How My Scleroderma Diagnosis Taught Me Empathy and Compassion

Columnist Lisa Weber says she's a better human being because of her diagnosis

​She was fumbling through her coupon book, desperately trying to ignore the stares and loud sighs. As the line to the cash register grew, the moaning and groaning intensified.
I gently said, “Take your time. You’re doing great.”
The young woman locked eyes with me, and I could instantly feel the pain in her heart. I choked back tears as she began to smile. Her grin spoke volumes, as if to say thank you for understanding.

I wasn’t angry with the impatient crowd behind us. I used to be just like them, so focused on daily routines that I looked past the people suffering all around me. I’m sure this woman would’ve loved to pull out a wad of cash and pay for her groceries without a care in the world. But I could see her trembling hands and hear the nervousness in her voice as she explained, “Hang on a second. I’ve got a coupon for that right here.” She was in survival mode.
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