Hi Frogga,

I don't post to you often, because, frankly, you intimidate the Hell out of me. You don't do it intentially, of course, but when I see the contrast between us...well, the gap seems too great to cross.

You're barely out of the womb and someone beats the crap out of you; you get up and go on. You travel down the street and get hit by a truck; you brush yourself off and continue. You're sitting at home and someone breaks in ans assaults you with a sledge-hammer; you go into the loo, wash off the blood, and return to the book your're reading.

I trip over my own feet and I lay there in the mud for three hours, crying. I get up eventually because laying in the mud is uncomfortample, but I'm not Frogga; I wonder whether walking is worth the risk.

Intimidate is the wrong word. It's more like awe. And inspiration of course. But I'm not inspired to be like you, 'cause I know that is never going to happen. Not for me; maybe not for anyone, you are different from the rest of us. Everyone who knows you knows that.

I accept the fact that most people won't talk to me because I'm in a wheelchair and they just don't know how to talk to people in wheelchairs. You're in a wheel chair and you have more friends right at this moment than I've had in my entire life. If you never have the chance to work at your chosen career, you have already accomplished more than most peole do in a life time. But I think you will have a career, and hope to witness your accomplishments there.

Anyway, Imagine how I felt when I read this post and realized that I have something to contribute. That I can tell Frogga something that might be useful to her. So here goes:

WOEWTR may not be, degenerative. That word carries implications of things crumbling and dissolving. Retrogressive means that symtoms are getting worse: More pain, more disability, more of the same, but worse as time goes by.

Degenerative or retrogressive, you can drive today and you will be able to drive tomorrow. Someday you won't be able to drive, but unless they know that someday is next week, next week or six months from now, its irrelevant. You may get run over by another truck tomorrow and get killed. We can't know the future, so we live in the present and hope for the best.

Be ever so happy that this guy seems to be on your side. Hell, everyone who knows you is on your side. The good news is that right now, that van is in your future. Make sure they build it right; fixing mistakes often means fixing what got fixed. I can imagine your impatience, but six months will pass. It may seem that time passes slower under some circumstances, but as Einstein proved, that's only true when you're travelling at nearly the speed of light.

I'll address the heat insensitivity in a moment. I want to talk first about universities in the US:

One would think they are the centers of enlightenment and progressive thinking. Nothing could be further from the truth. They are the most reactionary not for profit institutions in the country. We expect Exxon or General Mills to not give a damn about people. Profit is everything to them, so getting annoyed over their indifference to humanity is a waste of energy.

Universities want to do things the way they have always been done. Sure, new science is greeted with cheers and self-congratulations, but parking spaces for cripples? They didn't even have cars when this univ was built; just be grateful that Henry Ford invented cars. He didn't, of course, but university administrations aren't staffed by history majors.

I will talk about some of my experiences, but promise they are remarkably similar to those of others throughout the country.

When I enrolled I learned that special parking stickers allowed one to park closer to campus buildings. The better the parking, the more expensive the stickers. Some were, honest to God, reserved only for tenured professors. This is how it had always been done, and they were not, by God, going to change just because one student didn't like it.

Well, their students were pretty much recent h.s. graduates; not 46 year old ex-Marines who had led active lives and been to war; not people who had been willing to go to jail to protest a war most of their sudents considered ancient history.

By the time I graduated, I not only had "tenured stickers" ("No charge; we're here to help you"), but it was pretty much accepted that Vic was going to park just about anywhere he wanted. If a univ truck parked someplace - anyplace - and I thought that was a pretty good parking place I parked there too.

During the process, however, I received something more than 100 parking tickets. (After the first dozen or so, the judge told me I didn't have to come to court to fight them anymore; he would just tear them up).

But other handicapped students followed the rules, so the rules are exactly the same today. Vic was just an annoying abberation and thank God he's gone and we can get back to doing things the way we've always done them.

The Equal Opportunity Office was on the 2nd floor of a building with no elevators. When I phoned them the first time to request their help, I was told that if I couldn't come to their office, they couldn't help me. Well, that changed when I told them if they couldn't help me I'd just have to file an ADA (Americans with Disabilities Act) complaint. Toward the end, they just kept my file on a desk so someone could bring it downstairs with them.

I called the univ this morning and confirmed that the EOE is still on the 2nd floor, and people who can't climb the stairs are probably still not being served. Everything as it was.

I could go on, but you see my point. TRADITION not people. Harvard is the most famous university in the country (unless you're a basketball fan), and the student body is filled with the future leaders of this country. It might be different. But Harvard students want to graduate with the highest possible GPA and making waves is not the generally accepted route to success, so Harvard peobably hasn't changed much either.

Living in Boston: Winter there makes a January in Scotland seem a nice time for a garden picnic. All women in the Northeast US sound like they're on their way to audition for the next floozie role in the Sopranos. It goes downhill from there.

If you can't bring your care providers with you, stay home. It will be Hell. This isn't subject to debate: you will suffer terribly.

Before you think up putting that beautiful new van on a ship to the states, contact the Customs Service. Better yet, have someone who knows the van intimately call them. You will nead to learn exactly what will need to done to bring it into compliance with US and state environmental laws and regulations.

IF YOU DON'T DO THIS, DRIVE THE VAN TO THE SHIP YOURSELF: IT WILL PROBABLY BE THE LAST TIME YOU WILL EVER SEE IT.

There are hundreds, probably thousands, of vehicles parked in locked and guarded lots at every port in this country. They did not meet the laws and can't be driven in the states until they do. This can cost thousands of dollars.

They can't be returned to their country of origin either. Once they roll off the ship, they are not going anywhere until the govt certifies they are legal here. Not going anywhere means they can't be put on a ship to go home: not until they are fixed.

If you don't pay attention to what I've just said, it is possible that people would contribute money until the updates could be paid; we are, after all, talking about Frogga, where miracles sometimes follow. But don't count on it.

I want to talk you you about heat insensitivity, but right now I feel, like we say in the west, rode hard and put up wet. I just can't write anymore. I will, believe me, I will, because what you describe scares the Hell out of me.

You MUST find out what's going on, and you must do it now. Time could be of the essence. I have no idea what's going on, so I can't promise that early diagnosis means a more successful outcome. But I can state categorically that waiting can only bring more harm.

Frogga, don't mess around with this. It's something like when I was driving truck and some jerk took umbrage over something I said. He got on the CB and demanded to know where I was so he could come over and kick my ***. Not knowing how big or tough he was, avoiding conforntation seemed the wisest choice. So I told him that he may be bad, but he's not bullet-proof.

Thats how it is Frogga. You have overcome much; far more than I, but don't mess with this thing. It could put you down permanently. Find out what in the Hell is going on. Don't settle for anything else; certainly not for "lets see how things develop" Find out now, Please...Vic

Hmm guess I didn't wait to talk about it after all.