Technically, the only way I could be robbed of my life is to be killed and hopefully that is not in my future. Last time I checked I am still breathing; therefore, I still have a life. It's not robbed, it's just uncommon. I have spent from the time I was seven years old helping to take care of my brother. Feeding him, changing his diapers, keeping him company and watching him closely during seizure activity are my commonplace memories, the most frightening one involving nearly continuous grand mal seizure activity.
No, I live, but with a different perspective and experience.
