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.The day I got my big idea, I received a package in the mail. Other than that, it was an average, unremarkable Tuesday. Speaking of unremarkable, the package itself was just that — a thin, brown, rectangle of fraying cardboard, about the size of a throw…
My mom took me and my 10-year-old nephew Andrew with her to the movie, probably because we were the only members of our family who wanted to see the 2019 remake of Disney’s “The Lion King.” Andrew wanted to see it because, well,…
“The Zeego Tales” track the wonders of my new life with my service dog, Zeego. “Hurricane Barry” sounded innocent enough — more like a goofy uncle than a scary predator. After making landfall in Louisiana, the hurricane was renamed a tropical storm, which is what reached my…
“I’d give all of my degrees to write as powerfully as Melville,” Dr. Cicardo mused. She had read a passage from “Moby-Dick; or, The Whale“ aloud to her small college class. She reminded me of a proud songbird who recognizes the beauty…
My unease kept growing on the first day of this evening class during my third semester of college. The professor hadn’t shown up yet, so we were a small group of seven or so students sitting around a long table in a small classroom in Griffen Hall, the…
Finding a job when you are disabled is challenging. The search leads to frustration, and in my case, shame. I couldn’t find a position, even with decent grades from college and grad school. I sent out hundreds of résumés, attended dozens of job interviews, and moved…
An online friend recently commented that living with FA is a “Sisyphean dream.” I haven’t been able to stop thinking about that. At first glance, the idea seems futile, nihilistic, and ultimately negative. However, I didn’t take it that way. Through the…
“The Zeego Tales” track the wonders of my new life with my service dog, Zeego. Zeego mumbles in his sleep. As I type this, he is on the floor beside my computer desk, woofing quietly and moving his legs and paws slightly. I grin,…
The first time I broke the system, I was thrilled. It was a high I’d never experienced before — I felt that I had been cunning and sneaky. I wanted more of this feeling. I found a new goal in life: to always reach for the impossible.
My nomadic lifestyle was always something I loved about myself. For some reason, I memorized a senior quote when I was flipping through my high school yearbook. I don’t even remember whose senior quote it was, and I didn’t know why it mattered to me so much. Looking…
Those days were sticky hot. Or, at least, that’s how they are in my memory. I made my way to the backyard; the bright green of the summer grass gave off a sweet scent, and the nearby clothesline stood at attention, though the poles that held it up…
“The Zeego Tales” track the wonders of my new life with my service dog, Zeego. Read the first installment here. My dad pushed me up the ramp and to the center of the stage when they announced my name. I was before hundreds of people and about…
“Ready?” my cousin asked. “I guess,” I said halfheartedly, ashamed, and eager for this to be over. My cousin easily lifted me onto his back. I remember thinking how strange it was to be carried around by another high school senior, but…
“The Zeego Tales” track the wonders of my new life with my service dog, Zeego. It has never been my style to ask for help. Call me “strong-willed,” if you want to put a positive spin on it, or “stubborn,” to be more accurate. …
“Is everyone here?” Dr. Grabczyk asked from the head of the table. The old restaurant buzzed with the lunchtime rush, but the gathered members of the Louisiana FA community — five of us affected by Friedreich’s ataxia, along with those who had traveled with us — managed to…
“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…
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.
My eyes shot open in the middle of a pleasant dream. The scene was familiar: There was a pool, perhaps a beach? But the dream vanished shortly after I woke up. The light showing through the windows of the hotel room in Denton, Texas,…
On the long drive home from rideATAXIA Dallas, I asked the driver, my buddy Ryan, for his overall takeaway from our weekend trip. “I feel like I understand you and your life a little better,” he managed to say before we drove into a rainstorm and…
They couldn’t understand why I wouldn’t try, and my absolute refusal surprised me, too. Downtown Los Angeles in 2005 was unfamiliar to me, in a good way. It was a combination of sunshine and sea breeze, and the heat was crisp and enjoyable, unlike the sweaty…
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…
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…
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…
I look forward to lazy Sundays. Nothing feels more familiar, more like my childhood, more like home. I brush aside any work or obligations, finding comfort in choosing to do nothing. So, whether I’ve been super productive and finished all my work earlier…
I’ve been down this road before and it doesn’t end up anywhere good. Following that thought, I swallowed the pill laid out for me and rushed to the bathroom to finish getting ready for school. As a teenager, I was pretty ambivalent.
The theater was packed. It was unseasonably warm for February in Washington, D.C., and my Cajun blood was thankful. The details of that Sunday night in 2018 may have blurred in my memory, but the overall message from that week has stayed with me.
I find it easy to identify myself as a person with Friedreich’s ataxia (FA). In light of the significant effects that FA has on my life, I have no problem acknowledging myself as “Matt Lafleur, a guy with FA.” Full stop. But as I get…
A small wooden trinket hangs on the back of my wheelchair. It’s a navy blue anchor with hand-painted white letters: “Cure” is written down the anchor’s stem and “FA” at its base. A rustic brown cord loops through the top of the ornament…
Before I had a smartphone to help me pass the time, I was OK. I was easily entertained in waiting rooms, whether I read outdated magazine articles or focused on a TV with the volume either blaringly loud or so quiet that I’d have to strain to hear…
Sometimes we prefer not to be seen. I know how that feels. Growing up, I loved being almost invisible, whether I was pretending to be a spy or playing one of my favorite games with my cousins, hide-and-seek in the dark. I…
This isn’t where I’m supposed to be, I thought. My power wheelchair’s mechanic whine echoed through the underbelly of the LSU football stadium, known by Tiger fans as Death Valley. As I rolled through the Valley of Death, the lump in…
Bionews Services is launching a new project on Jan. 22: the Friedreich’s Ataxia News Forums. This will be a place for all of those affected with FA — patients, caregivers, family members, close friends, and significant others — to sign up, post, and comment on messages about…
Spoiler alert: In this column, I’ll review the popular Netflix movie “Bird Box.” I explore the movie’s ending. If you like suspenseful sci-fi movies, I recommend watching it first, then returning to this column. Be aware that the movie plot includes mass suicides. *** Across…
“What’s your resolution?” This time of year, redefinition is almost a buzzword. Resolutions and goals are a hailstorm assault on social media. As the calendars mark another complete orbit around the sun, the timing seems perfect to redefine yourself, to create a better…
Writing this column has really been a joy for me. A significant source of worry with a progressive disorder like Friedreich’s ataxia (FA) is the difficulty of finding a job. As my physical abilities lessen, my job prospects shrink. It would seem like…
On any typical day at my middle school, the closer you were to the bench, the higher your social status. It was a cheaply made concrete bench, painted over at least three times, judging by the multicolored paint chips littering its surroundings. Nothing separated this bench from…
Sometimes I use my introversion as an excuse. It’s safe and secure; it’s familiar not to expose myself to unfamiliar situations. I find safety and comfort in familiarity. “So what if I fall asleep and miss the meet-and-greet?” I asked my…
Drowsily and with great effort, I hoisted the top half of my body upright in the hotel bed. Before I drifted off, I groggily but sincerely asked my friend Sajid in the bed next to mine, “You ready for some real talk?” He was…
There is something magnetic and almost hypnotic about a bonfire, I thought, as the unexpected snap of a burning stick spooked us all. My small cluster of shadowy friends gathered this evening, one of the first cool fall nights in my sophomore year of college. The…
It doesn’t make sense, and I’ve given up trying to figure it out. It’s a silly video sponsored by a chewing gum company that paid a man to travel the world and film himself doing his goofy dance in 42 countries.
Last in a series of reflections on a recent vacation to Turks and Caicos. Read previous reflections here. “I began my vacation today,” Jake told me over video chat. That lazy Sunday seemed like a great start to a vacation. It was…
A continuation of a series of reflections on a recent vacation to Turks and Caicos. In this column, I take a rainy boat ride and am confronted by my uneasiness with asking for help. Read previous reflections here. ***…
In this reflection on a vacation to the Turks and Caicos Islands, I focus on time spent with my nephew Jace. Check out my earlier thoughts on traveling with Friedreich’s ataxia here. *** One of my goals on this…
In this reflection on a vacation to the Turks and Caicos Islands, I discuss the purpose of my trip: my incredible mom. Check out my earlier thoughts on traveling with Friedreich’s ataxia here. At the resort, I found a spot where the…
First in a series of reflections on a recent vacation to an amazing resort on Providenciales island in Turks and Caicos. In the cramped seat of the plane, nothing was going right. Moments earlier, in the…
“What’s next for me?” I remember asking my friend, sitting across the table from me at a popular and kitschy restaurant. My friend was used to me being melodramatic; the brutal somberness I’d conjured was juxtaposed by the checkered green tablecloth on which I…
“I get him, and he gets me,” Cassandra states as if it’s obvious. Her boyfriend Roland can be seen in the background of this shot, acting goofy and dancing in his wheelchair. As they sat at a table in the mall’s food court, Mary had…
“Don’t hold a glass over the flame/Don’t let your heart grow cold/I will call you by name/I will share your road.” –Mumford & Sons. “Matt?” my professor repeated for who knows how many times, interrupting the imaginary…
In my memory, we were always lithe and sure-footed. Two shadowy cat burglars, but with no inclination to steal. So, not burglars; we were spies. Spies! My aunt and uncle and their kids arrived at my house one Saturday. Our families got together almost every weekend…
I gritted my teeth. The August sun in south Louisiana pounded unrelentingly onto my head. Drops of sweat trickled down from my hairline, along the sides of my face. I’ve never really sweated very much, but since I started regularly riding a recumbent tricycle, I’ve found…
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