Autoimmune disease is like a lion lurking in the shadows. It waits for the right moment to strike, such as an unusually stressful season. All at once it pounces, ravaging its helpless victim, leaving her with painful joints, blistered skin, weakened muscles or battered internal organs. She is a mere fragment of her former self.
If you live with an autoimmune disease you know what I mean. It attacks you while you’re cramming for college exams. When you’re going through a divorce. When you’ve given birth and your body is run down from lack of sleep. It starts off small. But one day you look at your “new” self in the mirror. And you cry. You didn’t ask for this.