Nearly everyone has been sick at some point in their life; we've missed a few days of work (or school) here and there and then jumped right back on schedule once we felt better. We humans are creatures of habit; mostly going through the same routine day after day. Sure, we like to complain about our mundane lives; but too much change throws our system off-kilter and anxiety then enters the picture.

Even a few days spent sick in bed can affect us in a negative manner. Our familiar patterns are disrupted; we're not seeing the same faces we normally do, we aren't engaged in the same tasks and we soon begin experiencing stress as a result. We like to tell ourselves that we matter; that the world would stop without us - or at least slow down. We need to believe it. But the truth is: we don't matter.

Life moves on, the fallen are replaced with new blood, new faces. And the cycle continues marching forward as death begets life and life begets death. Some mourn but the world doesn't even notice. It is an ancient process; beginning long before mankind came into being and continuing long after mankind is no more than dust scattering in the wind.

Reality can be a slap in the face; knocking our hopes, our wishes, our dreams, to the ground with a brutality that seems unbelievable. We fight it: telling ourselves that it isn't happening to us. It can't happen to us. It just isn't fair. But it is – what it is.

The game of life is a numbers game: when our number is up, the game is over for us. It took me a long time to really understand this. It took me even longer to realize that my number could be up while I was still alive.

I've had Lyme disease for seven years now. I denied it at first; choosing to believe the faulty claims so readily available. Like many others, I ignorantly believed those who claimed the disease caused little damage other than a brief fever and arthritic joints. For two full years I was content in my belief, feeling sure that my physical strength would always compensate for any slightly diminished abilities.

I was wrong.

Little did I know how vast the changes in my life would be. Nothing has gone untouched; the great physical strength I once counted on is now gone, my stamina went the way of the do-do bird and my mental abilities have decreased significantly. Pain is now a constant companion, reminding me that my deformed joints no longer operate as they once did. A now faulty memory betrays me in mid-sentence and sometimes causes me to get lost on familiar roads. On rare occasions even talking – or writing my own name – is a chore, as my brain can't communicate properly with my body.

Who would've thought that a tiny tick could have caused all that? But that's just the tip of the proverbial iceberg: every aspect of my life has changed. My health, my body, even my mind are changes easily recognized by those who know me. The unseen changes lurk deeper in the water, out of sight to most, but there just the same.

I used to matter, or so I thought; I made good money, people depended upon me and I had lots of nice toys. But being too ill to work changes all that; I found that I was replaceable in every possible meaning or manner. My job went to another, my co-workers no longer called and I sat home alone feeling ill, fatigued and in pain.

I called each of my creditors in that first week and explained my situation; figuring that was the responsible thing to do. Having always been on time with my payments, they were polite and assured me that they'd make a note of my illness. Things change though – sometimes quickly – and those same creditors weren't nearly as friendly when my savings, and disability, ran out by last December.

Repossession was once a foreign word, now it is a reality in the shell that is my life. My wife works but she doesn't earn enough money to pay all of our bills (mine was the majority of our income). I can see the fear in her eyes and the worry on her face. I can feel her suffering and I know that I am to blame. Gone are the camping trips, motorcycle rides, vacations and the security found in knowing the bills are paid and there's money in the bank. They've been replaced by doubt and unease.

Letters written to elected officials go unanswered: the same people begging for contributions, and votes, now have no time to hear the concerns of one constituent. Instead the buck is passed as each office attempts to push you down the line until finally the bottom rung is reached and I'm told (again) that there is no program available. There is no help.

The color green drives the world; green makes people important, green makes you matter. Lose that green and you're just the straggler desperately trying to keep the pack within sight. It is at that point that you realize the fact that the pack doesn't care. It doesn't matter what you've done. It doesn't matter how hard you've worked. It only matters if the pack thinks you are useful to them.

It's said that some people go crazy due to loneliness; some even die from it, if the rumors are to be believed. I don't know if I believe that or not, but I do know what it's like to be alone in fighting a battle. I know what it's like to be refused help at every turn and I know what it's like to watch your life crumble before your eyes. I know what it is like to be left behind as the world marches forward without so much as a backward glance.