Hello!  Ingrid Schoenfeldter here.

Sorry if I haven't written in a few days, but I've been trying to make sense of what has happened.

I am happy to say I'm out of hospital; however, the life I knew has changed.  I have been given a diagnosis of a terminal illness (progressive muscular atrophy), which will mean that I will end up in a wheelchair and not be able to care for myself.

Eventually, I will die of this illness, in only a few short years, so I don't have much time to live.

I have told my brothers and sisters the news; some are coming from back home in Norway to spend time with me, to see if they can help me in any way.  I appreciate the gesture; however, I don't know if I'm emotionally ready to see them just yet.  I don't want them to see me this way!

It seems all I have done the past few days is cry.  I've cried so much my eyes are swollen and reddened, and my chest hurts.  I look like I've cried all the tears there were to cry, tears that have been bottled up inside me since our mother's passing several years ago.

I'm staying with my friend Frekka Hoelssenn; she's been nice to put up with me while I am here in America.  I plan on being here for at least several more weeks; then I will go back to Norway with my brothers and sisters.

I have met some wonderful nurses and doctors who cared for me:  Louisiana Sandusky, William Stryker, Winnie Brady, Kerry Weaver, Gloria Trainor.  There have been others, but these five people I've listed have been especially kind, supportive, loving in my time of great need.

I am glad to be out of hospital; I got tired of all the excess pokings/proddings; I soon began to feel like a slab of raw meat!  It was not pleasant, and whoever said you get rest in hospital is nothing but a big, fat liar!!

You don't get rest in hospital; you get bothered at all hours, day and night, and then people wonder why you don't get better!  And the food, oh, the food is terrible!  It's worse than what you feed pigs on the farm!!  It's unbelievably nasty!!

Since getting out of hospital, Frekka won't let me lift a finger.  She tells me to stay in bed (or on the couch).  I appreciate her thoughtfulness; however, I'm not made of china; I'm not going to break in a million pieces if people touch me!!  It's getting past the point of aggravation:  it's turning downright annoying!!

Meanwhile, I stare at the prospect of me ending up in a wheelchair, unable to do anything for myself, as I get weaker, until I reach the point of my death.  I am not looking forward to that at all; I am only fifty years old!! I'm too young to be thinking about death or dying; I should have my whole life ahead of me!!

That means I am going to have to give up my skiing, my hikes, my dancing, everything I've loved to do!  I am going to become an invalid, and I don't know if I can handle that!  I have seen people in wheelchairs before, and some of them look absolutely ghastly!!  I don't want to become one of "them"!!

Well, I have only managed to make myself cry (again!!), so I am going to go.  I think a good crying session is in order!!  Just keep me in your prayers; I really could use a big miracle about now!!

So long for now!

~Ingrid Schoenfeldter. :( *tears!!*