Courage is the motor that drives us.

"I got the results back," I say. I figure getting to the point is the easiest way. It will save us both... although I am not sure if there is a chance of saying it the easy way.

She just took a deep breath. I think I should go on, but looking at her, I suddenly don't want to. She seems ever more fragile than usually. She is tired and that adds something.

"It's not good. You have Fatal Familial Insomnia and it's very rare and very nasty disease. It's genetic and appears in around your age. You mentioned inability to sleep and some panic attacks. It's the beginning my dear friend," I say. As hard as it is, it is said.

"What about the ending ?" she asks with shaking voice.

"Well, that's the stage one with panic attacks and new phobias caused by insomnia. This lasts about 4 months," I say. My mouth is dry, so I stop. This was the easy part. I don't wanna tell her, what's going to happen.

"Stage two is getting more serious. The lack of sleep causes new problems. Panic attacks and hallucinations will appear and they won't be rare. You can't sleep at this stage. It lasts about 5 months," I say. Again I make a little pause to let her take in the information. Now it's when it really gets nasty.

"Stage three starts with total insomnia. It causes huge weight loss, on your case it is very dangerous considering your light weight. You'll also have limited mental functioning. This stage is up to 3 months," and I stop again. I really don't want to tell her about the 4th and last stage, before...

"At stage four the patient suffers from dementia and unresponsiveness. Patient becomes totally mute. This stage lasts up to 6 months. This stage is the last one and is followed by..." I say, but somehow I can't say out the words I am thinking. I need to say those, but I can't. This one word is much harder than explaining the illness.

"And then what happens ?" she asks.

I take a deep breath.

"Then patient falls into coma and dies from total insomnia. It all takes 7 to 36 months from the onset. Other symptoms that will occur are high pulse and blood pressure from inability to sleep. There are also excessive sweating and loss of coordination and motor skills. The worst part is that, while patient is suffering from dementia, he or she is aware of what is happening to him or her, while suffering from the physical agony of total sleeplessness," I say. The moment those words are out, I feel like I shouldn't have told it. But she deserves to know, no matter how horrible the truth is.

Silence occurs.

"I am screwed," she said after a long pause.

"No. You are suffering from a very rare illness – yes, but you still have time to live. You have accomplished so much. People look up to you. You are tough and incredibly brave woman. I think I own my life to you – you saved me for quite a few times in Europe. People love you, even when they aren't showing it out that much, but they do love you. They admire you and there are so many people wanting to be like you – to accomplish, what you have. They look up to you. You are great person. You have had a great, wonderful and successful life my friend. You are just leaving us behind," I say, I'm just trying to make her feel better and hopefully she'll be better.

"I am not brave. Remember I left in 1999. I am a coward – I run whenever I can. It's what I do, I lie, I hide and I make people hate me," she said.

I am hurt by these words.

"You are just powerful and sometimes you don't know what to do and we all have regrets. Everybody makes mistakes. But you have the courage to deal with your problems. You are great," I say. I truly believe what I just said. I believe in her.

Silence.

"You are right. I do have some kind of courage, but that is not enough to face it," she said.

"Courage is the motor that drives us," I say. She smiles. I smile. The sun came out, even if it is for a moment.