By Sheryl Kraft | November 12, 2010

When something is unknown to you and all it has is a label, it takes on a life of its own.

It all started with some pills. My mother, close to 80, could no longer swallow her daily vitamins. They’d get stuck in her throat, defying gravity and lodging uncomfortably, causing her discomfort and much distress. Her doctor examined her and told her that arthritis in her neck was restricting the movement of the pills. Then it started happening with food. In no time, she lost a considerable amount of weight because her inability to swallow not only curbed her food intake, but her appetite was greatly diminished and she didn’t even feel like eating. Not satisfied with her doctor’s diagnosis of arthritis, she began to probe more deeply. Each test led to the next test, which led to growing anxiety. She sent me a copy of her will. She treated each day as if it were her last – convinced that it was. My mother no longer would leave the house; she got depressed and frightened to be in public places. Was she dying? No! What was happening, then?

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