Helen Keller

Six months ago I was diagnosed with a degenerative condition that will progressively limit my mobility. I'm 34. The doctors say I have maybe ten good years before I'll need a wheelchair, and the decline after that is uncertain. I've always been athletic—running, hiking, rock climbing. My identity is wrapped up in what my body can do. My friends are my adventure buddies. My career involves fieldwork. Some people tell me to fight—adapt equipment, find new sports, refuse to let this define me. They say don't give up on anything until you absolutely have to. But at what point do I need to accept and adapt—grieve the life I expected, find new sources of meaning, stop measuring myself against what I used to be able to do?

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