Living an Adventurous Life Nearly ten years ago, I was told that I had a brain tumor  , and this experience changed my attitude about adventure forever.I thought that I was going to die and that all my adventures were over.I did not have a brain tumor, it turned out, but rather multiple sclerosis  , which meant that, although they were not over, the nature of my adventures could have to change. Each morning that I wake up is a fresh event, something that I might not have had.Each gesture that I make carries the weight of uncertainty and demands significant attention: buttoning my shirt, changing a light bulb, walking down stairs.I might not be able to do it this time.If I could not delight in them, they would likely drown me in anger and in self-pity. I admire the grand adventures of others.I read about them with interest.With Peter Matthiessen I have hiked across the Himalayas to the Crystal Mountain.I have walked with Annie Dillard up, down, into, and across Tinker Creek in all seasons.David Bain has gone with me along 110 miles of Philippine coast, and Ed Abbey has rowed me down the Colorado River.I enjoy the adventures of these courageous figures, who can strike out on difficult trips - 2 miles, 250 miles, 3000 miles - ready to bear cold and tiredness, indeed not just to bear but to celebrate. But as for me, I can no longer walk very far from the armchair in which I read.Some days I don't even make it to the backyard.And yet I'm unwilling to give up the adventurous life, the difficulty of it, even the pain, the anxiety and fear, and the sudden brief lift of spirit that makes a hard journey more attractive. I refine adventure, make it smaller and smaller.And now, whether I am moving on my hands and knees across the dining room to help my cat, lying wide-eyed in the dark battling another period of sadness, gathering flowers from the garden, meeting a friend for lunch, I am always having the adventures that are mine to have. Which of the following is TRUE about the author's reaction after the illness?
The author is drowned in anger and self-pity. The author travels to places he/she has dreamed of. The author can't take care of himself/herself any longer. The a