I think I am suffering from RWB. The disease is so new that they haven't named it yet. other than to apply a few random initials (signifying nothing in particular at this point). In fact, so new is my disease that it has yet to develop any identifying symptoms. But they're out there somewhere, believe you me.
Is the disease fatal? Dunno. Is there a cure? Dunno. Will I be able to continue living a full and happy life, to climb mountains, to sky dive, to have grandchildren while I'm apparently yet too young to make it realistically possible? Most likely. Although frankly that doesn't do much for me in the way of consolation.
Yes, I am inconsolable--and I don't know if that is a symptom (the first) of the ailment, or merely a reaction to the same. Where does the illness end and what is merely ill temper begin?
Although it may seem a bit hasty of me, given the lack of knowledge concerning RWB (both general knowledge and any other sort of knowledge there might be), I have determined to start a foundation in my own name, being after all both the first to suffer and the first to speak out. In doing so, I hope not only to collect funds for research and treatment (and other peripheral expenditures, see small print below), but to encourage others, those who silently endure, to come forth, to own their disorder, and to buy a tee-shirt or a hat or both.
How does it feel to be stricken by an unknown source, to struggle with an unnamed bodily system gone bad--to endure, at least in potential, every unspecified pain known to man? To suffer, perchance to die, from God knows what?
Well it don't feel good, I can tell you that much.
MS used to be enough for me, but no more, no more. It is, for one thing, at least one letter short, and we all know that tragedy comes in 3's. Why stop at MS? Does anyone honestly imagine that he will get off that easy? No, the very notion is a delusion. But batten down the hatches, folks, make fast the gates, gird thy loins, for there is much, much more to come (although, on a happy note, this proves eventually no more than is required).
RWB is the cutting edge, bound to be as rampant in our century as consumption was in Frederick Chopin's time. And I'm getting on the wagon now, while there's still room to breathe,
Oh Brave new world. Oh brand new disease. Get yours while supplies last.
[the small print: all funds gathered, collected, stolen, or otherwise extorted under the auspices of the RWB foundation for the cure of Christ knows what will be wholly subject to the whim of the founder and utilized in whatever way is seen to be fit by the same, who will remain, in addition, perfectly irresponsible and unimpeachable)