could I? I'd graduated from high school with honors and
was on a university scholarship. I had enough money,
enough of everything and the zest for life. But some
nefarious illness was enervating me and sapping my will
If the doctors couldn't help me who could? Outwardly I was just about the same as every other healthy kid at uni. I'd go to disco and dance like Michael Jackson but upon reaching my den, I'd be gripped by some nebulous dread. Sleep was fine but I was scared to awaken because it meant the start of the war in my muscles. Boy, who'd help me? I was so desperate that I contemplated suicide but because of a Christian upbringing I would not dare kill myself for fear of going to hell.
Fortunately, my mom is such a praying woman. I can still recall my childhood days. She'd go to bed very late at night and get up quite early. This lady never slept. All she did was pray and pray, most of the time crying. While I loved going to Sunday School in my sub-teen years, I hated being compelled to pray in my teen years.