A very dear friend just sent me this poem. I really loved it. It is not about IC, but, such a lovely sentiment for each of us, which ultimately helps the spirit. And, anything that helps the spirit, helps the struggle.

I am not old

I am not old, she said
I am rare

I am the standing ovation
at the end of the play

I am the retrospective
of my life
as art

I am the hours
connected like dots
into good sense

I am the fullness
of existing

you think I am waiting to die
but I am waiting to be found

I am a treasure
I am a map
these wrinkles are imprints
of my journey

ask me
anything.