When you hear the words "You have ALS,” your whole world stops. I never imagined I would be the one living with this disease. Every day since my diagnosis has been a fight. ALS is a cruel, unforgiving thief—it takes your strength, your voice, your independence, piece by piece. What used to be simple—tying my shoes, carrying groceries, walking across a room—are now battles I fight every single day.

The hardest part isn’t just what this disease is doing to me, but what it’s doing to my family. My wife has become my caregiver, even when she should just get to be my partner. She helps me with things I never thought I’d need help with—things that strip away your pride and remind you how much ALS takes from your dignity. I see the worry in her eyes, the exhaustion she tries to hide, and the way she still shows up with love and strength even when I feel weak. That’s what ALS does—it doesn’t just break down the person who has it, it weighs on everyone who loves them.

There is no cure. No way to stop what’s happening to me. But there is hope in what we can do together. That’s why we are walking in Walk ALS Georgia. Not because it will make my journey easier—but because it may make it easier for the next person, the next family, the next father or husband who hears those same crushing words.

You may not know anyone else with ALS, but you know me. And I’m asking for your support. Join our team. Donate to our cause. Walk with us. Every step we take together is a step toward a future where ALS no longer means losing everything.

Love,

John

 http://secure.alsgeorgia.org/goto/TeamKnowles2025#EndALS 

 Together, we can walk for a cure, and help all who is affected.