I think every illness is an intensifier of one's soul and is certainly not a curse to be followed.
The diseases I inherit may push me down the same lonely and dark hole, the one I fear the most, from my family and past offspring, but it just gives the colors in the books of my life.
I always saw the optimism, and general happiness, of people with terrible and chronic diseases as something superficial. But I was wrong, and I understand them now.
My soul is the one that chooses the words, the stories, and the pages, of everything that happens.
And, regardless if my life was deemed to end tomorrow, or if it zigs zags every day, my choice is to live it yellow, the one truth, and pure.