MSI Press Blog

Chronic illness doesn’t take away your dreams — it changes the route, the pace, and sometimes the definition of what “achievement” looks like. For many people, the hardest part isn’t the illness itself, but the constant negotiation between the body’s limits and the mind’s aspirations. 1. The Energy Economy: When Every Goal Has a Price People with chronic illness live with a finite, unpredictable supply of energy. Tasks that others consider small — making a phone call, attending a meeting, running an errand — may require careful budgeting. This means: Goals take longer. Progress comes in bursts rather than steady lines. Rest becomes part of the plan, not a sign of weakness. The challenge isn’t laziness or lack of motivation; it’s the physics of a body that demands respect. 2. The Unpredictability Factor Chronic illness often brings flare-ups, fatigue spikes, or sudden limitations. This unpredictability affects long-term planning: Commitments feel risky. Deadlines can become sources of a...

  Tere is a strong and well-documented relationship between depression and suicide — but it’s not a simple cause-and-effect. Depression increases the risk of suicide, especially when it’s moderate to severe, but not everyone with depression becomes suicidal. 🧠 How Depression and Suicide Are Connected Depression distorts thinking : It can make people feel hopeless, helpless, and worthless — as if their pain will never end. Suicide may seem like a solution : In deep depression, people may believe that ending their life is the only way to escape emotional suffering. Isolation intensifies risk : Depression often leads to withdrawal from others, which removes protective factors like social support. Co-occurring issues matter : Substance abuse, trauma, and chronic illness can compound depression and increase suicide risk. About 60% of people who die by suicide have a mood disorder like depression or bipolar disorder. 🚨 Warning Signs to Watch For Talking about wanting to die or...

  Excerpt from Living Well with Chronic Illness (Charnas) - Hard Decisions, Mistakes, and Choices What was I doing, sitting on the floor in a short, white skirt in the jury room of the Boston courthouse? I’d lost my mind. I’d been called for jury duty and badly wanted to serve. I thought if I dressed up a little, I might improve my chances. I hadn’t been feeling well, but I disregarded this in my desire to sit on a jury. I put on my knee-length skirt and sweater set and merrily set off.  The chairs in the jury-pool room were hard and uncomfortable. I sat there for a long time. After a couple hours, I began to feel lightheaded and weak. This should’ve been my clue to request dismissal from the jury pool. Instead, I thought I might feel better if I put my feet up, so I rested them on an empty chair. That didn’t help. I continued to feel worse and began having trouble sitting up. Other people were sitting on the floor, so in my short, winter-white outfit, I lowered myself and lea...

  Joanna Charnas, author of several award-winning books , has provided the following guest blog post. My Father’s Influence on Managing Chronic Illness: Common Sense and Saliva By Joanna J. Charnas   I’m always striving to manage my multiple chronic illnesses effectively and with more ease, and less stress. My eighty-one-year-old father entered a nursing home this year due to worsening Alzheimer’s symptoms. Since his placement, I’ve considered his influences on my life and have particularly savored memories of my early childhood with him. As I contemplated this period, I began to appreciate the long-term effects his parenting style had on my health challenges.     Dad was a hands-on, no fuss parent. If I wet my bed in the middle of the night, I was instructed to wake him up, not my mother. He’d calmly help me into fresh pajamas, lay a large towel over the soiled linen that would be changed in the morning, and then tuck me back into bed. My occasional bed-...

  Today's daily excerpt comes from 100 Tips and Tools for Managing Chronic Illness by Joanna Charnas.  11.  A SLICE OF CANINE HEAVEN             When Emme died, I struggled to find the right words of condolence for her owner, my colleague Matt. I finally told him that rarely are my expectations of great things completely fulfilled, but my day with Emme exceeded my hopes and was a joy. Emme was a 170-pound Great Dane who spent one hot summer day, per Matt, “babysitting” me when I was homebound with a sinus infection. I’d been sick in June with a similar illness, and when I returned to work, Matt offered to bring Emme to my home the next time I felt ill. He knew I loved Great Danes but couldn’t own one because of my chronic illness. So, during my second week-long bout that summer with sinus issues, I gave Matt a call. At six-thirty the next day, he arrived with Emme and the largest dog bed I’d ever seen.  After an hour of anxiously checki...