Dad Diagnosed With ALS at 33–Now His Wife Is Sharing Signs Doctors Missed

Allie Coultas can still remember the first time her husband, Eric, complained about "feeling weakness in his hands."

That was January 2020. By March of that year, Eric was speaking with doctors over video link, as the COVID lockdown began. He complained that the weakness in his hands was "getting worse," despite buying grip-strengthening tools to address it.

"The doctor basically said, ‘You're a new dad who works a desk job-this is normal.' But his symptoms continued to get worse," Coultas said.

Coultas says her husband consulted his doctor "two or three times" at the start of that year, but they "didn't further investigate," instead repeating the same line about being a new parent. "Even when he started tripping and falling, they didn't seem concerned," she said. "He went to multiple doctors who didn't feel they needed to investigate further."

By then, other symptoms had emerged. Eric, an avid motorcyclist, was losing balance on his bike and falling off more times than ever before. At home, he struggled to lift up their two-year-old son Logan, while there was visible signs of atrophy around his fingers, shoulders and arms.

Eric had always been athletic, so the tripping was when Coultas knew "something was wrong." She said: "He expressed real fear towards the end of the summer in 2020. He was going for lots of runs, trying to strengthen his muscles because of the weakness he was experiencing, but his falls continued-and they became more frequent."

Eventually, Eric took himself to the ER, where a doctor did a full exam and noticed neurological changes that hadn't been picked up during the previous video consultations. They advised Eric to see a neurologist.

Though the first of those appointments was also over video link, due to the pandemic, Coultas says the "worry on her face" made it clear that "something bad was happening."

In November 2020, Eric was diagnosed-during his first face-to-face appointment-with amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (ALS), a neurodegenerative disorder known to many as Lou Gehrig's disease. He was 33.

It's a condition that causes motor neurons in the brain and spinal cord to deteriorate, resulting in progressive muscle weakness, loss of voluntary movement, and respiratory failure. There is no cure for ALS, and the average life expectancy from diagnosis is two to five years.

It was a diagnosis that stunned them both. "It was an out-of-body experience," Coultas said. "We both felt, ‘How can this possibly be our life? What happens next?'"

Eric's next words caught Coultas by surprise. "Almost immediately, he said, ‘Okay, I only have so much time left being able to move my body independently. I want to ride my motorcycle for as long as I can. I want to ride it all the way to the Grand Canyon and back.'"

And that's what they did, with Coultas and their son, Logan, following behind in an RV.

Logan was two when his father was diagnosed with ALS. He's eight now and has lived with his father's illness for longer than many children in similar situations.

"It's rare for people to live as long as Eric and still be speaking and walking, even a little, so we've been able to break the news slowly to Logan over almost six years," Coultas said.

"In the beginning, we would just say dad's muscles are tired-that the wires connecting his brain to his muscles don't work anymore. It was hard because he would ask if his dad would get better, or if he could catch ALS. But at an early age-I think he was four-he said, ‘mom, dad will walk and run again one day… in heaven.'"

Though Eric will never be able to teach Logan things like how to ride a bike, he is there every day to provide emotional support as they navigate everything together.

"I remember a year ago, Logan said, ‘ALS will kill dad,' just stating it matter-of-factly," Coultas said. "This was something we had never said to him and that I had been dreading. But I think, after so much time experiencing this disease, he just knew it deep down."

Day-to-day life for Eric varies depending on his energy levels. He's an artist who works digitally, using a computer he accesses while sitting in a recliner. Sometimes he's able to talk; other days are quiet. Treatments for non-genetic forms of ALS are limited-it's mainly about comfort and care. Eric has both.

"Even after a terminal diagnosis, there is life to live and joy to be felt," Coultas said. "It's harder, and you have to fight to hold onto it, but it is possible."

Coultas understands there are aspects of her husband's story that can "feel really scary," but she shares it in the hope that others can avoid the same difficulties they faced in getting a diagnosis.

"My purpose is not to scare people, but to empower them to listen to their bodies and advocate for themselves if something doesn't feel right," she said. "Eric was brushed off by multiple doctors before someone took him seriously and recognized he was having very concerning symptoms."

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This story was originally published June 13, 2026 at 6:30 AM.