I never could have guessed that the ALS diagnosis would be the start of the worst period of my life. It all began with a simple trip to the doctor. After months of muscle weakness, fatigue and numbness in my hands and feet, I decided to take a chance and see what the doctor had to say. Little did I know he would deliver such a grave prognosis.
While I was shocked and scared, I was determined to not let the diagnosis define me. I was given a fighting chance. I could still work, and still do the things I love. I just had to take it one day at a time and spend more time taking care of myself.
But my disease soon took over my life. As time went on, my ALS steadily became worse. Every day my body deteriorated, and there was nothing I could do about it. I watched helplessly as my muscles weakened, and my ability to do basic tasks disappeared. Despite my efforts to remain positive and strong, my spirit was slowly being drained as reality set in.
Finally, I had no choice but to accept that I was doomed to a life of constant debilitation, pain and suffering. It was a harsh realization, but I had to embrace it. My ALS would not go away, and my end was closer than I had ever imagined.
As I watched my life slowly slip away, I had to come to terms with the fact that it was all out of my control. I realized in that moment that nothing—no amount of medical treatment or therapy—could have saved me. I had to accept the fact that I would never have the life I wanted, and that ALS had robbed me of my dreams.
Over time I became resigned to my fate, and eventually I stopped fighting. I lay in bed day after day, waiting for the inevitable. I had nothing left to give, and I was worn down by the fatigue of my disease. My ALS had taken away my life, and there was nothing I could do about it. I just had to accept my new reality.
Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis: a Reality was sadly my harsh truth.