Help!

Such an unassuming, simple word, and yet it’s hard to get the words out sometimes.

When I was little, I always imagined that one day I’d become an astronaut. Or a pilot. Maybe even a police officer?

I certainly never would have wished for—or even imagined—that one day I’d find myself in the situation I’m in today.

My name is Dominik, but I go by Dom. I didn’t become an astronaut or a pilot, but a translator. On top of that, I became seriously ill.

In fact, I am now quadriplegic! That means I’m in a wheelchair and can’t move at all.

But that isn’t even the worst part of my situation. In fact, unfortunately, I’ve been confined to my apartment for over ten years. An apartment I can’t leave on my own!

I’m sitting here, essentially, like in a prison, in solitary confinement. Though I’m certainly lucky in my misfortune, because I’m not really alone.

My wife says she and our son are in this with me. Even though the two of them can leave the apartment, they are still here with me, in a sense, “trapped.”

Last year, I professed my faith in Jesus Christ for the first time and called myself a Christian.

However, I am now, unfortunately, in a situation where I cannot even go to church. I really hate to bring this up, because I believe that “faith on display” is often flaunted in front of others, which I don’t necessarily agree with.

Multiple sclerosis is a witch! After my son was born, I visited my grandmother, who was already 96 years old at the time. She assured me back then that my family would always be there to help me. After I got sick, I sadly realized that wasn’t the case.

Even though I don’t like it, I have to urgently ask for help.

This is where my wife says that we would have enough, but I disagree. So, you should check this page out another time and see if she let me write a little more...