I fell ill in 2012 with what was eventually diagnosed as Multiple Sclerosis. I was unable to do anything. I wasn’t allowed to read, to write, to watch television. Not that I would have been able to do that anyway. All I could do was sleep. Being unable to write or read nearly killed me. I lived for words in all their different forms. As I lay bedridden, the stories continued in my head in one ceaseless stream.
After two weeks I was able to read again. I threw myself into reading anything I could get my hands on. While I was thrilled to be reading again, there was a block with my writing. I struggled for weeks with the brain fog, the numbness in my head, with the inability to type anything more than a word or two at a time. The stories were still there, I just had to find a different way to tell them.