Scars

Sometimes I will lay awake in my bed at night, after everyone else is asleep, just looking at the various scars on my arms and legs. It’s a way I pass the time as I am waiting to drift away to a world that I look forward to more and more. A world where I can once again laugh, run and play. Each scar has its own story to tell. There’s the one on the backside of my left wrist, faded and hard to see unless you would know to look for it. I got it from an operation during my enlistment in the Army some 40 years ago. I had something called a ganglion cyst. Having that prevented my being able to do pushups. I was told that otherwise, they wouldn’t have taken it out. The operation was of course successful and I was once again able to do pushups. On the same hand, near the knuckle of my index finger. There is a “v” shaped scare there, also faint. A reminder of an old C-5 I used to have, when I was young and dumb. Now I’m just old and dumb. No really, since I’m unable to speak, I guess by definition I’m dumb. And well, I am old, so there go. On my right arm just below the bend of my elbow, is a small 1″ scar that I recall I got early one morning while ironing a shirt and preparing for work. I was distracted, in a hurry, and trying to watch a news story. I don’t recall the news story, but I vividly remember the sudden and searing pain as I brushed my arm against a certain hot iron. I jerked my arm back so fast that I nearly dislocated my shoulder. Over the next hour, I watched as a blister took the place of the scarlet red mark where the iron had removed untold layers of skin. Other small marks and scratches, some with stories I could recall and others a mystery. I could hazard a guess for each, but that’s what they’d be a guess. We all have scars and stories to tell. But my biggest scars are not the kind you can’t see. Rather they are scares that reveal much deeper wounds of the mind and spirit. They are unseen to the human eye, but believe me, the pain is real. Most days these hidden scars are something I manage without too much pain. Admittedly though, other times they show themselves in ways I can neither predict nor control. And it hasn’t gotten any easier with my LiS. My emotions are amplified. So,  something that may cause you to say “Aww,” will cause me to burst into tears. A thought or memory often finds me suddenly laughing or crying for seemingly no reason at all. Two plus years after my stroke, and it is no better than it was when it first happened. Your scars are a map of your life. Nobody gets through life without having a few, unless you grow up in a padded room. Even then you’ll are bound to have the kind that nobody can see. So the next time someone is having a bad day, be gentle with them, they are probably dealing with one of their scars

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My Two Cents Worth

Thursday kicks off the official start of another holiday season. 2024 is lurking just around the corner and it’s hard to believe, at least for me it is, that this year is almost over. The scope of this post is twofold. First I’d like to wish everyone a Happy Thanksgiving. It’s the holiday that throughout my life has brought special memories. Both because it is a day that,t always hovered around my birthday, every few years even on it. And because for many years it meant the gathering together of grandparents, Aunts and Uncles, cousins, and other odd relatives and friends. Thanksgiving was our family glue as it was for many families. It was not so much a single-day event, but more of a 3-day celebration of life, love, and family. Although I know there are a few families who still hold tight to this almost American tradition. Sadly, so many are like mine and have scattered to the four corners of the country, using distance as an excuse for why they can no longer make it. Relatives are now strangers and too many would not recognize each other if they were standing next to one another in a grocery checkout line. We often get caught up so much in the day-to-day trappings of our lives that we lose track of the really important things. Who honestly believes that when the day comes and you are on your deathbed you are going to wish you spent more time at the office. Try this experiment for me. It is an idea borrowed from a short story I recently read called 1000 Marbles by Jeff Davis. Get a glass jar and several rolls of pennies. The younger you are the larger your jar will need to be and the more pennies you will have to have. Now here’s where you will have to do some simple math. First, take your age and multiply by 104. Take that number and subtract it from 7800. Remember this new number and don’t forget to check your work. Place the same number of pennies in the jar as you got from this little math problem I gave you. See, 75 is the average age to which we get to spend on this big blue marble, and 7800 is the number of Saturdays and Sundays you will experience in that time. Some more and some less. If you did the math right, the pennies represent the number of two-day weekends you have left until you turn 75. Now each Sunday evening before you lay down to sleep, reach into that jar and remove 2 cents. That ever-dwindling cash of pennies is the candle of your life. When it goes out there will likely be no more light. The point is, each week make sure to make your 2 cents count. Hopefully, this exercise will make you think about the preciousness of time, and how limited it is. Should you run out of pennies, every day is a bonus gift. Be sure to delight in everyone you get to unwrap.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Helping Hands

The gloves weren’t something that I desired because they were cool, which they are, I wanted them to help with regaining movement in my hands. After two years of watching my hands ball into fists from the inability to move, I began to do some research on the matter. It is something known as contracture and it occurs because paralysis patients like myself are obviously unable to move the muscles much if at all to keep them nimble. Enter this marriage of technology and science. Studies have shown that high repetitions had the ability to not only unball the hands but retrain the brain of stroke victims whereby functional use of the muscles could be restored. This ability has had success in other muscle groups as well. It’s a process relatively new to science and is known as neuroplasticity. Many of you have seen the video of me receiving my new robotic training gloves. When they arrived, Jonell and Lydia were by my bed to unveil them to me while my aid Heaven acted as a camerawoman. The gloves have already proven to be helpful in correcting the contracture that exists in both my hands to a small degree. They were an early birthday/Christmas gift from my family which was orchestrated by my baby sister Pam and my Aunt Sue. And so a big thank you goes out to my Sisters Pam & Theresa, Aunt Sue, Aunt Brenda, Brent & Jeannie, Rick, Gary & Desiree, Stacy, Jason and Jamie & Shawn. The gloves were indeed a pleasant surprise!  Something that I believed from what I had read about the science behind them, they would work wonders, I didn’t think however that they were anything I was going to be able to get any time soon. I have had the chance to use them for 3-4 hours over the past few days. That’s about how long the batteries will last in each of the control boxes before they need to be charged again. Another plus though, is that they are able to be recharged with the same type of charging cord used by many Android phones. The one drawback about the gloves is that they are difficult to put on. I guess they have to be so there is not a lot of slippage. They do run a little large and even though I usually wear an extra large regular glove, I maybe would have a better fit with a large glove. But by pulling these on tight and securing them well with the three velcro straps included with each glove I am able to keep them on just fine. By doing high repetitions with the assistance of the gloves, I am hoping to rewire my brain so that it will reassign a different region of my brain to become responsible for movement. That’s the theory anyway. It’s something that is fairly new, but something that has shown much promise. The brain is an area of the human body that still holds a great deal of mystery. Fortunately, science has studies underway where the brain is concerned. It promises hope for afflictions such as Locked in Syndrome. I remain skeptical but hopeful that I will live long enough to see the day when having Locked in Syndrome doesn’t come with the bleak outlook it has now. I must admit there are times when my positive attitude wanes. Most would agree that I’ve been given a pretty rotten row to hoe. But I hold the belief that I can triumph against all odds. It’s that or just accept my fate and lay here feeling sorry for myself. If I keep trying, the chances of being successful may be small, however, I know that it beats the odds of doing nothing. The gloves represent the hands of God to me. What my fate is may well be in those hands!

Below are my wonderful children.

(Picture Link to GoFundMe)

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Personal Foul – Unsportsmanlike Conduct

I was a mediocre athlete in high school. My greatest claim to fame was playing alongside a guy by the name of Mark Smith. He was drafted into the NFL. He never made much of a name for himself in the football that I ever heard, but I do remember him being a nice guy and very big. I’m just glad I wasn’t an opposing player! Somehow I managed football to get my letter. However, I believe they gave it to me because they felt sorry for me more than my athletic prowess. I think I got more splinters than minutes played. Both my sons were athletes and much more talented than I ever was. Something that we shared though was the fact that showboating would never have been tolerated. It would have been considered in bad taste. Sure, we did our share of trash-talking. But we also did our jobs as best we could and that was it. Even the outstanding players like Mark played with humility. I will watch a baseball or football game, but I’m not close to the fan that I used to be. I enjoy seeing a player make an athletic move. A diving catch or great tackle are why I will watch. However, I don’t care for the arrogant displays players often make afterward. “Great, you did what they pay you millions of dollars to do. But your team is losing 33 to 9 and so you might want to remember this is a team sport and act like you’ve been there before.” it really is a display of individualism, and I know that if the other team were to offer you five dollars more you’d switch your allegiance. Players like Micky Mantel and Dick Butkus no longer exist in my opinion. They were great players, but more of what I would call franchise players. Their names are associated with the team they played for as much as we think of their individual accomplishments. Today, players seem to be driven by the almighty dollar more than the outcome of the game or making political statements. That’s why a hot dog costs you five dollars and a beer will cost you close to ten. The million-dollar salaries of those overpaid sides of beef are being passed along to you. And God forbid that anyone should give you free tickets to a game. If you are a family of four; by the time you factor in parking and snacks, you’ve dropped fifty dollars. Should your kids talk you into any souvenirs, you might need to see a loan officer. So do me a favor, don’t give me any free tickets if you like me at all. People who don’t link the rising costs of just about everything to the increase in wages are denying the basic principles of economics. It’s a vicious circle… wages go up, then prices go up, and wages need to go up again. With labor being 70 percent of the cost of doing business. Businesses are doing exactly what sports franchise owners are doing. They are passing on to the consumer the cost of being in the game. So the next time you spend money and think about how expensive everything is getting, remember that!