When he finished, everyone applauded. He could have stayed in that moment forever.
But then the dancing stopped. He developed asthma in his sixties. His breathing became labored.
One day he was walking along the Charles River, and a cold burst of wind left him choking for air.
He was rushed to the hospital and injected with Adrenalin.
A few years later, he began to have trouble walking. At a birthday party for a friend, he stumbled inexplicably.
Another night, he fell down the steps of a theater, startling a small crowd of people.
“Give him air!” someone yelled. He was in his seventies by this point, so they whispered “old age” and helped him to his feet.
But Morrie, who was always more in touch with his insides than the rest of us, knew something else was wrong.
This was more than old age. He was weary all the time. He had trouble sleeping. He dreamt he was dying.
He began to see doctors. Lots of them. They tested his blood. They tested his urine.
They put a scope up his rear end and looked inside his intestines.
Finally, when nothing could be found, one doctor ordered a muscle biopsy, taking a small piece out of Morrie's calf.
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