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I just read an incredibly sad story about a man who has Duchenne muscular dystrophy.
He is about my age, but most people with the disease (almost always male because of genetic reasons) live only half as long as he has.
The disease causes its victims to slowly lose control of their muscles. If the victim lives long enough, he eventually will no longer be able to speak, blink or even move his eyes. He is a prisoner in his own body, his mind fully aware. It has been described as being buried alive.
The man's DMD has progressed to the point that he no longer can move his arms. He is bedridden and on a respirator. His mom feeds and attends to him, and a nurse's aide stops by three days a week to check on him and give him a bath and a shave.
He can move his fingers enough to type e-mails. He says he is happy because he has a TV and a computer. His mom says that she doesn't know how much time left they have together, but she'll take whatever there is because he is her life.
I am looking at a picture of him. He is lying on a bed, and his mom is sitting in a chair next to him. He is smiling.
Current mood: Crying