Truth.
I am sorry to hear this. I’m glad you’re here and hope your time is as comfortable as possible.
I also live with an invisible disability that has consumed my life. So much of your OP resonates deeply. It’s a sad commentary on our state of medical care, and the way that society perceives the disabled.
I’m not sure what else to say other than you are not alone, even if some of us are your invisible friends. We’re real all the same. 
I’ve still got about two toes in; the underlying condition, and some of the damage it does, isn’t repairable. But the immediate problem was repairable and repaired, so indeed I was very lucky. And two toes is nowhere near the same as being thrown into the deep water, as you have been.
About an hour and a half drive from Skaneateles, in the Finger Lakes. I’ve got a good friend right near Skaneateles, though. (And I can pronounce it!)
Thank you for sharing your story. I hope that you have nothing but peaceful days ahead of you.
I can’t imagine all the thoughts going through you mind. I have always enjoyed reading your posts here, I don’t recall a single post of yours that made me say bad words or WTF? to my computer screen. That is rare on these boards.
You’re one of the few posters whose posts I make it a point to always read whenever I come across them. Often I’ll read a really interesting, informative, well-thought-out or humorous post only to see that it’s yours. I’m sure I’m not the only one.
I mostly lurk around here, but I feel I must add to the chorus of well-wishers. My heart breaks when I hear of these certain kinds of guaranteed finality.
I wish you peace. And be assured, you have indeed been a strong positive force here.
Man, those stairs can screw up a day. I’ve had to move downstairs to make a new bedroom. It was hard but everyday I don’t have to climb them or fall down them helps my soul.
I’m sorry you’re going thru this. I think you have a great attitude tho’, that helps like you wouldn’t believe.
Keep curious and joyful as long as you can.
You’re a good guy and it shows.
B.
You are a positive force for good on this message board. You are suffering but by relating your story we all have gained so much. It’s a horrible and sad situation but i hope you too have benefitted from opening up a dark place and airing it out.
Keep “getting out of bed regardless” as long as you are willing and able to.
I haven’t posted in this thread before because I have difficulty finding the right words, but I just wanted to say I’m following along and wishing you the best possible outcome. You’re one of those posters who stand out in my mind as thoughtful and always worth reading, and I hope you stick around a good long time and that there is a positive outcome to your medical issues, however challenging they may seem to be. Stay strong, my friend, you never know what the future may bring.
I’m so sorry to learn this news, David. What a terrible thing to have to die from, let alone live with. As a species, we can be so very very kind and good, which makes it all the more saddening when we fail to be. There is just no sense in our choices with regards to medicine and end of life options.
I wish you peace and comfort.
Tania
I’m so sorry. I can’t remember who (Ulfreida?), but some Doper or another said that so much of our nation’s woes trace to a decided lack of empathy.
I hate that what you wrote resonates with me immediately, but at the same time, I wish it resonated with everybody else, too – just … not because they’re also sick/struggling.
One thing we also hear too often – about no end of things – is “I don’t get …”
Encouragingly, at least around here, you also tend to hear that “I find ‘getting it’ to be vastly overrated.”
I wish you peace, health, and strength. My thanks for your kind words.
I’m sorry for that part. My mother was once a VP of the American Diabetes Association. Some pro athlete was a spokesperson who always said, “You have to make friends with your illness.” I understood that, but – in my head – I think of “not being defined by my illness.”
I hope the HCM stuff is just a line on your medical chart, and that you can get past it having any control over your well-being.
One day, I may come to you and ask you to gut-check my pronunciation of Skaneateles 
Thanks so much, Hajario. If I knew then what I know now … I never would have left San Diego
Also an incredibly kind and supportive thing to say. My sincere thanks.
From getting taken out of work and declared disabled, 18 years have now gone by. I was in ‘reinvention mode’ when we got to Colorado. From there … I got roundly knocked a number of rungs down on Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs, which – in a very bizarre way – tended to focus the mind (on survival).
But things shifted a bit when I became pretty sure of what was going on with my heart, and shifted a lot more when the heart failure specialists agreed with me. I exited Abraham Maslow’s world and entered Elisabeth Kübler-Ross’s.
Okay, so … a bit choked up here.
Thank you so much. There are so many Dopers about whom I couldn’t have put it better than you did, including you. I’m humbled and grateful.
One day, maybe somebody will write the definitive treatise on the SDMB lurkers. I haven’t been around here that long, but periodically will see a great post from a name unfamiliar to me, only to figure out that they were here from the beginning.
Bless the beasts and the children … and the lurkers. My sincere thanks for the kind words and well-wishes.
Beck: I doubt anybody would argue with me if I said … I can imagine a SDMB welcoming committee where somebody eventually always asks, “Have you met Beck yet?? Oh, you have to.”
You’re sui generis here. You’ve made me laugh. You’ve made me cry. You’ve made me think. Like your old buddy, Mike (dropzone), you’ve made me root for you.
A thousand thank you’s.
And may all of your tomorrows be better than any of your yesterdays.
My sincere thanks for yet another really insightful and helpful comment. I mentioned that I’d been ‘toying with’ the idea of outing myself here. I think – consciously or unconsciously – I was hoping for some sort of catharsis in doing so.
After being arrested and losing my house in 2012, I reached out to lots of media outlets in hopes of my story being widely told. At that point, it wasn’t about catharsis; it was about a cautionary tale. It was an effort to help ensure that what happened to me never happened to another.
But I had to mothball that project.
My humble and sincere thanks for the kind words, and may I just convene today’s gathering of the Mutual Admiration Society?
I think you know that you’re one of the keystones of this MB. There are a surprising number of people whose posts remind me to take a deep breath and be ready to seriously consider their POV, even if it’s at odds with my own. You’re definitely among them.
So many thanks, but – candidly – having read many of your posts – it is exactly what I’d expect, so … poor post/screen name combo
We lost my stepson to Fentanyl. His death reminded me of something important, though rather dour and pessimistic: you can take things from people that they can never get back. My saga puts that in pretty stark relief.
I love the Fred (“Mister”) Rogers quote:
“When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news,” Rogers said to his television neighbors, “my mother would say to me, ‘Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.’”
But I also understand its controversial aspect.
There are phenomenal people doing great work every day, moving quietly through this world adding value and doing no harm. I am aware of them. I celebrate them. I’m married to one.
But, at the same time, I want to keep raising up our collective expectations of those whose very raison d’être seems to be to exercise their demons, regardless of the consequences to others.
I just haven’t figured out quite how yet