Gala Speech

When my friends at the MDA asked me to accept this award and help raise some money for ALS, I said of course. They didn’t tell me until much later that I would have to make a speech. They somehow forgot to mention the tux, as well. That said, I’m thrilled to be here and to have the opportunity to thank the MDA and all of you here tonight for your support.

I come from the world of advertising. In my training, we’re taught to think a little bit differently about things. And since ALS causes paralysis but leaves the mind intact, it gives you a lot of time to think. Maybe too much time. After I was diagnosed in August of 2003, the same tag line kept running through my head: ALS. It’s not just for baseball players anymore. And it hasn’t stopped there.

Because it’s such a rare disease most of you probably haven’t had the opportunity to spend a lot of time with someone with ALS. So I thought it might be fun, enlightening even, to share some of these random thoughts. Put these thoughts together, and you at least get a snapshot of what my world is like.

1. I’m not a doctor, but I’m pretty certain that people who drive sports cars are not handicapped. Why is this important? Because when the last handicapped spot is taken at Ralph’s by a guy with a nice tan driving a 500 SL, something just isn’t right. So I’ve come up with a plan to solve this nagging social problem. It’s called the handicap face-off. When all the handicapped spots are filled drivers will be requested to return to their cars for a comparison of ailments. ALS always wins.
   
2. Oprah rocks, but Ellen is funnier. And who the hell watches Maury, Ricki, or Montel anyway? And these are just three of the mysteries of daytime TV. Does Bryman College have fraternities? Will you really be happier as a trained dental technician? And why so many drug commercials? As far as I can tell, daytime TV is designed for women with erectile dysfunction who are unemployed and pay far too much for their car insurance. All I can say is, thank God the Olympics are coming.
   
3. My wife and I have begun to pay strange men to see me naked. The worst part is, they don’t seem to enjoy it. I don’t enjoy it much either, and not for the reason my wife supposes, namely that with my ego I think they should be paying me, but instead because the presence of our custodial caregivers reflects my increasing helplessness. It’s so hard to accept assistance with tasks that one used to have a reasonable proficiency, like eating, bathing, and going to the bathroom. Although I will say that it’s great to have another Lakers fan in the house.
   
4. It’s great that we’re here tonight to raise money to find a cure for ALS. We can use every penny. In fact, I have a theory: If every dollar used to develop and promote Viagra had instead gone towards ALS, I’d be getting a prescription from my doctor so I could play tennis with my wife, and some of you would be doing a lot more reading in bed.
   
5. My wife and I used to be big shoppers. We still are. Here’s just a partial list of what we’ve bought in the last eight months: a Dodge Caravan with automatic wheelchair ramp, a hospital bed, two transfer boards we’ve never used, three canes, a tall walker, a manual wheelchair, a power wheelchair, a wheelchair lift, a remodeled bathroom, a commode chair, a shower chair commode, three bed pans, a bedside trapeze, an elevated toilet seat, an elevated toilet seat with arms, four portable urinals, ankle braces, sleep boots, a transfer belt, an easy lift recliner chair, a breathing machine, a cat bag to carry it in, a neck brace, a Hoyer lift, easy-grip silverware, and a male girdle, which I like to call a guydle. My new tagline for ALS? It’s not just a disease, it’s a lifestyle.
   
6. I used to complain about going to work sometimes, but now I’d give anything to go. Not only is advertising a fun business, I was lucky enough to work for a very special agency. Over the last seven years, the friends I made at Dailey and Associates became my second family. Just two weeks ago, with very little lead-time, they got together and raised over $23,000 for the MDA. And that’s just one small example of the love and support they’ve shown me over the last eight months. Tonight is no exception. Thirty members of my Dailey family are here and I don’t quite know how to thank them. Oh wait, yes I do. “For all of your advertising needs, why not call Dailey and Associates at 310-360-3100. That’s 310-360-3100. Ask for Mike.” Sorry, I couldn’t resist.
   
7. I was asleep, but now I’m awake. I’m awake to how many friends I have, what wonderful people they are, and how much they truly care about me. And I’m awake to my family. To my father, who has opened up to me in ways he never has before. To my mother, who has gone to such great lengths to show her love and support. To my sister, who I know would trade places with me in a New York minute. My illness is tragic, but it has allowed me to receive gifts of love from those who mean the most to me. If you’re wondering about the meaning of life, it’s simple: To love and be loved. The ultimate wake up call and my friends and family taught me that. I don’t have a joke to end this one. Just a sincere and heart-felt thank you
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8. I don’t deserve a courage award, I really don’t, but I know someone who does. Less than two months after I was diagnosed she stood before friends and family and said these words: “For richer or poorer, for better or worse, in sickness and in health”. Never have these words meant so much. My wife Kathryn married me knowing what lay ahead. It was an act of loyalty, love, and yes, of courage for which I will never be able to repay her. It’s hard to believe, but sometimes ALS stands for “A Lucky Son of a Bitch”. Thank you, Pook, I love you.
   
9. I want to thank each and every one of you for supporting the MDA, because they have supported me. I’m lucky to have a great company and incredible friends and family to help me. Even so, there have been many times during this process when Kathryn and I haven’t known where to turn, but with one call to Morris Lawson, the appointment would be made, the doctor found, the problem solved. With your generous support I know that we will find a cure for this terrible disease. While I am pleased to be here tonight to receive this award, I know that you join me in the fervent hope that I am the last person to be so honored. Thank you.