Columns

Living with myasthenia gravis (MG) means constantly adjusting to a body that doesn’t always cooperate, and the people around me often want to help but don’t know how. Sometimes it turns into hovering, second‑guessing, or trying to fix things that aren’t fixable. Other times, people stay silent because they…

Everything began when I was 12 years old, still in school, and suddenly started seeing double. I didn’t understand what was happening, and it scared me. After school, I told my parents, who immediately took me to our general practitioner (GP) and arranged a visit with an optometrist. Both the…

People think myasthenia gravis (MG) is about symptoms you can point to, but the truth is, most of it happens under the surface. I move through every day doing quiet calculations that no one else notices, and those calculations shape everything from how long I stand to whether I…

On Memorial Day, my sister posted a photograph on Facebook that made me stop and think. There was my father, a World War II Navy veteran, standing in front of our town’s monument to all those who served in the military. He stood straight, with the assistance of a cane,…

When I was diagnosed with myasthenia gravis (MG), I believed I understood it. My father had lived with it, and from a distance, his struggle seemed manageable. But MG has a way of exposing illusions. It teaches, often brutally, the difference between what appears strong and what actually endures.

I didn’t become an advocate because I wanted to. I became one because the alternative was letting other people decide what happened to my body, my career, and my future. The first time I realized that, I was still in my Army uniform, sick and scared. When I struggled…

I think I’ve been looking for ways to save or help my twin brother, Aaron, for years now. I’ve come to this realization before, when someone mentioned to me that I might have survivor’s guilt because Aaron developed myasthenia gravis (MG) at a young age, and I did not. Recently,…

Writing this column is the best job I’ve ever had. It gives me the chance to cry my heart out every week about a situation that nobody around me truly understands. I can have a peaceful exchange with complete strangers about a chronic problem we have in common: myasthenia…

I’m sitting in an infusion chair with saline slowly dripping into my veins after getting a dose of iron, and all I can think is that I spent a full year blaming myasthenia gravis (MG) for this level of exhaustion. For an entire year, I dragged myself through days…