How does it feel when you’re told you have a rare, deadly disease? For Jessica Morris, it was the start of five years of hell, hope and facing up to her own mortality
My body’s suicide mission revealed itself on 23 January 2016, at around 4pm, at the top of a hill. In the Catskills in upstate New York, nestled in a valley, is a picture-perfect inn. Inside are cosy rooms with log fires. It oozes comfort and warmth. We go every year to this oasis, about 10 families in all, a tradition started by friends who got married there.
This particular year, there wasn’t the usual abundance of snow, and the cross-country skiing had to be put on hold. We were itching to get outside, so I joined forces with three girlfriends and we set off for a hike up the hill.
