Stumbling Blocks

I have always believed that little problems or perhaps gigantic ones are put in our way during our lives. We are promised an easy landing but no one said the journey would be calm. This day I wondered what lay ahead.

I entered the office of Dominic Riccio, D.C., a Chiropractor and old friend. We met years ago when our Deli was located across the street from his office. Our family became friends with Don and his lovely wife, Ellie. My daughters had inherited back and neck problems similar to mine. Dom manipulated and adjusted and soon we were feeling better. We would visit him monthly for an adjustment which was less and less often as our aches and pains ceased. We followed him to two more temporary offices over the years and celebrated when Dom finally moved into a permanent office, a long-time dream come true. And at this office Dom was to lead me on a somewhat bumpy trail to an answer.

Upon entering the new and brightly painted office I limped from room to room admiring the tasteful decor. My heart swelled with pride at their well deserved good fortune. When I was called to the treatment room Dom watched as I laboriously rose from the chair muttering and griping to myself. Full of my usual humor I gave a full account of the latest developments and related the big shoe theory. I was not positive my lower back was the culprit. After an adjustment my life would be back on track and all would be well once again.

In an unusual change of pace Dom asked me to perform a variety of tasks related to balance and neurological function. I humored him and another appointment was made. During the next appointment Dom proposed a visit to a Neurologist just as a favor to ease his mind. Fighting the idea I begged for one more week to become, once again, graceful. My whining and humor prevailed. By my next visit I failed to walk like a prima ballerina and had two more falls to report. So much for the lower back theory.

Defeated, I visited Neurologist No.1. After removing my shoes and socks I was asked to walk across the room and then stand on my toes. Left foot refused instruction and toes would not bend on my brain's command. Very frustrating. An EMG followed of my left leg and a diagnosis was given at last. I had developed "Footdrop", also known as Pereneal Nerve Palsy. This could be caused by the simple action of crossing my legs too much. Okay, I can live with that. On with the treatment.

Spring---The Beginning

I was feeling very satisfied with myself as Spring, 2006 arrived. Since my retirement from teaching a less active lifestyle resulted in some unwanted poundage. A subsequent weight loss was good for both body and soul.

On a warm day while walking our two

Yorkiepoos, I found myself listing to the left nearly losing my footing as I stepped from the sidewalk onto the grass. Righting myself we continued on our walk and the episode was forgotten. Through the next two weeks, however, I began bumping into walls and tables in our home. Annoyed but not really concerned I commented to a good friend about my sudden onset of clumsiness. The ensuing conversation about possible causes led to much laughter and the usual jokes about the wonderful "golden years". Half kidding I suggested that due to the weight loss my shoes were surely too big. This resulted in side-splitting laughter and we left one another in a lighthearted mood. That night I related the same thought to my husband, Bob, who commented that the idea could make sense. Early the next morning I headed for a shoe store and purchased a new pair of sneakers a half size smaller. They felt fairly comfortable and with rising confidence I left the store certain my problem had been solved.

Why didn't I know the answer to my problem couldn't be that simple. It soon became crystal clear my new shoes were not helping me in any way. I fell into my foyer with my feet dangling out the door. Unable to stand I proceeded to pick up dust bunnies trapped under a cabinet. I felt I should do something useful as long as I was stuck there. Bob sauntered up the driveway with the dogs and panicked at the sight of my sneakers hanging slightly over the welcome mat. The dogs thought it was great fun that mom was on the floor. Mom laughed too, but stopped as an ankle started bruising and swelling.

Bob and I chalked it up to my habit of always being in a hurry with my mind one step ahead of my body. In retrospect, we were both in denial that anything serious could be wrong. The accidents continued day after day in the following weeks. I fell in the yard, driveway, hospital, pharmacy and parking lots. I was found sprawled on the floor in every room of the house and became frantic at the thought of damaging my three year old titanium hip. I had managed to dive to the left to avoid landing on it. Both legs were now involved due to pulled muscles, twisted knees and sprained toes. I soon came to decision that turned out to be providential or so it seemed at the time.

Prologue

Journal Entry: Spring 2006

It was the evening of November 12, 2005 when I sat down, coffee in hand, to read my e-mail. This was a nightly ritual I looked forward to with pleasant anticipation. News from friends and long ago classmates. Jokes from my children, warnings about viruses and novenas that would pave the way to the Pearly Gates.

As I scrolled down my eyes paused on a subject: Bad News. It was from my cousin, Mary. Thoughts of her six brothers and sisters flew through my mind. Hesitantly and with trepidation I clicked on the read button eyes glued to the heading. I was not yet willing to read the message. Chiding myself to act my age I slowly lowered my eyes to the short message. It was what I feared. The oldest sibling of the clan, Joseph Jr., had succumbed to ALS the previous day. Memories flashed through my mind as I grieved the loss of a cousin, father, husband, brother, son and friend. And in that grieving a tattered thread of fear entered my mind and taunted me for the next two days.

On the fourth day following Joe's passing, November 14, I was given a mind-numbing diagnosis of my own. I, too, was the victim of ALS, or Lou Gehrig's disease as it is more commonly known.

The following pages are meant to tell a journey of sorts. Hopefully it will help me to express my feelings, good and bad, about the rest of my life. And in some way might help the reader whether family, friend, or ALS patient to understand the heaven and hell of an unfamiliar and fatal illness.