Yesterday I witnessed a miracle. There was no angels singing on high, no endlessly burning candles, but no less a miracle. My daughter celebrated Hanukkah / Christmas with us and that is nothing short of a miracle.
For those of you who don't know, my oldest daughter developed a disease called Stevens Johnson disease, which comes about as a result of a bad reaction to anti biotic.The odds of this occurring is something like in one in one billion but she happened to be the one. The results of this is basically the effect of your entire body being burned, including all mucus membranes. The mortality rate of this disease is somewhere around 70% and is extremely painful. If you survive it there is a good possibility that you will be scarred for life and you could go blind. They originally told us that we were looking at a minimum of 6 weeks in the hospital if not months and that if she developed any kind of infection that it could prove to be deadly. There was not a single thing in all of this to bring us any kind of hope.
When I saw her in the hospital I was shocked. The cold written facts of it pale in comparison to the realities. I have been to war and I have seen much in my life but nothing could prepare me for seeing my daughter in so much pain and misery. She couldn't walk. Her body was blistered everywhere. Her fine motor skills were about gone and her skin would just randomly tear and she would start bleeding. She could barely see. I honestly didn't believe that she was going to live through this.
I went home and did the only thing that I knew how to do and that was pray and then start contacting people to get her on prayer lists everywhere.
Between my wife and I, and then through our contacts ,we had people ,literally from around the world, praying for her. In Israel her name was put into the wall and she was prayed for over the airwaves. In churches ,in a variety of denominations, across the country she was prayed for and though I don't know what the actual number of people praying was it had to have numbered in the thousands if not more.
I don't want anyone to misunderstand me. The doctors and nurses did an outstanding job with her, they were some very kind and courteous people and very professional in their work. They are to be thanked long and loud for their work, but make no mistake ,the prayers of the people of G-D also played it's part. G-D gave those doctors and nurses the intelligence to do the job that they do and the wisdom to know how to treat her. But G-D also heard the prayers of thousands to heal one of His children and He did. I have one friend who reminded me of his opinion of G-D but because she is my daughter that he would send a prayer.These prayers were brought before G-D from a wide variety of people from differing denominations and belief systems. Jews, Christians, Pagans, of all varieties, all prayed to G-D in their own fashion and a miracle occurred. Say what you will but I believe that G-D honors all prayer.
Three weeks ago I wasn't sure she was going to live. Last week the miracle began.
First she decided that she was going to get up and walk and despite the pain she did and she sat in a regular chair. The next day she got up and walked and went out side for the first time in weeks, it was painful on the new skin but she was determined to get things moving. She then ate real food, and the following day they removed the feeding tube. Friday she called and told me that she was going home.
Yesterday the miracle of my daughter walked through my door and celebrated both holidays with us. She is still in some pain and she will still be awhile recovering, but the fact of the matter is that she was able to go home and then come and spend the day with us. Miracles happen.
For the skeptics out there, to whom G-D is a fairy tale, I can only say this; I didn't witness the healing as it happened, I only know that it happened. I didn't see the hand of G-D reaching down to touch my child with healing yet I have seen the results. I can't even prove to you that G-D exists , at least not in a way that you would demand the proof, yet my daughter walked through my door yesterday a walking miracle. That's all the proof I need.
To the Doctors and Nurses at both St. Josephs, in Nashua NH and Mass General in Boston my deepest thanks. To those individuals in Israel that took the time to put her name into the Wall and pray for her over the air thank you, and for all of you, no matter who you are, or what you believe, who took time to pray Thank you. Most of all to G-D, may His name be praised, I give my greatest praise and thank you.
Monday, December 26, 2011
Friday, December 23, 2011
I'm A Hick
Have you ever heard the saying that if you don't know who the geek in your crowd is that chances are it's you? I have a bit of a modification to that that goes something like this; if you don't know who the hick is in the crowd, it just might be you. That's me. Front row, center section, with the big neon sign. I have always known this fact, but I was reminded just how much of a hick I actually am while traveling to Boston to see my daughter.
First of all you must understand, that to me, cities of any kind are scary places. My idea of a city is say, Montpelier, Vermont where you might find more moose then people on any given day and the only things that are dangerous are the congressmen or women in the capital building or trying to find a parking space on the 4th of July. I would be more comfortable in the woods with a tent and flashlight with a black bear for a neighbor. In all fairness, some of this is the medias fault. Everything from Dirty Harry movies of the 70's to the local nightly news would give you the impression that cities of any size are full of crazy people who speak with funny accents and want to shoot you with large caliber weapons. Even knowing this Is a false impression I'd still rather deal with an angry moose.
My first experience was the serious mistake of actually driving into Boston. To the uninitiated, of which I am no longer one of, it seems easy enough, just follow the directions that your printed up map tells you and you will get there with a smile on your face without having even the slightest hint of stress, yea right. I now understand why seasoned veterans of commuting from out of the city use the train. First, the map lied, OK so a map can't lie, it only can exaggerate the truth a bit or more correctly, it left out certain details, such as one way streets and merging traffic. Second, it doesn't tell you of the legendary manner of drivers that Boston is famous for. I had heard these rumors before making the trip, but the experience of it defies any kind of rational thought. I have never been sworn at so much in my life, since boot camp any how, and that was from the people walking out in front of me! The drivers were worse. You have to understand that my idea of traffic is being able to see tail lights at about a half a mile away or having to slow down because a deer just ran out in front of you. The deer alone can cause me to brake out into a sweat if it's close enough, so imagine my horror at bumper to bumper traffic with multiple lanes merging all at once and not being able to see the road sign to know which way I had to go! Obviously, I survived my encounters with the Boston road warriors but I started to catch a glimpse of how much of a hick I actually am.
My second trip in really clarified to me just how truly hicified I have become. This time I thought that I'd be smart and take the train in. Sounded simple enough. Looked online to see what train to take that would bring me the closest to the hospital, found it and because I know where that one is and it seemed like a straight shot, I decided to go that route. I should just state here doing stuff like this without someone else along, who actually knows what they are doing, can be very stressful to me and make my imagination run wild. But I didn't start to panic until I was informed that the train that I was going to take wasn't running, so I would have to catch the bus there at the train station, get off in Harvard Square and then take the train to the hospital. Panic time, hick style was about to start.
Getting to the station and onto the bus was fairly simple but I was not prepared for the amount of people that can fit onto a bus, remember we are talking a metro bus here, not a school bus, add that to the fact that I didn't know exactly where I was headed on this bus (it had several stops to make on the way) a driver who didn't speak very loud, I thought he said Harvard when he actually said Porter, and the full knowledge that at any minute the Crips and Bloods where going to jump on the bus and start a gang war or I would get mugged by a local hotdog vendor and there you have my mind set.
As things happened, I was not caught up in a gang war and I did manage to get to Harvard and then onto the hospital via the train but not before I showed how ignorant I was by asking directions and info about the ticket machines. I had always understood that any place that had a booth that said information on it would be a place to actually get information, apparently that was my hickness thinking.
My last realization of how much I was a hick came just from my observations of the people on both the bus and the train. I am by nature, a jeans and flannel shirt kind of guy. When winter rolls around I am interested in warmth and not fashion. If my clothes and shoes are 10 years out of date but they keep me warm I am usually quite content but I felt massively out of place there. I have been on commercial sized farms that didn't have as much leather as I saw on the train and bus. I didn't know just how many styles and name brands existed, of course that might be due to the fact that I get my styles from wally world, but still I was shocked and suddenly aware at just how much I stood out. I was wearing my typical Jeans and shirt but I was also wearing a bright red winter Jacket and my black felt fedora style hat (something that you would see men in the 40's and 50's wearing) along with my sneakers, there wasn't a name brand on me and in a sea of black and other dark colors I was in red! I stuck out like a sore thumb though I didn't realize it until I was looking in the windows reflection and trying to figure out who the hick was looking back at me....
So, now I am a seasoned veteran. I know how to get to point B from point A without too much trouble, I can quickly navigate my way through the bus and train stations and perhaps look like I know where I am heading, but alas, I will always be a hick but don't laugh at me when you see me in the city in my fedora and red jacket, just remember some day you might be in the boonies and you may want me to introduce you to that bear before he introduces himself.
First of all you must understand, that to me, cities of any kind are scary places. My idea of a city is say, Montpelier, Vermont where you might find more moose then people on any given day and the only things that are dangerous are the congressmen or women in the capital building or trying to find a parking space on the 4th of July. I would be more comfortable in the woods with a tent and flashlight with a black bear for a neighbor. In all fairness, some of this is the medias fault. Everything from Dirty Harry movies of the 70's to the local nightly news would give you the impression that cities of any size are full of crazy people who speak with funny accents and want to shoot you with large caliber weapons. Even knowing this Is a false impression I'd still rather deal with an angry moose.
My first experience was the serious mistake of actually driving into Boston. To the uninitiated, of which I am no longer one of, it seems easy enough, just follow the directions that your printed up map tells you and you will get there with a smile on your face without having even the slightest hint of stress, yea right. I now understand why seasoned veterans of commuting from out of the city use the train. First, the map lied, OK so a map can't lie, it only can exaggerate the truth a bit or more correctly, it left out certain details, such as one way streets and merging traffic. Second, it doesn't tell you of the legendary manner of drivers that Boston is famous for. I had heard these rumors before making the trip, but the experience of it defies any kind of rational thought. I have never been sworn at so much in my life, since boot camp any how, and that was from the people walking out in front of me! The drivers were worse. You have to understand that my idea of traffic is being able to see tail lights at about a half a mile away or having to slow down because a deer just ran out in front of you. The deer alone can cause me to brake out into a sweat if it's close enough, so imagine my horror at bumper to bumper traffic with multiple lanes merging all at once and not being able to see the road sign to know which way I had to go! Obviously, I survived my encounters with the Boston road warriors but I started to catch a glimpse of how much of a hick I actually am.
My second trip in really clarified to me just how truly hicified I have become. This time I thought that I'd be smart and take the train in. Sounded simple enough. Looked online to see what train to take that would bring me the closest to the hospital, found it and because I know where that one is and it seemed like a straight shot, I decided to go that route. I should just state here doing stuff like this without someone else along, who actually knows what they are doing, can be very stressful to me and make my imagination run wild. But I didn't start to panic until I was informed that the train that I was going to take wasn't running, so I would have to catch the bus there at the train station, get off in Harvard Square and then take the train to the hospital. Panic time, hick style was about to start.
Getting to the station and onto the bus was fairly simple but I was not prepared for the amount of people that can fit onto a bus, remember we are talking a metro bus here, not a school bus, add that to the fact that I didn't know exactly where I was headed on this bus (it had several stops to make on the way) a driver who didn't speak very loud, I thought he said Harvard when he actually said Porter, and the full knowledge that at any minute the Crips and Bloods where going to jump on the bus and start a gang war or I would get mugged by a local hotdog vendor and there you have my mind set.
As things happened, I was not caught up in a gang war and I did manage to get to Harvard and then onto the hospital via the train but not before I showed how ignorant I was by asking directions and info about the ticket machines. I had always understood that any place that had a booth that said information on it would be a place to actually get information, apparently that was my hickness thinking.
My last realization of how much I was a hick came just from my observations of the people on both the bus and the train. I am by nature, a jeans and flannel shirt kind of guy. When winter rolls around I am interested in warmth and not fashion. If my clothes and shoes are 10 years out of date but they keep me warm I am usually quite content but I felt massively out of place there. I have been on commercial sized farms that didn't have as much leather as I saw on the train and bus. I didn't know just how many styles and name brands existed, of course that might be due to the fact that I get my styles from wally world, but still I was shocked and suddenly aware at just how much I stood out. I was wearing my typical Jeans and shirt but I was also wearing a bright red winter Jacket and my black felt fedora style hat (something that you would see men in the 40's and 50's wearing) along with my sneakers, there wasn't a name brand on me and in a sea of black and other dark colors I was in red! I stuck out like a sore thumb though I didn't realize it until I was looking in the windows reflection and trying to figure out who the hick was looking back at me....
So, now I am a seasoned veteran. I know how to get to point B from point A without too much trouble, I can quickly navigate my way through the bus and train stations and perhaps look like I know where I am heading, but alas, I will always be a hick but don't laugh at me when you see me in the city in my fedora and red jacket, just remember some day you might be in the boonies and you may want me to introduce you to that bear before he introduces himself.
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
The Meaning Of The Season
I think that this time of the year it becomes hard to write something that is truly unique and yet bears the spirit of holiday season. I have written this post three times and have wound up starting all over again because I really don't wish to sound sappy or sentimental about the holidays or the past year, or angry about our economic or political mess. I am not wanting to engage in a battle over whether it's better to say "Happy Holidays" or "Merry Christmas/ Happy Hanukkah" because honestly I don't care, if it makes you happy say it, if you wish not to then don't. Honestly does it really matter? Or could there be more important issues out there, even during this time of the year?
How about family? Seems to me that whether or not you celebrate Christmas or Hanukkah, the truly important stuff belongs with the gathering of your family and friends to share those traditions that are a part of your faith and seeing to it that this is passed on to those of the next generation. This is what is important.
How about peace? When I think of that word I hear Johnny Cash singing his version of "I Heard The Bells On Christmas Day" with my grandfathers slightly wobbly voice or I think of the New Testament text that says "Peace on Earth, Good Will to Men." Yet what I see going on around me speaks of something else completely.
Yes the war in Iraq is now officially over, but we are still in other countries. Our economy is still shot and despite the protests, nothing is changing. All the wild commercialism of the holidays is still in full tilt. Politicians are still greedy and corrupt and it would seem that those that have gained the most have turned their backs on those that need the most. The ghost of Marley would cry out even more if he could see that the very thing that he paid for with an eternity in hell still happening today. Where is this "Peace"? Where is the compassion?
How about the most amazing concept of all, love. Both Christmas and Hanukkah share this in common. Christmas is supposed to be about G-D showing His love to mankind and Hanukkah is supposed to be about G-D showing His love to the Jewish people. Both involve miracles in hard times, but at least for me, the real issue is the love of G-D. Shouldn't we be spreading that around rather then worrying about what someone calls a tree? Is it going to do anything to show our love for others by protesting about a manger scene? I don't think so.
Spend time with your family. Enjoy the traditions that your faith brings to you, have peace come from within and above all else love for that is the real meaning of the season.
Happy Hanukkah and Merry Christmas to all.
How about family? Seems to me that whether or not you celebrate Christmas or Hanukkah, the truly important stuff belongs with the gathering of your family and friends to share those traditions that are a part of your faith and seeing to it that this is passed on to those of the next generation. This is what is important.
How about peace? When I think of that word I hear Johnny Cash singing his version of "I Heard The Bells On Christmas Day" with my grandfathers slightly wobbly voice or I think of the New Testament text that says "Peace on Earth, Good Will to Men." Yet what I see going on around me speaks of something else completely.
Yes the war in Iraq is now officially over, but we are still in other countries. Our economy is still shot and despite the protests, nothing is changing. All the wild commercialism of the holidays is still in full tilt. Politicians are still greedy and corrupt and it would seem that those that have gained the most have turned their backs on those that need the most. The ghost of Marley would cry out even more if he could see that the very thing that he paid for with an eternity in hell still happening today. Where is this "Peace"? Where is the compassion?
How about the most amazing concept of all, love. Both Christmas and Hanukkah share this in common. Christmas is supposed to be about G-D showing His love to mankind and Hanukkah is supposed to be about G-D showing His love to the Jewish people. Both involve miracles in hard times, but at least for me, the real issue is the love of G-D. Shouldn't we be spreading that around rather then worrying about what someone calls a tree? Is it going to do anything to show our love for others by protesting about a manger scene? I don't think so.
Spend time with your family. Enjoy the traditions that your faith brings to you, have peace come from within and above all else love for that is the real meaning of the season.
Happy Hanukkah and Merry Christmas to all.
Thursday, December 1, 2011
A Change In My Mind
A funny thing happened along this road of life, I hit a bump in the road or rather the bump hit me. Or more precisely it was kind of an explosive bump, one that has made a huge difference in my life, though it has taken me a while to understand just how far different it has made me.
In 2003, I was part of the original invasion or liberation, depending on your point of view, of Iraq. And I had the misfortune of getting too close and personal with a couple of explosions, one of which briefly knocked me out, doing some small amount of damage to my brain. When I came to, the only thing I noticed was a cut on my arm and a slight limp, nothing, so I thought anyhow, that would be life changing. I was wrong.
Upon my return from Iraq, there were things that I started to notice right off that weren't quite right with me. My focus was gone, the limp was worse, and I started to find things more confusing to me then I had remembered them being before. Simple things that I had taken for granted, such as balancing a check book, or remembering names or even just where I was headed had become so daunting a task that I would freak out.
In 2007, I went to the VA in Arkansas for a series of tests to determine whether or not I was suffering from some sort of Traumatic Brain Injury. After many tests and an MRI it was indeed decided that I was suffering from a mild case of it. They found three spots on my brain, but told me that they were minor and of no concern. That was the last I heard from them. They were wrong.
After moving back to New England I was assigned a doctor at the VA in Vermont and as he was looking over my record, during a check up in September, he found the results of the tests and was not happy with what he found. He immediately set up appointments for me with the TBI doctor and clinic and it was there that I found out that the injuries to my brain, though small in size, went deep into important parts of my brain, the parts that affect sight and speech as well as cognitive abilities and the nervous system. In short, everything that has been happening to me, eyesight going down, muscle twitches and spasms as well as trouble with basic cognitive things, such as speech and memory are a result of those injuries.
But here is the part that will shock you, I am thankful. Yes, I did say thankful.
While I have taken a moment to tell you some of the negative effects of what has happened to me I think the positive greatly out weighs it.
I have learned humility. I was once a very proud man who thought it was great to be able to run younger men and women into the ground and barely break a sweat. Now, many times, I need help just getting my shoes on. To walk any great distance is a massive chore, yet I am thankful, not because it is difficult but because it has made me a much more humble and compassionate man to those who are hurting.
I have had to learn that it is OK to rely on others from time to time. There are many things that I am unable to do and so I have had to seek out those who could help me and in turn I find it easier to help others when they are in need.
I have learned to love my family more and really appreciate what G-D has given me through them. My wife, in particular, has had to deal with a lot of issues with me, my health, my mental attitudes and difficulties, yet she has stuck with me when many others would have left. And through her love for me, I have learned to love the way that I should.
I have learned who my real friends are. They are not the people who expect me to be the way that I was before and have accepted what I have become without reservation. They have become the best extended family that anyone could hope to have.
I have learned to do some things differently then I might have otherwise. The fact that I am writing this is proof of that. Some years ago I would not have ever attempted to write anything, yet my brain, in all this confusion, switched gears and now I enjoy the challenge. It matters little that only a few people read it. What matters is the enjoyment and the challenge.
I have had the time to really look and study the scriptures and while much of my religious views have changed because of it I have also come to appreciate those who see the world and religion differently then I do and for that I am thankful.
In some ways I have been given a second chance at life. Yes the things that I have done in the past are still the things that touch me in the present, but I see things so much differently then before that I almost don't recognize the person from the past.
And I think that this is a good thing.
This is the day that the Lord has made, let us rejoice and be glad in it. Psalms 118:24
In 2003, I was part of the original invasion or liberation, depending on your point of view, of Iraq. And I had the misfortune of getting too close and personal with a couple of explosions, one of which briefly knocked me out, doing some small amount of damage to my brain. When I came to, the only thing I noticed was a cut on my arm and a slight limp, nothing, so I thought anyhow, that would be life changing. I was wrong.
Upon my return from Iraq, there were things that I started to notice right off that weren't quite right with me. My focus was gone, the limp was worse, and I started to find things more confusing to me then I had remembered them being before. Simple things that I had taken for granted, such as balancing a check book, or remembering names or even just where I was headed had become so daunting a task that I would freak out.
In 2007, I went to the VA in Arkansas for a series of tests to determine whether or not I was suffering from some sort of Traumatic Brain Injury. After many tests and an MRI it was indeed decided that I was suffering from a mild case of it. They found three spots on my brain, but told me that they were minor and of no concern. That was the last I heard from them. They were wrong.
After moving back to New England I was assigned a doctor at the VA in Vermont and as he was looking over my record, during a check up in September, he found the results of the tests and was not happy with what he found. He immediately set up appointments for me with the TBI doctor and clinic and it was there that I found out that the injuries to my brain, though small in size, went deep into important parts of my brain, the parts that affect sight and speech as well as cognitive abilities and the nervous system. In short, everything that has been happening to me, eyesight going down, muscle twitches and spasms as well as trouble with basic cognitive things, such as speech and memory are a result of those injuries.
But here is the part that will shock you, I am thankful. Yes, I did say thankful.
While I have taken a moment to tell you some of the negative effects of what has happened to me I think the positive greatly out weighs it.
I have learned humility. I was once a very proud man who thought it was great to be able to run younger men and women into the ground and barely break a sweat. Now, many times, I need help just getting my shoes on. To walk any great distance is a massive chore, yet I am thankful, not because it is difficult but because it has made me a much more humble and compassionate man to those who are hurting.
I have had to learn that it is OK to rely on others from time to time. There are many things that I am unable to do and so I have had to seek out those who could help me and in turn I find it easier to help others when they are in need.
I have learned to love my family more and really appreciate what G-D has given me through them. My wife, in particular, has had to deal with a lot of issues with me, my health, my mental attitudes and difficulties, yet she has stuck with me when many others would have left. And through her love for me, I have learned to love the way that I should.
I have learned who my real friends are. They are not the people who expect me to be the way that I was before and have accepted what I have become without reservation. They have become the best extended family that anyone could hope to have.
I have learned to do some things differently then I might have otherwise. The fact that I am writing this is proof of that. Some years ago I would not have ever attempted to write anything, yet my brain, in all this confusion, switched gears and now I enjoy the challenge. It matters little that only a few people read it. What matters is the enjoyment and the challenge.
I have had the time to really look and study the scriptures and while much of my religious views have changed because of it I have also come to appreciate those who see the world and religion differently then I do and for that I am thankful.
In some ways I have been given a second chance at life. Yes the things that I have done in the past are still the things that touch me in the present, but I see things so much differently then before that I almost don't recognize the person from the past.
And I think that this is a good thing.
This is the day that the Lord has made, let us rejoice and be glad in it. Psalms 118:24
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