I didn’t care, there was nothing to lose. Maybe I still have a little life left and I wanted to devote the rest of my life to my loved ones in order to make them happy, to make them joyful, but this did not happen, I could not give others a feeling of happiness, my parents became even worse. But then I realized the most important thing: firstly, I cannot make others happy without making myself happy myself. At first I did not feel happy, and I realized that in such a state I was not needed by anyone. Secondly, I realized that I could not do anything useful and good for others without making myself happy and without defeating the disease on my own. In general, as you noticed, if a person is «bad» or «sick,» no one needs him.
I wanted to know more about types of diseases and general medicine. It became clear to me that it takes time and a lot of work to fight the disease, before that I could not solve the problem of time and motivation for this work, the problem of faith and hope, the problem of action. That is, I must decide what to do next.
In the first years it was not easy for me to adapt, but then I learned, mastered the tactics and methods of struggle in order to change myself and by the will of God I did it. But of course I’m still struggling… In general, my main dream was to have time to write a book.
I remember in childhood, my father told me: every day you write a diary, and then in 20—30 years it will become a book and you will have your own book of life. I told him: «The angels are writing on both shoulders, why should I take a steam bath?». But then I was only twelve, sometimes I regret not listening to my father just then, although these words made me think.
At the beginning there were such thoughts «I can find something even more useful than this occupation», «Isn’t it useless?». There were thoughts like «I can’t», «I am not feeling well». Then I thought: «Maybe this is fun, the most important thing does not hurt.» But I searched a lot, found all this knowledge and nevertheless wrote a book with my terrible English language for which I apologize initially. But I hope you understand the meaning and essence of my thoughts.
A year after my illness, I began to write a book, and even before I got sick, I had a diary, but to fight the illness I needed something serious – to write a book and not to deceive myself, not to amuse myself, «I decided to write a real book, in order to help myself, I will help myself, that means I will help others, at least I will bother loved ones less». This was my first voluntary (conscious) statement.