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Might wanna skip this one if you have depression or anxiety issues, because
they may be triggered by my words. The doctors have no clue what’s wrong with
me, but the signs and symptoms are clear. Long before I started traveling the
bulk, I watched my maternal grandfather slowly die of Parkinson’s disease. I
don’t actually know if that’s what killed him, but it certainly contributed to
it. I’m exhibiting a lot of the same problems that I remember him having.
Stiffness, numbing, tremors. You don’t use the same term for it here, but
after some conversation, the doctors were able to assure me that their idea of
this same disease could be ruled out. It’s something else. That’s neither good
nor bad, because it can’t be cured on either world. Neither can whatever it
actually is...probably. Based on my rate of decline, and their lack of
understanding, they don’t see any reason why I would improve. It’s likely
going to keep getting worse until I become nothing more than a shell of my
former self. Death is almost certain to follow. It will be slow, painful, and
extremely frustrating. So far, the mental component hasn’t been too bad, but
it has still been an issue. I’ve forgotten things, and I’ve been snapping at
people, even before I went into the hospital. I’ve asked them to keep me alive
at just about all costs, but at some point—probably rather soon—you won’t be
hearing from me anymore. I won’t be able to think, let alone type or talk.
We’re in the endgame now.
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