by Mona Gable
'UNTIL HE DIED in 2010, my brother was often mistaken for being drunk. There were the frequent car accidents, the flashes of anger, the cloudy thinking, and especially Jim’s wild body movements and slurred speech. People would stare after him as he lurched and wove down the sidewalk. We thought his illness was the result of a snowboarding head injury. When I’d press Jim about his health, he would deflect my questions. “I’m better,” he insisted.
Then Jim was dying. As I sat in the pale winter light of a hospital room in Colorado with my sister-in-law, she confessed that for years she’d suspected he suffered from a deadly hereditary disease. I forced the truth from his doctor: my brother had Huntington’s disease. I didn’t know exactly what Huntington’s was, but I knew it was an irrevocable death sentence.'
'It wasn’t until after his memorial service that I focused on what his diagnosis meant for me. One night I sat down at my computer and did a Google search. Huntington’s is all about the numbers; I learned I had a 50 percent chance of getting the disease. There is no cure. Then I saw the unthinkable: not only might I carry the lethal HD gene, but my children might too.'
I decided to post this in the Philosophy and the Psychology section because it's a mental choice that could affect a person's entire life and world views. What are y'all's views on such diagnosis? If there was a chance you might, would you?
Edited by Hasina, 31 January 2013 - 01:47 AM.