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Now I Can See the Moon

T houghts at 2am: Sometimes, after reading about the 41 brave souls in England who volunteered to have catheters inserted in their brains so an experimental nerve cell growth factor could be tested or patients in Tasmania who are making and wearing buckets festooned with red LED lights on their head in the hopes that new cells will be nurtured...well, it hits me: this. is. really. happening. The curtain wavers a little and I glimpse the evil neurodegenerative wizard behind the scenes. Years ago, deep in the base of my brain, critical nerve cells silently started dying. There were clues something was wrong but no obvious signposts to point doctors in the right direction. Mostly they just pointed at me: get mental therapy (for the depression & anxiety)...get physical therapy (for the rigidity & slowness)...take sleeping pills (for the insomnia)...take laxatives (for the constipation & digestive issues.) One determined internist put me through a battery of specialists an

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