Lucky Man: A Memoir
by Michael J. Fox
Overview
From the Publisher
In September 1998, Michael J. Fox stunned the world by announcing he had been diagnosed with Parkinson's disease -- a degenerative neurological condition. In fact, he had been secretly fighting it for seven years. The worldwide response was staggering. Fortunately, he had accepted the diagnosis and by the time the public started grieving for him, he had stopped grieving for himself. With the same passion, humor, and energy that Fox has invested in his dozens of performances over the last 18 years, he tells the story of his life, his career, and his campaign to find a cure for Parkinson's.
My thoughts
It took me a few pages to get used to the style of Michael J. Fox. I'd always imagined him as Alex P. Keaton, the character he played on Family Ties. He's cute, he's intelligent, he's witty -- naively I never imagined him wondering where his next meal would come from in the early days of his career, or drinking heavily, or lavishing in the lifestyle of the "rich and famous". It was a bit of a shock, actually. Once I got over that, I fell into the rhythm of the book and enjoyed it immensely.
I have a friend who, like Michael J. Fox, woke up one day with a tic. I personally can't imagine what it's like and I hope I never have to find out, but it must be a peculiar feeling to one day be "fine" and the next to have this minor malfunction of a body part that's always worked in the past. I'm sure I would try to brush it off as a fluke, even if the "fluke" lasted days, weeks, or even months.
My friend and Fox's medical conditions differ night and day from what transpired after the initial observation and subsequent diagnosis, but both went through varying stages of denial and acceptance. I think it's brave of Fox to write with such honesty, admitting his short-comings along the way and facing them head-on. He's a man with a warm and supportive family who were there for him with love and humor while keeping him well-grounded. His wife is an amazing woman possessing uncommon amounts of dignity, strength, patience and wisdom.
Regardless of how you feel about fetal cell research, Michael J. Fox makes a powerful statement of support for the process. I won't try to explain it like he does, but he has a way of looking at it in a positive light. Last week I saw him in a political ad for John Kerry, touting his support because of government funding for this research. I was saddened to see the physical effects of Parkinson's Disease after having read about them in his book, and my heart goes out to him. God bless Michael J. Fox, and others who have been touched by this condition.
Favorite Passage
During my next hiatus, I brought the trophy (his Emmy) back to Vancouver -- in part to share the honor with my parents, but also, frankly, to show it off. Mom gave Emmy a place of honor on a table in the entry hall to their home, directly across from the front door. That night, my brothers and sisters gathered at Mom and Dad's. There was lots of laughing and celebrating. Experience had taught me, though, that somewhere in all this backslapping, Steve, or somebody, would come up with a way to tweak me -- bring my balloon back down to earth.
The following morning when I stepped into the entry hall where the Emmy had spent the night, I burst out laughing. Surrounding the gold-plated statuette, as if to subdue it gaudiness by the force of sheer numbers, were my brother's 15-year-old boxing trophy, Mom's bridge trophy, Dad's curling trophy, my sisters' bowling and swimming trophies, plus a few other tokens of their individual triumphs. Perfect.
It was this sort of simple but pointed comic gesture that provided me with reassurance. If the entire dizzying ride came to an abrupt end, if the other shoe dropped and I was exposed as an imposter, I still had a place to go back to. I still had a home in the real world.
