I’ve gone back and forth about sharing this (more than normal :-)), but writing continues to help me think things through and find some peace—especially now. It also helps others (I think!). Yesterday, I made one of the hardest decisions of my life. Not about work, a relationship, or moving somewhere new—but something very personal.
To some, it might sound like a “first-world problem”—just a missed vacation, not life-or-death. But for me, it carried a lot of emotional weight and felt like a turning point. Retiring, which my doctor recommended because of Progressive Supranuclear Palsy (PSP), was a huge decision. But this one—smaller on the surface—was mine to make. And that made it harder in a different way.
We had planned a weekend trip to the South of France with our what seems lifelong friends, hoping to relive memories from 20 years ago. I was excited, packed, and ready—until I wasn’t. As a bonus, we were going to see two other very special people who just happened to be there the morning we arrived. It felt like a lucky coincidence that made the trip even more special.
But yesterday morning, I struggled just to walk to the vet with my wife, dog, and walker—for a simple checkup, nothing serious. Every step felt harder than usual. Still, I stayed hopeful. I had two treatments lined up to help me travel, and I felt a bit better once I got home.
But by evening, when I couldn’t even walk a few meters to the car with my sister and mom, I knew: France wasn’t going to happen.
If I couldn’t make it to the car, how could I handle an airport, luggage, or the heat in the South of France? The return trip alone—with a 10 a.m. checkout and a 12-hour wait for the flight—was just too much. My wife and friends were incredibly kind and supportive. But the real struggle was inside me. I know what this decision might mean. PSP doesn’t let up, and I’m afraid this could be a turning point.
Please, G-d, I hope it’s not. We have another trip planned in a few weeks. I’m not feeling very hopeful today, but I’m still holding on. The stress of making this decision—the emotional back-and-forth—made my symptoms worse. I felt it in my legs: the tension, the frustration. That’s something I need to learn to manage better. Maybe that will help next time.
I’ve fallen three times this week. Each fall is a clear reminder of how fragile things are and how important it is to listen to my body, even when it’s hard. My friends know I love them—that’s never in doubt. What is in doubt is how I move forward. Do I regroup and keep fighting, even though PSP is getting worse? Or do I give up?
I choose to fight—but I also choose to learn. This was the right decision, just like retiring was. Sometimes, the right choice hurts—but it protects you from something worse. Going on this trip in my condition would’ve been dangerous. We all face moments like this—whether it’s about health, work, or family. I need to be ready for more of them. I need to learn how to let go of the anger and frustration, trust my gut, and make peace with tough choices.
This morning, I just wanted to eat chocolate and feel sorry for myself. But I didn’t. I shook it off and made a different choice. I’m doubling down on my diet and exercise, and doing whatever I can to adapt. After I finish writing this, I’ll get up and move (well shuffle 🙂 )—because yesterday, I had to surrender. But today, I fight.
