Photo of Alan Timothy  Lunceford-Stevens
Alan Timothy Lunceford-Stevens

Alan Timothy Lunceford-Stevens

May 28, 2022

It took A.L.S. a year and a half to ravage my Timothy. Early on in the disease process, Timothy likened himself to a "Warrior" bringing the disease to its knees. A.L.S. had other ideas. It robbed him of his legs leaving him bed-bound. It gnarled his hands until he could no longer write. It robbed him of his oxygen.

Eating became a chore. And he lost his ability to speak. The irony is that Timothy gave me the strength to persevere. I only wish I were able to soothe his existential pain.

Early on in the disease process, Timothy wrote a dissertation about the concept of "Compassionate Use". He castigated his neurologist and demanded that he allow his A.L.S. population, early in their trial period, to obtain new medication. His mantra was" whose body is it anyway?" So even in his distress, he continued to fight the good fight.

Two anecdotes come to mind. Timothy confronted Pence as Pence voted against Obama Care. Timothy called him a "Murderer." And then turned to the senate and said "You're Fired". Timothy started a business called "Wigs For All." He made wigs from real hair and provided the wigs to chemo users free of cost.

GOOD BYE my love. I mourn your parting but I can't help breathing a sigh of relief knowing your pain is gone.

Please donate to the A.L.S. Association

Poem (from https://allpoetry.com/gone-from-my-sight)

Gone From My Sight by Henry Van Dyke
I am standing upon the seashore. A ship, at my side,
spreads her white sails to the moving breeze and starts
for the blue ocean. She is an object of beauty and strength.
I stand and watch her until, at length, she hangs like a speck
of white cloud just where the sea and sky come to mingle with each other.

Then, someone at my side says, "There, she is gone."

Gone where?

Gone from my sight. That is all. She is just as large in mast,
hull and spar as she was when she left my side.
And, she is just as able to bear her load of living freight to her destined port.

Her diminished size is in me -- not in her.

And, just at the moment when someone says, "There, she is gone,"
there are other eyes watching her coming, and other voices
ready to take up the glad shout, "Here she comes!"

And that is dying...

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