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It's a Miracle!!! (April 17, 2002)Back in the early '70s, three of Sally's Olympic Wheelchair Basketball teammates were "four-wheeling" on the sidewalks of Downtown Los Angeles. They encountered a lady of faith who was serving the Lord by passing out tracts at a corner. She engaged the three in conversation, eventually promising them complete recovery from their respective paralyses if their faith was sufficient. Steve Scott, an osteogenisis imperfecta dude with an ability to walk short distances unaided, "took the cure." She "laid on hands," quoted copious scripture, gave him one of her tracts, and bid him a speedy recovery. The three wheeled on across the intersection. When safely across the street, Steve stood up, took a few steps, and yelled back at the woman, "It's a miracle! I can walk again." History does not record the lady's reaction. **************************** Yesterday was the first day of miracle for the big kid here at Chez Simcoe. This was one of the magic days in which I succeeded in getting an appointment to see if my life can be returned to a more chaotic but less painful time. First, a change in definition: Time once was that "epidurals" were reserved for "earth mothers" wimping out on their final exam. Not so anymore. 30 years of N.O.W. and their sensitivity training make epidurals available to all -- biker dudes, football linemen, and "Aged Persons Venting Methane" (Old Farts) such as myself. Had an epidural early yesterday afternoon. A "drive-by medical shooting" of sorts. Cruised into the hospital, waited while the clerk/trainee learned basic computing so that she could enter my particulars. Driven into the bowels of the hospital by a male nurse. Parked outside a changing room the size of a small phone booth. No space for the wheelchair. No grab bars. (Wheelers take note: ADA is only understood as accommodating wheelers with attendants, NOT folks who get around on their own with their chair.) With extreme effort and uncertainty I was able to shed my clothes and don a hospital gown that would only have made adequate covering for my five year old granddaughter. After changing, I was whizzed on down the hall to "Theatré Epidurál." "Here, climb upon this really high, shaky, ironing board and lay on your stomach." AGONY!!! Soap, Iodine, Novocain and then a multi-steroid cocktail injected into the suspected pinched locations. Not too bad. Back to the phone booth. "Change your clothes." More agony. Out the front door. To the car. As I stood to get in, "he descended into hell;." Pain like I have never known. I was screaming. Sally and Shelby were freaking out. (Four hours later, Shelby still seemed so upset that she couldn't keep dinner down.) Sally screamed, "What can I do." My Socratic response was "Gimme some hemlock." "Fresh out," she said. The ride home was torture. More extreme agony as I exited the car and headed for the guest bedroom to crash on the firm bed. Only moderate agony as I slithered onto the bed. Sally fetched up a warm, wet towel, placed it on my lumbar area, and I went to sleep praying. Two hours later -- NO PAIN!!! IT'S A MIRACLE!!! Thank you Lord!!! Presently it is 9:20 a.m. Wednesday April 17th, 2002. The pain is gone. The slight numbness which had appeared in my left thigh seems to be gone. But the paralysis at the left ankle is now total. No voluntary movement at all. From a seated position, I can hold my left calf extended only 10 degrees or so -- very weak. But hey man, without the pain "machts no big nichts." Tomorrow I have an appointment with an orthotist to see about a leg brace. It's one of those things that must be "pre-approved." Since the approval seems to be a many week's process, I think I'll try to cut a cash deal. And next Monday I have my first visit with the neurologist/neurosurgeon. Thank you all for your expressions of concern and for allowing me a opportunity to practice my comedic rant. Love, Kent Simcoe |