What is that disease where you basically turn to stone

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Huntington’s disease (HD) is a fatal hereditary disease that destroys neurons in areas of the brain involved in movement, intellect, and emotions. The course of Huntington’s is characterized by rigid muscles. ChaCha! [ Source: http://www.chacha.com/question/what-is-that-disease-where-you-basically-turn-to-stone ]
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What is the name of that disease that turns humans to stone??
Fibrodysplasia Ossificans Progressiva, an affliction that turns muscle into bone, leaving victims frozen into position, Eventually, this extra bone-growth crushes the internal organs, causing death. The incurable condition is so rare, only …

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HELP me!!!!!!!!! A short excerpt from my story!! pLeAsE! ! ! ! what do you think?
Q: ok, so just tell me your thoughts on anything and everything about this excerpt..basically Mandy (narrator) is 15 year old who has just basically conquered the bad guy..her grandma died 5 yrs ago and her mom has been a total bitch since partly influenced by the bad guy (long story) so here it is…“Mom,” I whispered, approaching her with hesitation. She glared at me, condescending and disregarding at the same time. “Mom,” I repeated, this time louder. “I know how Grandma died.”“Oh really? You know, so do I. A disease called cancer.” Her voice cut me like a knife. For a moment I was shocked, and almost pained at how similar we were. I could envision myself giving much the same answer to the lovely Miss Lara some day.“No. She could have, would have survived the cancer. It was something else much stronger than disease.” I spoke slowly, aware that at any minute her emotions could flare and this could turn into a screaming match. But I waited patiently, watching her eyes go from indignant to annoyed to confused to curious. The emotions were raw and plain on her face. “What exactly have you been up to?”I took a seat at the kitchen table, cringing at its frigid surface beneath my forearms. I traced the veins of marble under my fingers, searching for an answer. The maze of crystals and rocks wound endlessly through the slab of stone, intertwining and flowing seamlessly from one chunk of color to the next. The detail was spectacular, but natural. It was so complicated, but so very simple, just as I needed to be.And so I told my tale for the second time that night, this time extended with personal comments and a question from my mother about every three seconds. When she finally ran out of questions, it was well past midnight. We sat in semi-darkness, gazing at each other intently. “I always knew,” she murmured, voice quavering and lip quivering. For the first time in years, we hugged. Her arms were warm and comforting as she gripped me fiercely. I buried my head in her shoulder, letting the tears flow. I cried for forgiveness, for realization, for joy, for hope, and for my inevitable destiny. After a timeless stretch of love, we released each other, sniffling meekly. A single stream of moonlight fell through the sliding glass doors, casting the kitchen in a silver glow. It was the same silver that shone around Gary the Delivery Boy, the same silver that had saved my life today, and the same silver that had repaired my broken heart, filling the patch where a mother belonged.
A: very, very detailed. i really liked it!! it sound like the kind of book that if i started it, i would NOT be able to put down. you would be a great author, i hope that you go w/ this. your really, really good. =]
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