For a good number of years my family has been urging me to commit to paper a record of my experience of paralysis. There is both sorrow and joy. It is all true, to the best of my memory. It occurred in August-September, 1977 when I was 41 years old. My wife, Darlene, and I lived in southwestern Michigan with six children. Our first born, Steve, was going off to college. Our youngest, Ruthie, was nearly seven. I was pastoring a church when the problem...