Adam’s Dad

My name is Adam and I am 11 years old. I also have a brother Ian, who is 13 and an older sister named Karen. My Dad got ALS four years ago and now he is in a wheelchair and he can hardly talk at all.

The school that I go to and I, want to raise money for research to find a cure for my Dad. We used to do so much stuff together. I can’t remember very well when he could walk or use his hands.

We used to play road hockey together, but now he can only be the goalie in his wheelchair. Please help me to find a cure. Maybe if I could get enough money then the doctors could fix Dad so we could do everything together again.

Dad and I - When he could still walk I love you Dad.

The ALS Society asked if I could tell the world one thing about ALS what would it be. It is hard to say one thing because there is so much. There is so much that I want to tell people, so if I can only say one thing I am not sure what it would be but I’ll try.

ALS means amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, but to me it can mean something else as well – to me it Always Leaves Sadness.

It leaves behind sadness for the person who is diagnosed (like my Dad) because they can no longer do as many things as they could before they were diagnosed.

It leaves behind sadness for the family members of people who have been diagnosed because family members have to do extra work to take over the responsibilities the person once had and they take care of the diagnosed person as well.

It also leaves sadness for friends (like my Dad’s friends) because it hurts seeing their friend not be as they used to know them.

It also hurts the mother and father of the person diagnosed (like my grandma and grandpa) because of seeing their child get sick and be confined to a wheelchair.

It leaves sadness for Dad’s sister because Dad is her only other sibling and to see him get diagnosed and be confined to a wheelchair must make her feel sad.

ALS is a disease that ALWAYS LEAVES SADNESS, so we need to find a cure so that anyone with ALS can be cured and the sadness is lifted away.

Dad and I (playing road hockey)

By Adam Cholmondeley