Four weeks before the scheduled opening of the new Charleston-Mount Pleasant bridge that bears his name, Ravenel was struck with a mysterious illness that left his speech slurred, his vision doubled, his hands tingling like they were asleep.

GRACE BEAHM/STAFF Jean Ravenel gives her husband Arthur a hug Monday at their Mount Pleasant home as he talks about overcoming the effects of Guillain-Barre Syndrome.

At first, doctors suspected a stroke, but then diagnosed the rare Guillain-Barre Syndrome.

"I'd never heard those words before in my life," Ravenel said Monday, sitting in his home overlooking the harbor. "When I came down with this illness, I thought maybe I'll die and that'll satisfy those people who say you shouldn't name things after people before they're dead."

That, of course, was a little joke -- a sure sign the former state senator is feeling better, thank you very much. It also served as an affirmation that when the Arthur Ravenel Jr. Bridge opens for car traffic on Saturday, its namesake will be there for the ceremonies.

"I reckon they'll ask me to say a few words, and I've always been able to find a couple of things," he said.

(And that was ironic understatement -- another sign of recovery.)

The last month has been tense for Ravenel fans, worried that the dedication of the bridge that will immortalize the man might not be much of a party without the good ol' boy statesman around, the man who put together the financing to build the $632 million span.

After 10 years of work, and the profile of his immortality rising impressively on the skyline, the recently retired state senator and congressman had felt everything was going great. And then illness struck.

Ravenel, 78, was spending the night at his farmhouse in the Francis Marion Forest on Father's Day weekend when the tingling began. After taking a walk on that Saturday morning, he called his wife, Jean, who said his famous Geechee accent was slurred. His daughter, Suzie, called the family doctor.

Ravenel was put in the hospital, suspected of having suffered a stroke.

It was only later, in therapy, that the rare disease was diagnosed. It usually begins with weakness and strange feelings in your limbs and can paralyze people, at least temporarily.

"I told (my therapist), I see two of you and the one over there's better-looking," he recalled.

Ravenel lucked out, contracting only a mild version of the syndrome. His treatment was supposed to be five nights of six-hour IV drips to load his body with antibodies to trigger the end of the disease. After four nights of the drip, he asked them to "go ahead and kill me." They stopped the treatment.

The upshot of his recovery has been continued tingling, aches and an inability to sleep. Hence, a lot of TV. He watched Hurricane Dennis move through the Gulf and "the horrible London bombing" in between late-night walks through the Old Village. His family has taken to taping his stories, and it may take another massive public works project to build something large enough to hold all the tapes.

From his back yard, Ravenel has taken a few moments to gaze lovingly at the bridge he began working to secure funding for a decade ago. On Sunday, Mount Pleasant Mayor Harry Hallman drove Ravenel across the bridge as tens of thousands of Lowcountry residents got their first close-hand view of the grand new span.

Although he gets a twinkle in his eye when telling the knight-errant journey of getting the bridge built, Ravenel has also become an architecture critic, historian, statistician and social commentator on all things related to the bridge.

"It has everything everyone wanted -- a 1,000-foot channel, greater height, eight lanes of traffic and a 12-foot bicycle and pedestrian walkway," he said. "It's an aristocratic but plebeian bridge, as massive as it is elegant."

Although quite tickled at having it named after him, and pleased that he will see it open to traffic, Ravenel realizes the bridge is likely to become known by a simpler name. Of those that have popped up so far, Cousin Arthur is partial to "The Cuzway."