Globusz^® Publishing 

Although the chapters have been short the information has been plentiful. Please use these techniques. They do work. However, it is usually all or nothing. If a block exists the treatment will not work. If the blocks are cleared, the results are amazing.

Getting through the emotional hurt and trauma associated with a serious illness will not immediately change your physical situation. The disease with all the related physical problems will still be there.

However, reducing or removing the emotional hurt clears the way to move toward the positive. It will greatly change your attitude and perception of your situation. Remember the glasses analogy? The world looks much clearer, brighter, and more colorful once the dim and tainted glasses of sadness, trauma, anxiety and despair are removed. It gives us the freedom to focus on what we can do rather than what we can’t, what we have rather than what we lack, and it allows us to be thankful rather than bitter. It also allows us to appreciate each day and to live in the here and now.

In this final chapter I would like to share some personal thoughts. First, regarding the seriousness of the illness; I suppose that my own ALS diagnosis is as serious as it gets. There is no viable treatment. It would be easy to feel hopeless. However, it’s even easier to forget that we are all in the same boat.

The moment we are born we are destined to die. In this way, death is part of living. For me, having ALS is no more of a death sentence than what I had prior to the diagnosis. I have just been blessed with the knowledge of a rough time frame for the sentence, which causes me to value each day.

Some are not as fortunate. As I write this I am also listening to the news on television. So far tonight I have heard of three or four people who were tragically and unexpectedly killed. This happens every day.

We humans are funny beings. We live each day as if we will never face death. Maybe this is good because this kind of denial allows us to focus on the present and enjoy life. On the other hand, this kind of thinking can allow us to waste time and view each day as if it’s an entitlement rather than a precious gift from God. I wonder if the people I heard about in the news tonight would have done anything different yesterday had they known they would die today.

Speaking of death, I have had two close encounters. The first was in the recovery room after a peg tube placement. I was either allergic to the pain medicine or was given too much. I’m not sure which. Regardless, I am told that I stopped breathing. I remember part of the experience. In particular, I remember fading in and out of consciousness and hearing the nurse telling me to breathe. I did not realize that I was not breathing. There was no discomfort. In fact, it was a pleasant, peaceful experience.

A few months later I developed pneumonia. Having the pneumonia was quite uncomfortable. At its worst point, I was already hospitalized. I eventually passed out and was sedated for three days while being treated with IV antibiotics. Again, I recall nothing unpleasant from the worst part of the experience.

Having come close to death seems to have helped remove the fear of death. A book published during the 1970’s called Life After Life supports this idea. I believe it is still in print as of this writing. This was an account of several individuals who were clinically deceased but were revived by medical staff. One common characteristic among all of these people was an absence of the fear of death.

In spite of all this talk about death, I want you to know that I don’t think about it often. I acknowledge it, but it doesn’t steal my life away by constantly occupying my mind.

I have found that spirituality is a great help when dealing with a life threatening illness. One’s faith is tested, but that is not a bad thing. At one time I thought that a person in my situation would really become as “religious” as possible. That has not been the case at all. I don’t worry about my relationship with God. In fact I feel very much at peace and comforted. I strongly encourage my fellow patients to find God. It’s the most important thing you can do.

Regardless of the illness, a good support network of friends and family makes life easier for everyone. Friends and family can provide emotional support and much needed help with everyday needs, such as household chores, errands, and direct patient care.

The needs will vary, depending upon the type of illness. In my case, the ALS symptoms cause me to require total care. Unfortunately, I am a full-time job for my wife, LaDonna. In spite of her dedication and willingness to provide care, she can’t do it alone. She needs help, as would anyone caring for a total needs patient. I am fortunate that my son and daughter, Chad and Cara, are available to help with patient care. I am able to remain at home only because they are available to help. I am also fortunate to have friends who help by sitting with me for a few hours each week, giving LaDonna a much-needed break. If at all possible, build a network of helpers. Never

Allow one person to provide all of the care, even if they say they can handle it.

Another thing that has helped me personally is humor. It seems that no matter how bad my situation becomes, something humorous happens.

For example, I have learned a lot about hospitals and nurses. During my first hospitalization for a feeding tube, I found myself in the intensive care unit. Apparently, I had a reaction to the medication. I told the nurse that I needed to go to the bathroom. The nurse left the room and soon returned with a urinal. I expected her to hand the urinal to me and leave the room, but she didn’t. Let me tell you, those nurses are pretty forward, or maybe it was just good service.

Later that night, I developed a problem. I asked for the urinal several times and continued to get the same top-notch service, but when everything was in place, I couldn’t go. I finally suggested that the nurse leave the urinal in place, and then she could go about her business while I continued to work on mine. She responded, “Oh, I don’t know. I don’t think you are big enough to stay in the urinal.” What? So now she’s measuring! If only I had more time to think of a rebuttal. Maybe some comment about how cold it was in the room, or something. While I needed a great comeback, all that came out was, “You know, it is adjustable.” There was silence. Either she had no sense of humor, her professionalism kept her under control, or maybe my problem was more serious than I realized.

There is something about nurses and nudity. As a psychologist, I haven’t quite gotten a handle on the situation.

During my second hospital stay I had one particularly bad night. As it turns out, my IV was putting too much fluid into my body, causing excessive secretions. One nurse was very compassionate and stayed with me all through the night, along with my wife and my sister.

The next day was bath day. Two nurses helped me walk to the bathroom. I was sitting on the commode, stark naked, when I heard a knock on the door. Before I could say anything, the door opened and a line of nurses began filing into the bathroom. One of them announced, “Look who came to see you!” I thought, “There’s more? How many people can fit into this room and who am I about to meet?” Something didn’t seem proper about this introduction. Maybe Cotillion should be a requirement for nursing school.

The person who had come to see me was the nurse who had been so helpful the night before. I thought to myself, “If I had known you were coming I would have baked a cake, or at least put on some underwear.” The interesting thing is that we exchanged pleasantries and carried on a conversation as if I were fully dressed in a suit rather than being naked on a commode. It seemed as if The Emperor’s New Clothes was being played out before my eyes.

I am happy to say that I am now much more adjusted to the nudist camp mentality of the nursing world. In fact I’m becoming somewhat of an exhibitionist. When I meet a new nurse I just go ahead and pull down my pants. It still doesn’t shock them [just kidding].

Wheelchairs are interesting things. Why is it that people will stand and talk to my wife, LaDonna, in a normal voice, then lean down to me in the wheelchair and yell in my ear? People seem to make a lot of assumptions when faced with a person in a wheelchair.

The last year of my work was spent doing consulting in nursing homes. LaDonna and I worked together and she pushed me in a wheelchair most of that year.

One day the facility had a fire drill. A newly hired nurse came over and insisted that Ladonna take me to my room. LaDonna explained that I was one of the doctors. She didn’t buy it and kept insisting that I return to my room. We were as persistent as the nurse, mainly because we didn’t have a room to go to. She finally left and we didn’t see her again. I assume that she was embarrassed when she learned that I wasn’t a resident. I have often wished that I had simply asked the nurse to take me to my room.

On another occasion I was sitting in the hallway talking with a female resident of the nursing home. I introduced myself and explained that her doctor had asked me to talk with her. A family member of another patient passed by and apparently overheard that part of our conversation.

Meanwhile, LaDonna left to get something from our car and returned laughing. The family member had approached her outside and asked if I really was a doctor, or was I a delusional resident who thought he was a doctor. I don’t know how LaDonna responded. I was afraid to ask.

When I first began using a wheelchair, I still had use of my arms, but they were weak. It was an awkward thing. I might reach up for something and fall short of the target because of the weakness. It’s just a part of the package that comes with this illness

It was about this time that we had a death in the family. Ladonna and I attended what we call the “visitation.” This is a social gathering where members of the community meet and offer support and condolences to the family of the deceased.

I saw many people that night. Many old friends were leaning down and yelling in my ear. Others that I had seen only about a year or so earlier were asking if I remembered them. And of course hugs, I received many hugs from the ladies.

One of these hugs came from a lady I had not seen in several years. As she bent over to hug me, I reached up to return the hug. Suddenly she shuddered, jumped and quickly stood up. At first, I had no idea of what was wrong. Then I remembered the weak arm. I had just shook hands with her left breast. We stammered around for a few seconds, then continued our conversation as if nothing had happened

I believe you can get by with anything if you are in a wheelchair. I can’t help but wonder about all the other hugs that night, especially the ones that kept coming back.

Life goes on even if we are sick. It is my hope that you, the reader, will feel better from using these techniques. Get through the emotional hurt and begin enjoying the most important time that we have, which is now, the present, this moment. May God bless you on your journey.