Bonk

One of the casualties of my disease is minor loss of coordination. I am getting used to my new clumsiness, and it isn’t that bad, but I’m finding the effects in the most improbable areas. If I were building card houses or juggling knives, I would expect to do poorly. I take special care when putting away dishes or using scissors, but it’s those little things that you can’t anticipate that get you.

For example, last month I hand-washed a large frying pan. While drying it, I was holding it out in front of me, near where the handle is connected to the pan. I dried the pan part first, holding it somewhat near so I could see that the job was thorough. When I began drying the handle, I failed to properly counterbalance the new pressure I applied to the front of the handle, resulting in the pan swiveling forward and conking me right between the eyes. No broken skin, no mark, but it wasn’t fun.

Of course, as I was reacting to the pain, Kara walked by and asked, “What happened?” How do I answer that? A little pan drying incident? Do I have to say? There is no way to disguise or soft-sell this.

Now, there is nothing about MS that means you can’t dry dishes safely or counterbalance cast iron. If someone said, “Dry this frying pan without hitting yourself” I could do it, no problem. It is just an example of where a 2% loss in coordination can surprise you.

Just a Primary Teacher

In 2005 I was asked to serve on the Primary Board, teaching one of two Valiant 10 classes. Having served recently as Elders Quorum President and Ward Clerk, I really looked forward to being just a Primary teacher.

I took my new role seriously, but I did enjoy the easing on my schedule. It was three months into my second class when my MS issues began. I discussed it with them, but at that time the issues were not too visible, and certainly not audible.

The class comprised of ten children of inestimable potential and I was honored just to be a small part of their developmental fabric. I would do my best to teach them, to share my testimony with them, and to assure them that I cared about them. In the coming “tween” years, they might need an extra testimony to lean on, right? I hoped that somehow I could bless their lives.

I didn’t foresee that they would bless my life, in rich, direct, and immediate ways. Three of them have moved away and three more live on the other side of a new ward boundary, leaving only four that I see regularly. They have turned 12 this year.

One girl gave a talk in sacrament meeting. Because she was one of “my” students, I perked up and really paid close attention. I know, I should always pay close attention, sorry. She taught easy and practical ways to make progress on family history work. It was exactly what I needed to resuscitate my own dormant efforts.

While I am on great terms with each of the four kids, one boy goes out of his way to check on me and my capricious health. I try to reassure him that I’m OK, but given my vocal issues, I don’t sound very convincing. One Sunday last month, I was enduring a spell of utter exhaustion accompanied by a severe headache during church. The fatigue probably was related to my illness, but the headache probably wasn’t. Headaches happen to everyone, right? Fortunately, these bouts of fatigue are infrequent, but when they hit, especially with a headache, everything is worse, including walking and balance. When priesthood meeting ended, I decided to let the room clear out a bit before making my unsteady way to the exit. I didn’t want to cause undue concern, or fall on anyone! (It is just the first few steps that can be an adventure if I try to hurry the process.)

While seated, this boy came to me and asked how I was. The class was not on the way to anywhere; he had obviously come in just to greet me. I reported the headache and I’m sure he could see the fatigue. As I rose, he asked if he could help me. He is of very slight build, but he carried man-sized sincerity and concern. I took him up on the offer, figuring better to steady myself on his shoulder than to make him watch me struggle and maybe stumble. As we walked together slowly to the door I considered the irony. I thought they would be leaning on me.

Just a Primary teacher. Hah. Everyone should be so fortunate.

Uncle David

I know the Christmas season is in full swing but I have another story from Thanksgiving. I am almost done. Soon after I arrived at my parents’ home in California last month, I learned that my aunt Nancy and Uncle David would be coming and staying a few days. This was good news. I had not seen them since 2004.

Aunt Nancy did not disappoint with her endless supply of anecdotes about growing up with Dad. Uncle David treated us all to music from a dulcimer that he made. It was a delight getting caught up with them. They seemed to be doing well in every regard.

Therefore, I was puzzled when during a family prayer my nephew prayed that “Uncle David would feel better.” Was he not feeling well? How did this boy know about something that I didn’t?

Then it dawned on me that he wasn’t referring to my uncle, but to his.

It engendered a curious feeling in me. I am extremely humbled by and grateful for the many prayers in my behalf offered by family and friends, but my natural instinct is to defer. I’m fine. I mean I have a long list of medical issues and limitations, but I feel pretty good. Well, most of the time. Most days. Some days I don’t. Maybe I’d better keep the divine petitions going!

Hearing

Today I had my long-awaited social security disability hearing before a judge in Dallas. It was not what I expected. A court reporter showed us (my attorney and I) into a small room, and soon the judge came in. I prepared to rise but there wasn’t a bailiff and no one else rose. The judge did sit at an elevated station, was wearing judicial robes, and my attorney said, “Your Honor” a lot but other than that it seemed like a somewhat informal chat about my health.

I think it went well. The attorney thought so too. I found it interesting that the first thing the judge said was that he had reviewed my earnings history from IRS records and could not see why I would leave a job making $X per year to go on disability, unless I were truly disabled. Yeah. I’m not faking. I know, some people do, and it is his job to determine who is and who isn’t. After the hearing the attorney told me that income level, work history, and job stability are big factors, and that my situation seemed golden. Well, except for the disease and all. (I guess it is golden for her.)

In another positive exchange, after reviewing my medical file, complete with reports from a half dozen doctors, the judge asked my attorney, “Didn’t DARS (local Social Security that has denied me twice) have all these records?”

She said, “Yes, they did.”

He then asked, “Why did they deny him?”

His question may have been a bit rhetorical but she offered a theory, “Probably because of his age.”

He seemed to concur. I interpreted “his age” as being young, and for the first time in months I felt young!

By the way, we should have a ruling in a month or so.

Walking Uprightly

Several years ago my father decided to combine his woodworking hobby with his burgeoning role as grandfather by making walking sticks for several of his grandchildren. These are no ordinary sticks; not only are they customized to the child’s height, they are stained, varnished, and fitted with a leather handgrip that has the child’s name. It is clear that they are each made with as much love as wood. Everyone loves grandpa’s sticks.

There is one problem, however. He now has 37 grandchildren. Not only do they all walk, they grow! Ryan has outgrown his stick by at least a foot. Due to two missions and because Dad enjoys doing other things too (like eating, sleeping, etc.) there is a backlog for new or replacement sticks.

Owing to this situation, it was with some hesitancy that I got in line. I could really use one on my walks, especially for the last few hundred feet. However, I did not want to use my illness to bump a hopeful child down the cue. These are, after all, for the grandchildren, not their parents. In fact, two of my girls are waiting. The “original” grandchild (Amanda) has not made a request, but I think she may need one to beat boys from her! When I arrived at parents a couple days before Thanksgiving, I did get in line as tactfully and unassumingly as possible. Of course, despite hosting (literally) dozens of out-of-town guests, within 24 hours of my request, it was done.

In addition to the leather grip there was a tag bearing this verse from the 84^th Psalm:

For the Lord God is a sun and shield: the Lord will give grace and glory: no good thing will he withhold from them that walk uprightly.

I know that the author and the crafter meant “walk uprightly” in a metaphorical or spiritual sense, not in a physical sense, but I'll try my best to do both.  This will definitely help.

Thanksgiving

I enjoyed a wonderful Thanksgiving week at my parents home. During the week I saw 7 of 9 siblings, their 6 spouses, an aunt, an uncle, a cousin and 25 of my 33 nieces and nephews (on my side). It was awesome. Add to that a scrumptious feast, lots of laughter, an impromptu dulcimer concert, and a nephew’s Eagle Court and the week was unforgettable.

After the Thanksgiving meal, we retired to the living room and each person listed four things for which they are grateful. I don’t plan on listing all the responses, or even all of mine, but I did want to comment on one of mine that may have sounded incongruous at best. But it isn’t. I said, “My health.” It was not said tongue-in-cheek or sarcastically. In fact, I got a little choked up.

I am grateful for my health. I know, I’m not well, but there is something about loss that makes you more appreciative of what you still have. I know I have a lot of stuff wrong with me right now, but there is much more that is right. My joints all work, pain-free. Blood pressure? Great. Insulin? Great. Cholesterol? Better. Aches and pains? None. I don’t speak well, but I CAN talk. I don’t walk great, but I still walk whenever I want to. Vision may be at 90%, but the other senses are fine. (Kara thinks my hearing is bad but what wife doesn’t?) I won’t go on. You get the picture. Something magic happens with whole or partial loss.

I am grateful for my health.