Tuesday, July 20, 2004

Patio slug

So I have been either limping around, or moving reeeeeal slow for the past three days or so. Not sure. The muscles in the legs have been crampy. Sometimes a calf. Sometimes a thigh. Sometimes both. Once in a while it's a burning feeling.

As I lay in the sun on the hot concrete of the patio, pretending it was a miracle cure for ALS, it occured to me that my tough model of confronting ALS ("Use it or lose it!" "Not today, baby!" "Git some, git some, har-har-har!") might be too heavy on bravado. This stance was built around the idea that the encroachments will be gradual. But maybe what will happen to me, I thought, as I lay on the patio for the miracle cure, will be the Catatrophic Malfunction.

Maybe what will happen is that, after months of running up stairs two at a time, and no leg cramps, I will suddenly get several days of leg cramps. And after that I'll never walk again.

Maybe. Could happen.

The reason I have been limping around and moving soooooo slowwwwwwwly, is to give my leg muscles a chance to recover. I am taking no chances.

Once in high school gym class the coach had me wrestle a much bigger kid with bigger muscles. I must have told you this story already. Anyway, this guy moved sooooooooo slowwwwwwww that I was able to pin him. I didn't understand it. After the match, one of the guys told me that my opponent had some kind of disease that effected his ability to move. Young kids generally don't get ALS (you usually gotta be over 40), but maybe he had something like it. He was a good kid, I never heard him shoot his mouth off. You might like to think that he was some kind of dying angel, but he was also a teenage boy, and as most of you are aware, that is an ignoble status, full of lip, bravado, and air. In the instant after the match was over and I was kneeling there in confusion, the coach congratulated me, and the disabled boy muttered scornfully to the other guys "Ah, I could have got 'im."

There I lay on the patio, thinking to myself: "Ah, I can beat ALS."

I just need time. All I need is time. If I can get over these leg cramps (and it looks like I am getting better), then maybe the trajectory of the very long, very slow decline can be maintained. In which case someone will come up with a treatment, or a cure, before my quarter drops.

My dear friend came over and brought us dinner last night. She ate with us, and perhaps noticed that I moved around in slow motion. I didn't explain it to her. She brought my son a wonderful game called Rush Hour.

Fortunately, you can play the same game on the web

Have a listen to Air America Radio while you do it.
Weblog Commenting and Trackback by HaloScan.com