The Day Godzilla Arrived

dancingwithalsandlife.blogspot.com

AI ART, “Godzilla Mayhem”

The first time Godzilla came crashing into my home, he didn’t come from the ocean or a movie screen—he came through my front door and straight into my life, leaving a trail of destruction behind him.

In the summer of 2025, Godzilla—with his flame-throwing atomic breath, long, powerful tail, and destructive force—arrived in my neighborhood. This gargantuan creature came into my house, breaking things and tearing my home to pieces.

And when I say breaking things, I literally mean breaking things.

He bent the legs on tables that my husband had to hammer and screw back into place. He knocked standing framed pictures, table lamps, Alexa speakers, makeup, and knickknacks onto the floor. He ripped off door and entryway trim and grabbed the legs of our dining room chairs, dragging them down the hallway and nearly gouging chunks out of the drywall. Moving at high speeds, he terrified the dogs, nearly stomping on their paws, while my husband often had to jump out of his path or risk ending up in the ER with a broken foot.

His intimidating presence kept me in a constant state of panic and fear.

You may think Godzilla is fictional. However, in my home, Godzilla is alive and thriving.

He is my 410-pound customized Permobil power wheelchair.

Before Godzilla arrived, the spring of 2025 marked a major turning point in my life. I knew this day was coming because, over the previous year, I had slowly felt my legs becoming weaker and weaker. Then the falls started, along with the injuries. That wasn’t exactly thrilling, especially since I had already lost function in both of my arms and most of my hands.

Making the transition from my Nitro walker to a transport wheelchair—or even a small folding Jazzy power chair—was difficult. After all, who would ever say they wished they could no longer walk?

But when the massive creature known as Godzilla arrived, he brought a whole new level of challenges just to get from one place to another.

There is definitely a learning curve when it comes to safely operating a high-end power wheelchair. Driving into tables, walls, or anything else doesn’t end well when 410 pounds of wheelchair—not including my own body weight—comes crashing into it.

For years, I insisted I didn’t want one of these “big bad boys” because they are so large and heavy. My husband can’t simply throw this thing onto a hitch-mounted carrier attached to one of our current vehicles. Godzilla requires his own accessible van with a wheelchair ramp just to travel anywhere.

Many families struggle with where to find an accessible van or how to afford one. I think it’s a cruel irony that insurance companies will help pay for custom wheelchairs that provide comfort and independence, yet offer little to no financial assistance for transporting them.

Once again, if you are disabled and cannot afford or access a wheelchair van—especially if you live in a rural area—you may become housebound by the very device that was designed to give you freedom.

I do feel incredibly blessed that I was eventually able to find a used wheelchair van so Godzilla and I can experience life outside the walls of our home.

I will admit something, though.

The custom seating on Godzilla is amazing. It is, without question, the most comfortable chair in my house—even more comfortable than my plush lift recliner.

The features are incredible. The chair elevates high enough to bring me almost eye level with my husband, who stands 6 feet 4 inches tall—something I had never experienced before since I am only 5 feet 2 inches. It tilts, reclines, has elevating leg rests, and even comes equipped with headlights, rear lights, turn signals, and an obnoxiously loud horn.

And if I’m being honest, I kind of enjoy rolling around in what feels like a traveling hammock.

As I thought more about the fictional Godzilla, I realized we actually have a few things in common.

Godzilla is known for being incredibly resilient and durable, able to withstand tremendous attacks and keep moving forward.

I see that same resilience every day within the ALS community.

Our bodies are under constant attack by this disease, yet somehow we continue to adapt, persevere, and keep living our lives with courage and determination.

There is, however, one Godzilla characteristic I desperately wish people living with ALS possessed.

Regeneration.

Godzilla has the remarkable ability to regenerate damaged tissue and recover from devastating injuries. Imagine if those of us living with ALS could regenerate the motor neurons that have died, restoring our strength and allowing our muscles to work once again.

That day hasn’t arrived yet.

But there is hope.

Hope that research will one day stop this disease.

Hope that future treatments won’t simply slow ALS—but reverse what has been lost.

Until then, we keep going.

We adapt.

We endure.

We find strength in places we never imagined.

Because sometimes Godzilla isn’t just a force of destruction.

Sometimes…

Godzilla is what carries us forward.

Until next time… Keep dancing through life, one day at a time.        -Stacy 

September 2025