The diagnosis

August 25, 2009—and as corny and cliché as this sounds—was the day that irrevocably changed my life.
The doctor’s appointment had originally been scheduled for early July but had been postponed. I had had a feeling that what Dr. White was going to tell us was serious, as he had asked Dennis “to bring your partner with you to this appointment.” While we didn’t know it at the time, neither of us was prepared to hear the news that Dr. White was going to be giving.

The events leading up to our appointment with Dr. White had actually started back in April 2007. Dennis had walked down to our neighborhood’s shopping district to pick up a prescription for me at Walgreen’s. He had also stopped at the fish market to purchase salmon for dinner that night. It was a sunny, mild day and Dennis was enjoying the warmth of the sun on his face as he walked around the neighborhood.

As it usually does, the grand mal seizure gave no warning of its approach. It struck quickly and Dennis fell to the sidewalk, unconscious. His nose smashed into the concrete, the force of the sidewalk’s hardness knocked off his glasses as his nose compressed into the cement. As his face scraped along the concrete, his upper denture broke in half and pushed through his mouth to the sidewalk, landing in two pieces a foot away from his head. The impact left a bleeding gash along his left upper lip.

To this day, the Good Samaritan who phoned for an ambulance has not been identified. As Dennis regained consciousness and his eyes fluttered open, confusion gripped him. “What happened? Where am I?” he mumbled.

“You’re in an ambulance. We’re taking you to the emergency room at San Francisco General,” stated the EMT. He continued, “You’ve had a seizure. We need to get you examined to see what damage has been done. At the moment, it appears you broke your upper denture and you’ve got a split upper lip as well. Your nose doesn’t look so hot either. Just stay calm, close your eyes and we’ll be there before you know it.”

“Who called you? Did you talk to anyone when you picked me up?” Dennis asked, moving his head as if trying to clear the cobwebs and rising on his elbows.

“We don’t know, sir. We got your location from our dispatcher. No one was with you when we arrived.”

Slumping back into the stretcher, Dennis closed his eyes. “I sure would like to thank whoever phoned it in. I could still be lying on the ground,” he whispered.

“Just be thankful for whoever it was, sir. While your injuries don’t look life threatening, you do have numerous cuts and scrapes on your hands and face, along with your split lip. Just lie there and rest and everything will be fine.”

He did as he was told, though it was almost impossible to block out the sound of the siren. He couldn’t exactly rest with that thing blaring away. The siren stopped as they pulled into the ER area of the hospital. The back doors of the ambulance flew open and two large hospital personnel grabbed the stretcher and lowered it to the pavement. The larger of the two men asked, “What’ve we got here, guys?”

“It looks like he had a grand mal seizure, broke a denture, split his lip, his nose may or may not be broken. He landed face-first on a sidewalk, so he’s lucky he’s not more damaged,” replied the EMT. “His vitals are okay.”

“Okay, we’ll take care of him.” Looking down at Dennis, he asked, “How you doin’?”

“I’ve been better. I need to call Rick and let him know what’s happened. He’ll be worried.”

“One of the nurses will call whoever you want, once we get you situated and examined. Just try to relax.”

 *****

Thus started our journey down the road to our appointment with Dr. White. A few months after the seizure, I noticed that Dennis had developed a slight limp, with his left foot noticeably having a "floppiness" to it that had not been there before. One day I asked him, "What's with the limp?"

"I don't know," he replied. "It doesn't hurt, there's no pain so I don't care. Whatever."

I let it slide and didn't say anything more about it until we took a trip back to Michigan to visit our respective families—mine in Traverse City in the northern lower peninsula, and his family around the Detroit metropolitan area. While visiting his sisters, Sandie in particular, started getting on his case about the limp, which had become rather severe from where it had been a short six months previously. I promised her that I'd make sure Dennis went to the doctor once we got back home.

He started a series of tests in September 2008 at SF General, continuing into 2009, ultimately leading to our appointment with Dr. White on August 25, 2009. As we were waiting in Dr. White's office, I was starting to get a bit nervous. I was thinking it had to be something serious or he wouldn't have told Dennis to make sure and bring me with him.

The door opened and Dr. White came into the room. After greeting us and engaging in some small talk, as it was the first time he and I had met, he ran Dennis through a few tests.

"As you know, Mr. Healy," Dr. White stated, "We've been running numerous tests on you the past few months trying to figure out what's happening with your body. After ruling out many things, I've come to the conclusion that you have ALS, commonly called Lou Gehrig's Disease. Are you familiar with this disease?"

Dennis shook his head no. I answered, "I'm familiar with what it is, doctor."

"Then you're probably aware that we don't know what causes ALS and there's no cure. I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but it is a fatal disease. In order to confirm this diagnosis, though, I'm going to refer you to the ALS Clinic at UCSF. They will probably run some of the same tests I've already done, but they will also do more to make sure I'm correct. We don't like giving this diagnosis, and want to be very sure before we do. Someone from the clinic will contact you with an appointment date. And once again, I'm sorry I have to give you this news, but you will be getting the best possible care at the ALS Clinic."