Stories Told. Lives Changed.
For me, this whole writing business began when a doctor looked at an MRI of my brain, then at the floor, then hard into my eyes and said, “You should be dead.” He then told me there was nothing he, or anyone could do for me. “I’m sorry Mr. Armstrong, you should be dead.” I […]
For the last three years I’ve been a bit of a pin cushion. Most doctor appointments involve the rolling of a sleeve, an alcohol swab across the crook of my arm and a little pin prick and a lot of blood giving. And you know what, I happily give. Blood and needles have never really […]
Last Thursday night, after I finished the final edits for “The Day I Learned I Couldn’t Jump (or Learning to Fly)” I couldn’t sleep. While writing that story, I felt like a guest at a reunion of sorts. Bill and Denise and the two chatty Cathys on the treadmill were in attendance. Although brief, it […]
The Day I Learned I Could No Longer Jump (or Learning to Fly) For M. Six months after being diagnosed with cerebellar degeneration, six months after a neurologist examined an MRI of my brain, leveled his eyes, cleared his throat and said to me, “you should be dead or in a hospital bed” I’m staring at […]
A student recently asked me, “Hey Mr. Armstrong, what do you think about before you write?” I curved my eyebrows inward, adopted a deep, contemplative look, held a silence for a second too long and replied, “Words.” The student rolled their their eyes, shook their head as if to say “Sorry I asked, you pretentious jerk” then […]
A few days after a muscle biopsy procedure my doctor called and delivered the name of my mysterious internal antagonist–Sar-coy-something. As I scratched down its letters on the back of a Chinese take-out menu he explained the intimacies of my disease, offered some reassurance and outlined a plan of attack. When the call ended […]