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The Brave Love of the Woman Who Chose Me, Disease and All

key information

source: The Mighty

year: 2016

authors: Katherine Harris


I have Ehlers-Danlos syndrome. I also have in my life a woman who loves me — all of my pieces, together and apart (and they are so often apart). Who loves me when my joints slip in and out of place like the breath-holding, heart-pounding moment when cupped hands become laced fingers. Who loves me when I am in too much pain to leave the house, and when I am too tired to keep our date night, and when I am too fuzzy-brained from the meds to remember we had a date night.

She tells me I groan in my sleep when I move. I tell her it’s because in my sleep, I can’t control my body’s guttural response to movement. In my sleep, I can’t swallow pain like the handful of pills that keeps my head above water. In my sleep, I am as honest as I will ever be about the way those snap-crackle-pop joints moan under the weight of just living. She gives me that look of hers, full of quiet resolve, and then kisses me gently, and it is the most sincere response anyone has ever given when confronted with the reality of my disease.

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