Ross Douthat’s new book, a memoir of his experience with chronic illness, is far more than that simple description would suggest. It recounts, in excruciating detail, his journey with Lyme disease, which began in 2015. It tells of the pain and doubt and circle of suffering that ripple out beyond the sick individual; like pebbles disturbing the surface of a pond, like the monotonous drip of water onto the forehead, the sorrows of sickness inevitably touch the ones we love, or rather the ones who love us. Anguish irradiates.
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