find the honesty and grace in our own lives. After living most of my adult life as a self involved man fairly oblivious to my daily selfishness, the woman I loved fiercely developed cancer and 18 months later she was gone. I am not writing this to wallow in my sadness but to speak about the transformation it brought me. On an awful day, during a second opinion examination at Dana Farber in New York went terribly wrong, she was admitted on an emergency basis. Her room was shared by a young teen aged girl who was in the last months of a terrible cancer. On a fairly good day for my wife we talked about what was going on. I was very sad and weepy. She gently guided me to a blinding realization of how fortunate we were...us ...facing the reality that our life together was ending...but still fortunate. I remember her saying to me very softly, “I know how sad you are and I am too, but look at my roommate. I I have had 60 wonderful years...she is a child who is just starting a life that is now ending.” 13 years later I can tell you that these words changed my life. At 72 I am still working full time...on call for most of every month..now trying to bring life and reconciliation to people who I was just like thirteen years ago. She was right. I am indeed fortunate. Thank you once again Frank Bruni.
1121
Thank you for sharing such a meaningful personal moment of the value of gratefulness.
129
@Robin Bugbee thank you for this amazing story. Your wife sounds like she was a beautiful person.
My younger brother lost his wife to cancer early last year. I remember him telling me how their 2 year struggle with cancer brought them closer together. Now he is raising their two wonderful teenagers alone, in a way that would make her proud.
I admire these close knit bonds, and am inspired by how you, and my brother, have survived through these losses, and gained strength from the loved ones you lost.
96
@Robin Bugbee
I lost my amazing husband, my soulmate, just over 2 years ago after a short battle with cancer. The pain of life without him has been indescribable. But it has given me a bigger heart, a love for others that is richer and more meaningful.
I have no family close by, but thankfully I still have Piper, the German Shepherd who loved him with all her heart.
91
Frank, I follow your situation with compassion for a couple of reasons. One, I had successful eye surgery and realized I had been reading much less than at my usual avid pace – reading became so un-enjoyable as I needed to put the book on my nose to see the print. I was driving less at night and more dangerously than I should have. Now I know that I was disabled and fully appreciate the seriousness and magic of our senses. Two, my wife, a school counselor, died of leukemia 5 years ago and made a comment while we were at an appointment at UPenn in Philly, she said: “ I am 59 and have had a great life and even though I desperately want to live and do not want to leave you and our 3 boys, I cannot feel cheated in this life, especially when I see those lovely little children across the way at Children’s Hospital with their little bald heads and cheerful faces battling this horrid disease.” As many of the responders to your article allude, we take so much for granted and are dismissive of the travails of our fellow humans, and that we need reminders like yours emphasizing that life and our 5 senses are a gift.
16
I'm a native born American in my sixties, a woman, and an ethnic minority. In the 1970's I entered a male dominated profession. And I was born with a number of physical conditions and disabilities. So I have had to fight gender issues, ethnic identity issues, and health issues, all my life.
And for me, the hardest battles, by far, have been the health issues. The other battles were - and are - real. But I can win - and have won - many of those. With congenital health defects and illnesses with no cure, the best I can do is play them to a draw. I haven't won a single battle with them. And unless there are huge advancements in science in the next decade or so, there will be no wins, at least for me.
But six decades of fighting chronic illness and disability have taught me a lot. I've taken multiple medications daily, all my life. I've had more than 20 surgeries. I have never lived one day of my life without illness and disability.
So what has all this taught me? Well, I never became any kind of a sage, but I learned what it means to really fight for what one wants in life. I graduated from law school when I was 23, despite having two surgeries my final year in school. I spent 40 years in the legal profession, in a physical condition that most would find intolerable.
So these disabilities taught me what it means to fight for the kind of life I wanted - and my battles would be harder than most. And I knew if I waited until I "felt better", it was never going to happen.
932
@JS your very inspiring comment is one of the reasons I come to the NYT Op-Ed everyday. It’s the people and their very real experiences of, reactions to, and motivations in ...life.
You renew my faith in humanity.
Thank you
100
Bravo, bravo for you. Sincerely. Hopefully, if they have been able to realize what you have learned from your experience, the people whom you have met in life will have benefited.
55
@JS Thanks for sharing your experiences and thoughts about your experiences. You inspire me to keep on battling.
52
Lessons I have learned from traumas
There is only NOW. The past cannot be changed, though it can be re - understood. The future can be cut short at any time in a myriad of ways...so
Be in the moment as much as you can.
Tell the people in your life that you love and care for them EVERY time you feel that...don 't wait on this one!
Be clear to yourself and others what you really need and ask for that help without guilt or embarrassment on either side.
Notice what is beautiful around you every day.
Laugh.
Pay it forward. We all have gifts - large and small - and it most often is the merest offering that makes a difference to someone hurting...and so on.
I would never wish any of my or any traumas on anyone. I can and do learn all these sorts of lessons and truths without the traumas. However, because of the road blocks thrown in my way, I don't just know them, I live them. It is by far the best prescription for living my life well.
7
Years ago I suffered an unexpected illness which resulted in a state of vulnerability I had never experienced.
The shock of my life occurred when my vulnerability opened a door where others shared theirs with me. Things I never would have known in a million years and that I am sure I never would have been privy to, required not my strength, but my humanness to be revealed.
It's one of the reasons why AmericaStrong, BostonStrong, AnythingStrong makes me kinda sad - AmericaCares, BostonCompassion, AnythingHuman is what we really need.
Excellent piece Mr. Bruni.
12
This is chilling. Talmudic scholars have stated that a blind man is equivalent to a dead man. That may be cynical hyperbole but losing one's vision, or even the fear of it, is in many ways equal to struggling with a life threatening disease. Mr. Bruni, you are in my thoughts and prayers.
I hope so much that a treatment that works becomes available to you, Mr. Bruni.
3
This is why I believe in universal healthcare. Some people are arrogant, take their own good health for granted, and say the do not want to pay to subsidize the poor health and lifestyle decisions of others (diet, smoking, etc). I strongly disagree. You can do everything right in life and end up disabled or with a chronic disease. Health is a crapshoot. Take every day of good health and use your mond a body meaningfully.
8
Kudos to you and all the human pincushions who keep going. Extraordinary guts - very inspirational!
4
It is a human tragedy that we learn humility by being humbled. We learn compassion by being on the receiving end of it. We are less sure as our own fragility erodes all of our past assumptions.
It is akin to tragedy that such a gifted man should be given this lesson. Before he used his gifts to belittle those he disagreed with and most especially in politics. He saw others as not quite as good or as deserving of the extra effort of empathy. Liberal are full of invective until they need the understanding they hardly ever show to others.
I am sure he is a good man...or so it now seems....I suspect this will not get printed but if it does....the lesson is clear. Be as generous to others, see the best in them, try to understand their point of view...when you are well as when much harder cards are dealt.
I wish him well....and , especially, that he is now a wiser man.
1
Pulling for you Frank. You have guts and courage to be open and vulnerable. #Respect
5
Love reading your columns ... this one especially! Wishing you the very best.
4
Thank you for reminding us to be grateful this morning.
5
Frank,
It is impossibly good luck for the many people who devote their lives to finding new cures for disease to have someone like you, already a well known journalist, write about the unknown world of the search for medical progress. Your writing has strongly illuminated the world of people with frightening health scares who devote themselves to helping others. In some disorders e.g. glaucoma there is some genetic component, thus many people are aware that their volunteer help may benefit their progeny. Much of the benefit goes to those with no genetic predisposition, for whom a treatment will be found. All this is complicated by the drive of the pharmaceutical industry to find cures they can profit from, and it is clear their charge is often amplified by the desperation of those with the disease. Todays editorial in the NYT (were you involved?) https://www.mountvernon.org/en/ticketing/tours/11-03-2019 discusses ways to square this profit drive with possible govt action. Your writing will bring this conversation to many more people, something we really need.
1
Thanks for an eye-opening (sorry, just couldn't resist it) outlook (again, sorry for the unintentional pun) on dealing with adversity. Relax, you commenters who object to the "52 stabs" headline as hyperbole. It's just a way to introduce (or "focus") the topic of hardship and empathy. We learn to react better to other people's problems when we have some of our own. And to give thanks if ours pale in comparison. Thanks for your insight.
3
Thanks much for this.
Like others commenting, I have exudative (wet) macular degeneration in one eye with itis functionality essentially gone. The other eye has the "dry" version and could turn wet. So many of us have your problem of adapting and are depressed at what the future holds for us.
Thanks again for sharing the hope and the human adaptability for moving ahead. Best of luck to you.
3
Not only are you gracious, inspiring and thoughtful (as always), today you are telepathic. Getting tied up in knots over some ridiculous annoyances and your column shows me what is really important - attitude, perspective, patience, gratitude and forgiveness. Thank you.
4
Thank you for sharing something so profound and intimate.
2
Get well soon Frank , your voice is very much needed , it looks like we’re in the homestretch
1
I feel inspired. Thank you.
2
Aging is humbling.
2
“I found myself thinking less about blindness in my future and more about the blindness in my past.”
Wonderful writing.
5
I needed this.
Thank you !!
4
Thank you for this, a perfect Sunday read.
1
Hello Mr. Bruni; Thank you for not being able to hold a regular job at the NYT. I always always love your writing and the thought that went into it. I'm also thankful you decided to hang in.
3
Everyone has a cross to bear and this is yours. But not everyone carries theirs with dignity. Bravo.
3
This is why those of us who use the serenity prayer as a mantra, go to meetings.
3
Another great column by Frank Bruni. This guy is one of my favourites, and this column shows why. Keep it up, man. You're batting a thousand.
3
My best wishes to you, Mr. Bruni!
3
Frank,
Thank you very much for this.
Steve
3
Great work professor!
3
Hi Frank,
Thanks for the article, it reminds me how lucky guys like us are.
For 30 years, I have had a chronic disease (RA). 12 years ago, I had quadruple bypass surgery. Two years ago, I had aortic valve replacement. Thanks to incredible doctors and great insurance I'm still here, none the worse for wear.
Undergoing surgery or poking yourself with a needle is a day at the beach compared to being told your insurance doesn't cover either one.
That's a real kick in the ...
8
All the best to you Mr. Bruni. You are an inspiration and a delight to your readers. Thanks for honestly sharing this experience and so many others. Intelligence, kindness and empathy are some of your finest qualities and ones that we all aspire to.
3
Thank you Frank Bruni for your candid remarks. Good luck!
3
A heartfelt “thank you” for sharing.
4
I became aware as I read the column, Franks battle with loosing his eyesight, and continuing to do his job and how our president Trump continues to wallow in self pitty with any opportunity. He, Trumpl, grows tiresome, and I have lost patience, just get on with the job you were elected to, and stop bringing in all these self pittying remarks and jabs at all but yourself.
5
In Mexican culture (and, no doubt, other Hispanic) cultures) we have a saying (and I paraphrase): "cuando crees que todo en tu vida va muy mal, hecha un ojo así atrás" (when you think everything in your life is going very bad, just glance behind you). As so many other comments have stated, perspective is everything. Keep keeping the faith, Frank, and you'll be totally alright.
5
Character is destiny. No matter what. Frank Bruni's got it going on.
5
Thank you, Frank.♥️
2
My husband was type 1 diabetic and "stabbed" himself four times a day for decades. This was before the "pens," when you had to draw insulin from a bottle into a syringe and plunge the syringe into you (and insulin was one dam site cheaper). My husband was a man who worried about bad news for about 30 seconds and then got on with life. Shots four times a day, every day, for years? No problem. I learned a lot from him, and even though he has passed now, when I have my own health problems I remember him and his four shots a day. If he can put up with that, I can put up with the carp chasing me.
6
Frank Bruni reminds us of why we read and respect him.
2
Thank you
2
Thank you Mr. Bruni.
3
Bravo!
I read the headline and stopped. Such trash is coming from this once great newspaper.
Bravo!
2
A wonderful column. Thank you for reminding us that it’s important to consider perspective as we grapple with our individual setbacks and misfortunes.
1
The rest of us would be fortunate to be able to face ordeals with such a sound attitude, and to have the ability to articulate that experience in a way that could benefit others going through an ordeal, or having anxiety about possible future ones. Mr. Bruni has given readers a valuable gift.
2
You always offer me something provocative and engaging to think about when I read your column. Today, though, you really hit my heart. I have incurable Multiple Myeloma, having been diagnosed and treated in 2016. My chronic disease put me "on guard" waiting for the other shoe to drop, and severely limited my activities. The regimen for MM patients is to continue taking chemotherapy drugs daily for three weeks and then stopping for one week to "rest". I am constantly exhausted and have stomach issues from the drug. I thought I was certainly at the end of awful life events sneaking up when least expected.
However, I have learned that there is always something more horrible around the bend, waiting to test your courage and spirit. My sixth grandchild was born on June 12th and died the same day. I know our beloved baby girl has changed our family forever, but it is not trite to say that she has made us braver and much more thoughtful and careful about what we do every day. I am trying not to waste any of my time, and to fill it with all that has meaning to me. The shock of Grace's death is no longer so raw, and her loss fills my heart with hope to override the sorrow I continue to carry. Life seems to try hard to knock us down, but if we are fortunate, courage takes hold. You have my respect and admiration and high hopes for seeing all that you want.
11
My first thought when I read the headline was that the author learned that pain hurts. Then I read the article. Best wishes to Mr. Bruni. Finding strength or some measure of good through adversity is a truly meaningful thing.
1
I just want to thank you so very much for taking the time to share your story when, in this busy, crazy world, you could be writing about a million other things. Your words were very motivational to me. Many blessings to you.
3
Thanks Mr. Bruni. Your right about the control over attitude over raging about what befalls us. I'm grateful you have good healthcare to fall back on.
3
This column reminds me of a dear, young friend who died of cancer at 13. We all knew something was wrong with his vision by the time he was four. Nine years of health care extended his short life and what I observed about him in that time was that he had an exquisite sensitivity to smells and touch. He loved shopping at one particular women’s clothing store because he loved touching the cashmere and silk. He loved touching the insignias on cars parked close to the sidewalk. He took great delight in my perfume and velvet leggings. I learned so much from him and I still miss him. Best to you Frank.
8
Great piece, Frank. And I hear you loud and clear. I lost vision in my left eye over several weeks this summer, beginning as only the slightest of blurs in the lower third of my vision field. It got worse. Much worse. Now, my vision in that eye is akin to looking through a bandanna held immediately in front of my eye. As you so eloquently expressed it, it's a "dappled, impenetrable fog." I saw all of the specialists and had all of the tests, but, in the end, there is nothing to be done. I heard about the clinical trials and can only hope that something comes along to at least improve my condition. After the initial shock (mostly) wore off, I was left thinking that I can only forge ahead and do what I can do with what vision I have left. It gives me a renewed sense of urgency, to be sure. But it also gives me new appreciation for the wonderful things I can still see and do with only one good eye. And, yes, I have a deeper empathy for struggles many people have dealt with all of their lives. I've had pretty much perfect health up till now. At 58, that's no small thing. Cheers to you, Frank.
12
I was diagnosed with glaucoma almost 40 years ago. Over time the medical profession was confused if I had it or just elevated pressure and discontinued treatment in the mid 90's. With no change in 15 or so years I was still unconvinced. It had already took over my life. Blindness was my future.
They decided five years ago their original diagnosis is correct and symptoms I experience are not side effects of the medication I take which would cost 500 dollars a month without insurance. It's all good for now. There's no vision loss and still nothing to look forward too.
3
Adversity is a human condition. I never felt more ‘profoundly’ aware of other people’s hardships than when I, myself, was in the depths of despair. It was as if I was wearing some strange eyeglasses that allowed me to share a brief, but bittersweet, connection to another person's pain, a deep felt acknowledgement of life’s imperfections and a shared sense of struggle to carry on despite it all.
In troubled times we need to recognize our commonality and show compassion towards others. Without caring one has failed to grasp the very essence of the human condition. Such folks (and there are way too many these days) sadly move through life unencumbered by the suffering of others and the suffering they cause to others.
5
Mr. Bruni,
Thanks so much for this column. Like you, I am facing possible blindness but at a much greater age. My fear has always been going blind because I am a reader, writer, and a lover of words. You are inspiring and will contribute to my effort to, as you say, live with grace. Thanks for your other columns, too!
6
I especially appreciate your expression of vulnerability, discomfort and worry about the uncertainty oof the future, appreciation for the present and reflection on the past. We are surrounded every day by people going through unimaginable challenges - grieving loss, worry about a loved one or self, regret about past actions or expressions, tremendous self doubt and approbation. Thank you for the reminder to be present here, now - to find the kernel of inspiration despite the slog, and to be gracious, curious and open with our fellow mankind.
6
Frank-
Thank you so much for not only being vulnerable and sharing your challenges, but for opening the door to so much positivity, as evidenced by all the folks who commented.
We all have our tsouris, our challenges, but we are joined by our instincts to live and love. We are one.
Namaste.
2
You are one of my favorite columnists and now, I discover, we are companions on a difficult path. Illness devastated my life and left me sitting in the rubble.
As you say, there is a choice to be made at that point. You can sit, bemoaning your fate, and allow life to drag you along until you die. Or, you can grab the superglue and focus on reconstruction. The superglue is gratitude.
It is my absolute belief that life is 100% spin. You must tell yourself a positive story. It will make you strong and make you happy.
I felt useless, constantly focusing on what I had lost. But reading the news each day, I was reminded of the fortunate life I lead. I have a home, a family, clean, pure, water and much more food than I need. I have freedom and safety for myself and those I love. If I am careful, I have enough money to pay my bills, with some left over to help others and for fun. I have healthcare that makes me as comfortable as possible.
I started a journal where I note all of the good things that happen each day. Some days have big, good news. Often it's simple things; snuggling with the pets, a call from a friend, and the hummingbird playing in the spray as I water the yard.
I started a ritual when I bought my house. Each morning, just for a minute or two, I stand with my coffee, looking out the window at the garden. And I think about all of the good things in my life. When I'm in the hospital, I have a picture from out that window to do the same.
I wish you well, Frank.
8
Frank, Thanks for sharing your medical issues with a huge NYT population. I am sure with all their good wishes and prayers you will find some solace and remedy. I pray and hope all the best for you and your health. Please keep a positive outlook.
1
This is an thoughtful and insightful column. As someone who has only had one "good" eye because of amblyopia, let me encourage Mr Bruni, and offer my hopes that his condition improves and medical science catches up.
5
Thanks for sharing yourself in such a private way with us. There’s is a transformative quality in learning to find joy and meaning in loss and suffering.
I am a much better person having had to navigate life with a bad back. Physical limitations and pain have taught me how to slow down; connect with and rely on others; and appreciate what I can still do.
Do I wish I could still run marathons? Absolutely! But I’ve learned to focus on the myriad activities I can still do. Like a peaceful, slow hike through the forest where I notice the beautiful minutiae of life around me.
When I was waiting for my first surgery (terrified because I didn’t know what the future held for my mobility). I came across this T.S. Eliot poem. The stillness is the dancing indeed!
I said to my soul, be still, and wait without hope
For hope would be hope for the wrong thing; wait without love
For love would be love of the wrong thing; there is yet faith
But the faith and the love and the hope are all in the waiting.
Wait without thought, for you are not ready for thought:
So the darkness shall be the light, and the stillness the dancing.
7
@Susanne Smith
Thank you for introducing me to the poem by T.S.Eliot. I copied it and will keep it close by to read when I have fearful moments. The words invite a stillness that is beyond anything I've managed thus far in coping with the process of ageing and the inevitable losses there-of.
2
Yes!
Thanks for reminding us that we have the strength to do that, too.
3
Thanks Frank for sharing your journey in your physical challenge and the victory of making lemonade out of lemons!
I am inspired by your resilience and honest look at life and its challenges.
As I just entered my 80 decade I find myself, and my husband, challenged by physical issues which were non existent in our youth. I am physically OK and able to be active, skiing, biking etc. But I long for the energy I used to have and for a day with no aches and pains! Nothing compared to your challenge, of course! But who knows what’s in the pipeline for me health wise...we all have to die of SOMETHING...
So I will take your experience and wisdom to heart when and if I will be challenged.
Thanks again for sharing. And by the way I love your columns! Keep on telling it like it is...
8
Frank Bruni, so well done. Your essays are always worth the investment of my time. Always thought provoking. Always compelling. Always so well written. But this time . . .
You shared your personal vulnerability with us, and reached into my own with your story of struggle and triumph. I have always valued your writing and now bear witness to your humility. You inspire me. God bless you Frank. Thank you.
6
Thank you, Frank, for once again inspiring us with your beautiful words. When I read the first column you wrote about your health I was so
moved that I remember exactly where I was when I read it as well as the time of day. When I put down the newspaper I immediately got online and shared your column with my closest friends. Since then I’ve often wondered how you are doing, and I am grateful once again for your ability to inspire. I am rooting for you and hope your new drug regimen is successful.
Within the past 10 years I’ve had radiation for to treat cancer and had four stents Implanted to heal my ailing heart. That may sound like a lot of stuff but after reading your column, I think my issues are rather puny.
3
As a practicing ophthalmologist, I have cared for many patients through my decades of practice who similar to yourself have had to come to terms with and adjust to the loss of vision in one or both eyes for various causes. It is indeed a life-altering event and your insights and compassion are as always a shining example of the individual that I would love to strive to emulate.
I personally have been a type 1 diabetic since my early 30s (almost 30 years now). While I would of course prefer to not have this illness, I without question believe that dealing with my illness and sharing my struggles when appropriate with patients have helped to make me a more compassionate and relatable physician.
We all must deal with illness and eventual disability at one point in our lives. Your wisdom in traveling this road is inspiring.
Marc Siegel, MD
Bloomfield Hills, MI
8
This piece is certainly timely- my husband and I returned from Stanford Neuroscience clinic where he just signed up for a drug trial to help with myasthenia gravis, which also affects his vision among other things. I am very proud of how bravely he faces this disease, now two years in, with a sense of humor and jokes that make all the medical staff laugh. And like you, Frank, when we go to the clinic and see folks completely crippled with disease, he always makes the same comment, “I’ve got no problems at all.”
13
I was on a flight to NY to see my son in the hospital for what we knew would be the last time. Across from me the 4 hour flight was what I came to learn, a mother traveling to Sloan Kettering with her young daughter for once weekly, now monthly cancer treatments. This little girl was a model plane traveler, kept herself busy and happy the entire flight. We just don’t know what others are going through.
11
Your column meant a great deal to me today. Because you are such an extraordinarily empathetic, talented, dog-loving person. I can only feel a sense of camaraderie, of traveling a road with many obstacles but understanding somehow we are able to do the best we can. I am reminded of a special time in my life, I was 15 and a candy striper at Boston Children's Hospital. I worked in the polio ward, the place consisting of row upon row of iron lungs. One of the last boys left in the polio ward was a youngster I became very close to that year, his name was Tommy. His sweetness and his irreverent sense of humor stay with me now. And then 13 years later I was diagnosed with Rheumatoid Arthritis and Lupus. Grabbing ever book I ever could possibly read in a short period of time gave me the understanding and the hope that I was not alone. Injections. steroids, infusions. immunosuppressant IV's did not define who I was. It reshaped how I could move forward and remain positive. On the days when it was very hard to walk I stayed home with my dog sitting closer by and read books and newspapers near a window that I look out at the natural beauty surrounding me. Not easy, some frustration, but I am a person who hardly remembers the pain I had the day before (making it hard to describe things to my doctor!) but I look forward always. Frank, you are a talented, special writer, I am sure you have touched more than just my life. May your vision remain 80% clear.
13
I hope Mr. Bruni's readers don't carry all this wisdom and strength in the face of adversity too far. People with mental health issues shouldn't settle. "I'm an emotional mess, but my parents did the best they could." No they didn't, and you don't have to accept the inevitability of the mess. I tell rationalizing therapy clients this: "You have a knife embedded in your back and you are saying, 'Yes, this is bad. But look at all the people who have it worse!'" Sometimes you fight what has happened to you. Sometimes you even fight the past.
4
Thank you, Mr. Bruni! I am deeply moved and inspired by your willingness to share your journey. As Rumi said it, and I am paraphrasing, the wound is where the light can enter. I am so grateful for you, my brother!
8
There's not much one can add to the commentary that precedes this one. Your terrific column reminds me how many fine people cope with pain and disability daily. I stab myself only monthly, but live with increasingly debilitating joint pain daily. Like your colleague and you, I take comfort in the good days and even revel in the occasional dream in which my dream self moves painlessly - even runs! I struggle too with the question of where that line between hope and delusion lives. It's a lonely question. I don't want to burden my wife with those thoughts. Hang in there Frank. So many of us enjoy your column. I hope you find comfort in that.
6
Frank, I thank you for your brave and insightful article (and life).
But also, I join those who implore you to write about the great need for some kind of universal insurance so all those facing these daunting medical issues don't also have the devastating economic challenges that now exist for many.
Just this morning, we learned of a young relative, with what appeared to have good health insurance at work, being thrown into a terrible spot.
He had some medial trouble who's cause has not yet been determined. He has been trying to find that out, covered by his company's insurance, in California.
His mother became quite ill here in NY. He flew in to see her, only to have his own condition suddenly worsen. His insurance only covers for MDs and Hospitals "in network" and in California. But he is too sick to handle the trip back.
Even just a visit to an MD here who is conversant with his type of problem cost over $2,000 for just a consultation (no testing). Providing what seems necessary, namely a hospital stay and some sophisticated testing, is not covered by his insurance and will run at least in the 10s of thousands of dollars, none of which is insured. And we are not yet even talking about treatment.
Right now, how mother, with a dangerous heart condition is taking care of him in her apartment. The family will try to raise the money.
This is not civilized.
31
I am very sorry, but hang in there. Eventually, as you adjust, it becomes a routine part of your life. My right eye now does all the driving with the help of prescription eye drops and a nice collection of magnifying glasses scattered throughout my home. Depth perception is a problem, but you can adjust. I don't break as many dishes anymore. I hit a glitch with one doctor, but bounced back with another. ...And, being able to enlarge the print on my laptop, allows me to continue reading your column.
8
I sincerely hope this new clinical trial is successful and you get your vision or better partial vision in your right or at least stop involvement of the left eye. I was luckier. I have tardive dyskinesia due to more than decade of long use of anti-psychotics.I cannot go off them and so I got a drug fresh off the FDA approval. Obviously I was not involved in the primary clinical trial. But I seem to be in another clinical trial due to the fact I get the medication for free. Also, my neurologist and the pharmaceutical seem to be keeping strict tabs on me with regards to effects, side-effects and strict titration. I sincerely hope you are as lucky as I am.
2
Dear Mr. Bruni, I admire not only your perspective, but your freedom of speech and contemplation. I wonder how many people hesitate to admit to physical infirmities for fear of losing their jobs, health insurance, and other supports. One of the great delusions of our time is that workplaces and other institutions can afford to discriminate against human mortality, illness, and imperfection. I hope for a kinder era. Your piece suggests that it can come about.
10
Thank you, Frank for always inspiring us with your honest self.
Wishing you the best.
9
Such a beautiful and inspiring piece. Thank you for such great articles over the years.
My thoughts are with you Mr. Bruni.
11
We’re on an extended road/camping trip, away from our beloved home congregation. Thank you for this exquisitely written column which I’ll consider as my sermon today and in the week ahead as we slowly mosey around the beautiful state of Louisiana.
6
I was 44 when I was diagnosed with breast cancer. My son was 14 and I had to explain what was happening to me. And I was feeling sorry for myself. After my lumpectomy, I was transferred to a bed to stay over night. My window overlooked the children’s cancer ward. I never, ever felt sorry for myself again.
Thank you for sharing your story, Mr. Bruni.
21
Thank you for sharing, Frank. You are a brave, inspiring person.
5
My beautiful daughter, born with a physical disability, lives with more grace than anyone I know...thank you for your essay.
12
Thank you Frank Bruni! You know that feeling when you read something that touches you and inspires hope, and you think to yourself, "wow, I read this at JUST THE RIGHT TIME".
That is me reading your article this morning, 11/3/2019.
Nobody gets through this life without pain, illness, and setbacks of all kinds. What helps me so much is honest words about personal struggle and subsequent hope, written by another. Thank you.
16
What a wonderful turn of phrase: "hallways that reeked of disinfectant and dread." It captures the feeling.
9
Very powerful essay Frank. Thank you and have a blessed journey.
5
I hope you are in the 80%, Frank.
I broke my hip in a bike accident once. For several weeks, I was part of the disability group that looks first for a button to open the door rather than the handle, and once inside, the elevator, rather than the stairs. I realized how important it was to have a parking spot available. And yes, I dealt with cute young kids who asked their mother, "Why does that man walk so funny?" only to hear the mother shush her as I laughed. Had my injury been permanent, I probably wouldn't have.
In my neurology practice, I dealt with a lot of death and dying. My parents died some time after I left practice. I wonder sometimes how much more compassionate I would have been had I still been in practice after their deaths.
There is nothing like walking a mile in another's shoes to give you perspective.
12
Thank you. In my professional life, I read medical records and analyze to adjudicate disability claims. I always hope that my own health challenges and work for disability rights empowers me to be more empathetic, more careful, more dedicated to seeing all the aspects of the case, and more deliberate and patient in explaining the program. But it is hard to maintain perspective through the exhaustion, pain and running to and fro to specialists while also giving my best on the job. The feeling of being alone in our struggles magnify them. So it is much appreciated that you share about the bravery of people with disabilities, doing our daily thing.
15
There is such transcendence in this author's writing and in his experience. This was truly a gift to the readers.
I wish him luck with his "most beautiful eye".
12
Thank you for this, Mr. Bruni. Just before I read your letter, I was composing an email to cancel a TedTalk I'd been invited to do, because of personal hardship. But when I read your words, it reinforced to me that others are worse off than I, and the very purpose of my TedTalk I was asked to do is to help others in a way that perhaps I am the only person in the world positioned do so, especially given that lives are at stake. So I stopped typing my email, and resumed my planning. Thank you for being you, and for being an inspiration in my life for some time; I saw you speak a few years ago, and hope someday just to sit down and have coffee/tea/hot chocolate with you, and we can come up with a list of 52 things we're happy about. :-)
12
@Bayrunner, You are so very privileged to have the knowledge and skill to give a TED Talk, and that you are recognized for this.
Celebrate yourself and blessings for sharing your knowledge and wisdom with others.
1
Dear Frank,
We cannot afford to lose your powerful voice. I realize that you may not be able to continue to read and that typing will be difficult. I don't mean this to be a feel-good story, but I want to tell you about a dear friend of mine, Dr. Roger Corkins, who taught for many years at the University of Oklahoma. I met Roger in freshman physics and volunteered to be his lab partner because he had a "small disability". In 1950 at the age of 8 he lost his sight due to an injury. He is extremely bright and made it through his studies by hanging out with people like me with whom to study and by the grace of his dear Mother who read him all his assignments. He didn't consider being without sight a huge handicap. He said it wasn't as bad as being deaf because loss of sight cuts you off from things, but losing your hearing cuts you off from people. He has always been an inspiration to me. I saw him walking with his wife on the way to an OU homecoming game about 20 years since I had last seen him. I sang out, "Roger Corkins" and he shouted back, "Jerry Bettis". You can do it, Frank, if worse comes to worst. I hold you in my thoughts.
25
Pure poetry and inspiration. Thank you, Frank Bruni. You never fail to be worth reading, and even more.
Your ending concept of honing other skills when one sense diminishes reminded me of an interesting story from my own past, growing up with a deaf brother. He sat at the dining table with his back to the toaster that was on a side table against the wall. One day it penetrated the consciousness of the rest of our large family that he always knew when his toast popped up, even without hearing the sound. So we asked him how he knew. He looked mildly perplexed, and explained that the overhead light dimmed for a fraction of a second. He assumed we were all responding to that same cue. He was unaware that sound was involved.
I’ve always loved that memory, but your writing has elevated it to a more spiritual plane.
Thank you, again.
21
Beautifully written, thought-provoking, honest and inspiring. Well done.
18
Frank- this is the most penetrating and enlightening column of yours that I have ever read-- and I consider you to be one of the most powerful voices of our time. Thank you for allowing us a glimpse into your Cyclopian world and the lessons learned there. Like your fellow Cyclops, you provide the thunderbolts which startle us to wakefulness on many issues-- including compassion.
We will be wishing you success in navigating through the next clinical trial (which I am confident you will do). No matter what, your vision of our world, and your voice, will never be stilled!
9
This is a brilliant essay.
The ability to adjust one’s perspective to deal successfully with adversity, hardship, disappointment or setbacks is the ultimate secret of life.
10
Wishing you a return to perfect optical vision, of course, but comforted (as I hope you are) by your undiminished insight. Helen Keller noted that "Walking with a friend in the dark is better than walking alone in the light." We're lucky readers and fellow citizens to have you on this journey. Good thoughts, best wishes.
10
So sorry to hear of your condition but was so inspired by your story. On Monday I was diagnosed with cancer. Reading your article gave me renewed hope as I face this next journey in my life. Wishing you all the best and courage to face the challenges ahead. So glad you have a living canine partner to run with.
10
Landing in NY for a family vacation my husband turned to me and said something popped in his right eye and he cannot see out of it. What followed was a very different vacation, in the hospital where we were told he had a stroke of the eye. Shortly thereafter Mr Bruni published his article about his same ailment. I showed my husband the article, and would point out Mr. Bruni when he was on TV. My husband had little comment. Today my stoic husband has changed into a softer man. I even forget his situation sometimes. He is out on his bike as I write this. He just lives with what is. But this article reminds me to admire him a little more. So thank you.
28
What a story?, most of us understand our mortality I will assume, we also tend to wonder why us?, and that leads us to think our situation or the burden we are faved with is the worst. Your writing puts it in perspective with encouragement. No matter how worse of we think we have it, There is always someone is undergoing or been through the same or worse circumstance and are proof to human resilience. Thanks for sharing
2
Thank you for sharing your journey of self knowledge and humility.
Please keep your readers updated on your quest.
9
I am sorry for the pain you are going through. I am lifted by your courage. I look forward to your columns. They are so insightful and uplifting. Keep finding that courage everyday and keep writing. You truly have a gift and that gift is appreciated by so many.
9
I had sudden onset, dual, non-traumatic, retina damage. Basically the glue failed. Left eye can spot refrigerators. They laser-stitched the right eye before it let go. 6 procedures in all.
Sad too that a few years earlier I had LASIK to get 20:25 and replacement lenses. 4 procedures in all plus a tune up. I had the clearest, sharpest vision I can remember. No shots will restore that.
Recreational reading - gone. Audio books don't quite get through. Too much brain power used listening not leaving much for comprehension and visualization.
Then arthritis pinched my neck spinal cord. I suddenly lost use of my legs, fell mid turn, and broke lower right leg in four places. 1 procedure and 3 months of assisted physical therapy.
These are the times that try our souls.
Two years from the "broken neck" I'm a walking (sorta), talking, medical minor miracle, with carbon fiber and titanium in my neck, and specialty plastic in my eyes.
I'm working on years of delayed maintenance (amazing how fast weeds and brush grow!). Energy level isn't where I want it, and will probably never get there.
Galaxy Quest had the short form:
Never Give Up - Never Surrender
but Ulysses had it better:
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven,
that which we are, we are;
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.
In the end the ravages of time and fate claim us all.
Until then .....
11
Me too - same condition (lost an eye), different reason. You were right to talk about it again, here, instead of another stab at you-know-who, because in both cases you're writing about judgment, thinking, understanding and misunderstanding, and in this case how we misconceive rationalization. We call rationalizing (as in “that’s just a rationalization”) an action or decision we believe was compelled by some weakness or defect, rather than by strength of a different sort, or from a different source. Worth thinking about.
2
Thank you for sharing your journey with us. It is a pleasure and an inspiration to know you.
5
You have written a moving description of getting old, Frank.
Nobody tells you how humiliating it is to have your body betray you--worse than any lover or friend who turned their back to you.
Nobody tells you how to cope with painful, constant attention to parts of your body that you took for granted and all but ignored.
But neither does anyone tell you that, with the ignominy of having your body fall apart on you while your brain seems intact, you can gain insight. You can become wise. You can become genuinely glad to be alive with all that means: the indignity and loss along with music, fragrance, good food, all the wondrous things your body still lets you sense fully, in your bones and your faithful, beating heart. And love.
It's true that while you have no control over what befalls you, you can control your perspective on it. You trade the pain for time. You set aside your youthful, entitled, attitudinal self and become grateful for what you have.
You forgive your did-your-best self for wrong choices, bad investments and faithless friends. It's a wonderful transformation. It should just happen earlier for everyone, as it has for you, Frank.
Thanks for your great columns.
20
@George Dietz
I wish that I was as articulate as you George...you nailed it...the process of growing old and I copied your letter word for word and plan to share it with everyone I know. It couldn't have appeared at a better time. We have Frank Bruni to thank for this awe inspiring cornucopia of the best in human nature. Thank you.
1
As someone who has lived by the Serenity Prayer for many years, I'd like to share my interpretation, which you illustrated in detailing what you learned. To quote you, "While you have no control over much of what befalls you, you have plenty of control over your perspective on it, your attitude about it", and your response to it. Therein lies the wisdom to know the difference. Hang on to that. Trust me, it'll get you through a lot. Best wishes to you.
8
Having spent more time in hospital in the last few years than I have for the entire rest of my life, one thing in this column stood out to me.
"I crossed paths with hundreds of people with afflictions worse than mine."
That's impossible not to do when your in hospital. My health problems were minor by comparison to most, and I was always grateful that my recovery was quite probable and likely only a day or two away. If you can't focus on what you have, rather than what you lost under those circumstances, you've already lost more than you can imagine.
5
Just a note on the short version of the serenity prayer. It prays that we go in the direction of perfection while knowing that we will never get there and the growth is in the efforts, every day.
7
We cannot choose our external circumstances, but we can always choose how we respond to them. ~ Epictetus, Greek Stoic philosopher
As true today as when it was first said 2000 years ago. Life is all about how we respond to both the good and bad fortune that we are presented with.
Far too many people waste their good fortune, but some people use even their turns of bad fortune for the better. That's the kind of person to strive to be.
4
Frank, I am so sorry. My mother had the same thing happen to her in 1972. The difference, she was already blind in her other eye. She spent the next 28 years as legally blind. She had all kinds of training from the wonderful Lighthouse for the Blind, but it never took, and she was unable to live alone from then on. She did have the unshakable belief that a cure was right around the corner. It didn't happen for her, but I hope it does for you.
2
Thanks for the insight. Its helpful to be reminded that the talking/writing news-heads we posters rail against are also human. Going thru their own ordeals.
The place I got stuck, in my mind, was the mention of the countless numbers of people basically living their lives in the halls, waiting, examination and treatment rooms of hospitals, med offices and clinics. Having been in those places with my parents for a decade or so...its not the places to live ones life out.
And I think it would do this nation a great service if there was some way to get that reality smack in our faces. To see that "life-reality" for so many of us, the variance in the ages and their diverse backgrounds. We hear about it, numbers are thrown at us about how many people are under regular medical care, and at risk. But we lack the actual imagery - unless we or a loved one is going thru it.
IF we could really see all those people in some manner, I think it would help us move towards demanding a much better health care system then we have now, and know we could have!
Important point; Everyone of us, even the most resistant to any sort of "public option", knows the US can (and should) create a much better health care system. We know it. We know we are capable of innovation in this area.We all know it. Admit it.
We can and should do better. And we need to embrace our real abilities to get there. But first we need to break thru the propaganda log-jams. Thru real witness to the tragedies we allow.
15
Frank, I feel you for different reasons. When my congenital aortic valve issue needed to be dealt with, it was replaced and in surgery knocked out my electric system--so got a pacemaker (I told people I had a valve and electrical job). within a year we knew the replacement was too small and I would have to do it all over again. In interim, I developed endocarditis, almost died, underwent a 14 hour surgery and lived. The implanted pacemaker (in abdomen, due to endocarditis) was recalled, had to be replaced and now my mitral valve needs to be replaced.
I only recite this because one of the strange things is you would never know I have congestive heart disease from surgery, enlarged heart and these other issues. I look great, continue to be active. Just relocated and new docs walk in and have to check the chart and ask my name because I don't look as they expect. I decided I could either feel sorry for myself (which I do sometimes) or just live my best life. Even friends forget I have these issues, reminded when I tell them to stop the car cause the diuretics are kicking in or make them slow down during hikes cause I am retaining fluid and am breathless. Do what is right for you --including feeling sorry for yourself periodically. This is happening to you, no reason why but all you can control is how you react to it and it sounds as though you have come through strong. Good Luck.
6
The average male life expectancy in 1900 in the USA was 46.3.. In 1919 it had gone to 53.5. How fortunate most of us are to have almost 30 more years added to our life. What this has done however is keep us alive long enough to develop some diseases relate to aging. I for one am so grateful to have the extra time with my family. I know many type one diabetics who give themselves daily injections. Many people only have monocular vision and do very well. For an aging population to expect to have pain free, problem free perfect health is unrealistic. Acceptance and gratitude are probably the best answers to many if not all of our problems.
4
I was in a car accident—struck on my bicycle by an elderly motorist making an illegal turn—and suffered a severe TBI. My cognition has been impaired; I have a headache that never goes away; and my vestibular and vision systems have also been affected. I, too, now have a right eye that never focuses properly.
I often wish for almost any other malady or woe to have befallen me—anything, so long as it didn’t impact my brain. And so, I have found it hard to marshal perspective on what happened and what’s resulted. But of course then I think of a friend who succumbed to ALS but was brave to the end, or another who is a quadriplegic but still leads an involved life, and I feel small: we all suffer misfortunes in life. How we respond to them not only defines us but can help inspire others. And so I feel I should look to their examples more. This column is a reminder to do so, and draw from their reservoirs of resilience to fill my own, when mine feels empty. And to be a better example for others, myself.
Good luck, Mr. Bruni.
32
I’m surprised more women didn’t write about fertility treatments or about egg freezing. I’ve gone through it three times and I agree with you it gets easier. I somehow came to appreciate all the effort I was going through.
1
Thank you, Frank, for your encouraging and very personal column.
For me, the abbreviated Serenity Prayer has a simple meaning. The difference is that we cannot change others, we can only change ourselves...our own perceptions, attitudes, behaviors and actions. It sounds to me as though you have already discovered this, though perhaps you have not yet related it back to the Serenity Prayer. Best wishes in your ongoing journey to see with more than just your eyes.
5
I went from owning my own business to delivering packages due to a need for healthcare. The lessons learned from that humbling experience stayed with me for the rest of my life. Lessons like: If you're going to rob a bank wear a delivery uniform, no one pays attention to the delivery man. No one cares how hot it is, how heavy the packages are or how far behind schedule you are, they just want you to smile and hand over the goods. You can't do the job if you are hungover, overweight or under the weather, so certain vices need to be eliminated. There were no allowances for age or previous status, so don't look for any. These and other debasements were made infinitely more bearable by the fact that I delivered to a hospital, specifically a cancer hospital and when you start your day in the company of children with shaved heads who laugh, play and still act like kids everything else gets put in it's proper perspective. Good luck Frank, from your, now friendly, delivery guy.
1653
@Rick Gage For what it's worth, I love our Fedex and UPS guys where I work--they are kind, sweet, and we always exchange a few words about how our day is going. And I always make sure to thank them.
241
@Rick Gage What a touching comment, Rick. You opened my eyes about a few things. My delivery guys are always friendly and helpful. I've never thought about how they must be feeling unless it's freezing outside, a rare occurrence in the area of Texas where I live. I will look at them with new eyes from now on. And Frank, what a good writer you are. I wish I could sit down and have a chat with you. You are so right that how one handles adversity is key. I wish you well.
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@Rick Gage
Amen. The lower paid and lower “status” the Job, the better I treat the Workers. It drives me crazy when people ignore Store cashiers, and can’t even be bothered to return an hello. Everyone at my Wendy’s location knows me by name, I am there every single day to pick-up Salads for Dinner. Be nice, folks. It doesn’t cost you anything.
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I so admire you, Frank. My mother went blind later in life, and still (at almost 90, after too many health problems to detail) has a rich intellectual life and the company of a guide dog. Recently my twin had to have surgery on both eyes for retinal tears, and her vision has been seriously degraded. Scary stuff, but we know that even if one of us were to go blind we would be able to survive it and thrive.
6
Great piece in so many ways, despite the title! You are wiser, practically Stoic, and very generous to share details. Thank you.
4
Kind thoughts and appreciation for sharing this journey and your changed awareness. I would call your revelations 'the Wisdom to know the difference!' Best wishes for the future.
4
Dear Frank,
Humans can never escape hardship or suffering. As you so poignantly note, we can only decide how we will react when it finds us. I admire your openness to finding new meaning to life through your difficult circumstances and your willingness to share that so publicly in your column.
I recommend my friend Michael Nye’s book “My Heart is Not Blind” to further inspire you on your journey. It has some incredibly inspirational stories of those that have gone before you.
I wish you well.
3
Dear Frank,
Humans can never escape hardship or suffering. As you so poignantly note, we can only decide how we will react when it finds us. I admire your openness to finding new meaning to life through your difficult circumstances and your willingness to share that so publicly in your column.
I recommend my friend Michael Nye’s book “My Heart is Not Blind” to further inspire you on your journey. It has some incredibly inspirational stories of those that have gone before you.
I wish you well.
2
Just a lovely piece. Thank you for your perspective.
7
Frank, you’re infinitely more interesting when you’re not defending the political status quo. This experience should make you support Medicare for All, shouldn’t it? But do you?
3
Thank you for this reminder that perspective is everything.
3
Frank, your straightforwardness shows your strength. Your
Pathos shows your humanness.
I learned so long ago that comparisons Don’t Work. Comparing the depth of your angst waiting in the hospital halls, smelling the smells and feeling the overwhelming smothering thoughts of those moments, really cannot adequately express the depth of your human insecurities. You are forced to meet them head on and decide how you can and will deal with them. What others in that hospital are suffering, at least in your mind, only drives you deeper into the true realizations of our already decided lives by some Thing or Our Parents who decided to bring you here.
I would never in a thousand years have had a clue of this ongoing malady you are dealing with.
...but, Frank, I do know ,now , why I read every word of your prose with such a gripping appreciation.
Those who appreciate what you are and what you write about so
Elegantly are solidly with you to give you extra strength and courage.
7
Yes, Frank Bruni, perspective and attitude are the keys to dealing with life's hard blows to our bodies and minds. Raging
at our lots in life doesn't help. It's wonderful for all your readers to see the grit and solace that attends your "52 Stabs" and your bravery of trying a new unproven treatment in a clinical trial for your right eye disorder. Misfortune walks beside all of us living beings. We try to draw strength from hardship and often fail. Hoping our joys will be deep as the ocean, our sorrows light as the foam.
2
Mr. Bruni, I woke up with a lower backache this morning, not an unusual occurrence lately. (I'm 57, it comes with the territory.) After reading today's column, I realize that the rest of my body feels pretty darn good. Despite your diagnosis, your eyes continue to open your readers' to the possibilities and pleasures the world may offer. Please write on, sir. We need your words and wisdom now more than ever.
10
"I pick up on or tune in to details that I previously didn’t." Very apropos w/ another op-ed piece today (by Euny Hong) about the Korean happiness formula of 'nunchi' (reading others). Can never have enough nunchi (I myself have little). But how to acquire it?
1
With wet macular degeneration in both eyes -- the left eye now virtually blind -- I can both empathize and sympathize. My injections, in both eyeballs, are just once every five weeks, and unlike you I began that struggle to slow encroaching blindness quite late in life. Let's hope that they find an effective cure for you long before you reach your final decade.
6
Thanks for this column, Frank. I hope your other eye stays healthy. If you find yourself having the occasional pity party, don't beat yourself up for it. Allow it to happen, indulge in it for a day or two and then get back to living your life as fully as you can.
4
Thank you for sharing your story. I remember a pastor once, who later was fired for marrying a gay couple, said in a sermon “there was a passage in the movie ‘Black Hawk Down’ when during the chaos and shooting one of the Sargents ran to the Captain and screamed we need help over here! The Captain replied ‘Everyone is down, everyone! Do what you can!” For some reason that has stuck with me as a fundamental truth of the human condition. Everyone carries something. Never assume anything. Be kind. Help. Do what you can in the chaos of life. Love one another. Thank you for this reminder.
10
I am sorry to hear about your disability. You are one of my heroes in this age of Forever Trumpers. I always welcome your appearances on Lemon's nightly news program.
Thank you for your service to America.
4
"The wound is the place where the light enters you."
KIntsugi artistry. Transforming broken, with great care, to strength and beauty.
No need for perfection.
2
Frank, I feel for you and hope you do well. When we encounter people with more woes than we have we can have many different reactions but I suspect deep down we feel somehow blessed that we are better off. This makes all our actions therefrom somewhat hypocritical I think. We sympathize with those worse off but deep down we rejoice we are not so blighted and this makes our apparent compassion also something else less wonderful. I think there is no way properly to accept bad things: we can blame God, if we believe in him, but as a result our love for him is bound to weaken; we can blame Lady Luck, just another name for God as transgendered; we can blame some mistake we or others made which gave us this problem.
We can consult therapists who are probably worse off than ourselves, clergymen who believe even less than we do, and who else? Frank, keep working, running with your dog who is your best friend indeed compared to all the others. AND KNOW THAT YOU ARE NOT ALONE.
1
I have no comment. I simply wanted to say a sincere thank you to Mr. Bruni. This article is exactly what I needed today and there it was!
11
This is another example of people only becoming activists when it directly affects them.
2
Powerful and inspiring.
3
Thank you for the encouragement I needed today. God bless.
1
Inspired and grateful for your words, Mr. Bruni. All of them.
2
This line of the Serenity Prayer (paraphrased) helps put many things into perspective for me:
“Taking this world as it is, not as I wish it would be...”
3
In other news, Fox just aired a snippet of the religious praying over Trump. It’s like the people worshipping the golden calf, or so they think! If they were true to a loving God, they’d be out knocking on doors for Elizabeth or Bernie trying to insure healthcare for all the people.
2
As always, Mr. Bruni sees with his heart.
Thank you, Frank.
4
Thank you, Mr. Bruni, for sharing something so personal. To listen/watch to your TV commentaries and read your op-eds one would never guess you had such a problem. This adds another dimension to your contributions to society!
Your courage gives us all not only a better insight into your humanity but sets an example for me when a "poor me" moment creeps into my life!
1
Life changes. It always changes. When catastrophic illness totally upended - destroyed - the lovely lives we had spent so many decades struggling, toiling mightily to achieve, and after the initial shock wore off (that’s misleading - the shock never wears off), I sat (crumpled, really) to contemplate our “new Normal.” There is nothing normal about it. It is ghastly, crushing, UNFAIR — but it is the just the latest change in a lifetime of many.
What do I do? I allow myself minutes, hours, even days of self-pity. Why Me??? Indeed, why NOT me?? Then after a sufficient period of grieving and despondency, I pick myself up and just keep going, trying to navigate this new and alien landscape as best as I can. Good days, bad days. Happy days, sad days. Days so very different from those in the past and so very different from those to surely come. That’s just Life.
So for everyone lucky enough to live longish (read: aging) lives — strap yourselves in. It’s going to be a bumpy ride.
5
What I learned from my multiple chronic life threatening incurable treatable maladies was to be a humble humane empathetic realist. This works best for my own emotional and mental health. And that of my family and friends as well.
A dour why me self -pitying pessimistic existence is not living. Nor is a no worries smiling optimism really living.
I cherish every sight, sound, smell, taste and feel of every day. Sunshine and rain are of equal value. Smiles and tears add to my life. Exultation and mourning feel like life.
We all have a use-by mortality date. Largely determined by our 'choice' of parents aka biological DNA one and only human race species that began in Africa 300,000 years ago.
Laughing at my foolish own gigantic ignorance is my favorite daily irreverent pill. Punching up and out at hate, judgment, pompous, hubris, stupidity and avarice is my second self medicated favorite pill.
8
Really nice column. Thank you. Wishing you well.
1
Thank you. This is news that stays new.
“warren of endless hallways that reeked of disinfectant and dread”
Spot-on description of most hospitals.
Thank you for your honest writing.
2
Just want to say a very heartfelt thank you!
1
Don’t want to whine so I’ll just say “Thanks, Frank, I needed that.
3
I don’t consider myself a holy roller, but I do think certain biblical excerpts are helpful. In Deuteronomy, the Most High told Joshua, “Be strong and of good courage, do not fear nor be afraid of them; for the LORD your God, He is the One who goes with you. He will not leave you nor forsake you.” as he prepared to lead his people to the promised land.
Frank - I think you embody that quote. Don’t stop. I hope your difficult treatment or something new will help lead you to your promised land.
1
Where's my box of Kleenex? Without seeming to be even half trying, Frank is one of that product's most effective salesmen.
Frank,
I admire you and really like reading your columns. I really feel for your vision loss. But the 52 stabbings were too dramatic. My son is 28. He’s had Type I diabetes since he was 10 years old. Between poking for blood sugar testing and insulin injections, he goes through “52 stabbings” in 5-6 days. He’s been stabbed nearly 70,000 times. And let me tell you, Frank, that’s the least of his problems.
2
Hi Frank, I feel your pain. I had to give myself twice daily injections in my stomach when I was fighting cancer. When the doc first told me I’d have to be doing this I thought to myself, that’s never gonna happen, guess I’m gonna die. But you’re right, we’re capable of so much more than we think we are. And although I can’t report ever “looking forward to it”, it did become routine. Here’s hoping your left eye hangs in there and we keep getting to read your thoughtful writing.
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Interesting. I have been giving myself weekly methotrexate injections for over a year now. When the tablets gave me severe side effects, I asked about trying the injections. My doctor was surprised because most of the time people don't ASK for it... but it slows down how quickly my body processes the meds, and so the side effects became manageable. I'll admit, I almost passed out the first time I did it (I think I psyched myself up too much!).
Now, I invite my young son to sit with me while I do it. I want to take the mystery out of it for him. He also knows that if he sees someone with a mobility aid, to give them more space so they can maneuver (as much as he doesn't always do this with me and will try to hang off of my walker - it's different when it's Momma!)
Anyway. I'm rambling, but thank you for sharing. I hope that you do have some improvement or that the trial at least helps shed light on a treatment.
2
Frank, I can empathize with you.
As a previously rather healthy person, I had an underlying blood disorder that forced me to inject anticoagulants daily into my abdomen. Eeew! But it wasn’t so bad. I became very good at it.
At age 44, a previously unknown heart disorder popped up. I’m not overweight, nor do I have a cholesterol issue.
But I have an arrhythmia issue, and I’m now on my third (that’s right, third!) implanted defibrillator. And I’m still recovering from a recent cardiac ablation.
I sometimes wonder: why me? I don’t have any good answers. I think I’m rather nice! Has all this trauma made me a better person? Nah, not really!
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@David G
David, maybe it didn't need to make you nicer. Maybe you were already a pretty nice guy.
56
@David G Lol. Humor is the tonic we need to get through a rough day...Keep it up!
25
It is very unlikely that you and I will ever meet and become friends. Every column you write reminds me to regret that. Keep up the good work, Frank, and remember that you are an inspiration and a comfort to many.
5
We Americans are a spoiled lot. We complain about more than we praise.
Mr. Bruni's column, written with his usual common sense and beauty, hopefully reminds us of the difference between facing reality with some semblance of a smile, and wallowing in self-pity.
Adversity in some form or another happens to us all. How we deal with it is a matter of choice. Mr. Bruni offers some good advice and I wish him well.
4
I am smiling this morning at the timing of this column. I recently had some minor surgery that was inconveniencing - not life-threatening, not disfiguring, not even painful. Yet the frustration seemed to take over my life. At a recent doctor's visit, I harrumphed at one of the nurses, "I am learning 1,001 things one can't do without the use of a right hand." She responded, "How about focusing on what you CAN do?" Your column nailed me!
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Frank, thank you so much for your thoughts. You have, at least somewhat, changed my attitude. As a 73 year old with macula degeneration and several other chronic conditions, I am very frequently angry at my body for putting me in "this condition." However, I am very blessed to have a partner who is very kind and understanding and helpful to me. Thank you for brightening my day and helping me see things a bit differently. My best wishes to you.
2
Frank, thank you for using your remarkable gifts to share this wisdom with us.
Wishing you the very best, and I am glad to hear that you are feeling better. Your grateful fans are caring and cheering for you.
3
Odin/Wotan (per religion, myth and art) willingly sacrificed an eye for wisdom. The sacrifice came first, thereby creating the draught of wisdom; he then had to actively drink it.
These days, too many people assume that the wisdom, heroism or grace are inextricably linked to loss of a bodily function or coping with one's own challenges.
But as you note, wisdom and grace (if any) are achieved indirectly, over time, and come from an outward-looking, improved awareness of everyone's challenges, as well as one's own.
In theory, that should imply that equivalent grace and wisdom is available to anyone who's willing to consider themselves as other-than-approximately-perfect, and take up the (surprisingly uplifting) burden of identifying with the rest of humanity.
2
Thanks, I needed this!
3
‘Those who have suffered understand suffering and therefore extend their hand.’
-Patti Smith
14
Thank you, Frank Bruni. God bless you!
2
Bruni, you're like Beethoven. He wrote great music while deaf. You'll write great journalism even if--I profoundly hope not--you do lose your sight.
3
Hate that you are going through this ordeal. Hope the treatment is successful.
1
I have been reading you for years and years and this is your most touching and affecting work
5
Frank (Presumably, “Francis,” at baptism) you console rather than seek to be consoled, understand rather than be understood, love rather than to be loved, just as your namesake in the 13th century. God bless you!
3
Frank, your book “Born Round,” which I read it a few years ago, showed me the depth of your humanity in a way that has made reading your weekly columns a must.
You inspire with your words and actions. You are a force for good in the world, and those of us who get to hear your words are better fo it.
We are all in your corner.
9
Thanks for this. No biography, just thanks.
4
Bravo. We all have trials and tribulations and we all should learn from them. I remember something I once read, a bit soppy, but it stuck with me. “Life is lumpy. And a lump in the oatmeal, a lump in the throat, and a lump in a breast are not the same lump. One should learn the difference.”
1
I think by sharing your story, I may try to get out of bed tomorrow. It's been a long time. Best of luck with your eyes and your treatment. What a bummer.
4
Sounds to me like you've very much cultivated the wisdom to know the difference between what you can/cannot change.
1
Suffering breeds character, Frank Bruni, and your character cup runneth over.
“The most beautiful people we have known are those who have known defeat, known suffering, known struggle, known loss, and have found their way out of the depths. These persons have an appreciation, a sensitivity, and an understanding of life that fills them with compassion, gentleness, and a deep loving concern. Beautiful people do not just happen.”
- Elisabeth Kübler-Ross
“Too often we underestimate the power of a touch, a smile, a kind word, a listening ear, an honest compliment, or the smallest act of caring, all of which have the potential to turn a life around.”
- Leo Buscaglia
“When we fully understand the brevity of life, its fleeting joys and unavoidable pains; when we accept the facts that all men and women are approaching an inevitable doom: the consciousness of it should make us more kindly and considerate of each other. This feeling should make men and women use their best efforts to help their fellow travelers on the road, to make the path brighter and easier as we journey on. It should bring a closer kinship, a better understanding, and a deeper sympathy for the wayfarers who must live a common life and die a common death.”
- Clarence Darrow
“I call him religious who understands the suffering of others.”
- Mahatma Gandhi
“To perceive is to suffer.”
- Aristotle
Your vision problems have helped you to see the world in ways you could never see before, Frank....mazel tov !
6
I guess we are all given a cross to bear, and bear it, we must. Sometimes it’s physical and sometimes it’s mental, and sometimes the cross is born on the ignorance of others, like when you are 8 years-old and you are out delivering newspapers with your 11 year-old handicapped sister and she has never learned to read, so the big “WET Paint” sign means nothing to her. Trust me I had more than a few near “Lennie” moments in my life. But then you also learn the true character of other men, too!
1
Sending good thoughts your way, Mr. Bruni.
1
Thank you for writing about this, Frank. I hope that helps you, as well as your having done the trial with all those injections. We both have had an eye stroke: NAION. Our job is to carry on and manage as best as possible. Take good care.
1
I suggest that you start learning to play piano. Now.
4
Self-injection over time can be quite literally a pain in the butt sometimes, but it also can be incredibly liberating to be that personally involved in one's own medical treatment on one's own schedule. Certainly cuts down on the co-pays which these days can hurt more than the needle.
Nice, this. Thank you.
1
Glad you are hanging in there, Mr. Bruni, we need you!
1
Frank, invoking, “... there are none so blind as those who will not see,” it dawns on me that journalistic analysis and a capacity for acute introspection are born twins - fraternal if not identical(!) Whether via nature or nurture, your life’s “stewardship” of their evolution plays no small part (on me as a reader) in the distinct urge to “read Frank first” that compels my daily haste to the NYT’s Opinion Section.
It must be said, also, that one’s courage to self-disclose is a gift not shared by all. Wishing you every good thing, thank you.
2
‘When God gives you lemons, take a bow.’ I’m going to have to remember that. Thank you for a candid look into the heart of the guy stabbing himself every day to gain (in)sight. Think of yourself as a modern-day Odin. Good luck.
3
Bruni one of the columnists with some decency. Best of luck.
2
I always thought you could see better than most people--reading all the insightful very intresting restaurant reviews. No one gets a pass with having "stuff" And you Frank Bruni---the best is yet to come.
2
Right on.
1
Yup. Thank you.
1
Yes. Thank you.
1
I am 72. I have a young friend (45) who I have known and loved since he was a tiny baby. He has ALS and it is relentlessly and quickly progressing. He will soon leave his wife and 2 children. His type of ALS is the rare hereditary one so there is the possibility that his children and his brother may also face this disease. I stand in awe of his strength, his determination, his love and his embracing of reality. He is doing what he can for as long as he can. Honestly, I find it hard to name anything good about this. I just wish it never happened.
3
Frank, your healthy ,persistent ability to flip the negatives into positives is so admirable. Thank you for your optimism and acknowledging all the others who endure far more than you and me. Gratitude for my gifts drives me every minute. Positive things can emerge from suffering and you display that in a very inspiring way. God bless.
Great piece, Frank - as always. Fellow self-impaler here - about 30 times as I recall. Daily heparin shots into my thighs. My syringes were thankfully pre-loaded, and the less than inch long needles were wispy thin. Still, by the time I was able to do it smoothly, quickly, and unsqueamishly, I looked like Chicken Pox Man, with bruises, lumps and scab spots all about. This unavoidable self-stabbing fun was necessary after my second cancer surgery early this year.
TMI, of course. But nothing like I thought would be perceived by family and friends as awesomely eye rolling over the top TMI when I put my first relatively detailed "public cancer notice" on Facebook. After posting I didn't log in for two days. When I did, I was astonished. I had no idea that what I thought was taking a "selfish TMI bow" would rustle up so many people in my orbit struggling with similar and worse. Now, after many eye-opening conversations such as yours with the college official, I've become sincerely closer to so many people I'd never thought to ask, even tentatively about much of anything other than superficial stuff. Who knew what I thought would be embarrassment about sharing would turn into such inspiration?
"Would we have had this exchange many years ago, before my own misfortune? I doubt it. I don’t just see differently now. I listen differently. I hear more. It’s as if I possess this new, extra sense in compensation for the imperiled one..."
Wow! Thank you, Frank! You've nailed it again!
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As a fellow traveler ,misdiagnosed w a stroke first ;until a Neuro
Ophthalmologist said “I am doing all the testing again” ,a year out ,and declared I had a meningioma on my 6 th cranial nerve causing double vision in one eye ,I had no clue about treatment or cure.
Big pharma isn’t the answer. The study drugs are in a blind so I prefer not to participate. I might be harmed or neglected because of study participant criteria. My tumor is in an area that is tricky to operate on. I elect no surgery despite conferring w two of the best neuro surgeons at Ayer Neuroscience Institute at Hartford Hospital. I had an aunt with this and she had it removed twice. Second time they accidentally severed her major blood vessels. She woke blind and w personality changes.
My hubby has your diagnosis and was offered shots 5 years ago. He refused. They do not work. He sees a Picasso painting out of one eye and I see double everything without prism glasses. We are quite a pair.
As a health professional ,retired I went into educating the next generation of nurses and taught pharmacology and research courses. Studies do not impress me any longer.
I know you are desperate because the fear mongering by our care providers that “ it could happen again “ “ you could go blind” etc. has to be taken in and discern the truth of their flippant statements after attending Big Pharma conferences and regular office visits with the latest studies to get your clients into.
Our bodies break .
I am empathetic
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I love what you've learned. In a weird way, that makes you very fortunate. Bless you, Frank.
14
@nursejacki
Thank you for your info. My husband has had double vision for years and it is getting worse. The prisms are no longer working. We didn't know about the meningioma of the 6th cranial nerve and will now pursue this issue
15
Frank, I’m a flight attendant for a major airline. Over the years I have learned that those who struggle with disabilities of any nature are the kindest people I have ever met. They do what you are doing..listening differently, responding differently, appreciating differently. I always ask if there is anything I can do for them, at anytime during the flight. However they might respond, it is always with a smile. I do not patronize them, I quietly empathize with heart felt support. About then, the call light goes off at 22C. A passenger is furious because he found a used napkin in the seat back compartment. I apologize, and then my mind goes back to the person I just helped.....and I smile like they did, because I’ve just been blessed with yet another lesson in the priorities of life. As one with his own chronic illness that I’ve dealt with for decades, I understand you Frank. Your incredible mind and the touch and feel of your precious dog, will propel you forward. Inspiration is a wonderful thing, and I thank you for this beautifully written example.
21
I’m going to print this column and every time I start feeling sorry for myself I’ll read it. Your words will slap me back into reality. I have injections every 8 weeks for wet macular degeneration. How true the waiting rooms are full of people who are worse off than me. I am reminded every time I step into the doctors office of how caring, intelligent and compassionate my medical care is.
Medical trials are so important for everyone, Thank you For participating in this one and I hope it’s the key to a cure.
15
Thank you for your honesty and I look
Forward to your columns and your appearances on tv, and am hopeful that it all
Will continue. Best wishes.
2
Thank you for this. It reminds me that I have, for the moment, the ability to move, see, live without pain, spend time with the people I love, doing the things I love to do. I am also old enough to know this is temporary. With each twitch, each stiff joint, sore back, each attempt to focus my increasingly slow-to-focus eyes, I understand that this time eventually ends. I don't know how I'll handle it. But I hope I handle it as gracefully as do you.
6
This piece profoundly moved me. Especially with examining the Serenity Prayer which is the bedrock prayer of many 12-Step programs. You’ve shown me a way to move beyond it. I read this article after reading the article on “nunchi”, and your experiences seem to be that indeed you are “moving quick” in evaluating and responding to others both personally and collectively. To me, that is Grace in action. Thank-you.
2
There is almost no one I know (or know of) with more grace, dignity and acceptance than Frank Bruni. Here's hoping for the best possible outcome.
5
Dear Mr. Bruni,
You have discovered the ableist in yourself and forevermore will see the world with more empathy! Congratulations.
I have a daughter with POTs, a disease of the autonomic nervous system. It is a chronic illness that exhausts her and makes her ill with nausea and headaches everyday. Her capacity in life is half that of most teens. She is smart and funny but simply does not have the energy or well being to fully explore life.
I had boundless energy when young. It never occurred to me it was a gift, not a sign of my own choice to work hard. I always thought everyones’ bodies felt as mine did- able to do what I asked of it. I I always thought my ability to work hard was a sign of my moral superiority. Now I know that everyone’s body is different and that what people can achieve is often a reflection of that body.
As her mother, I too have learned that open conversations about health are deeply meaningful. It took time to reach the level of acceptance necessary to have those conversations.
I hope you continue to use your platform to advocate for and explore the lives the physically disabled. One in four children in the US has a chronic condition such as diabetes or asthma. This is is an important and timely topic.
Thank you.
15
Thank you.
6
I try to say a prayer every night thanking G-d for giving me a happy life with healthy kids, a good wife, no drugs, no alcohol, no jail time, interesting work and enough money to get by on.
Tonight Frank, I am saying one for you.
15
Godspeed Frank, I wish you well, hang in there.
5
I wish you all the luck in the world with your vision, but you get no sympathy for the highly dramatized "stabs," as one who does 3 weekly injections and has for nearly two decades (roughly 3100 "stabs" if we're counting). As my mother, one of the greatest of the Greatest Generation, would say as I hovered with the needle, hesitating to self-inflict pain -- just jab it! She had a point but until that drug got competition, the needle was thick and it was like sticking a straw in your thigh. (Alright, some drama there to match your stabs.)
4
So, Frank, you've come to the correct realization that even as significant as they are (blindness is no joke!) your difficulties are, in some sense, First World problems.
I'm a doctor. Every single day, I see people who have it worse than I hope I ever will. For the most part, they just get on with things. People are tough. And the poorer and less well educated they are, the tougher they are. I think it has to do with expectations. A friend and colleague of mine is from South Sudan and did his early medical training in Africa. He said to me, "Aaron, in Africa, patients expect to die. If you can save them, it's a bonus, but they don't expect it."
I'm glad you came to terms with your fifty-two injections. In the overall scheme of things, is fifty-two - or even a thousand and fifty-two - injections really such a big deal? Count yourself lucky that you had the opportunity to be possibly one of the very first peopel to benefit from a novel therapy. Not so for someone in South Sudan is someone with your disease - or someone in Iraq, or Guatemala - or realistically speaking, someone in the East End of Newport News, Virginia. How wonderful that you had the chance.
6
Go, you!
3
I have to admit being irritated with the title 'Stabbed Myself 52 Times". It does capture attention, and the content of the article demonstrates increased awareness, but 'hardship'? Children with diabetes must learn to tolerate multiple injections per day, and multiple finger pricks per day. Other diseases have similar associated difficulties, true hardships when coupled with debilitating metabolic or physical challenges. You liken yourself to a person with diabetes, but 52 injections, with an end point in sight, honestly sounds trivial.
As an adult, were you being brave? No. You had a choice, as part of a clinical trial. You obviously have resources and have achieved a full successful career. Brave is something different. I think of the parents who don't have the resources for top flight healthcare. They are the brave ones.
5
"Life sucks, and then you die - but hey! Get over it!"
I suppose this has become the rallying cry of my life, having had (in my biased opinion) far more than my fair share of crosses to bear. When a neurosurgeon tells you pre-op that "I cannot be sure if you will ever walk again" (as recently happened to me) it sure gets your attention. I left the hospital able to shuffle with a walker. But I realized that I was at a fork in the road: I could be a self-pitying, old shuffler, or I could win. I put the walker aside and was determined that I would walk to the end of the block. This took me about a week. But my second aim - walking to the end of the block without repeatedly falling over - took a while longer. Now I am fine, walking running, riding a bicycle over 100 miles per week.
The line between unrealistic optimism and mature acceptance of failure is plastic, and partially under your control.
Seize control!
2
This is a truly wonderful column about how one man has dealt with adversity in his life. It’s not often in a newspaper that you are inspired to emulate the behavior of another human being. What surprises me, however, is that this column has drawn less than 100 comments where previous columns by Mr. Bruni battering the president have received hundreds of responses, my own included. Perhaps, that tells us a great deal about how screwed up so many of our priorities in life have become. The subject of another column?
3
Frank, I think you’re a great writer and always enjoy reading your columns. But this particular column moved me in a new and unexpected way. Congratulations on your fortitude in the face of such a daunting challenge. You not only have your sight; you also have foresight. What a combination.
9
Frank, you are a beautiful human. Thank you for sharing your story with us. You keep meeting yourself, and growing. I suffer from depression from time to time, and when it gets really hard, I have to draw from deep down to remind myself that every day is different and feelings change. I have to remind myself of the resources I have to deal with my challenges. You are doing that daily, and I am moved by your commitment to try things that may help, and to accept when they don't. All the best to you. Making accommodations to changing situations is brave work.
4
I just got a cancer diagnosis. I’ve accepted it. My problem is that the people I love are bummed out. But I say selfishly to myself that’s not my problem.
4
@Nat Ehrlich
I do understand your dilemma and share it; to go against the medical establishment is verboten and their believers.
To trust yourself need courage.
I love this column. Actually, you, Frank, are my favorite columnist, and this particular column suits me very well. At 84 years of age, I have more than a touch of various physical problems, but so far my mental ability is holding up. I think of what I still have every day. You seem to be doing that,too.
9
God bless you, Mr Bruni. I was blinded for three weeks by a vitreous hemorrhage, which turned into a detached retina. It was the most stressful and depressing time of my life.
.
A wonderful doctor "saved my life", as I say to people, reattaching my retina and later performing cataract surgery.
.
I'll pray that your doctors are just as wonderful for you. I loved your reporting back in the day, mostly don't agree with you nowadays, and wish you a full and lasting recovery.
5
At my metastatic cancer support group, we always end by holding hands and saying the Serenity Prayer. It is a brief moment of connected and comforting solace for me, a quiet reminder to focus on the good (and I’m not religious). I literally say it every time I see the GOP, once again, try to take down the ACA, which would be the death knell for this young, self-employed (thus self insured) survivor. As if an extra sense, I feel like my illness has brought compassion into much stronger focus and I think that’s a common trait in other patients. I wish you well, the journey you take may not be the path you would have chosen but it can be beautiful nonetheless.
12
I love you. Your words have helped me deal with my own physical issues. Thank you.
4
Like the previous reader, I also commented on your first column about NAION and have it also, but not as bad as yours. I do have leukemia, at age 78, which as you so articulately observe, is a similar opener of doors one would not otherwise have opened. Not least is being a model and fellow traveller for others, with others, who are struggling with their condition more than I am. Thanks and best!
6
Thank you for sharing your story and how your health challenges have changed your perspective...really inspiring. Wishing you all the best.
9
As i read this, I was nearly to the end before it occurred to me that I have had terrible vision in my left eye all my life.
It's not a disease for which there may be a treatment, or a sudden loss, just myopia. My right eye is slightly far-sighted with excellent vision.
So... do what you can, Frank, but if you can't, just forget about it. It's a club rule.
3
Thank you for the ever-important reminder to us all that how we deal with disabilities or setbacks is in great measure determined by how we approach those challenges. Attitude is everything.
6
What a joyful and uplifting start to Sunday - and the rest of our lives! Frank, you are a marvel, an inspiration. Your bold, brave writing is always welcomed, especially when you share yourself with readers. I feel like I know both you AND Regan, your wonderful "partner", from your writing. You share the best in human nature. You've already found the path for your life regardless of the outcome. Please keep sharing your story with your faithful readers.
5
Thank you for this. I have suggested my husband read it, and he will, with his tablet and the ability to zoom in on text. He is legally blind and is with his second guide dog ( Tadd is retired and has his own recliner...). My husband has been a T1 diabetic since he was 5. When he went off to Syracuse, he did not take care of himself and his vision slowly deteriorated. He was able to work until age 54. He doesn’t let anything stop him. This weekend he installed a garage flooring system.... he used a jigsaw (yikes) to custom cut some pieces. He amazes me every day and has a very full life.
Our challenges are our strength.
17
Frank, thank you for sharing your experience with all of us.
7
I lived in Chicago when my first child was born and my pediatrician there also treated children with cancer-most of them with leukemia. When my daughter was about 16 months old and had been running a fever that wouldn’t come down. I called and his nurse said he was at Children’s Hospital that day but could see us. When I walked in and saw all these children who were walking around with IV poles and/or bald, it took my breath away. When I went into my doctor’s office, the first thing I asked him was how he could face all those kids. He smiled and said “I focus on the ones I save.” I think that’s what it takes to face whatever we have to face...focus on the good and we’ll get through. Sounds like that’s what you’re doing Frank. Bless you.
6
The exact same thing happened to me. A few years ago, I woke up with much of my sight permanently gone in my left eye. The physicians determined I'd suffered an eye stroke and diagnosed it as nonarteric anterior ischemic optic neuropothy (NAION.) I also grappled with the possibility of waking up blind and decided if it happened, I'd just pop myself off. Problem solved.
Frank, again a most moving and beautiful piece. I can assure you that too many of us have - as my Mom use to say - “our crosses to bear.” Personally, I never found that to be much help as you with the Serenity Prayer. Rather, I have always found consolation in the Prayer of St. Francis, to make me an instrument of peace. And that is what you are doing every time you pick up a pen, type your usual words of wisdom and honesty and life as it is, when you look around you and fathom the struggles of too many people. It’s that compassion and empathy that allow us to transcend ourselves and become unsung heroes. I truly hope that you will be cured of this rare eye disease. But if the Fates have something else in mind, you will still be you, and you as a man will soar.
11
Good luck to you, Frank. I tend to get "stuck" in problems and needed to hear this.
9
Wow, you really reached me; you usually do. I am trying to adjust to a new normal, which will change and yet become another new normal. Physical and mental problems cause pain and anguish for those suffering them and for their partners. I'm the partner, and although a highly anxious person to begin with, I am learning, with difficulty, to cope. You gave me new hope with which to cope..... Sorry, couldn't resist the rhyme!
6
I have a similar condition and did comment on your first op-ed concerning this issue.
Living in the middle of my eighth decade, I no longer resist the falling and failing of my body; my eye macular degeneration keeps company with three lumbar discs that have shown a similar decline.
An understanding of the futility of trying to 'push the river' gives me better solace than what the medical community has offered.
1
I have long appreciated and admired your sensitive columns (and your politics!), but this one hit especially close to home as I watch and try to help my husband's struggles with a degenerative disease. Thank you for this inspiring column and for so many more insightful, thoughtful columns on so many subjects.
7
Thank you for this beautifully honest piece. This one precious, crazy life is brimming with obstacles. But there is so much more we can do as human beings to better our listening, learning and communication skills. Peace, strength and tremendously good health to you.
4
Thank you, Mr. Bruni, for all your writing. Your work always adds depth and meaning to the political and social dialogue; personally, I find your work inspiring and motivating.
6
Thank you for sharing your very personal experiences with us. I always look forward to reading your columns and learning new perspectives. I've always thought the comment 'I understand how you must feel' has little meaning until you have experienced something firsthand.
2
Thanks for sharing your experience. I’m not dealing with my own disability but my daughter’s severe TBI from a car accident. She now has a serious cognitive disability and my life revolves around her care. I’m learning to appreciate the new normal.
6
"We can easily forgive a child who is afraid of the dark, the real tragedy of life is when men are afraid of the light". Plato
You will always see the light, Mr. Bruni, while enlightening your readers.
My best wishes to you.
23
Although we'd just as soon be spared, we can grow and expand in surprising ways in response to adversity. Your experience is an example of the truth that even if a condition can't be changed, healing is always possible.
6
This is a beautiful column. I will think of it often as I continue to lead an active life while coping with some burdensome and sometimes humiliating physical ailments.
8
Frank Bruni, thank you for consistently bringing perspective, wisdom, and inspiration to us, your readers! We all have plenty of negatives to dwell on, but every beautiful experience lifts us forward.
11
Thank you for your story which I will share. Thank our first world medicine and doctors and research which is the best in the world. Thank our lucky stars that we have choices to make which give us a better outlook and perhaps a better future not just in POV, but physical results - mind over matter sometimes works. My spouse has had a number of physical ailments including cancer and retinal detachment. And as the song says, ‘He is still here.’ He bounces back and goes forward. As we age, we need to hear these stories of resilience, hope, bravery, courage, and humor. Thank you.
4
Frank, I am sure that whatever happens to you in the future, you will continue to think, write and live a life that enriches others in every way. I am a teacher of the blind, visually impaired and came out of retirement to work again. Braille reading and writing can be learned and put on hold for you right now. It is a code along with the Nemeth code for math and science that gives sight to those who can no longer use their eyes as they once did. Also, you can train in using your senses of hearing, touch, smell and taste in ways that compliment sight or lack thereof. Keep on writing, for your fans need your talent at using words to help people see.
11
As so many others have said, Mr. Bruni, thank you for sharing your response to a life changing challenge. I have been blessed to survive three separate life-threatening illnesses and have been told by my doctors that any one of them should have killed me. What I learned is that each day you're alive is another opportunity to seek joy in our relationships with one another, not bemoan our circumstances. Everyone has burdens to bear. Why not stay focused on lightening our own and others' loads? Life is far too short to remain stuck at the pity party.
6
Frank, what you so lovely describe is a journey of life with a chronic illness or condition. Cleveland, Ohio used to have a Chronic Illness Center with a team of a social worker and a nurse for each patient. Chronic conditions account for a large part of all sorts of economic and biosocial factors in our country and world.
The pity has been in recent years, the different conditions have been separated and divided and the ills of the modern medical industrial complex have used that to their monetary and power advantage. I am glad you connected to a person not dealing with the exact same issue. Process and support do not require identical symptoms.
I am also glad you found your clinical trial was a dude. Which Stage or Phrase was it? It took twenty years for my husbands’s Stage III Kidney Cancer trial results to be known to him. Some of the side effects impacted him and our family greatly. And yes he did impale himself daily for about six months.
Patients in clinical trials are lost sheep, many times without shepards. And having had a father who went blind in the middle of a brilliant career , there is life after blindness.
Welcome to the world of if, we are legion.
2
Best wishes young man.
4
Thank you Mr. Bruni for this inspiring op ed today. My personal story is not far off from yours. I had a fun filled youth, and having been voted prettiest and most popular in school, I had no shortage of boyfriends. But suddenly, at the age of 21, I was struck down with a very serious, life threatening illness which had me hospitalized a total of one and a half years at death’s door and requiring numerous surgeries. The hardest part for me was having those surgeries which were disfiguring and made me feel ugly. I was unable to look at myself in the mirror for years afterward. Since the choice that I was left with was to sink or swim, I chose to swim. Since I felt I could no longer open all doors with my beauty, I began to realize and cultivate my other qualities which finally led to my desire to go to medical school and help others recover from difficulties life unexpectedly put in their paths. So, I can now look back (from my vantage point of 84 years) and see that the worst thing that happened to me in my life was the preparation for the best.
43
I truly hope your condition improves, but take note of an old adage from long ago by Helen Keller.
'I cried because I had no shoes, then I met a man who had no feet'.
Good and many blessings to you.
4
I am now in my early 70's and experiencing friends and family members either passing away or being inflicted with some form of debilitating ailment. What I am feeling is 1) how ungrateful I have been about my own good health and 2) how grateful I am each day for my daily gym workouts and weekly tennis matches. In fact, after these workouts, I would shower quickly, dress, and back home. Not anymore, I sit for a few minutes watching others exercise, feeling the energy in the room, and being thankful I can still participate in these same regimes.
6
Stay strong and keep injecting. We are glad that you have the courage to let people know what you're enduring and want you to know we are behind you. Many people, myself included, rely on syringes to keep the onset or recurrence of ailments--including cancer--at bay. Often this is experimental and carries no guarantee of any lasting effect. But science will benefit in the long run.
2
You have my sympathies--in the sense of empathy about facing adversity. The stroke sounds a lot about what happened to my sister. She gets eye treatments, but I'm not sure if they're helpful. Well, I guess "wisdom" is needed to know the difference about things changeable or not. Another point about dealing with difficulty is kind of common sense--for anybody, outcomes can be better, worse or about the same, depending on how the problem is handled.
2
I breezed past this piece twice when it appeared online, only pausing long enough to read it when I saw it again this morning in the paper edition of the Times (there has to be an unrelated ironic message in that).
I’m glad I didn’t skip it a third time. We need reminders like those Mr. Bruni gives here that we have much to be thankful for, that others often suffer in ways unbeknownst to us, and that we can provide a measure of comfort in their suffering — and perhaps ease our own as well — through the simple act of showing interest and being a good listener.
4
This resonated for me. A tangential anecdote: up until my early to mid twenties I was extremely judgmental of people who had mental health issues (yeah, strange of me). I held deeply critical judgment towards others’ suffering even though I was ostensibly educated enough to understand otherwise. I was educated, yes, but not Educated until I had my own crisis in my late twenties.
Despite what may have appeared outwardly as a failure on my part (dropping out of my chosen profession, self-destructing socially), my crisis and what followed was revelatory. My crisis opened me to a world of compassion, both for myself and others. It helped me grow exponentially. Despite what may have looked like self destruction, my crisis made me much much stringer.
9
I write this through the fog of a cataract surgery that has left me with the same fog you describe, in my case blurring my “good eye”. I have described it as looking through dirty water floating in in a lava lamp, and am living with this outcome as I have no vision in my other eye. There does not seem to be any good options for me, plus the risks are too high to fiddle with the only eye that works.
I fear losing my (blurred) vision but I am told I won't, so feeling gratitude for the vision I have left seems the best option. I can still read you columns, so that's a good thing!
Yes, every time I see someone suffering I remember my mother's constant reminder, “there, but for the grace of god go I” . We can still see the beauty of our world, just the blurred version, and I’ll take that. Good luck with your trials, we need your perspective on these pages of the New York Times.
16
Welcome to the great column of the mentally and physically damaged. We've always been there, as you said somewhat as an aside. I empathize with your condition and congratulate you on putting pen to paper but the entire planet is existing and thriving often only on fumes. I knew as a small boy the ravages of age and disease while making the weekly visits to my many old great aunts and uncles not to mention my grandparents. You saw them quietly, with great difficulty and dignity accept their lot and smile and cook and decorate or show you their hobby or spin a tale of the old days. Great luck with your health and I pray you have many more good than bad days. Welcome to the club.
10
Right on, Frank!
And I hope this doesn't sound too cheesy, but whatever comes to you is for you. In the end, working with what you're given is generally less agonizing than constantly wondering why you were given it.
9
Mr. Bruni, I hope you read your comments. I want to tell you that I had one of these strokes in the retina of my left eye in late May of this year. I'm not a candidate for the injections, so doubt any other treatment will be offered to me. We are now working to stabilize the situation by keeping the eye pressure to normal levels. I consider myself fortunate in that I lost only a portion of my vision, in the upper right corner in this eye, so I've not been told that I can't drive and can still participate in all my usual endeavors. But I, of course, now think about unlikely, but possible, damage occuring to my right eye and can only hope that never happens. My underlying cause appears to be previously undiagnosed hardening of the arteries, an unfortunate heritable condition. I am otherwise of normal weight and good health, a vegetarian, with a very active outdoor Colorado lifestyle. I'll be watching you, my fellow traveler, and hoping for the best.
21
I had no idea that you were afflicted by this disorder and had undergone such an ordeal in coping not only with the disability but with the prospect of your vision possibly getting worse. I send you all my best wishes for stability with your vision and possibly an amelioration of your symptoms.
I suffered a severe cerebral hemorrhage 30 hours after Donald Trump was elected president. My wife had warned me that the stress, fear, and outright disbelief could possibly endanger my health, but I was simply too distraught to heed her admonitions to control my emotions. I survived the stroke and regained my cognition and language, but remain severely disabled, having not regained the functionality of the right side of my body. Nevertheless, after six months of hospitalization and a stint in a rehab facility, I was able to return to work as the executive director of a nonprofit organization that promotes the revitalization of low-income neighborhoods in New Haven by creating home ownership opportunities for low- and moderate-income first-time home buyers.
Thank you for sharing your very poignant story with us. May you continue to have the fortitude and determination to shed light and provide insights on the political realities that we are confronting, spawned by a President whose only effective policies have been to make America hate again.
17
I admire so people faces with such challenges, who meet them with courage. even cheerfulness.
A good friend was in his 70s when hurricane Sandy struck. He had a heart attack hauling water up the many flights to his apartment.
His business went belly up and he could no longer afford his rent stabilized apartment. He put all his possessions in storage and moved to Florida. He hated it and was back in NYC within months.
He slept in a friend's couch for months. Then, because he was a vet, he qualified for housing about 2 hours outside the city.
He moved to a building where most people spoke no English. He had multiple graduate degrees.
He had no car and had to walk up and down a long hill to buy groceries. Then he was diagnosed with cancer.
He was almost always cheerful and interested in the world and others, in music and books and politics and science. He never expressed fury at what the fates dealt him. He made jokes about his changes in circumstances.
His courage in the face of what life threw at him inspires me still.
11
@Talbot What an interesting post, Talbot. Everyone faces small obstacles. I won't mention mine. They don't begin to compare with the tribulations your friend has faced. You sound cheerful enough. Maybe some of his spirit has rubbed off on you. I hope through the internet airwaves I, too, absorb a little of it.
1
What a wonderfully optimistic column and more importantly to remind us all that listening more is key to understanding and the building of community.
8
Thank you, Mr Bruni. I have ME/CFS, many days cannot get out of bed, and reading the NYT's is my link to the outside world. I appreciate your openness about your vulnerability.
6
God bless you, Frank ; you are a treasure and a unique person . Your intelligence , eloquence , sensitivity and very sharp insights on a wide variety of topics make you a very valuable journalist and human being . Since I first became aware of your
rare malady , vía your writing about it , I have been praying for your recovery . What is very evident , in reading your columns ,
is that your courage and empathy are a sheer joy and inspiration to all of us . I wish you a long and continued productive life
full of sight and continued insight into this very complícated world we live in . Keep on keepin' on , Frank .
16
Thank you, Mr. Bruni, for sharing your experience. And awakening. A person close to me said, "I'm sorry that your life is so difficult," referring to my daily hurdles that would be foreign in her life. I appreciated that, for what it was, but wished she could grasp that my joy in others and just things wasn't about slapping a good face on it. I wished she could know the connection between personal limitations and empowerment of the very best kind. I hope your eyes hang tough for the long haul. They pair nicely with your perspective.
13
Being a long term recovering alcoholic, I have always used the Serenity prayer to remind myself that either I can change or there will be no change.
I, too, am losing eyesight. Have been legally blind in right eyes for years, and the cataract over my left eye isn't going to either go away or get better. Not having a spare eye, removing it just isn't reasonable right now.
I also have essential tremor which is controlled only if I'm mentally serene. Yeah, right!
The more that goes wrong, the more one has to figure out how to cope. My ability to know what I cannot change and having the ability to change what I can -- learning how to cope successfully --- is how I live with a modicum of serenity.
11
Frank,
I was diagnosed with third nerve palsy after I woke up one night with double vision. After two hospitalizations, months of invasive tests, and assorted drugs whose side effects I wouldn't even wish on Rudy Giuliani, one of my specialists happened to ask me what I ate.
Turned out that the blood pressure spike that triggered the crisis and refused to subside was caused by my eating too much salt. When I reduced my salt intake, my blood pressure dropped into an acceptable slot and stayed there.
Of course, I do miss the mountains of hot pastrami that were a pillar of my diet, but I can cheat and split an occasional sandwich over two days. The good news is that I had so many nitrites in my system that my shelf life may extend another 70 years.
Good luck to you.
11
As always, Frank, you words inspire. You're a strong man. And I think there is a metaphor in there. Rational Americans are trying to correct what went wrong three years ago. Traditional values and rule of law won't work on Republicans and a too large a-moral minority. So we have to employ no-traditional means to restore health to our society, which requires far more courage than just accepting the status quo (or quid pro quo). Your honesty, tenacity, perspective and optimism are an inspiration to us all.
16
I am glad you have made it to this point, which you so articulately state in your article: "You come to a fork in the road, and you choose between wallowing in self-pity and taking a good, hard look around you. I took the look and, with my Cyclops vision, saw how many of the people in my orbit were struggling, how many were bumping up against limits more daunting than mine, how many summoned a grace that gave me something to aspire to, something to emulate."
I, too, have an eye condition that can blind me. It's is a rare autoimmune disease called Birdshot Retinochoroidopathy and I have it in both eyes. After a few years of high dosages of steroids and "immunomodular" drug therapy, I was fortunate to have a highly skilled surgeon do 8 procedures on me in 4 separate surgeries, including placing steroidal medicinal implants in the posterior of my eyes. I am now in remission, but it took a while to get here. I would never have gotten here had I not faced the reality you faced and made the same choice. I could have gone on with self-pity, bouts of depression, and fear, or I could make the choice to live my life to the fullest and appreciate the great aspects of it. I was inspired by others who had worse conditions and by music and the arts. A local NYC poet, Tim Hitchcock wrote in one of his songs, of which I was proud to play drums, "I don't care what I have lost. I am in awe of what I still have." Those words play in my head everyday, especially when I get a floater or two.
18
I give myself a shot in my stomach every day, and will for the foreseeable future, but my story is a bit different. I had to fight tooth and nail to have the privilege of giving myself that shot. With the insurance company that didnt wat to pay for it (it costs them about 5000.00 a month), to find a pharmacy that would fill it (my insurance company would pay less than what some of the smaller local pharmacies could obtain the drug for wholesale...so it ended up mail order), then to get over that stare down of the 2 vials and distilled water I have to mix for each injection, the 2 needles I have to change as I do that to get to the final syringe with the much smaller needle ready to go. That first time was really hard to do, but in the back of my mind I kept thinking about how hard I had fought to get to this moment, and it pushed me through. I just finished my first week and its much easier every time now. Its amazing what you will do when you fight hard for something...even when the outcome is a little bit scary.
16
Thank you, once again, Frank Bruni, for your thoughtful, humane, and wise words. You are generous to share your personal struggle, and I see in that struggle similarities to the on-going emotional work needed to endure the never-ending horrors and genuine danger to our country of Trumpism. The despair is palpable, so such a nuanced and graceful call to hope as this column is so welcome.
16
I couldn't help reading Frank's column today as a kind of New Testament parable, one directed not at those with persistent physical afflictions , but rather those who are consumer with resentment over real and many imagined slights.
FB was describing his personal coping strategies (for which I offer sincere best wishes) and, between the lines, directing a broader message to all those who are participating in the destruction of American democracy because they are mad, very mad, at someone or something.
The irony of course is that the person giving oxygen to this anger is someone who is raging, alright, raging against his own inadequacies and taking it out on the larger world.
I may be insufferably woke, but I also know that there are many dimensions to Bruni's columns.
9
I'm in my late 50s and a two time cancer survivor. It amazes me that I can type those words and not tremble. But it has become my new normal. I know that, statistically, a third time may be coming for me but I try to live each day to its fullest and not dwell on the fright of what may come. When I was first diagnosed ten years ago (and almost hysterical when I heard the word "cancer"), a beloved doctor told me that every person has something - and that this is my thing. That concept somehow helped me put it in perspective. I see others who are far worse than I am and that makes me feel lucky.
9
@Ellie Given that my own bit of an affliction doesn't show keeps me in mind of the fact that so many of us go through daily life with physical and emotional issues that are invisible to others. Be well.
5
@Kimberly Thank you, Kimberly. I find that our struggles make us kinder and more empathetic to others, as your comment proves. Best wishes to you as well.
1
I had a professor who remarked that the easy satisfaction of material needs is the downfall of civilization.
I observe that people who have it easy can be the meanest; indeed, they take a certain joy in not realizing they are mean.
It's nice when successful people can reflect on their one brush with mortality in an elegant and uplifting way, and take their first steps on the path of empathy.
But for the vast majority of people, dread and oppression come not from one challenge but all the time and from every corner. They are beset by confusion and fear and disappointment. They are lulled and driven to escapism. You would need the insight of Christ and the Buddha to see in their behavior a bright soul.
I am most touched by those, shall we say, "saints" who never fail to reach out to help others, regardless of who they are or how they appear. These saints don't seem to ask about their own sight or their own energy; they just help.
Let us celebrate and support those who help!
11
Frank - I strongly urge you to find an exhibition called Dialogue in the Dark and go experience it. The closest one may be in Mexico at this time, but you may be in a position to travel. I promise it will be life-changing in many of the ways you describe in this article. I would love to see more press devoted to bringing the exhibition back to an American city.
2
In Tel Aviv, experience Na L’Ga’at (please touch), a dinner theater operated be people who are blind and/or deaf. We ate a meal in total darkness to experience blindness, and then went to a silent play. I learned a lot about myself, not least of which is that in total darkness, I rock—as in side to side—and experienced an unexpected joy and competence of navigating that I had no idea existed in my body. I agree that more people should have the opportunity to experience the sensation of losing a sense to understand more fully how adaptable we can be, and moreover, what we can discover about the untapped beauty of the human spirit.
3
@Cathy Schechter A friend of mine went to a restaurant that did this a few years ago up in the Bay Area. She was not a fan.
Thank you for this heartfelt and hopeful column, Mr. Bruni. I’m already having one of those bad days (yes, I know it is only 9 am ET), but this is just the type of pick me up I need.
6
Thank you for this article Frank. Misfortunes in our lives no matter what they may be help to refocus our attention to the fact that we are all vulnerable to life changing experiences at any moment. There is always someone out there who is worse off and faces more obstacles so there is no room for 'Why Me?' You have a great attitude and I wish you the best with this trial.
20
Very moving. Thanks. I wish you all the best.
7
The thing about loss is that you are always comparing yours with those of others and constantly making the judgement (un- objectively) that yours is worse and act accordingly. It provides a powerful excuse to not be generous to others. I find myself doing that too. For instance, after reading this article, I am comparing my loneliness with others disabilities and health and weighing which is more tragic. Sometimes this lasts just a few moments, hours or days. I eventually come out of it, but the cycle starts anew depending on daily events.
It takes a lot of emotional wherewithal to live with loss, so it’s very important to indulge yourself with self care and building whatever sanctuaries you need and are within your means.
1
Dear Mr. Bruno,
Thank you for sharing you struggle. I so enjoy your op-eds and I always look for them. I turn 70 this week! I am an oncology nurse and have watched hundreds of patient’s come to grips with their diagnosis. One thing I’ve learned is our struggles can make us stronger, kinder and more empathetic. I’m happy to see you’ve mad the kinder and softer way.
37
What a beautiful comment and much appreciated during these times of harsh words.
4
Dear Mr. Bruno,
Thank you for sharing you struggle. I so enjoy your op-eds and I always look for them. I turn 70 this week! I am an oncology nurse and have watched hundreds of patient’s come to grips with their diagnosis. One thing I’ve learned is our struggles can make us stronger, kinder and more empathetic. I’m happy to see you’ve mad the kinder and softer way.
2
Mr. Bruni,
As is invariably the case, with your writing, this piece has inspired me, taught me, reminded me of what is important, and prompted me to feel and think. Thank you. I wish the best for you.
21
Mr. Bruni,
Thank you for sharing this with us. It is poignant and impactful. I have often said that until you experience something, you can't truly understand what it means.
I hope we can all take a step back an try to listen differently to each other so that we can understand and empathize. Everyone has a story and unique perspective. Each story is worth hearing whether we agree with it or not.
I love your work. Your perspective is always welcome and always makes me think about mine a bit more - especially if I don't agree!
Thank you!
10
I am so sorry for what you’re going through. And I truly appreciate your courage, both in your choices to pursue difficult unproven treatments and you decision to share your experience in this column.
My adult daughter also participated in a clinical trial, the outcome of which may not be clear for many years. She has also shown amazing strength in moving forward, as have you as demonstrated by this article. Thank you for sharing. Your positivity in the face of adversity will definitely help others.
11
We all have our own struggles, some harder, some easier. After my first joint replacement (hip) I had to inject myself every day in the stomach with a blood thinner for a week. It wasn't pleasant but I just did it because it had to be done. Yet I knew it was only a week, and only precautionary, not a "Well, we're HOPING this helps, some" which is the nature of clinical trials, especially when you don't know if your in the control group taking a placebo. It has to be very, very hard and I wish you all the best. As you said, you're on your last spare eye.
4
Thank you so very much for sharing this hidden part of yourself in such an uplifting and inspiring way, and thanks as well to all of the wonderful reader/responders who have done likewise. In doing so, Frank, you have turned your horrible disability into a blessing, as there are so many of us, myself included, who struggle daily with the unbearable loneliness of chronic illness. You show that you are a true North Star--point the way to how you have dealt with your own disability, and in doing so, keenly help all of us (readers who have responded, and those who have not) with your own wisdoms that you have gleaned in this daily struggle! You give us nuggets, gems to hold on to in this precarious struggle against the march of disability. Thank you so very much for writing. I have bookmarked your article so I can keep a "refresher course" going. May your good eye help you navigate all bends and curves in this life, and bring you much joy from here!!! All best.
9
The Serenity Prayer snippet acknowledges the great difficulty in recognizing the difference between the things one can change and those one can’t. That’s why it is a PRAYER that asks GOD for the WISDOM to recognize which is which, instead of being a straightforward how to manual. It sounds to me like you have gained that wisdom, Frank.
9
Thank you, Frank, for your openness, wisdom, humility and humanity. I always appreciate your honesty and your trust. Your columns are insightful and philosophical and powerful because they also resonate emotionally with readers.
I hope the eye condition improves. I am heartened by the fact that you have cultivated so many skillful and wise ways for handling adversity. You take a keen interest in your experiences -- even the painful ones-- and this allows you to detach yourself a little from the suffering and somber quality of agonizing experiences. You recognize the constantly changing quality of your experiences and are aware that we can constantly surprise ourselves by our ability to adapt to adversity. You take care to appreciate all the happy things in your life and, above all, you are very conscious of a shared humanity and of all the people who are facing adversity or will inevitably face adversity.
All of this is reflected in your columns. These columns show courage, openness and genuine and deep curiosity about the experiences of ordinary people. They also attest to your many rich, varied and worthwhile interests. I admire the vitality and exuberance with which you approach the world. Your readers are grateful for all this and we are rooting for you. Heartfelt wishes for an excellent recovery.
9
Thank you for sharing. That helped me get some perspective and humility on what I'm going through right now. Just what I needed to read this morning. Thx again
25
timing is everything, Mr. Bruni, and your op ed (of which I am a devoted and admiring fan) today is perfect. I am currently nursing yet another major broken limb as a result of years of severe osteoporosis. Short of being encased in bubble wrap 24/7 and unable to afford drugs that would help, I expect being ambulatory will eventually be difficult at best. However, while I have my moments, I too have learned to remind myself of what I can do, and what I still have. Thanks for today's article.
22
Mr. Bruni,
Like many Times writers, your work has become increasingly clearer, sharply focused but not demanding as s result of the Trump trauma we are all exposed to. I enjoy your work immensely. Your disclosure and discussion of the struggle with your vision as you stab, endure, and deciding to thrive is reminiscent of a struggle life gave me. After my first surgery for cancer, a nurse twice my age said, I have something to say to you - may I? Of course I agreed. She looked around and then lowered herself to me and face to face said, "Will this cancer make you better or bitter?" All of us have that choice. Like you, I knew there really was the one choice. Cancer is one of many good things in life that has happened to me.
21
Frank, your article has provided me with some much-needed perspective on this Sunday morning.
You are a wonderful writer, an exemplary human being, and a very strong one as well.
Thank you for all you do, and keep on keeping on...
-Guitar Man
48
Frank, I hear you in these columns and see you on TV, and admire your intelligent mind and nuanced word choice. Keep it up; I'd miss you. This article of adaptation and a change in perspective, inspired me.....to like you more.
7
I'm reminded of the age old childhood game, "Would you rather lose an arm or a leg?" No one really prefers to lose either but it's an interesting thought experiment. If you had to give up one, which would you choose? After long consideration, I've concluded insufficient information. Is it the left arm or the right arm?
Vision and hearing provide a similar sort of false choice. Would you rather be deaf or blind? I've often thought about that choice as I sat reading in fading light. How hard would it be to learn braille at my age? Maybe I should start now. Fortunately, I haven't gone blind yet but my vision is far from perfect. I find it useful to think about the worst case scenario.
Which reminds me, I recently had a new family member born. Apparently she failed her first hearing test in one ear. I thought about my friend who has worn hearing aids his entire life due to a genetic disorder. I thought about another friend who lost a good portion of his leg to childhood lymphoma. I thought, well, if bad hearing in one ear is the worst thing that happens. we're doing pretty alright. She ended up passing the second hearing test anyway. Good enough. I'll take it for what it's worth.
3
Frank, I have my own, relatively trivial, debilitations, particularly as I age, but your columns and emails fuel my resilience. Keep them up.
43
You are looking at the serenity prayer in a much too simple way. You do not have the ability to change your vision. However, you can have the hope that someone else has or will develop that ability. You are slowly developing the serenity that comes with this realization.
There are scientists out there who see obstacles as problems to solve. They have brought us the wheel and wedge as well as the more complicated machines that fly in the air and under the water. Machines that face-time and wash your clothes.
Let us hope that the troglodytes of the republican party do not turn the lights out on those scientists that have brought us this far.
23
A great number of us, perhaps the majority, come to this point sooner or later. The body deteriorates with age and finally wears out. For some the end is sudden. For the rest of us, it's a slow journey full of ever increasing compromises. I'm 75 now. I have had a heart attack and take the relevant medications, have cirrhosis, and also CLL (Chronic Lymphocytic Leukemia). Like an old car, we continue to deteriorate as we age and get more mileage. At some point, most of us have to face the fact that our body wasn't made to last forever. It's something we just have to learn to deal with.
19
I’m glad you shared what you’re going through. I’ve always admired you and your articles. This one is especially poignant. You have our support and our affection. Keep advancing, we are with you...
22
Occasionally we find ourselves in the illusion that we are standing on the edge of an abyss. We have lost something critical to our sense of self. In my case septic shock leading to significant loss of not only body parts but of my ability to do things critical to my sense of self. At that moment we can shrink back or step forward and in doing so we find not an abyss but a way. A way that is rich and meaningful.
34
Time is on his side. It sounds as if the optic nerve in his eye is paralyzed. It comes on suddenly and fortunately sometimes goes away as suddenly and stealthily as it came. I’m speaking from my experience with a palsied left diaphragm. One day I was doing my usual swim in Waikiki. The next day I couldn’t swim ten yards. I was eventually diagnosed with a rare disorder called Parsonage Turner Syndrome. Plication which involves pulling the dysfunctional hemi-diaphragm down and parking it inside the rib cage thus freeing up the nerve was considered but ultimately not done because my other signs were otherwise good. I’m glad I didn’t have it done because after two years the nerve suddenly came back on it’s own . I don’t know if the same can happen with the optic nerve, but I think the best treatment is no treatment.
3
A powerful column whose calm expression of courage reminds us of the capacity of the human spirit to transcend the physical limitations of the body. My father suffered from a different ailment, severe headaches worse than migraines, and he permitted doctors to experiment on him in search of a cure. He endured treatments that involved drilling a hole at the back of skull, among other tortures, but nothing worked.
Through decades of suffering, he worked as a highly skilled professional and helped to raise a family. He rarely complained openly, and in fact, many people doubted his condition, so effective was the facade of normality that he maintained. He and my mother, who vicariously shared his pain as she cared for him, provided examples of quiet courage that I appreciated only many years later.
You and they exemplify the truth of the claim that, while we cannot control what nature throws at us, we can determine our reaction to such evils.
54
Your plight pains me. As a retired biomedical research scientist, I would like you to know that there are many dedicated researchers who would be willing to help. But citizens of this great country spend more money on packaged cookies than our nation spends on biomedical research. Toward the end of my career, I noticed that fewer and fewer American youths were entering the basic biomedical sciences, and that many of my younger colleagues were not receiving NIH funding despite their strong research potential solely because NIH funding is too low. As stated by Dr. Blackburn, winner of the 2009 Nobel Prize in Physiology or Medicine, when comparing spending on the military versus the NIH by our current administration, “When did we start to value killing over living?” (Time, April 13, 2017). We need to re-evaluate our priorities.
355
I am so sorry you are going through this. Best wishes as you continue to navigate it.
18
You have always had the gift of drawing us in. Thank you for sharing your story.
30
Find joy abiding in all things. As the Buddhists say, pain is inevitable in life; suffering is optional. Namaste.
15
Thank you for your thoughtful column. Recently, my two remaining siblings, older than I, passed away, my sister from a stroke and its after effects, and my brother from Parkinson's and a MRSA infection. It was difficult to watch them die, powerless to keep them alive, and I returned to that Serenity Prayer often. I never took the prayer to mean that serenity, courage, and wisdom had objective borders. The borders for me are spiritual, out of my objective realm, calling for a search within to find help for a way to cope.
When years ago I sought help for my alcoholism, I sat through many a painful meeting listening to others tell their stories--what it was like, what happened, and what it's like now. I cried and laughed along with the others in those rooms, squeezed a shoulder, felt a pat on my back as the meeting progressed, and then at the end we all rose, joined hands, and said that prayer. It was spiritual, I felt so hopeless and powerless, and those words gave me comfort and a new take on dealing with what was ahead of me. May I say to me it sounds as if that is what you've experienced, only perhaps you process it in a different way. This is why we gather together and share with one another. Thank you for sharing.
38
Mr. Bruni, I, and I suspect many others as well, had no idea of your vision problems. Perhaps because of your extraordinary ability to have such positive vision of the world which you send to us in your writings.
I thank you for your visionary outlook on live, and for all the inspiration you give to us older dodderheads who seemingly complain about our situation almost daily.
You are a treasure -- may you send us your views of the world for many years to come. Thank you!!
48
My husband and I have been stabbing our son every night for over two years. My son didn’t want us to, but we convinced him it was in his best interest.
I resonated with Frank’s take on the serenity poem. When are treatments justified risks, justified suffering? I’ve been asking those questions about medical interventions for my son for the last 17 years. He was born with a major medical condition that has a lot of other smaller issues associated with it. I always make the best decision I *think* I can, but who can quantify suffering and benefit until after a treatment has finished? Now that my son is older, he has a say in his healthcare, but is not necessarily mature enough to make the best decision for himself. So, I have to convince him to take on suffering that I think is justified, but can’t be sure about.
My son has learned to take those shots, the ones he never thought he could take, like a pro. Getting them is part of his identity now, like Frank’s shots. In the end, will my son’s life be better off and easier with a few more inches of height? I’m banking on it. His life is so hard already. But there is always a modicum of doubt. In the end, my son will get to decide on whether the treatment I asked him to undergo was justified or not, not me.
Good luck, Frank! We are rooting for you!
28
Compassion ..we should all strive to be more compassionate.
29
Let me be informal and call you Frank. As that is what you are; frank, clear, wise, insightful, and what I look forward to weekly. I am glad you are well now and can see; both politically and eye wise. I savour your writings.
85
"This wasn’t as clear to me before, and I found myself thinking less about blindness in my future and more about the blindness in my past."
Good stuff this Mr. Bruni. Godspeed.
222
Frank. Truly touching and inspiring. A parallel exists, I believe, between physical and economic maladies. Both affect the quality of life. And i think can be handled similarly. With courage and fortitude.
14
As always, Frank is thoughtful and intelligent whenever he writes. Thanks for actually being reflective and meaningful that is in short supply these days.
36
"Was blind, but now I see" is how the great spiritual Amazing Grace concludes. The jazz musician Quincy Jones put it another way when he said this: "When you wake up in the morning and are lying on your back, before you open your eyes flex your elbows outward. If they don't hit wood, it's a good day". Thank you, Frank, for helping us keep our perspective.
77
@David Forster
Love it!
8
I did some work with a zen master from Tanzania (how about that?). I learned later that he was diagnosed with prostate cancer. He wrote about it, saying that getting that diagnosis was like moving to another country, with its customs, language, rules, citizens--the whole thing. It was simply moving to a new place, and getting used to living there.
32
Really appreciated this column. I lost vision in my right eye due to a spontaneous bleed during cataract surgery ( nobody at fault!). Pouring coffee down a sleeve, wine on the counter and other problems with depth perception have taught me to slow down and think first. And of all things, a little Honda Fit with a camera on its right side mirror gives back my right-eye’s vision. Bless you and your good eye. May you both function for years.
50
Mr. Bruni,
I feel awful for what you are going through . . . But I must tell you, your articles the last few years have been fantastic. Your insight, grace and humanity have shined bright even as your vision has dimmed.
I hope and pray that you and all those afflicted with debilitating diseases get well.
Thank you for the reminder to be grateful for what we have.
69
Thank you, Frank Bruni, for your eloquent view of eye disease and its attendant consequential treatments. I'm in danger of losing my eyesight if I don't daily put my drops into my eyes. Until reading your column this morning, I was a terrible patient and my self-care was dismal. Thank you for shining a bright light into my future if I don't get with my program!!
19
Thanks for this column, and best of luck to you. I had a scary bout of optic neuritis at age 38. It resolved without treatment about a week later; but more symptoms led to a diagnosis of MS the following spring. I do not have the progressive type, fortunately, although I’m acutely aware that my MS could become progressive at any time. After 20 years I’m mostly fine. Like you, I waste little time feeling sorry for myself. So many others have it so much worse. My MIL died of ALS in 1994, and a good friend will die from ALS soon, probably before Christmas. The key is to be realistic about your limitations while trying to live a life without regrets. And to remember that, everybody got their somethin’.
34
Public spaces are where we can be forced to get a sense of humanity and reject the insulation of the artifice of home.
Hospitals, airports, buses, prisons, shelters, camps.
Getting to know the other is getting to know yourself. And both are mysteries that can enlighten and reveal the vulnerability of being sentient beings.
26
I always look forward to your column; this one hit home and was much needed this morning. Thank you for sharing your story, and best of luck to you.
31
I respect Frank Bruni’s own view about his own life, but why is it virtually the only sort of view we see in the present-day media about illness and disability? People who think their illnesses or disabilities are just plain bad and that none of the changes are positive are apt to be feeling as pressured and beleaguered nowadays as women who didn’t want to be housewives felt six decades ago. Let’s not forget that respect for diversity includes respect for diverse outlooks, including the outlook of those who rage against the dying of their health.
16
@FNA I’m glad to hear this point of view. I suspect there are more people holding it than you realize, but they probably aren’t posting their comments. Sometimes what we label “feeling sorry for ourselves” is actually depression — a perfectly legitimate response to disability.
2
@FNA The fork that Frank Bruni refers to can be a very clear choice, and I also have chosen the strong, take a hard look path he has.
Except when I haven't! So today it was good to read this column and all the wonderful comments of people mostly choosing to be strong, but to see, too, that we all are subject to a little backsliding. On a day with more than a touch of self pity, this column was just the ticket. Getting back on track is the best medicine!
1
How refreshing this was. Not that you have experienced blindness, or that so many of us are dealing with chronic health issues.
But that many of us-red or blue-are often walking a tough road. Our bodies fail us all in annoying and terrifying ways and empathy and kindness go a long way.
13
I have known patients dying of cancer who said the disease was the best thing that happened to them because it allowed them to make each day count and to jettison all the useless baggage they had accumulated in life.
I have also personally drunk from this stream after childhood polio left one leg mostly paralyzed. The heights I have reached, while often harder than some others, have been even more wondrous for the extra effort to get there. The possibility of post-polio syndrome with a return to former disability lurks like your 20% risk of blindness, Mr. Bruni. But meaningful life goes on right until the end.
31
Thank you for sharing your story. Best of luck to you.
15
You are experiencing many different new things undoubtedly.
Many people, myself included, experiences these same types of reactions, when fully understanding compassion/metta/loving kindness.
One have perhaps read or heard about this concept, but truly understanding it like you now may have, sometimes requires an event or act that opens us up to that understanding.
3
Thank you Frank for sharing your warmth and wisdom.
17
Thanks for the column. Disease, injuries, and normal physical decline might undermine our sense of who we are and even temporarily damage our self-esteem, but eventually, somehow, we adapt. We keep going forward. It seems to me that as long as we have the capacity to be kind and compassionate we hold on to our humanity, even in tough times.
17
My father had a stroke of his optic nerve while sleeping and lost all vision in his eye. The first doc who saw him wanted to know if he had any pain. Nope. He had slept through the night just woke up unable to see with his left eye. Simple as that. He was sad about it for a while and then carried on as if nothing had happened except he wore safety glasses a lot more often and he never again drove at night. When he developed a cataract in his right eye the sadness came back as he prepared to possibly become blind. Then he bravely had the surgery, which went well, and carried on with being his happy, self-confident, generous self right to the end of his beautifully long life. Most never knew his loss but for those of us who did he set a fine example of carry on as does Mr. Bruni.
70
Frank, the title of your column caught my attention but I had no idea we shared the same disorder. Last year I noticed a reduction in the peripheral vision of my left eye. I still could see but less well. Oddly, I assumed it was my failing cataract and made an appointment with my doctor in a month. I recall the ashen look on his face when he did his examination and the flurry of tests looking at patterns of dots and camera shots of my optic nerve. Then the fear that some major systemic disorder had caused the damage and more invasive tests. What a terrifying time.
Now, I've adjusted to the change in my vision and try not to think of it with greater or lesser success depending on the situation.
Thank you for sharing your experience and your inspiring attitude for coping with the uncertainty. It's strangely reassuring to know of someone else who's experienced this.
35
My then 5 month old daughter was diagnosed with cancer in 1992. Going to see the pediatric oncologist, one would think, would be an exercise in self-pity. Au contraire. Seeing the other kids and parents made me realize how blessed we were— a good prognosis; a kid who would never remember the treatment; a relatively easy regimen- all out-patient rather than in the hospital; geographic ease (some people came from 4 hours away, whereas we were at the hospital at which I worked); and resources, personal and financial, that most others did not have. Although seeing the picture of bald kid Charlie Brown everywhere was incredibly frightening, we soon realized how fortunate we were.
BTW, our daughter is now a physician and in fine health. Best of luck to you, Frank.
92
Dear Mr. Bruni,
Thank you for sharing your experience and strength. I am not stabbing myself, but I have started a terrifying medication in order to,hopefully, stave off the return of my cancer. A high likelihood of recurrence has led me to try this potentially lethal medicine. Existential musings about living at all versus the quality of my life have filled my days with tears and sometimes resolve. I have gotten to know myself and my values much more clearly.
So - self-knowledge and my own stab in the dark is what I am gaining if I have a good quality of life.
Not that a terrible sickness is ever worth it.
19
Thank you. Intuition, not objectivity, is at work in your wonderful
piece, and it shines 100 %, with a warm light.
4
This past year, I underwent radiation treatment for throat cancer, lost my sister and then had open heart surgery to treat an thoracic aortic aneurysm. I’ve witnessed close loved ones go through terrible and terminal illnesses and handle them with beautiful grace. I’ve done my best to emulate their examples. You’re handling yours with grace too. I feel for you brother.
52
@Mark Cutler I developed painful neuropathy out of the blue, I don’t have diabetes. I used to be an avid walker, lived to walk. No more. I used to be a dancer who won a competition , no more dancing. I used to feel sorry for myself, no more. I am still me, loving books, good movies on my IPad, I write , listen to music watch swans on the lake, feed the deer some bread, see my family, life does go on. Be strong.
49
@Esther Whitmore intense active massage to break up the lumps and cbd/thc topical cream has helped my wife to walk pain free again, even run.
5
@Esther
Feeling sorry for myself isn’t an option. Onward and upward my friend!
3
A powerful reminder for many of us, including those of us who constantly whine about the miserable state of state affairs, who need to know that we can, with effort, choose our attitude, if not our external (or often internal) conditions. Thank you.
30
Your conversation with the top school official made me smile, recalling the many dinners of recent years in which we (guests or hosts of a certain age) would immediately launch into status reports about the health travails we each endure. Among my friends, this is called "the organ recital." The young at table roll their eyes. With luck, they will get there.
27
Thank you for the right-on words of wisdom and I wish you well.
I too have stabbed myself way more than 52 times with weekly doses of Humira as part of modern medicine’s best alternative solution to keep my Crohn’s Disease under control. And as you have experienced personally, my wife recently had a similar optic nerve “infarction” and is currently literally receiving an injection in the eyeball every 3rd week!
As a species we have become very self-absorbed for a variety of reasons which I will not attempt to discuss here. But the reality is that life goes on until it no longer does. And while we may think we can somehow ward off that reality, it is still a reality.
No pun or disrespect intended, but until each of us opens our eyes and our minds and emotions to the plight of others, there is little hope for our species being more than just a blip on the evolutionary path of this planet.
Empathy is not just another word for caring. It is an action and it does add a positive to the life of others and to ourselves by helping each of us to know that we are not all that different from each other - we live until we die.
56
Very well put. Alternatively, you can, as my mother says (she has severe congestive heart failure, at the age of 88), learn how to “play the hand you’ve been dealt”, which she does, with infinite grace, every day. Sure, she has bad days, but so do we all. And I know her good days far outnumber the bad ones. I admire both of you for handling life-changing diagnoses with grace and continuing joy. Life really and truly is what YOU make it!
17
What a lovely piece. It brings to mind my Dad when he was going through treatment for colon cancer. He was not diagnosed until it was Stage 4 and I remember him telling me he was not doing so well but he was much better than the a fellow patient who was younger and had to figure out how to work full time while being treated. He had my Mom and all of the kids supporting him, hoping for him and pulling for him. It is all about perspective and understanding that even though one’s own situation may just stink, there’s still a lot to be grateful for and one can be very lucky in adversity.
18
I feel for you Frank. I have had very little sight - less than ten percent -,in my right eye since birth and two surgeries as a child were unsuccessful. I joke I am left eyed as well as left handed. And I am more conscious as I get older that I am reliant on my one ‘good’ eye. There may well be solutions out there for you but if you have to you will adapt. I’ve had a long time to do that and I realise it’s difficult to do it quickly, and when you are older, but it’ll happen. Without sounding holier than thou, I am also grateful that I have had my sight as long as I have, though I hope I have it a whole lot longer! All the best.
19
Good Luck Frank. I've always consider people to be super hero's who fight these kinds of health issues.
8
It’s a pleasure to read a newspaper column and come away with a simple but enduring truth. An essay built on experience and written with clarity and wit: Thank you, Mr. Bruni.
57
I have the same eye affliction as you. November 9th will be a year.
I lost 60 percent of my vision in my right eye and changes of light still bother me. But although I spent the first six months struggling ( silver fog and lack of poriferal vision) I’m doing much better now. My brain has recalculated to a great degree. I choose not to worry about the other eye and am committed to trying highway driving again soon in my sensor equipped car.
Because I’ve been plagued by serious and debilitating Illness for the past several years (unrelated to my eye) which has turned my life upside down, I could cope with this vision loss much better than I believe I would have had I not.
Poor health stinks. Struggling stinks. Lack of compassion for the suffering of others also stinks. I have greater compassion for myself and others as a result of my health challenges. There’s no end of suffering in this world.
I thank my lucky stars that I have heath insurance and hope like mad that in the near future that universal heath care will be the norm.
Frank, enjoy those runs with your dog, savor the rest of your good health that allows you to lead a productive and fulfilling life and savor the empathy that you’ve developed.
Maybe one day I’ll run into you in Prospect Park and we can compare notes.
49
@Lisa: I hope you and Frank have the opportunity to help one another up--even if you don't have the misfortune of knocking each other down. Best of luck to everyone.
5
Thanks for your observations, Frank. Even though I don't envy you your plight, isn't it great when we discover things about ourselves we didn't previously recognize? And you're right, of course -- there is always someone who's worse off than we are if we're looking hard enough.
15
When I was having radiation treatment the waiting room was the first door off the elevator, the next one down was for pediatric radiation. Quite often families would come in the first door by mistake. I could only think how lucky I was not to be going through that with my child. Thank you Frank and all the best to you and yours.
24
Thanks, I needed that. Been feeling sorry for myself because of encroaching age-related impairments, and you gave me some perspective - as you often do. Thanks.
140
Beautifully written! You capture the adversity and flip it around. There are so many people dealing with so many life altering issues. You provide a method.
As a nurse educator working with individuals with various types of medications for rare diseases, you have captured the struggles as well as provided a pathway. On a professional note- in many cases injection training is available and that makes that specific often stressful activity more tolerable. Ask about it.
Thank you again for inspiring so many ! Your vision is very clear to your readers.
31
after the lacerating ordeal of pushing through mostly agonizingly depressing news every day, it's a gift to come upon an honest struggle that brings some uplift. thank you.
92
@tom post good words always give us hope.
6
As a disabled health care worker, I see so many people that are far worse off than I am. I deal with pain every day, my own and my patients. Then I look at the NYT photographs of people suffering in the war torn regions of the world, with burns, wounds, no homes, no family, no life as we know it, and I thank God that I am alive and living in America. As bad as my life gets, it could be so much worse.
54
Beautifully written, Mr. Bruni. What a timely reminder for all of us of the power of compassion and grace.
59
Frank, I have read most of your Op-Ed columns and also your restaurant reviews. I also enjoyed your books including the stories of your childhood. You are undoubtedly one of the most erudite writers of our times. I’m so very sorry to hear about your eye problems. I wish you all the best for a complete recovery.
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There is that fork in the road - that decision to make when we are faced with a life threat, a scary diagnosis or something similar.
The only thing in life we have any control over is our attitude. That statement does not diminish the pain and suffering that accompanies these situations. But it does address a choice to be made. Do we wallow in self pity or do we find the perspectives and appreciations that our friend Frank has discovered?
I am married to one who has experienced the journey of cancer, surgery, chemo, radiation and then pills to "protect". The impact - physically - has been enormous. But she is still here and and she provides me with an example of how to live life in the manner that Frank has embraced. Kudos to you both.
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The setback with your eye may have sharpened your vision.
I remember joking with friends about how disabilities and diseases regularly draw sympathy, but nobody ever truly understands plight until they lose their hair. I used to have such a wonderful hairline.
Three years ago my daughter was diagnosed with lupus. Not quite two years ago she spent two months in the hospital. I am certain she would’ve died without wonderful medical treatment.
I don’t think there is anything more valuable than perspective. While it is generally accepted that having two eyes allows people to have visual perspective, you have been graced with humanity perspective.
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Thank you, Mr. Bruni, for a more-perfect vision by far than those who get way-more space in this, or any, medium. Bless you, and with best wishes.
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I was well over fifty when I began to take a mentor’s suggestion that I try to be a better listener. Then, the same person had the gall to suggest that I drop a mid-placed self-reliance in favor of taking advantage of the wisdom and experience of those around me. Better late than never.
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Epictetus, Seneca, and Marcus Aurelius understood all of this more than two thousand years ago. They are worth reading.
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As a nurse, seriously I have not heard diabetics injecting their insulin say they were “stabbing” but whatever nomenclature, I guess, is acceptable.
My grandson was born blind in one eye. Nothing could be done. There were trials of various treatment plans, but nothing worked. Yet he crawled just like other babies. drew pictures like other kids, learned the trombone with the rest of the jr. high band, plays basketball like his team mates.
I have never, ever heard him complain, ever. I always have wondered why. It has to get in his way somehow, more often than we could know. He wore a patch for awhile, one of the trials. But for him, throw the trials away, just let him go on how he has learned to do since infancy.
A friend of mine’s son was born with a defective ear, undeveloped. After many complex surgeries, he said “I want my little ear back” and the surgically reconstructed tissue was removed and he got an artificial one. He was finally happy once again.
There is so much wonder in this world, isn’t there? Maybe disability in some ways, lets us remind ourselves we are vulnerable. We’re not perfect, nothing will keep us or make us perfect.
But our heart and soul can try. That is the challenge, how we perceive it, deal with it, live with it. And it gives us greater perception who we are, what we do, who we can be.
We can really be great of heart if we want, even if we sometimes have to “stab” ourselves in one way or another or maybe not, too.
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I hope that you find out at some point that you were in the placebo half of the study and that the treatment helped those study participants who actually received. Hope that it works well enough that it might eventually help you.
Meanwhile thank you for sharing about spinning challenging changes as positive. I try to do that with my fairly severe balance disorder, shakey hands and bad back. I have had to get a lot better at asking for and accepting help, among other things.
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Thank you for writing about your personal journey. You brought back memories of about a year in my life when I confronted a series of unrelated health issues that put me temporarily in a wheel chair and in excruciating pain for several months. I have not been the same after that period of crisis. Hard to define, but I am more aware of the limitations of doctors, the dangerous side effects of medications and the fragility of our bodies. I avoid medications if possible rather than running to the drug store for minor health issues and try to savor each and every moment of pain-free living. I would not say that suffering has made me a more perceptive, accepting person or more noble, it has simply changed me and I accept that.
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Hi Frank. I read and watch you on CNN. I was told as a child that I would be blind by the age of 40. Well, I’m 57 and losing my hearing due to inner ear disease—but my sister taught ASL (for sign language interpreters in training) at a college for 43 years and I sign okay. Most of my deaf friends I have no problem communicating with. I never stewed in thinking about my vision or my hearing. I felt like I could handle it from early onset. Your adaptation will only benefit you as it has me. Best regards, pj
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Thank you for the most intelligent and insightful article I have read anywhere in a long time! You have shown a refreshing honesty and vulnerability that are, unfortunately, so absent from most communications in this fractured time. I have always enjoyed your writing . Thank you for this welcome glimpse into the person behind it. You have given all your readers much to think about as we approach the Thanksgiving season. Thank you and all the best to you.
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Frank, I just read your piece and said to myself “he knocked another one out of the park!” And then I texted it to a lot of family members and friends. The wisdom you share comes from experiencing the hardships in life. Your ability to focus on the good and positive is truly a gift. I am rooting for you, Frank!
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Ah yes, when sickness strikes, or any other form of physical or emotional impairment, we finally understand what to be human is about.
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So sorry to hear that your vision problems have not been resolved. For someone who needs good vision to read and write as part of his job, this must be devastating.
Good luck on being accepted into this trial. I
hope it works.
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I'm glad you learned what you did. But I wonder if you realize how lucky you are that you can afford the care you presently require. There are many Americans out there with far less serious conditions which may progress to being very serious who cannot afford a simple visit for a check up to see how they are doing.
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@hen3ry
That's very true. There are also some conditions, like diabetes, which, if not kept under control, can lead to vision loss and other grave conditions. Maintenance medications and regular Doctor visits can make all the difference with how someone fares - but that's contingent on having health insurance.
Thanks for what you wrote. Take care.
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@NM I think of illnesses like diabetes, various thyroid problems, and hypertension each time I write a comment about our current wealth care system. Good health and access to health care when and where one needs it should not be a "privilege". It ought to be a guaranteed right in today's world.
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“Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle”
—Plato
You just may not know what the battle is.
Thanks for another thoughtful and encouraging essay.
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@JG didn’t bob dylan’s grandmother say that first?
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I also do my own weekly subcutaneous injections in my stomach or thigh, but for a different reason- I’m transgender and on testosterone. I’ve been doing weekly injections for 2 years now, and probably will continue for the rest of my life. There are other forms of testosterone (gel, patches, etc) but they’re too expensive for me to afford. It takes a while to get used to, but eventually it becomes part of the new normal for you.
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Assume you have good health insurance, other benefits and a pension? Do you realize how many of your fellow Americans don't have these things? And its increasing.
Please, write about the importance of some version of universal health coverage for all citizens. We're the only developed nation without it.
I've always enjoyed your columns, and though the title of this one threw me a bit, I'm glad you qualified for the study and hope it helps you and others!
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Frank, you have a multitude of Readers that care deeply about you, like a little Brother. Your odds are good. But even if the worst happens, you have an Ace up your sleeve : You See with your Heart. My sincere best wishes, little brother.
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We may disagree on many things but on this we are sisters
Thank you for sharing the care of our brother.
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@Phyliss Dalmatian
What a beautiful comment! Thank you Phyllis.
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I'm moved by your writing, Frank. Your expanded awareness of those in your orbit will make you an even better writer. Your readers will be the beneficiaries. Thank you for writing about your most personal experiences.
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Dear Frank,
In 2003, my wife lost vision in the lower right quadrant following a series of undiscovered strokes. She needed two major surgeries on the left and right sides of her brain.
The vision hasn’t returned, and it took her ten years to get her driving license back. I admire her like I admire no one in this world.
We read your piece together, and it brought tears to our eyes. And, a tremendous surge of admiration for you. You inspire us with your courage.
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The Serenity Prayer is powerful especially as it continues: living one day at a time, enjoying one moment at a time, accepting hardship as a way to peace, taking as Jesus did, this sinful world as it is, not as I would have it. The prayer is very hard to live and profound alway. I wish you good fortune on your physical and spiritual journey.
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I have been very lucky in my life, having had few painful episodes, but I am very afraid of pain one day in the future. In spite of this beautiful essay, I'm not sure I have what it takes. I marvel at what I see many people endure, just maneuvering around the streets of New York, while I'm able to zip by - and I feel fear. I'd like to be able to take the focus off myself and fear, and to a better place, as you have. Thank you for this, and I wish you well.
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@DLP
Wishing you the best and the courage to make your life great. Your Attitude is what needs changing, You can do this when you start getting in a bad place by just thinking of a great song like John Denver's "Sunshine". Inspire yourself to be happy. Find the joy that a bird has in flight, by seeing a different perspective of his world.
Fear be gone.
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@DLP you do have what it takes. I am living with a painful chronic illness and if someone told me I would be able to endure it I would have said, I don’t think so. What I have found is that you do what you have to do. There’s nothing special about me or anyone else who lives with a chronic illness and/or constant pain. You do what you have to do and if you’re lucky you learn and grow from it.
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For the past five months I have been dealing with surgeries and pain and medication with bad side effects. This has definitely opened my eyes to how I used to take for granted my good health. The emotional toll on me has been enormous and now I not only can empathize better when someone describes their physical pain but I understand depression way better than I ever had before.
Maybe one day I will no longer be in pain. Until then, I am taking it one minute, hour or day at a time.
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Experiencing grief may have the same effect. It's too bad that so often these hard lessons are what it takes to awaken our compassion.
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Mr. Bruno, thank you for your (ironically) clear-eyed view of suffering, it’s many complexities and the perspective on how best to deal with it. I wish you the best outcome but feel certain you will find your way regardless.
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Dear Frank,
Your words and your thoughts have left me speechless. All I can do is second (and third, and fourth and fifth), every other commenter on your poignantly inspirational article.
Oh, yes, and also reread it countless times while sharing it with everyone I know.
Thank you so much.
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Thank you Mr. Bruni for sharing your personal struggles in this column. I know your writing will be an inspiration to others dealing with medical adversities. The older we all get the more fragile life becomes. You stated so well what I believe is a major life lesson. The only thing we truly have control over is our attitude. Wishing you all the best and keep those excellent Op Ed’s coming.
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Frank, thank you for leading off with the serenity prayer and why it always struck you as pap until you were forced to discover its true meaning.
And yes, we are adaptive, but only when forced to adapt. As I walk through life, I quickly discern which people I meet have been forced to do so, and if so, how successfully.
I wish you hadn't had to stab yourself, but I'm pretty sure you'd be stabbing yourself metaphorically years from now if you hadn't tried.
Developing perspective is one of the hardest things one can do, and some days are harder than other. But it sounds as if you realize your situation has given you a gift--the art of appreciating what you have, and not pining for what you don't.
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Having found out in my 40's that I was a Diabetic 2 later updated to a diabetic 1 some 16 years later. I have learned to listen more to others. Thanks for the column. It reminded me of what really is important: sharing the joys and sorrows of life and listening more intensely.
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My father's vision was lost to macular degeneration, sight reduced bit by but, eye by eye, until all that remained was shadows, and even those were more holes than images.
I cannot emphasize enough how much this condition detracted from his quality of life.
Dad always perked up when he heard about potential treatments; sadly, he never qualified. I just need a glimmer of hope, he would say.
You are doing the right thing, Mr. Bruni, to do everything for that glimmer of hope. I will hope and pray that it works, but you deserve every effort to save your vision.
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My father went through the same disease path losing his eye sight. At 80 yrs old he was still able to read his computer via technology enlarging the print. He adapted best he could and said if this is the 'worst' then he's still had a very good life. Attitude matters !
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@NM My dear mom was also being treated for MDD. I would weep in private when I witnessed the discomfort and physical pain of the treatment she endured. But at the age of 94, before she lost her sight, she passed on from a fatal heart attack. Not a day goes by that I don’t miss her and Dad, too.
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Rooting for you, Frank.
Thank you for you. Your thoughts and ideas and writing make this world a better place.
Ray
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Thank you, Frank Bruni! Your observations and experiences have jerked me back to a place I should never have left. I've had recurrent tumors in my bladder for 17 1/2 years. I'm alive after somewhat more than 52 cystoscopies. You have reminded me of how facing mortality can be liberating and can lead to personal growth through compassion and empathy. Thank you, again.
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Your words are very inspiring even as I feel so terrible that you have to deal with this disease! You are an inspiring columnist always and I read your words with great interest and satisfaction. I have also attended some wonderful talks that you have given.
I have several areas of chronic pain physically but manage to have a very full life at 78. But you have given me the gift of a new perspective and encouragement for those darker days when the pain makes starting the day very unappealing! I wish that your vision can be restored, that the clinical trial will be successful and that your many strengths will continue to guide you along the road that turns sunny at every corner.Thank you for sharing this part of yourself.
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Thanks for sharing Frank.
While sometimes it’s no consolation to know “there are others worse off than I am” what you wrote is a good lesson for all kinds of struggles that people deal with and how by changing your perspective and looking at life in a different way you can not only survive but thrive.
Best of luck with the clinical trials!
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Thank you, Mr. Bruni, for this exceptionally personal and thoughtful piece. I'm assuming that you DO have medical insurance that covers all or at least a great many of your medical needs. Unhappily, so many of our fellow citizens have to endure difficulties as severe as yours and, at the same time, have to spend themselves into bankruptcy in order to take care of those difficulties. In no other industrialized country are such problems (medical plus financial) compounded as they are for so many here. And yet when a leader of one of our two main political parties displays a simulacrum of empathy for those who have to contend with such difficulties you can be sure it's a consequence of the fact that one of their own family members has been directly victimized. Be well, Mr. Bruni, and pray for America. The health of our nation is very much at stake.
comment submitted 11/2 at 3:54 PM
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GuanYin, the Goddess of Compassion
, teaches one needs to understand and embrace our sufferings in order to find true insights and joy. Wishing you the clearest and brightest path forward.
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