You gain a sense of camaraderie with other people suffering from ALS, and their caregivers.
Texts, email, calls, and messages via social media go back and forth behind the scenes. How are you? What meds are you on now? Have you had your feeding tube inserted yet? How's your breathing? How's your weight? How are you emotionally? How are you coping with X change?
Sharing the journey binds you together. Even if your ALS is progressing at different speeds (which it does), you share common paths.
Which means that when friends and people you correspond with start to experience failing health, you feel it, too. Maybe not the physical symptoms, but certainly emotionally. That sinking feeling in your stomach.
So as other sufferers falter and fall you feel your numbers dwindling. You look around and see the crowd thinning out.
Then you realize that this fight you've been in will end in a proverbial charge of the light brigade: surrounded by canon on all sides, and engulfed in shot and shell fire. You don't lose hope, but you see that your horse is saddled and you know there's no return from the mouth of hell.
Here's to those climbing in to the saddle.