A note from Joseph’s mom

Thirteen years ago, a neurologist who I’d known for about eight minutes, explained that Joseph has Duchenne. There was no treatment and no cure. He continued, explaining that Duchenne is a progressive, degenerative muscle wasting disease that would steal Joseph’s ability to walk, to sit up, to use his arms. And it would attack his heart and lungs. 

I looked at my little boy playing with a puzzle on the floor, and I made a silent promise to him that I would fight for him. I would leave no stone unturned. I would channel my grief into something that would help him. 

With the proceeds from our first sold-out golf outing, I launched Team Joseph. I spent my days, and many long nights, researching Duchenne and calling scientists and looking for answers and finding out there really weren’t any. Since then, the collective force of the Duchenne community has moved the needle so far. 

I’ve learned that we cannot choose the hand we’ve been dealt, but we can choose how we play our cards. I’ve learned that there is always hope and that there are small miracles along the way. Although this disease is brutal, we have laughed more than cried. Celebrated more than grieved. We’ve been given this one life, and we're going to live the heck out of it.