A Real Miracle

There is a great deal of discussion about the mental health impact of serious and terminal illnesses, both on patients and on those who care for them. The attention is well deserved. The emotional toll can be enormous.

Yet I would like to look at the subject from a different angle.

The miracle is not that some people become depressed.

A miracle is that so many do not.

Take two people like my wife and me.

In just a few years, we have lost the future we expected. Pain and suffering have become part of daily life. My wife’s workload has increased dramatically as she has taken on responsibilities neither of us ever imagined, many of which she does not enjoy and which I used to do. At the same time, I am left watching much of it happen and feeling guilty that I can no longer carry my share of the load.

My ability to communicate is not what it was. The disease has introduced neurological symptoms such as apathy and anger that affect both of us. I have gone from walking independently to using a wheelchair. Financially, everything changes when work stops, care is needed, and costs increase.

Much of this happens before you even know what is wrong. Many people spend years being investigated, misdiagnosed, or wondering why their lives are slowly changing around them. By the time a diagnosis arrives, the disease has often already had a major impact.

Then there is the reality of the diagnosis itself. Conditions such as PSP do not just affect today. They affect how you see tomorrow. They change the plans you had made, the assumptions you lived with, and the future you thought was ahead of you. The short life expectancy is truly frightening, particularly when you are already years into the disease by the time you receive the diagnosis.

If you were designing the perfect conditions for depression, you would struggle to do much better.

Loss of independence. Loss of certainty. Loss of plans. Loss of income. Loss of health. It is difficult to think of a better recipe.

Yet remarkably, many people do not become overwhelmed by it.

That does not mean they do not suffer. There are days of anger, sadness, fear, frustration, and exhaustion. There are days when a husband or wife looks at the person they love and wonders what happened to the plans they once shared. There are days when people are angry with life, angry with God, angry with the disease, and sometimes angry with each other.

But people adapt.

They find support from family and friends. They find communities of people facing the same challenges. Some find strength in faith. Others find purpose in helping others, maintaining routines, or simply focusing on the next day rather than the next decade.

Somehow, despite everything, they keep going.

I think that is extraordinary.

Anyone who has managed to keep their head above water through serious illness, whether as a patient or a carer, should be immensely proud. None of us wanted this life. None of us would have chosen it. Yet most of us find a way to carry on.

We often talk about the tragedy of these diseases, and rightly so.

But given everything they take from people, perhaps one of the greatest miracle is not that some become depressed.

Perhaps one of the greatest miracle is that so many do not.