After being diagnosed with lumbar muscular dystrophy, Paulo Clemente tried to hide his illness to continue working. Three years ago, however, he was finally forced to retire, a decision he still hasn’t truly accepted.
Clemente’s condition affects the muscles around his waist, compromising his mobility. He has tried not to let the disease slow him down – resulting in a recent fall in which he fractured his right foot. A pair of crutches leans against the wall in the living room of his parents’ home.
“For about a month I sat staring at them [the crutches] and couldn’t accept that I had to use them,” he said about the time after his initial diagnosis. Today, he uses them, “but only when it’s really necessary.”
Clemente is one of thousands of workers in Luxembourg who can no longer work for health reasons. According to the National Pension Insurance Fund (Caisse Nationale d’Assurance Pension – CNAP), 17,846 disability pensions were paid out in December 2025. Of these, 1,278 were new cases registered last year.
Among the newly disabled pensioners, Portuguese nationals account for the largest share: 34.2%. They are followed by Luxembourgers (24.6%), French (17.6%), Belgians (7.5%), Germans (7%) and other nationalities (9.2%).
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Hiding his illness to not stop working
For 17 years, Clemente worked as a lorry driver. “Until my son was born, I never had anything out of the ordinary. Not even aches and pains. Just mild colds,” he said.
The first signs of the illness appeared when he was 37. After moving from a flat with an elevator to a three-storey house, he began to notice that climbing stairs was no longer so easy, “especially when I was carrying my son,” he explained.
He decided to seek medical help, but the doctors were unable to give him a diagnosis or a precise treatment. “I went from doctor to doctor for about five years, without any answers. Some mentioned one set of conditions and others another. The situation was getting worse and I was finding it increasingly difficult to move around. Fortunately, I wasn’t in any pain.”
After several consultations, a colleague suggested he try contacting a university hospital in another country. He finally received a diagnosis in Strasbourg.
With genetic testing, doctors diagnosed lumbar muscular dystrophy (LMD), also called limb-girdle muscular dystrophy (LGMD), a condition which is part of a group of rare, progressive genetic muscle disorders that cause progressive weakness and atrophy of the muscles in the pelvic region, according to rare diseases platform Orphanet.
I am mentally strong, a happy man, and that helps me carry on
Paulo Clemente
Retired lorry driver
Despite everything, Paulo describes himself as an optimistic person. “I’m mentally strong. I’m a happy man and that helps me carry on.” He avoids complaining, looks for the silver lining and clings to the fact that he feels no pain and needs no medication. He does physiotherapy and stays as active as possible.
When he received the diagnosis, the shock was inevitable, but it was accompanied by some relief. “At least I knew what I had.”
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Faced with an incurable illness Clemente had to re-think his future. His priority was his son, still at school age. The driver decided to take a risky decision. He took a new job and decided to hide his illness.
‘It was my dream job’
Prior to being a driver, Clemente had a series of jobs – selling car parts, working at a factory, in an office. However, “being behind the wheel, alone on the road… it was my dream job,” he said.
As his illness progressed, he went back to selling car parts. He lasted just seven months. “I couldn’t do it. Being cooped up again, I just couldn’t handle it. Even dealing with customers, I simply couldn’t cope,” he said.
He returned to driving but his body eventually caught up with him. While helping unload a lorry, he took a fall. The company immediately referred him to the occupational health doctor, who was categorical: Clemente could no longer drive. “It was very hard for me to hear that. Accepting it was very difficult.”
Paulo worked for 17 years as a lorry driver, a profession he always enjoyed. Giving it up was difficult, and it still is. © Photo credit: AFP
He refused to give up, finding a job through a friend at a transport company. He worked in an office, organising schedules and routes. “At first it was terrible. Watching the lorries go by and not being able to drive,” he said, but he got used to a new routine.
Increasingly, however, he struggled getting up after just a few hours of sitting down. Even the short distance of just under 100m between the office and where the team had lunch became increasingly difficult to cover.
After three months, a new medical assessment: he could no longer work eight hours a day.
He tried to negotiate, to reduce his hours, to adapt. In the end, he received the news he had feared most: early retirement on grounds of disability.
“The doctor was blunt. She told me my working life was over. It was hard to hear. It was very difficult to take in. It was as if the ground had been pulled from under my feet,” he recalled, still visibly shaken.
Taking it slowly
The early days were the hardest. Clemente found some solace in walks in the forest – slow, silent, almost therapeutic. He refused psychological support, preferring to face the process in his own way.
Born in Vila Real in Portugal, Clemente grew up in Luxembourg from the age of two but never stopped feeling deeply connected to his native country.
In the most difficult moments, he would escape to the house he bought in the Torres Vedras region, which he is still paying off today. The fact that he shared custody of his son made things easier. “Whenever my son was with his mother, I’d try to find a cheap ticket and head down there. Whenever I could, I’d go. It was my escape.”
For me, it’s shameful that there are people who could work but don’t want to. And there are others, like me, who want to but can’t.
Paulo Clemente
Retired lorry driver
Today, those trips are rarer. Everything requires planning. Leaving the house involves calculations: distances, access, stairs, parking. Spontaneity has given way to planning ahead.
Even so, Clemente says he is happy. It took him a long time to accept it, but eventually something changed. “I started to see life differently.” He doesn’t make long-term plans. He prefers to live in the present, aware that life should be enjoyed as it comes.
Changes
Retirement also had a financial impact. As a lorry driver, he earned more than the minimum wage. Today, he lives on a lower income, albeit supplemented by a small allowance of €150 due to the genetic nature of his condition.
After his divorce, he returned to his parents’ home in Larochette. He tried living on his own, in a rented flat near Echternach, but the logistics proved difficult, mainly because of his son. “This way it’s more practical for everyone.”
He acknowledged that his parents’ support is essential. Without it, he said, the situation would be much more difficult, especially as he still has financial commitments, such as the house he continues to pay for in Portugal.
He also spoke gratefully of the support from his current partner, with whom he has been since June last year. Despite everything, he hasn’t given up on the idea of going back to work. Although his mobility is visibly affected, he doesn’t like being seen as someone who needs help. “It annoys me, for example, when people open the door for me,” he said.
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It also angers him to see people who, in his view, give up unnecessarily. “For me, it’s shameful that there are people who could work but don’t want to. And there are others, like me, who want to but can’t,” he said.
Today, every movement requires more effort. Every journey, more planning. He recalled, with particular bitterness, the last time he went to the football stadium with his son: he couldn’t make it to his seat. There were too many stairs. Luckily, his parents were there and sat right next to the child.
There are losses that cannot be put into words. And others that continue, every day, to make themselves felt in silence, step by step. But for Paulo Clemente, retirement was not an end. It was merely the beginning of a life he is still learning to rebuild.
(This story was originally published by Contacto. Translated with the aid of an AI tool and then adapted and edited by Aaron Grunwald.)
