Happy Birthday To Me.

So.

Today is my 63rd birthday. It's another milestone, another marker I did not expect to make. When I was diagnosed with ALS, I was 57 years old. By that time I had been symptomatic for almost 2 years. Who knows, maybe there were symptoms before that, things I did not see or understand. When I was diagnosed, the doctor said I would likely live 36 months with ALS. Once I got over the shock, I did some research and confirmed that 36 months was the average life expectancy for someone with ALS. I also realized I had already been sick for 2 years. The numbers did not look good.

Then I did pretty much the only thing I could do; I got on with living my life. My goal was to get what I could out of life for as long as I was living. ALS was not a death sentence for me. It was a life sentence. I would have to live with this disease for as long as I was alive. I figured that even 60 would be a crap shoot. I never figured I would come up winning for this long.

Sixty came, and went. Sixty-one, then sixty two. Each year I wondered if I would see another. That has not changed. This year has been very cruel to me, stealing much of my arm strength, my ability to drive, my ability to even lift a bottle of wine. The collapse of my arms has been stunning to me. Maybe I am not so different from other PALS, except that instead of three years I might get six. That's all of it that I can see.

Will I make it to 64? Well for me life continues to be a crap shoot. Hell, I don't even know if I will make it to next month, let alone next year. All I can do is what I have done from the beginning. Wake up each morning. Live the day I am given. Go to sleep each night. It doesn't really matter if I make it to 64. What really matters is if I make it to tomorrow.