I remember competing in a soccer game when I was seventeen. After running one length of the field, I knew something was wrong. “Right leg, left leg, right leg, left leg,” I thought to myself, trying to will one foot in front of the other, but my legs were like dead weights attached to my body, as if the strings connecting my muscles to my brain had lost their elasticity.
Soon after, I was diagnosed with Graves disease. For seven years, I lived with the side effects of the condition, and there were many. My short term memory was faulty. I can vividly recall a trip to the grocery store with my mother.
Facebook
Google