Purdy: Charlie Wedemeyer shows his all-star participants the meaning of determination
Wedemeyer won't let illness keep him down
Mark Purdy
Mercury News Columnist
Article Launched: 07/23/2008 01:30:58 AM PDT



Tonight, once more, the annual Charlie Wedemeyer all-star high school football game kicks off at Spartan Stadium.

This one, though, came way too close to happening without Charlie Wedemeyer. His situation was very dicey for a while in the spring. At the time, his family wanted to keep things under the radar. But we can now tell the story.

Any sports fan who has spent five minutes in the South Bay knows about Wedemeyer. He is our daily reminder not to snivel or whine, ever. That is why the yearly all-star game, which brings together the best graduated senior football players in the valley, is named in Wedemeyer's honor. Back in 1977 while coaching football at Los Gatos High School, he was diagnosed with ALS (Lou Gehrig's disease). He was given three years or less to live.

Instead, Wedemeyer decided to live three years or more. Much more. Even after he lost the use of his limbs and his voice. Even after he needed a 24-hour ventilator to breathe. Even after he could get around only in a specialized wheelchair.

With the help of his family and community, Wedemeyer has continued coaching. His wife, Lucy, reads his lips at practices and games as Charlie offers ideas and specific plays. Using the same technique, Charlie has also given hundreds of inspirational "speeches."

In all of those "speeches," Charlie usually mentions his philosophy: "Pain and suffering is inevitable for everyone. However, misery is optional. We get to make that choice."


No matter what he says, the choice must get harder every year. Wedemeyer is now in his 60s. So he has other medical problems besides ALS. The first week of May, Wedemeyer was quietly hospitalized because his kidneys seemed to be failing. He was pale and sick. His diabetes was suspected. Tests seemed to indicate otherwise.
The next step, in most cases, is pro forma: dialysis. Without it, Wedemeyer would die. But first, said the doctors, Charlie needed an ophthalmology exam. They wanted to make sure he did not have retinopathy, another diabetes-related condition. Charlie's daughter, Carri Wedemeyer Andry, related what happened next in an e-mail:

"The doctor said the ophthalmology exam couldn't happen because my dad would have to do the test over at a clinic. To the doctor, that was an impossibility. My mom smiled. She explained that my dad had been up in a hot air balloon. So we could certainly get him to the clinic."

The doctor was still reluctant. He said that a special nursing staff was needed for Charlie on the trip to the clinic - which might not even be able to accommodate him.

Again, the Wedemeyer family patiently explained that they already knew specialized nurses who were familiar with Charlie's situation. Lucy also explained that they had been to the same clinic before - and that a few chairs had to be moved, but the staff had been eager to help. In fact, Lucy thought the clinic might be able to bring the equipment to the hospital. The doctor disagreed, saying the equipment might not fit on the hospital floor.

"After a few phone calls," Carri said, "the ophthalmologist came the next morning, brought his own equipment and tested my dad at his bedside."

The results were good. All was well with Charlie's eyes. But then came another setback. The Wedemeyers were told that under their health care plan, the contracted dialysis company did not serve patients on a ventilator.

No problem, the family said. They could learn to operate the dialysis machine themselves. Charlie's son, Kale, is a doctor. He has been working at Stanford Medical Center. He offered to be trained on the machine. Whatever was necessary to get his dad home.

Finally, the doctors surrendered. They learned what so many of us discovered decades ago: You don't mess with a team of motivated Wedemeyers.

Charlie came home in mid-June. A welcome-home barbecue was held at his house a few weeks later. Charlie looked good. He sat on the back patio in his wheelchair. He "asked" questions about other people's families and "talked" about the Los Gatos High frosh-soph team he will again coach this fall. His grandchildren crawled into his lap. On the lawn, a great Hawaiian band cranked out feel-good beachcomber music.

In that one snapshot, you could truly see why for Charlie, misery is optional. But this week's best news is, he will be on the sidelines before tonight's game, as always. He also visited one all-star practice earlier this week to meet and greet the players.

It's definitely a much different feeling than a few weeks ago, when the Wedemeyers' biggest concern was just getting Charlie home from the hospital. During his stay, he and Lucy missed the Hall of Fame induction of Kale at Los Gatos High, where he starred in football and track.

"That's our only regret," Lucy said. "Otherwise, so far, so good. The dialysis machine is running. Charlie is holding his own and anxious to get out for fall football. He also promised to take me to the movies to see 'Mamma Mia!' And it's like Charlie says - when all else fails, he can always call Dr. Wedemeyer."

Sort of like us, don't you think? When any of us is having a tough day, we can call on our own personal picture of Charlie. Ready for some football again tonight. Right on schedule.




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Contact Mark Purdy at mpurdy@mercurynews.com or (408) 920-5092.
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