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.

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.