Man with ALS says he has learned from struggle
By Damian Gessel
The Daily Item
December 20, 2006
Editor's note: Danville native Jeff Dent is living with ALS, amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, more commonly known as Lou Gehrig's disease. While he is no longer able to speak, Mr. Dent has been communicating with The Daily Item by e-mail. This story is the first in a series of those communications.


DANVILLE — Since he was diagnosed with ALS nearly two years ago, Jeff Dent has watched his physical facilities slip away one by one.

They've left him silently, without a struggle, and often without him fully realizing they were failing.

Like a dying light bulb, his senses dimmed slowly, almost imperceptibly, until tasks he used to complete with the ease of breathing — lifting a fork to his mouth, dialing a telephone, typing on a computer — became Herculean, and finally impossible.

At 39 years of age, Mr. Dent is now unable to move or speak. Although ALS took his ability to move through life, it has given him an unshakable courage and a deep-seeded caring he previously did not know he was capable of.

It's much easier for him to communicate through e-mail, and his responses to questions are thorough and detailed, although it takes him considerably longer to type them out using his head switch. Talk with Mr. Dent for any length of time and it becomes clear that ALS has endowed him with a profound insight into some of life's little things.

"As a matter of fact, laughing and crying are much different but not in the way you're thinking," Mr. Dent writes. "What would happen is I'd be watching a movie with my kids and when a part was extremely happy or sad, I'd cry uncontrollably. To this day it still happens. I can actually think myself into bawling. On the other hand, I could also think myself into laughing so hard it hurts."

While Mr. Dent is immobile, his thoughts and emotions are as lucid and in some cases even more lucid than they were before he was diagnosed. According to the ALS Association, ALS impedes the brain's ability to direct motor function. It almost always leaves the sufferer's ability to think and feel intact, however.

"After the doctor told me what my outcome would be from this disease I felt I was given a chance most of us don't get," writes Mr. Dent. "So I thought we only get one chance, and I want to do it right "¦ ."

Some things came naturally. Mr. Dent says he now understands that if you don't scratch it, even a powerful itch will eventually go away. Also, bees never sting unless provoked. Mosquitoes, on the other hand, will bite no matter what.

But over time, Mr. Dent realized his disease gave him a human empathy he never before knew.

"I actually believe I'm caring more and love more. I've found my ability to forgive is also greater, and there are some things that bother me now," he writes. "This might sound crazy, but it's like I can feel it — any tension between two people or any negative talk or whenever someone lies."

Mr. Dent says his inability to do things he used to take for granted enable him to see the bigger picture.

"It sure has taught me how much we all take for granted in life. I'll never forget a few months after I was diagnosed I was out in a restaurant eating and I was having trouble getting a spoonful of food to my mouth without dumping it. Such a simple task, but now I really had to concentrate to accomplish it. I'd watch other people and think, 'If they only knew how lucky they are.'

"I wish everyone could have the chance to see life through my eyes. I guarantee people would learn a lot and change their outlook on life."

At 39, Mr. Dent has already purchased his tombstone.

He's picked out the clothes he is going to be buried in, made a list of his pallbearers and has written the letter to be read at his funeral.

Like a stone, Mr. Dent has turned his own death over in his hand — he has felt its contours.

It sounds morbid, but his disease has enabled Mr. Dent to come to grips with a reality most of us avoid until our final breath: We will all eventually die.

And although the vast majority of us will never experience the paralyzing effects of ALS, Mr. Dent's story is, ultimately, everyone's story.

E-mail comments to dgessel@thedanvillenews.com.
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