I can relate, netimus. In fact, I posted in The Support Group just the other day about the full-blown panic attack I had when I read Pete's story. I'm over 2 years into this, diagnosed with BFS, but reading about all the similarities between he and I shook me to the core. TwitchyMD points out that it wasn't just twitching; this is important to recognize. However, you could just as well say almost all those things about me - Twitching: God yes, constantly. Decline in energy: yep. Difficulty running: maybe. I ran 1.5 miles 2 days ago and still ache all over; but I hadn't run in about 5 months beforehand, so it's most likely normal fatigue. Difficulty healing from an injury: haven't been injured, so who can say. The thing that caused me the most alarm was that I couldn't find a specific timeline for Pete's progression. Was this over weeks, months, or years? If it was months, OK I've got nothing to worry about. Years? Different story. Some important realizations I've had that have helped me make some peace with his tragic situation: 1. He wasn't diagnosed with ALS right away because it is exceedingly uncommon in our age group, so his doctors most likely weren't even considering it at first. Pete found ALS via google in October 2011 (so it was probably shortly thereafter that they started looking for it) and was diagnosed 5 months later in March 2012... I found ALS via google in June 2012 so my doctors were looking specifically for it right out of the gate and still came up certain that I don't have ALS. My neuro literally said to me: "I am 100% sure you do not have ALS." That doesn't really leave much room for debate.2. Look at the progression of his disease. If you watch his YouTube video, you will see that he requires assistance getting out of bed and walking, and that his speech is significantly impaired. In roughly that same time frame, how has my condition changed? Well, it hasn't really. My BFS symptoms snowballed in the first couple weeks, but leveled off after that and haven't really evolved in any significant way since then. I think the thing that is most frightening for us about Pete's story is that he is an extreme statistical outlier. To most easily overcome the paralyzing fear of ALS, we like to put it in a box: 3-5 year life expectancy, onset in middle-age or later, clinical weakness presents before twitching, twitching without weakness can last no more than 7-8 months, bulbar-onset is a rapid and immediately deteriorating manifestation, etc. The thing is, all of those statements are a pretty accurate description of the bell curve of ALS patients, but there are always going to be some people that land outside the mean - and those people scare the hell out of us BFS-ers because it gives us someone to point to and say: "Well what about him?? See?? I COULD have ALS!!"It's going to be important to reach back to our roots here. What are the odds? Let's say 30,000 people in the US have ALS. OK. How many of them are under 30? Well, that's a pretty small number. Now, how many of that subgroup presented with muscle twitching for over 2 years before exhibiting clinical weakness? Oh, none of them? OK, either I'm going to revolutionize modern medicine with my unheard-of manifestation of a fatal disease - OR I DON'T HAVE IT. The sheer panic I experienced the other day when I first read this story was exactly like how I felt when I got my first google result in 2012. And I'm so embarrassed for that. I have survived. I'm one of the lucky ones. There I am reading a horrible story about a guy my age who has a young wife and a baby on the way and is, by all odds, going to die in relatively short order, and the first emotion I feel is self-pity for a condition a neurologist told me I don't have. It's going to be OK. I'm going to be OK. You're going to be OK. Deep breaths.