I will never forget the date of March 12, 2004. It was a typical late winter day in Burlington, VT, chilly, windy and gray. It was also the day on which the first quarterly property tax payments were due, and I, having procrastinated as always, was walking back from City Hall, where I'd made the payment with minutes to spare. Funny thing, though, as I walked, I noticed that my left foot was dragging behind me. There was no pain, and there had been no injury. It was just kind of hanging, nearly useless. Getting in from the cold did not help, nor, as I was to find out, did visits to local neurologists. By the time I'd seen a couple of them, I had numbness in toes and fingers and a heavy feeling in both legs and arms, in addition to the "foot drop". After the last local appointment, which was as inconclusive as all the others and during which the doctor reminded me of the availability of the ER in case things got worse between then and the next visit, I'd had enough. Internet research and use of connections in the New York medical community led me to the Peripheral Neuropathy Center and Dr. Russell Chin. A review of my "history", a simple neuro exam and then the dreaded EMG/NCV test later and then came the "good news" – or at least the news that brought relief. I had CIDP. The diagnosis was certain and the treatment was available. It could begin within a week. My insurance would actually pay for it and it could be administered at my home or office. Fast forward just over six years. Although I still have some symptoms, especially in hot weather, I am ridiculously active for a 48 year-old man. Being able to walk, run, jump, skate, etc. has led me to engage in those activities to the fullest, in a way, I think, that no one who was not facing the prospect of paralysis could ever appreciate. My friends who've not had this (mis)fortune do not understand why I would seek to play soccer with people half my age, play catcher in an over-35 baseball league and, most ironically, to skate for our local men's roller derby team. In fact, the irony of the last activity is beautiful. One of the moves I must master in order to skate competitively is called the "T-stop." In that move, I must shift all my weight to my front foot and drag my back foot behind it, as if that back foot were useless. It is hard to do that without thinking of the days when that foot really did feel that way.

 

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