I am still here

I have failed to provide reading material for a week and for that I am sorry. As a consequence, you get a little literary masturbation and a promise to provide accounts of the trials and tribulations of a guy with ALS, a subject with which you may be acquainted. Tony kept the bucket at arms length, careful not to spill the slimy contents. His muscles screamed. His fingers ached from the wire handle. His resolve began to dissolve and his arm began to lower the bucket. As his arm descended, a blinding pain raised behind his eyes. As he struggled to lift the pail once again, the headache subsided. All the while, Tony kept moving forward. On occasion, he would bring the bucket closer to his side in order to relieve the stress only to swing it away as the stench of battery acid and decomposition reached his nostrils.