Passengers of our lives, a trip through the time full of all kinds of events, some expected and others unexpected.

Untouchables face to problems that produce us so much fear to be protagonists of them, that we become unconscious beings, invaded by a mechanized society full of appearances and rush… no time to breathe, nor reflect, without time to observe and listen to… that being so essential, be humans.

Involved of the material, they avoid us to see beyond, clouded by ganancial craving and making money our god. Running in the background the human… being untouchable, not be aware, that no one is provided with the virtue of “I will never pass by a disease” or “I will never suffer what you’re going through”… with  excessive pride and labelling others as “ill people” and many of them, using this label to get profit from pharmaceutical companies or senior members of “high level”… making their own calculation: inversion more large number of ill people equal to marital property. Realities that many people do not like to read or do not want to disseminate.

I am one of those people that call different thinking within a flock that has no fault to be lead by a shepherd.

With the purpose to help and talk about totally disinterested way without a cure and a rare disease day today… I tried my purpose… until a phrase which I tried to correct, did upset some fight colleagues, answering me so enraged… that if perhaps we were not and we are a disabled sick!.

That response shook me up so much that my bandage fell out and I saw that there were no groups… There were no separations: patients, physicians or nurses group. There are people with options and different paths and ways of looking at life totally different… still suffering from the same disease, even working in a same job…

I’m leaving with a recipe years ago sent me a friend, a nurse who passed through my life… in a white paper she wrote her own recipe and compulsorily!:


I still keep that recipe, and look… I look like a day at the beach a father walked with his child with a rare disease in his wheelchair, in very difficult circumstances at a glance, he gave a flower to his son who took the garden from the promenade of the beach, and the child gave him as a great treasure  the best of their smiles, hugs and kisses to his father. This is Love. I was both touched and I felt so happy to observe that wonderful image.

I am a woman with a rare disease and disability and for nothing I consider myself a disabled “sick”, that poster I leave for those that  need to satisfy for dramas to feel better about their own problems.

First of all we have a name, a history… and we are first and foremost people.

Lovingly para tod@s,

Author of the Spanish Blog Hagamos posible lo imposible