(Andree here) "I wanted to check up on you so I can tell your many fans how you're feeling," I said.
"Pretty good today," Erik said. He got some sleep last night (thank you, all those who helped wish that into existence, and hold that thought will ya?). He gets up in the night when he's not comfortable, sits in a comfy chair, does some research, gets a little more sleep eventually.
He and Nancy, and Mom and Dad, are still working hard collecting his data and papers. This could be an easier task, frankly. Once these items are assembled they can be submitted to the right people - finding of whom is the other major task. Details as they come to light.
No, it's not easy having the rarest form of a rare disease, and an aggressive one at that. He knows what he's up against. This illness wants Erik and it wants him bad, but if it thinks it's going to get him easily or soon, it had better think again. As Erik said, "There are possibilities there. And I'm upbeat."
It has been said that in the early 80's some near and dear to me wondered if I was going to end up a card carrying Society of Creative Anachronism member, with the cape and the broadsword and the ye olde items of painbringing. Personally, I see myself more as a dagger sort of chick. But my point here is that when I think of this disease thinking it can walk on in here and have my brother, I imagine beating the holy crap out of it with axes and staves and whatever those round things with the pointy bits are, and, uh, broadswords. And stomping on it in thigh-high boots. And then spitting on it, pointing, and laughing, and saying, "Today was a good day -- for us. You, not so much."
Hooray for creative visualization.
Anyway, Erik wanted to get a bite (yay!), so I told him to go eat and get some sleep tonight. Wherever you are, lift your voices and say it with me: "Go eat. And get some sleep."
When they kick out your front door
How you gonna come?
With your hands on your head
Or on the trigger of your gun?
--The Clash