say uncle
About six months ago, my sole surviving uncle was diagnosed with ALS, more commonly known as Lou Gehrig's disease. Daddy's baby sister and he were married many years ago and lived a large part of their life in Minneapolis, raising a son and a daughter. Shortly after his retirement, they came home to Dyersburg to enjoy the warmer weather and proximity to family. Mom and Daddy and Kathy and Jere became constant companions for outings to eat and play rousing games of Rummikub with the other two already widowed sisters. They celebrated every.single.one of 'ems birthdays with a cake and a home cooked meal, rotating the host location at will according to who felt froggy enough to spend a day in the kitchen.

ALS is typically a long drawn out affair with degenerative muscle wasting to the point of near paralysis while the mind remains clear. In other words, it is hell on earth. Some patients live for several years after the initial diagnosis is made, slowly losing muscle control resulting in loss of speech, daily activities and ultimately the ability to breathe. This is what he was facing.

They went to bed the other night, he tossing and turning and she responding to his every little move. Eventually he got up to sit in the living room chair with an afghan over his lap and she settled on the couch at about 4AM. When daylight came she stumbled up and out from under her warm blanket and went to wake him but couldn't. There he sat...glasses perched on his face, legs crossed and with a covered lap. But he wasn't there at all.

Daddy was out in the pasture with Bubba checkin' on the cows when she called him on his cellphone. They went right over, but the paramedics were already there and said he was gone. We all knew it was coming, but didn't expect it so soon. That Big Ernie works in mysterious ways sometimes, don'tcha think? I sure do. What's really odd is that just two days before we had all been sitting around talking and telling stories about family and such and our conversation turned to Uncle Bud and how he yanked out his ventilator tube after some well meaning less than compassionate physician talked his wife into letting them put it in. Daddy sat with him the ICU listening to the whir and whine of the mechanical thing that kept Bud alive. Somehow old Bud managed to get the prayer request to Dad....to get him out of that place and that fix. Now, Daddy is a praying man and a faithful one. So it didn't surprise me one little bit when the tube got pulled by the patient himself and the next doc on call happened to be one who knew better than to torment the dying. I'm still in that undefined mood. If I ever figure out exactly what it is, I'll let you know.

Meanwhile, keep the faith. ^j^

http://keeepinthefaith.blogspot.com/...say-uncle.html

Life is Good - Words to Remember
Wednesday, January 23, 2008


I was driving down the road caught up in the hustle and bustle of life when my attention was suddenly drawn to the vehicle moving along in front of me—a big blue van. Written on the back in big fading white letters were three words. No, it wasn’t one of those obnoxious political bumper stickers that spews venom or promotes a personal agenda. The words were simple: “Life is Good.” Three words, one profound meaning, a reminder to make the best of what life brings my way.
I feel sorry for people—including some in the Northeast Kingdom—who walk through life and no matter what, find only the dark lining in every silver cloud. Some people, especially those who have lost a loved one, or who are suffering mental or physical pain, are certain to occasionally, and rightfully, have dark days. But I believe that some healthy people find comfort and solace in the gloom of pessimism and negativism.
Some people accuse me of naively looking at the world through rose-colored glasses, seeing only the good in life. However, I think it is one thing to work to improve the world, but it’s another to ignore all of the good. There is no doubt I have a bad day now and then, and I am far from a perfect person, and sometimes I find myself pitying the plight I find myself in at a particular time. For the most part, though, I believe in the power of positive thinking and the importance of finding the silver lining in every dark cloud of life.
To quote the words of baseball great Lou Gehrig, “I consider myself the luckiest man alive.” Gehrig made this statement in his famous speech that he gave at Yankee Stadium on July 4, 1939 as he left baseball to battle amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (ALS), a disease that claimed his life on June 2, 1941. ALS is now more commonly known as Lou Gehrig’s Disease. The following is Lou Gehrig’s speech.
Fans, for the past two weeks you have been reading about a bad break I got. Yet today I consider myself the luckiest man on the face of the earth. I have been in ballparks for 17 years and have never received anything but kindness and encouragement from you fans. Look at these grand men. Which of you wouldn’t consider it the highlight of his career just to associate with them for even one day?
Sure, I’m lucky. Who wouldn’t consider it an honor to have known Jacob Ruppert; also the builder of baseball’s greatest empire, Ed Barrow; to have spent six years with that wonderful little fellow, Miller Huggins; then to have spent the next nine years with that outstanding leader, that smart student of psychology— the best manager in baseball today, Joe McCarthy? Who wouldn’t feel honored to have roomed with such a grand guy as Bill Dickey?
Sure, I’m lucky. When the New York Giants, a team you would give your right arm to beat, and vice versa, sends you a gift— that’s something! When everybody down to the groundskeepers and those boys in white coats remember you with trophies—that’s something!
When you have a wonderful mother-in-law who takes sides with you in squabbles against her own daughter— that’s something! When you have a father and mother who work all their lives so that you can have an education and build your body— it’s a blessing! When you have a wife who has been a tower of strength and shown more courage than you dreamed existed— that’s the finest I know!
So I close in saying that I might have been given a bad break, but I have an awful lot to live for! Thank you.
Wow, that is optimism against even the toughest odds! If Lou Gehrig could face a dreaded disease such as ALS with such optimism, I guess I can face my relatively minor life’s challenges.
Maybe I am not the luckiest man alive, but I sure do feel lucky, not because my wallet is full of money or because I own riches, because I don’t have either. Seldom have I met anybody who has found true happiness in money or possessions. A number of ministers have told me while they comfort people in their final days and hours of life, not once have they ever heard any of them say, “I wish I had made more money during my life.” However, they have told me that some of them regretted not focusing enough time on their families. I have three great kids, and a wife who has not only put up with me for more than two decades, but who has supported me in my personal and professional life. We are a team through good times and bad. I am also blessed with a job as a writer that is amazingly fulfilling because of all the people I have the opportunity to meet. Living in the Northeast Kingdom is also a big bonus. Life is too short for me to worry about things I can’t control and it is certainly too short not to appreciate the people around me.
Although I am a very tolerant person in most cases, one thing I have little tolerance for is negativism. Negativism is like a contagious disease that, if left unchecked, can spread to all aspects of one’s life and to people they come into contact with. It’s a mindset that breeds failure, a self-fulfilling prophesy. Filled with unhappiness, these people often try to drag other people down into their world of doom and gloom.
When I do find myself sinking into the quagmire of negativism, one song that snaps me to is sung by Tim McGraw, “Live Like You Were Dying.” The song is about a man in his early 40s (about the same age as I am) who is diagnosed with a possible terminal disease. With the specter of death looming over him, the person that McGraw is singing about has time to reflect on his life and what he would do if he could live life all over again.
The following is an excerpt from the song:


I went sky diving
I went Rocky Mountain climbing
I went 2.7 seconds on a bull named fumanchu
and I loved deeper and I spoke sweeter
and I gave forgiveness I’d been denying
and he said someday I hope you get the chance
to live like you were dying.
He said I was finally the husband
that most the time I wasn’t
and I became a friend a friend would like to have
and all the sudden going fishing
wasn’t such an imposition
and I went three times that year I lost my dad
well I finally read the good book
and I took a good long hard look
at what I’d do if I could do it all again
and then
I went sky diving
I went Rocky Mountain climbing
I went 2.7 seconds on a bull named fumanchu
and I loved deeper and I spoke sweeter
and I gave forgiveness I’d been denying
and he said someday I hope you get the chance
to live like you were dying.
So when you are overcome with the little trials in life, remember the message on the back of that big blue van—“Life is Good.”

http://www.4vermonters.com/?p=186