Little bits of reality

As I close in on whatever fate awaits me, as my physical degradation continues, I can't help but long for the guy I once was. I do console myself at the fact I'd over the years scratched off most of a bucket list log before I even knew what one was. I've bungee jumped, rock climbed, survived class five rapids, skydived, visited England, Hawaii, seen the Grand Canyon, jumped 46 ' into a small pool of water without breaking my legs as I impacted the bottom, climbed a 240' radio tower- at night- when I was 14, successfully executed a jumping reverse sidekick- breaking 3 boards- blindfolded, cut down a 48" diameter tree with a 21" chainsaw, drank Tecate and munched fresh salsa with my son in Cozumel, rode a helicopter over a glacier in New Zealand with Rachel, survived a tubing nightmare with Sarah in Arkansas................... and much, much more.

Memories are great- to a point. After the mental groundswell of emotions, I'm faced with an ever increasing realization that any bucket list I might want to tackle literally involves a bucket- a big one- with me in it. I hate the term "I can't", but it has permeated my common vocabulary and has invaded my everyday life. I refuse to reveal all that I "can't" do on the grounds that once I start, the list will become eternal.

Leave it at this: I'm trying. Every waking moment. I am the only one who really knows what's going on with me. ALS is a highly individualistic disease. No two people suffer the same way. We who have it are distinguished by our ALS fingerprints. What may work for one may not help another. Meanwhile, I am experimenting with more than my mind. I am ingesting and digesting and electrifying and quantifying (not so much) and such. All the time battling the elements. I'm going to watch football now. Goodbye