What if?

         The first time I saw the pen shake in my hand was one of the most painful moments of my life. Even now my fingers tremble across the keys and every word takes so much to complete. Being sick has invaded so many parts of my life but I thought this was safe. It never occurred to me that it would threaten to take writing from me. Writing was my escape. If I needed to retreat from the world I could but now even my words aren’t safe. Now the uncontrollable tremors in my hands threaten to turn my words into nonsensical jumbles of letters.
         I know tomorrow my hands will be back to normal, that’s not the issue. The reason tears are falling so quickly from my eyes is that this may be the first time but by no means will it be the last. I will have this disease for the rest of my life. The rest of my life. The thought seems so strange considering I’m only eighteen now. I’m supposed to be in the prime of my life, healthy, happy, dreaming of all the good things in life, and all it’s all I can do to fight the rising panic in my chest.
         I’m eighteen and for the first time I am fighting my body just to write. I am fighting my body to do the thing that comes so easily to my brain. I am fighting to do the one thing that defines me. What am I supposed to do if my hands start shaking one day and don’t stop?
      What am I supposed to do if it takes this from me too?