"Holy shit," was all Feldman could say. 

"I'm terrified," he said. "Take my advice and don't Google up ALS. You won't sleep that night."

"Rotten luck!"

 "I may have to call on you during the months ahead," Larry said. "I haven't minded living alone all these years, but now I have to start thinking about caregivers, nursing homes, hospices, the full goddamn catastrophe. With ALS taking away my speech and everything goddamn thing else, which it eventually does, I may not be in good enough shape to make some of these decisions, let alone express what I want.  I'm going to need help, especially towards the end when, I learn on Google, I won't even notice that I'm crappin' in my pants, if I'm wearing pants. I'm going to need you to stand by me, Al. There's no one else I can call on."

Were Larry's eyes welling up? Feldman couldn't be sure, because his own were. 

"You can count on me," was all he could think to say.

"I knew that," Larry said.