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Bench Strength — Page 5
No medicine has done for me what Azilect is doing. It’s
the only treatment that has noticeably slowed the progression
of my condition. It’s made me more confident in
goal. I can’t believe how steady, how sure, I
feel again while skating. I’ve regained my ability
to direct rebounds into the corner.
One night, over a postgame beer, Whelan asked me how
long it had been since my diagnosis. He found it hard
to believe it had been four years; the slowed rate of
my decline made him think it was more recent. I thanked
him for the compliment. Time is all we have, “quality
time,” as the ads say—60 minutes to a game,
an uncertain number to a lifetime—and Azilect
is buying me more of it.
One evening recently, after a game, The Owner asked
if I’d play at the Arbutus Club with an even older
bunch of oldtimers than the Flames. I told him I couldn’t—I
had a regular Thursday night beer-up with, as I carelessly
put it, “some of my friends.”
“We’re your friends,” The Owner said.
Don’t I know it.
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