When I learned that I had muscular dystrophy, my life became a constant battle against a body that deteriorated a little more each day. I tried hard to overcome the inconveniences caused by muscle weakness—figuring out the right angle to put on clothes, discovering the best way to take a step forward. It felt as if someone had cruelly changed the "rules of the game," and before I could adjust, my body would decline further, forcing me to start all over again. The blows came relentlessly, one after another, and countless days of secretly shedding tears drowned out the youthful years of my life.