Beyond the Clinic

I wrote yesterday about my visit to the ALS Clinic at Thomas Jefferson Hospital in Philadelphia. It wasn't a very pleasant day last Friday, thunderstorm early and rain off and on throughout the day. In the way the perfect weather to sit in an examination room for three and a half hours being interrogated, poked and prodded.

But the clinic is a medical thing and happens only every three months. Given what I have it is about the best the medical profession can give me.

Yet most of my life is in a world beyond the clinic, what of that?

The photograph on the left is the world beyond the clinic. I snapped it through the window of the exam room. It is Walnut Street between 8th and 9th. It was a dreary day, as you can probably tell, so I got a lot of reflection from the glass in my photo. That is the world beyond the clinic, so lets reflect on my life in it now.

I have what is described as "an untreatable, incurable, progressive, ultimately fatal disease". That sounds quite scary, like a blurb for a horror movie. Yet, having a fatal disease is rather liberating. What do I have left to fear?  The untreatable and incurable parts are a blessing in a way. There is nothing the doctors can do for me, so I am spared the intrusive tests and never-ending visits to ology specials of all stripes. I am beyond the medical worlds lineup of tortures.

A Facebook Friend died the past Sunday. I forget when we began communicating, but it has been years

and ever since I first was introduced to her she has suffered from cancer. She was regularly and often traveling from her Elverson, Pennsylvania home to her own clinic in Lancaster County"s Dutch Country. Believe me, she went far more often that every three months. Here she would receive her chemo treatment, if her blood test showed she was able to take it that day.

That is Margo on the right and the image is typical of almost all she posted. The smile was constantly there. She had no cure, but she was treatable and thus she endured a lot of inconvenience and pain. Her words were ever upbeat or encouraging and she share many things she found humorous or the joys she had in her family.

I've been spared that kind of inconvenience because my thing is not only incurable, it is untreatable. I hope I can show a smile to the world and be an encouragement that life is worth the effort of living it as she was.

That is not to say my life is without inconveniences and complications. On the left is part of the clinic summary.

Besides suggested equipment, there is the advice about looking for help on preparing meals. At the clinic they have been urging I seek more and more help with doing things like chores.

I have been a total failure at this advice. I struggle all the time with the idea of asking anyone for help.  I have asked occasionally, but it is hard for me to do. I know I will get weaker and my body will fail me eventually, but I have no idea what I will do when such a thing happens.

It has already become embarrassing. I tried cutting out backyard a couple days ago because it is turning into a jungle, but I only managed one-half before I was too tired to continue. The Coke Carton pictured on the right was something I couldn't lift out of the cart to put on

the checkout belt.

Even on my morning walks the fatigue is setting in earlier. I do have to walk with my stick most of the time to keep myself upright. I can manage for short distances and don't use any aid about the house, but outside even the shorter jaunts are calling for my cane.

It is growing more difficult caring for myself. Putting on pants is a chore and socks are a real challenge. It is almost impossible for me to cut my nails. I can't reach my toes and as strange as it may sound, I don't always have the strength to close the clippers over a fingernail.

I have procrastinated on doing a Living Will and Power of Attorney because I hate the thought of burdening anyone with those chores.

My fears are these. Not dying, of course, I know where I am going. I fear ever being sent into one of those Nursing homes and I fear being helplessly alone.

Stephen Hawking was asked what was the worse for him in his condition. He answered, "The loneliness. People don't know how to talk to me." To be honest, I can feel a loneliness creeping in upon me. I seem to be slipping farther away from other people and with it all comes the feeling I am of less use anymore.

At least I can still type and talk, although as strange as it may sound, even these are fatiguing.