Matt Lafleur,  —

Matthew's life doesn’t look like what he imagined when he was an active Cajun boy. Once diagnosed at age 11 with Friedreich’s ataxia, he threw himself into books, writing, and studies, achieving a bachelor’s degree in English and a master’s degree in mental health counseling. Writing a column at Friedreich’s Ataxia News and serving as the associate director of columns for its parent company BioNews is a perfect combination of his two degrees. He notes life’s small, often overlooked successes in his column. In progressive disability, Matt tries to notice his little victories, hoping that others notice their own ... or something like that.

Articles by Matthew Lafleur

Planning for My Unpredictable Future

“I can’t believe we found this,” I said to my friend Jennifer, holding the manila folder against my lap. “Do you think we should open it?” The sun shone brightly this spring day in 2010, but neither Jen nor I could see it. We were working…

Little Victories Really Matter with FA

Editor’s note: Please be advised that the topic of suicide is addressed in this column. Resources for help are listed at the end of the column. *** Despite all of the challenges in my way, I choose to fight, to endure. I hope you do, too.

Waiting to Meet My New Service Dog

I first encountered a service dog accompanying a person with Friedreich’s ataxia (FA) three years ago. I had met my friend and fellow FARA ambassador Andrea and she had her beautiful black Lab, Ramada, with her. I could tell right away that Ramada was more…

Consistency in the French Quarter with FA

My unharnessed wheelchair swerved unexpectedly. I reached out to grab onto something so that I wouldn’t flip over. Riding in the back of my former wheelchair-accessible van was challenging. It had been adapted for a power wheelchair, but after grad school, with no big…

Death, My Constant Companion

Sitting at my computer in my room, I barely noticed that everything had gotten dimmer. It wasn’t until I looked up that I noticed that one of the four bulbs on my ceiling fan was smoky gray and lifeless. I rolled my eyes at the slight inconvenience, then…