I chose multiple sclerosis, a friend told me recently. She meant it as a compliment of sorts, in that old souls get their next life's fate from the crappiest box. The powers-that-be said to my former incarnation: Pick your challenge for the next round. Good ol' yester-me dug around and pulled out MS.
I regret the choice some days. MS, however, takes its sweet time in doing to the human body and soul what it aims to. So I have days when I know I could have made a poorer pick.
And I have moments when I am strangely proud that a friend finds me far enough on life's path to have drawn a short straw.
Next time I might try to get away with something less exhausting. Maybe psoriasis (though I hear it's a heartbreaker).
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