He tells the story of coping with his multiple sclerosis and colon cancer in his New York Times bestseller, “Blindsided: Lifting a Life Above Illness.” Awhile back, he came out with a fascinating book, “Strong at the Broken Places: Voices of Illness, a Chorus of Hope,” profiling five brave persons battling illness. Writes Richard, “These are the faces of illness in America. Do not look away. The characters may surprise you, even shatter a stereotype or two. They are people, not cases, survivors, not victims. Quite simply, they are us. they carry shared resolve, a determination to survive. To flourish.”

I read parts of the book two years ago. I was especially intrigued and awed by Larry Frick’s story. Diagnosed in 1984 with bipolar disorder, he spent much of the mid 80s in and out of mental hospitals. Now he’s a mental health professional (that’s an understatement … he spoke at a White House conference where the first surgeon general’s report on mental health was released). I will have the honor of meeting Larry in person in a few weeks, which is why I pulled out the book again. Upon reading it, I knew that I had to share it with you all. Below I excerpt from Richard’s preface.

We, the injured, are everywhere. We are fast becoming a nation of the sick. The numbers do not lie. Chronic illness has become the silent flood, flowing slowly, steadily under our doors. We tumble in slow-motion from safe ground, twisting and struggling to survive in a cold sea of all that we once were and can be no more.

Chronic conditions attack body and spirit, assaulting the quality of our lives. Some are life-threatening. All are life-altering. Ever so slowly, moment by moment, function and sensation cease. Muscles and nerves malfunction. The body’s processes grow difficult. Our view of ourselves as normal human beings making our way in a neutral world is challenged as, in the eyes of others, we become our illnesses.

Chronic conditions do not resolve themselves. Unlike terminal illnesses, there is no high drama with these diseases. They are not sexy, and are little noticed or understood by an unknowing public that would prefer not to think about them. Those who are hit hard know the frustration of being marginalized, reduced, and pushed to the side by these chilly attitudes. We are handed a cocktail of condescension and a basket of doubts about our limitations. The crisis of confidence that follows can be contagious and soon affects every part of our being.