Girls

This week, I delivered an envelope marked “Natalie Hixon” at the elementary school’s front office. (She had forgotten her homework.) I only said, “This is for my daughter.”

As I walked back to my car, I reflected just for a moment on those two words “my” and “daughter.” These two words mean so much more together than when used separately. Think about it: There is no magic in the phrases “My ham sandwich.” or “Whose daughter is this?” But when I say “my daughter” there is a tingle. A spark.  Anyone who has a daughter knows what I am talking about.

When I had my first child, a beautiful daughter, I was in awe. The emotions within me were overpowering, but contained, at least until I called Mom and choked out another set of magical words: “It’s a girl.”

This was Mom’s first grandchild, but I remember her being more concerned than delighted because I was temporarily unable to speak after saying this. “David? Are you OK? Is everyone OK?!” Yes Mom. Everything is perfect. Couldn’t be better.

I will forever be grateful for girls. I marvel that I was entrusted  with not one, not two, but THREE daughters. In each one I have a priceless treasure and feelings of gratitude that far exceed my expressive vocabulary.

The next time we need to take something to the school, maybe Kara better do it.

Miracle Girl

I recently was found (through FaceBook) by an old mission companion. Learning of my MS, he put me in contact with a woman in his ward that had a much more severe MS case several years ago, but has since experienced miraculous healing.

She wrote me a candid, thorough e-mail message from which I am taking new hope and adopting new therapy options. I won’t get into those now, or breach her confidence, but I really appreciated an opinion of hers that I have been unable to verbalize. With respect to the disease itself she said, “I think MS is a series of different diseases that share a diagnostic profile.” Yes! How she was affected is very different (way worse) than my challenges. The causes are different, so it follows that the cures would vary also. Although the path to restored health may be unique for each person, there are certain principles that promote health for anyone.

Her thoughts on the Word of Wisdom were profound and also pointed out a key difference between healing and curing. (“Miracle Girl”- if you read this and would like to share any details of your story or some of your insights, feel free. Or if you have a blog, please provide the URL. Excellent writer, amazing story.)

Deliberate Dave

I know it has been a couple weeks since I posted to this blog. I am sorry to anyone who may have repeatedly sought an update but found none. Ironically, the changes in my condition can vary by the hour, but usually each day is about the same as the previous one. I feel lucky that the past few months have been somewhat stable. It makes for good living but uninteresting blogging.

Over the past couple weeks I do have to admit that my walking has worsened. Not crazy worse, nothing dramatic, please don’t be alarmed but I think it is more noticeable. I walk gingerly. I have not been doing my "distance walking." I am unsure if this is a cause or a result of this latest swoon.

Another word I would use to describe a lot of things I do is “deliberate.” Example: You know how when you get into your car, you sit down in the car and swing your feet in almost simultaneously? Or you step in as you’re sitting down? I noticed that I split up things like that. Sit. Swing. It isn’t a problem, it is just deliberate.

Also, the “exertion fatigue” seems to be way worse. It is maddening. For example, last night I heated some soup for Erika and then had to lie down for a few minutes. C’mon – soup heating? It isn’t that strenuous. We even have an electric can opener! To be fair, I did trudge up the stairs to ask her about the potential meal, but still!

I don’t get that whipped every time I do anything, but I can’t really see it coming. (This is not some elaborate scheme to evade Thanksgiving dishes at Mom and Dad’s.)

Man, I can be such a downer. I'm just trying to be honest, knowing that readers care and that I will be with a lot of family within a couple of weeks. I'm trying to pre-empt comments like "Dude, you're deliberate."

Actually I don't care if anyone calls me names. What am I going to say? "Mommmm! Roger called me Deliberate!" She would just say, "Deliberate-Schmeliberate."

Rest assured that I don't need anything; I know I already have your sympathy. I'm not "sick" as much as "broken." Well, slowly breaking, I guess. For now. But I am not unhappy.

Lengthening my Amble

I have been neglecting my jogging efforts recently. I don’t really have a good excuse; I have time and the weather has been very temperate. I have noticed a worsening in my walking over the past month or so, especially the first few steps after sleeping or sitting for a while, but once I get going I’m fine. Other than that I feel fine though, good, actually.  But the walking trouble can’t be the reason. I could have used this excuse from the beginning. It’s probably just laziness.

However, on the advice of my neurologist, I’m foregoing jogging. She said that safety concerns aside, it would be far better to walk 1,000 meters every day than to jog for 200 and walk 200. So starting tomorrow I’ll start pushing myself with a different emphasis. I’m not totally giving up on the trotting idea; perhaps it will just have to await a turn for the better.