John's ALS Final Expenses Fund
Spende geschützt
Due to an underestimating of costs which are adding up by the day, I've increased our goal.
In 2015, the Ice Bucket Challenge took the internet by storm. People recorded videos dumping ice cold buckets of water on themselves, and challeged their friends to do the same to raise money and spread awareness towards ALS research. More than 17 million people participated, while 2.5 million people donated $115 million to the ALS Association. A big hoorah, and pats on the back ensued for the success of these viral videos. Fast foward to this March of this year, to the day my brother-in-law, John, was diagnosed with ALS.
A surreal numbness set over me with the realization that "awareness" and funds raised were not going to stop, or even touch, what was about to ensue for John.
If you didn't learn through the Challenge, ALS casts a fate you wouldn't wish on your worst enemies:
"ALS is like a lit candle: it melts your nerves and leaves your body a pile of wax. Often, it begins with the legs and works its way up. You lose control of your thigh muscles, so that you cannot support yourself standing. You lose control of your trunk muscles, so that you cannot sit up straight. By the end, if you are still alive, you are breathing through a tube in a hole in your throat, while your soul, perfectly awake, is imprisoned inside a limp husk, perhaps able to blink, or cluck a tongue, like something from a science fiction movie, the man frozen inside his own flesh. This takes no more than five years from the day you contract the disease." (Tuesdays with Morie, Mitch Albom)
For John, it started with a limp, a buldging disc, fatigue. Then a rolled ankle. A broken foot. More fatigue. When a family friend suggested this confusing onset of symptoms could mean something more, my sister and John found themselves in the emergency room. It started with a barrage of tests, which led to specialist visits, which boiled down to three possible diagnoses. An infection, a rare autoimmune disease, or, of course, ALS. I cannot imagine the smallness of being in that room, of hearing those three letters. The fear. The internal plea to whatever higher being was listening, for any other diagnosis. But within weeks, his fate was sealed.
Because ALS is not a matter of if, it's a matter of when.
In the two short months since diagnosis, John has experienced a rapid decline, which has gone much quicker than doctors have anticipated. Already, he is confined to a chair, and has lost most of his ability to speak and care for himself. As I write this, I cannot compel myself to go into further detail because it is too painful. To describe the pain, the fear, the despair that not only John, but his wife, and his sons experience every moment of every day is too painful to put into words.
ALS leaves a path of distruction: of hopes, dreams, and families. The last thing a family should worry about at this time is the financial demand of this disease.
Donating to this fund will go towards John's medical care, towards resources and care items to make him comfortable.
Your donation will allow John's wife and sons to focus on savoring what time they have with him now, as a family, not if or how they can afford to manage his medical expenses.
Regardless of whether or not you participated in the Ice Bucket Challenge, or even donated to the ALS Foundation, the difference that you can make is now.
Your donation will make an impact more so much more than you could ever know.
In 2015, the Ice Bucket Challenge took the internet by storm. People recorded videos dumping ice cold buckets of water on themselves, and challeged their friends to do the same to raise money and spread awareness towards ALS research. More than 17 million people participated, while 2.5 million people donated $115 million to the ALS Association. A big hoorah, and pats on the back ensued for the success of these viral videos. Fast foward to this March of this year, to the day my brother-in-law, John, was diagnosed with ALS.
A surreal numbness set over me with the realization that "awareness" and funds raised were not going to stop, or even touch, what was about to ensue for John.
If you didn't learn through the Challenge, ALS casts a fate you wouldn't wish on your worst enemies:
"ALS is like a lit candle: it melts your nerves and leaves your body a pile of wax. Often, it begins with the legs and works its way up. You lose control of your thigh muscles, so that you cannot support yourself standing. You lose control of your trunk muscles, so that you cannot sit up straight. By the end, if you are still alive, you are breathing through a tube in a hole in your throat, while your soul, perfectly awake, is imprisoned inside a limp husk, perhaps able to blink, or cluck a tongue, like something from a science fiction movie, the man frozen inside his own flesh. This takes no more than five years from the day you contract the disease." (Tuesdays with Morie, Mitch Albom)
For John, it started with a limp, a buldging disc, fatigue. Then a rolled ankle. A broken foot. More fatigue. When a family friend suggested this confusing onset of symptoms could mean something more, my sister and John found themselves in the emergency room. It started with a barrage of tests, which led to specialist visits, which boiled down to three possible diagnoses. An infection, a rare autoimmune disease, or, of course, ALS. I cannot imagine the smallness of being in that room, of hearing those three letters. The fear. The internal plea to whatever higher being was listening, for any other diagnosis. But within weeks, his fate was sealed.
Because ALS is not a matter of if, it's a matter of when.
In the two short months since diagnosis, John has experienced a rapid decline, which has gone much quicker than doctors have anticipated. Already, he is confined to a chair, and has lost most of his ability to speak and care for himself. As I write this, I cannot compel myself to go into further detail because it is too painful. To describe the pain, the fear, the despair that not only John, but his wife, and his sons experience every moment of every day is too painful to put into words.
ALS leaves a path of distruction: of hopes, dreams, and families. The last thing a family should worry about at this time is the financial demand of this disease.
Donating to this fund will go towards John's medical care, towards resources and care items to make him comfortable.
Your donation will allow John's wife and sons to focus on savoring what time they have with him now, as a family, not if or how they can afford to manage his medical expenses.
Regardless of whether or not you participated in the Ice Bucket Challenge, or even donated to the ALS Foundation, the difference that you can make is now.
Your donation will make an impact more so much more than you could ever know.
Organisator und Spendenbegünstigter
Kirsten Ganavazos
Organisator
Broomfield, CO
Kathlyn Zukowski
Spendenbegünstigte