With each scleroderma death, a columnist wonders why she's a lucky one
by Lisa Weber
Each time I read about another scleroderma warrior losing their battle, a tremendous weight crushes my soul — a combination of sadness, anger, and guilt.
I’ll always remember the fear I could hear in my mother’s voice when I first discussed my scleroderma diagnosis with her. And in my father’s emails filled with questions and research, I could feel his desperation in trying to fix his broken daughter.
I’ll also never forget how my husband’s eyes would well up with tears when we looked at each other. The dreams we had for our future were quickly being replaced with the possibility of him raising our daughters alone.
I felt for my little girls. Would they have a mama to help them get over their first... continue reading.
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