I got a call from the nurse where Al lives and she told me that the family doctor had just been in and had prescribed an anti-depressant for Al. I freaked and asked her when they were going to give him the first dose and she said the first thing in the morning.
I asked her to please wait until I got back with her. I needed to talk to the doctor. I called and left him a message and he returned my call immediately. I told him about how two years ago Al was last on one of those types of medications. I explained how he had a terrible seizure from it and he couldn’t walk for almost six weeks.
I told him my fears and asked him if he still wanted to give it to him after my information. (This doctor was not our doctor two years ago)
He said, “Terry I just saw him. He is in so much pain and so depressed and sad. He is on the pain patch and now two more weak pain medications. He can’t take anymore. There is nothing I can do but to keep him comfortable. We have to try to lift some of his sadness. I have weighed the pros and cons and the pros are slightly in his favor. He does have the risk of seizures again but we won’t know unless we try, ok?”
I started crying right there on the phone. He told me, “Parkinson’s is a rough and dirty disease. It is beating Al up. How can you and I sit here and watch him suffer every single day.”
He didn’t know it but I was sitting here nodding my head. I knew I agreed with him but it just seems there is no licking this disease. I told him that I would call the nurse back and give her the go ahead for the medication.
I know I am supposed to be strong but here I am once again, a big weak mess. Watching the life disappear out of his life is harder I think than anything I have witnessed in a few years.
My Brother’s Life Journey, Chapter 5
“Teacher Appreciation” featured photo. Place unknown. Probably a Kindergarten or Special Education…
When Are We Not Responsible?
I was told of a story recently and even after a few days of digesting it I am still…
I am sitting here still taking in my brain what happened to those people in the Boston Marathon. It breaks my heart and shakes my nerves. It makes me fear and it makes me want to race through the streets.
I can vision myself in easy clothes running from block to block, street to street. Save yourself, save yourself. Quit what ever you are doing this minute and get on falling knees and accept the Lord as your own. Don’t get lost in the crowds. Don’t be the followers, be the leaders. Help me spread the word. Save yourself, save yourself.
I can’t get this out of my mind as I sit here helpless as those suffering are being cared for. I can’t help but know inside my heart this will not stop. It is promised that the world will get worse. There will be more sadness, more murders, more robberies, more bombs, more false prophets.
As these guests are speaking on the Katie Show they were standing casually waiting for the runners to arrive. In a blink of an eye their lives were shaken out from beneath of them. There was no time to think, only instincts kicked in, while white smoke and glass and limbs were torn from bodies. Bones sticking out, blood pouring out. The smell of sulphur and death lingering near by.
If these people waiting for loved ones and the children of schools innocently sitting in class and movie goers enjoying a leisurely time out can be put into a different scenario in one second, than how fast can God come to us out of the clouds?
Oh Lord I come to you on bended knee. I pray for those in the Boston Marathon tragedy. I pray for the parents who are still suffering from the school shootings. You have warned us of these things to come and I pray that all take notice. I pray that they realize in time that their lives and hearts are not in line with you Lord. Help us to spread the word of God and to speak at any given opportunity about how wonderful you are and of your great promises to sit with you in heaven. Amen
My thoughts and prayers are with all of you in Boston. God bless and I pray a speedy recovery for each of you.
- Boston Marathon Video Tour – During The Race (boston.cbslocal.com)
- Praying for Boston (itsallaboutmefitness.com)
- Where’s Hope In Times Like These? (joshwaugh.wordpress.com)
- Explosions At Boston Marathon. Please Stop and Pray (boltbeat.com)
- Boston on Lockdown Following Blasts at Boston Marathon (essentialprepper.com)
- Fake Boston Marathon donation Twitter account suspended (globalnews.ca)
- A prayer in light of the Boston Marathon bombings (wordinseasonministry.wordpress.com)
- Athletes react to tragedy in Boston (msn.foxsports.com)
- Boston Marathon Bombing (everythingbutwhatever.wordpress.com)
- Prayers Following Explosions at Boston Marathon (ronpogue.typepad.com)
We lived up on a hill with lots of trees surrounding the house. It was a great hill to go sledding as long as you didn’t run into those trees. A couple of times I took Al down on the back of my sled but he never did like it and seemed scared. He preferred to be in his room playing with his cars. Al played with his hot wheel cars far later than most kids, but he loved them and he was never asked to put them a way and grow up, which I am thankful for.
In the summertime Dad always made him trim the trees. Oh Al really hated this. I am not sure if he actually hated the trimming or if he hated the fact it was Dad telling him to do it. We were never allowed to ask questions. If we didn’t understand we could go to Mom if she was there or we just figured things out for ourselves.
For Al no matter what the project was he needed training longer than most of us. He would in the beginning trim around the trees but not close enough. So Dad would go out there and show him again by pointing to the trees and asking, do you see now what I am talking about? Now go back and redo them all.
Al would cry and Dad would walk back to the house shaking his head. Dad shaking his head was a common thing I saw clear up until his death. He never understood why us kids just didn’t get it the first time.
This is when Al learned to start cussing. I sometimes would go out and walk with him while he did the trimming for the second time and I learned some pretty choice words. I will never know where he learned them at that age because neither of us were allowed to hang around anyone that didn’t go to church.
I can remember when I wanted a friend to stay the night. Mom would ask, what’s their last name? If she recognized it as a bad family name I wasn’t allowed to be near them let alone have them spend the night at our house.
I guess when I look at it Mom she was prejudice. You were hung before judged if you had the wrong last name. I can remember this house that was vacated by people other than Caucasian. Mom would always say, don’t step in the grass or ever go in the house on your way home from school. They have bugs.
I laugh at it now because it sounds so silly to me. How did her mind work? I always blame it on her own upbringing and what she was taught. I didn’t get mad at her, I always listened to what she said, but I made my own judgements when I became an adult. Any human can get bugs and your last name means nothing to me. I will decide after I have taken the time to be with you whether we would make good friends or not.
By now Al had outgrown the special education classes and was in the high school. He really struggled. Fears that had been held at bay now resurfaced as he struggled with stuttering and learning disabilities.
I am not sure what Mom did but I know she spent a large amount of time in our school. A class opened up for students that were labeled back then as slow learners. Before that it was called mental retardation.
I always hated that wording. Even today when Al is down on himself he will sometimes call himself a retard. I jump on him quicker than you can blink an eye. I tell him in no way is he retarded. I explain that some things are just a little harder for him to learn.
He and I are both left-handed people. I always tell him how smart he and I. That we are the lucky ones because God only gave left-handed to special people. Then he would smile at me and the world was good once again.
The new school class was an ordinary class but a few special need students were placed in here. Not only was there a teacher but there were two teacher’s helpers too. I always told Mom she started a revolution for learning disabilities with whatever she had said to get this started.
Mom was never one to brag about herself. She worked as a manager for a big well-known heating company. She paid people’s bills when she learned that the customer was trying so hard but couldn’t pay the entire bill. She never did this with telling them who she was.
Mom even helped to open the first women’s shelter here in our town. It was for women and children who had been battered by their husbands. It is still running at high-capacity today unfortunately. I say this because I wish abuse of any kind would fall off the earth and never be heard of again. We learned, we conquered, and now we lay it to rest.
Al stayed in this class the entire year and we could start to see changes in his personality. He was feeling like he was cared about and that teachers understood him. He stayed in these high-school special classes until he graduated. We were all so proud of Al for graduating. He should have graduated in 1973 but instead he graduated in 1975, but hey, who cares, he made it!!
- My Brother’s Life Journey Chapter 3 (terry1954.wordpress.com)
- My Brother’s LIfe Journey Chapter 4 (terry1954.wordpress.com)
- My Brother’s LIfe Journey Chapter 2 (terry1954.wordpress.com)
- My Brother’s LIfe Journey, Chapter 1 (terry1954.wordpress.com)
- Chapter 1, Parkinson’s Disease Journey (terry1954.wordpress.com)