7th Anniversary  - 10 October 2007

My thoughts took me back to that morning at St Augustine's Hospital in Durban when the neurologist sat me down in a private room and broke the news to me. It was more of a confirmation of bad news than a surprise since there were indications along the way that the symptoms I had pointed to some serious disease.

The previous day I had taken time to talk to the Lord and I pleaded for the grace to accept the outcome of the extensive tests I had gone through. I must admit that the difficult part for me was to be told that there was no medical cure for MND and whatever else I tried would be to no avail.

In the early days of my illness a friend who like many others could not bear to see what MND was doing to my body told me that she had prayed, "Lord, heal him or take him." Well, seven years down the line God has taken neither of the two options.

Truth be told, many of us would like to see the miracle of restoration but so far it has pleased the Lord to grant us the miracle of sustenance in an impossible situation.

During my last visit to Europe in May 2001 a sister in Germany made an interesting comment about my size. To her I was a 'halbe Portion' (half portion) of the Fano she knew. I guess that today she would most probably rate me at 25%.

Yes friends, MND has played havoc with my body. There is nothing exciting about living in a totally paralysed body, incapable of making any movement or sound. Who would choose to be pinned down to a bed, fixed to a ventilator and under intensive care for 24 hours a day?

On the other hand, MND has come with invaluable spiritual blessings that sometimes I wonder if I would have received them in any other way. Our finite human mind would never fully grasp God's mysteries but when He in His grace gives us a glimpse of some of His treasures our hearts are filled to overflowing.

One of the convictions that was impressed on me in the early days of my illness was that 'it ain't o'er till it's o'er.' I have to keep going, I have to press on till it is over. Somehow I believe that the Lord is writing a book about my life; only He knows what and when the last chapter will be.

At this late stage of MND I am learning to live one day at a time. With my daily long list of things that I would like to share I have had to accept that my health condition places severe limits on my activities.

Some days at the end of the day I look back and marvel at how much I could tick off my list. Then there are days that would cause some people to say, "This was not my day." Days when I am extra weak, the computer refuses to co-operate or I am delayed by too many interruptions (or, are they interruptions?) When clouds of frustration threaten to darken my soul I remind myself of what a late senior colleague said to me next to my hospital bed one day, "Izinsuku azifani mntanami" (Days are not the same my child).

When during late evening hours health and time constrains overtake me I am forced to call it a day. As my carers pack away my computer I am often reminded of the last verse of a song that we sang at Dlangezwa High School and later with the KwaSizabantu Men's Choir: