A numb hand. That’s it. That’s where it all started for Sara Bennett, the influencer whose life, by all accounts, was just starting to really hit its stride. March 2022. Her husband, Rusty, says they “thought very little” of it. And honestly? Who would? A numb hand? You probably figure you slept on it wrong, or maybe it’s carpal tunnel from too much scrolling (ironic, given her job). But here’s the kicker, the gut punch that just sits in your stomach like a cold stone: from that seemingly minor, almost ignorable symptom, to her death, it was just… five years. Five years. Not five decades. Five. That’s barely enough time to finish a mortgage, let alone live a full life. I mean, what the hell, right?

The Whisper That Became a Roar

Rusty Bennett, bless his heart, is now talking about those early days, that “numbness in her hand.” And he’s candid about how little they worried. Because, why would you? You get a little tingle, a weird sensation, you shake it off. You Google “numb hand” and it throws up a million benign things. Pinched nerve. Circulation. Maybe a vitamin deficiency. It doesn’t scream “life-ending neurological disease.” Not at all. And that’s the insidious, terrifying thing about ALS, isn’t it? It starts with a whisper. A tiny, almost polite knock on the door, and by the time you realize it’s Death collecting his due, it’s already burst through the walls and is rearranging the furniture.

You know, I’ve seen this pattern before. Someone says, “Oh, it was just a cough,” or “My foot felt a bit weird.” We’re so conditioned to brush off the small stuff, to be tough, to not “overreact.” Especially when you’re young, healthy, vibrant – like Sara was. An influencer, for crying out loud! Her job was to radiate health and happiness, to project this perfect, curated life. It’s hard to reconcile that image with something as brutally debilitating as ALS. And I bet that made it even harder for them to connect the dots. A numb hand doesn’t fit the brand, does it? It’s just… inconvenient.

The Cruel Calculus of Symptoms

The thing is, we’re all playing this game of symptom roulette. Is this a fluke? Is it serious? Do I bother the doctor? Do I sound like a hypochondriac? And when it’s something like ALS, which mimics so many other less serious conditions in its early stages, it’s an absolute nightmare. Muscle weakness, twitching, slurred speech, trouble swallowing. These aren’t exactly unique. You can find a reason for all of them that doesn’t involve your motor neurons dying off one by one. And that’s what makes the diagnosis so late for so many. By the time it’s undeniable, by the time it’s screaming at you, it’s often too late to do anything but manage the decline. And “manage” feels like such a weak, clinical word for watching someone you love disappear piece by piece.

But Wait, Doesn’t Anyone See the Clues?

Look, this drives me nuts. Not the Bennetts, obviously. They did what any normal human would do. But the system. The way we talk about health. The way we prioritize looking good over feeling good. This woman was an influencer. Her livelihood, in part, depended on projecting a certain image. How much of that played into maybe downplaying things, even subconsciously? I’m not saying she ignored symptoms to keep up appearances, not at all. But I am saying there’s a societal pressure, especially on people in the public eye, to be “fine.” Always fine. Never vulnerable. And that can’t help when you’re dealing with something that starts so subtly.

“It’s like a silent thief in the night, taking small things first – a strong grip, a clear voice – until it takes everything.”

And what about doctors? I know, I know, they’re busy. But when someone comes in with persistent, unexplained symptoms, even seemingly minor ones, shouldn’t there be a higher level of suspicion? Especially when the patient is young? I’m not suggesting every numb hand needs an MRI and a full neurological workup immediately. That’s unrealistic. But maybe, just maybe, when a symptom doesn’t resolve itself, when it hangs around, a bit more curiosity from the medical establishment wouldn’t go amiss. Because those five years? They fly by. And every month, every week, every day lost to misdiagnosis or simply “wait and see” is a precious piece of someone’s life, someone’s ability to move, to speak, to breathe.

The Unfairness of It All

This is the part where I get really frustrated. Because there’s no rhyme or reason to ALS. It just… happens. It robs people of their ability to move, to communicate, to even swallow, all while leaving their minds perfectly intact. Can you imagine that hell? Being trapped in your own body, fully aware, fully cognizant, as your physical self betrays you? It’s the cruelest kind of joke. And it reminds you, doesn’t it, how fragile life actually is? How quickly everything can change, from a numb hand to a death sentence, in what feels like the blink of an eye. Five years. That’s a blip. That’s no time at all.

And then you see the “influencer” tag. And you think, “Oh, another one.” But this isn’t about Instagram filters or brand deals. This is about a human being, a wife, a person, whose life was cut brutally short by a disease that’s still largely a mystery. It puts things into perspective, doesn’t it? All the noise, all the manufactured drama online, and then something real, something terrifyingly real, sneaks in and takes everything away. It’s a sobering reminder that underneath all the carefully curated feeds, we’re all just… people. And we’re all vulnerable.

What This Actually Means

So, what’s the takeaway here? If I’m being honest, it’s not some neat, tidy lesson. It’s messy, just like life. It means being vigilant about your own body, yeah. Not being a hypochondriac, but also not dismissing those little whispers. If something feels off, if it persists, if it just doesn’t sit right with you, push for answers. Don’t be afraid to be a nuisance, because your life, or the life of someone you love, might just depend on it. And for the medical community? Maybe a renewed focus on those “minor”, unexplained symptoms in younger people. Because waiting for the big, undeniable signs often means waiting too long.

But mostly, it means remembering the unfairness. The absolute, soul-crushing unfairness of diseases like ALS. And maybe, just maybe, it means taking a moment to appreciate the simple fact that you can move your hand, that you can speak, that you can breathe freely. Because for some, that’s a luxury that disappears far, far too soon. Five years. Just five. It’s not enough time. Never enough time.