Conquering Obstacles (Part 53--Understanding)

It wasn't until after I received my new hip joint that I truly understood why my mother kept secrets. I found myself constantly thinking of the doctor's outlook--15 years looking through rose-colored glasses. Every ache and pain would cause me to wonder if the time had come. I despised the worrying and tried desperately to block it from my mind. But I also remembered my mother telling a doctor he was wrong when he said I would never walk again. That's the attitude I chose--the positive side of pain knowing that it would someday subside.

Eight years later the socket was replaced, and according to the doctor, that could be expected because I was still young and quite active. What he didn't expect, though, was the ball joint of the original replacement hip to last 29 years, being replaced just two years ago...a miracle in my eyes. When I learned several months ago of a hip joint "recall," I found it rather humorous, but still made a point to check with my doctor regarding my "model" type because I didn't need the stress of the unknown. Thank goodness I have a Bio-Met and not the DePuy. Whew!

In the early '90's I was visiting Sherry when she informed me that she had been diagnosed with PPS (Post-Polio Syndrome). The shock was overwhelming especially since I had never heard of it and had no idea what it entailed. I spent hundreds of hours researching to find out what could possibly happen to me and to prepare myself for the worse. I was disheartened when I read an article that stated every polio victim will eventually contract PPS.

It felt like I had been beaten within an inch of my life when it hit in 2003. Every muscle hurt, and I didn't even want to move. I had learned to deal with pain, but this was indescribable. Picture yourself making your bed in the morning and having to sit (to relieve the muscle pain in your back and legs) three or four times before finishing the task. But with the help of my neurologist, Dr. Cintron, I learned how to eventually manage the pain without the use of drugs by swimming daily if possible.

  I was fitted with a half brace to help my weakened muscles, which I wore for less than a week. It has been on the closet floor ever since. Even at my age, it's not an option. I wore braces for too many years; and if I have to suffer with a little pain by not wearing it, that's what I'll do.

Another surgery in 2005 for a knee replacement went as usual--another failure due to a staph infection. A subsequent surgery eliminated the infection but left me with a wound vac attached to my knee for the next twelve weeks. It didn't stop me from going to cheer on my favorite hockey team, the Washington Capitals, though. TC seemed more worried about the crowds kicking my crutches from under me than I did. Poor guy! I must have driven him crazy at times.

I understand the meaning of pain but have never forgotten those who suffer so much more than I ever have. Knowing that if I abuse my muscles, I will lose them, I have learned my limitations; however, it doesn't stop me from doing what I love best--traveling, riding roller coasters, and spending quality time with my family.

To be continued...

Conquering Obstacles (Part 52--From the Past)

While I was playing "toys" with my two little darlings one summer afternoon, the telephone rang. "Hello." There it was again--that familiar voice from the past.

It had been seventeen long years since I had last seen Vic, and fourteen years since I had talked with him; but just like old times, I felt his closeness. We spent hours that day just "catching up." He was married now and had an only child who was 12 already, which was hard for me to imagine. It didn't seem like it had been that long...as though it were yesterday. He mentioned his wife only in passing, but told me he was happy, which was the most important of all to me.

I told him stories about my children, those two little loves of my life, and their funny antics, but also shared with him how happy TC and I were together. Life was perfect with one exception: the unanswered question that had been haunting me for so many years.

"Why did you change your mind about coming to see me? You should have called."

As I listened intently, I felt a sudden change in his tone. He spoke quietly, slowly, pausing between each word, as though he were recalling a painful memory.

"I did leave home that night just as I had promised you. It was pouring rain...the roads were covered with water... I was in an automobile accident. I was thrown through the windshield and seriously injured, spending months in the hospital. I don't remember much about that night except thinking how upset you would be. And now I think about how different our lives could have been, should have been. I am so so very sorry."

I asked no more questions but quietly remarked, "It wasn't meant to be."

A week later I received a short note, along with a beautiful photograph of him and his family. He still had that gorgeous smile of his and appeared to be even happier than I had expected. I glanced at it often during the next several days and realized what I needed to do.

I kissed the photograph, placed it in an envelope, and returned it to him with no note, closing the book on this chapter of my life.

To be continued...

Conquering Obstacles (Part 51--The Ugly Nurse)

Unfortunately, a surgery doesn't always go as planned--and so it was with my new hip. While the nurses were moving me to a different bed in the recovery room, the new ball joint slipped out of the new socket. I don't ever recall screaming as loud as I did at that given moment. After making several attempts to slip it back into place, the doctor began screaming...at the anesthesiologist to put me under again. What a circus that must have been!

Later that evening the doctor explained to me that I would be in traction for at least the next three weeks and then would begin physical therapy if all went well. While he was still chattering away, I noticed the nurse walk into the room carrying a set of sheets. Is she seriously thinking about changing the bedding? There was no way that I felt like being juggled around, especially the day of this catastrophe.

The doc must have seen me eyeing the nurse and said to her, "That will not be necessary." But as soon as he walked out the door, she started stripping the bed. I was totally dumbfounded that she would go against what I considered "doctor's orders." When I yelled at her to stop and tried reaching for the "help" button, she blatantly told me, "Don't be such a WUSS." I don't know who was having the worse "bad hair day," me or her.

Then she created the ultimate sin--she insulted my mother, who wasn't even there to defend herself. She had been there, but was home taking care of my babies. To my dismay, TC had also stepped out of the room to speak with the doctor.

"What kind of mother do you have that wouldn't even get you vaccinated for polio?"  I won't share with my readers the response, but you can imagine how I felt at that very moment. Needless to say, the tears flowed. I don't recall her name, but I can still see the looks she gave me.

I imagine that the anesthesia had something to do with my crying, but I hadn't stopped when the respiratory therapist arrived to assist me with breathing exercises. He must have known the second he saw me that he definitely had a situation which needed to be resolved. Once he heard my tale of the nurse, he insisted that I report her to a supervisor, which I did.

For the next six weeks, she never stepped foot into my room. In fact, I didn't know if she was still on the same floor.

To be continued...

Conquering Obstacles (Part 50--The Pain)

I saw a specialist within the next several weeks, but never did I realize that it would take almost a year from the time my daughter was born until I would get a new hip joint. There were so many tests that had to be run on every inch of my body it seemed. The muscles, the nerves, and the bones all had to succumb to the twisting, bending, and probes of the experts who would determine my fate.

Meanwhile, the excruciating pain grew by the minute. I tried various pain killers, but they did nothing more than make me drowsy, which was not a good symptom while trying to teach. It was several months, though, before any students realized that I wasn't my usual self. Once they discovered what was wrong, they volunteered to do every task for me that they possibly could. They were the best!

During one of many appointments with my orthopedic surgeon, he explained to me that it was considered unethical by medical standards to replace a joint in someone as young as I was. (almost 30 years old) Joint replacements were somewhat new to the medical profession, and it was yet to be determined exactly how long the new hip would last. If I were to look through rose-colored glasses, it would hopefully have a lifespan of 15 years. Yikes!!

As he took me by the hand, he asked me to talk to him as though he were my husband and to tell him how bad the pain really was by giving him examples and not using a scale of 1 to 10. I thought about it for a moment.

"I know that I have an extremely high tolerance for pain, but my 16-pound daughter was walking at 8 1/2 months because it hurt too much to even lift or carry her. I cry myself to sleep every night because of the pain and wake up in the morning with tears in my eyes as though I've been crying all night."

He squeezed my hands gently while affirming, "I'll schedule the surgery for as soon as possible."

To be continued...

Conquering Obstacles (Part 49--My Mother's Secret)

I loved my job; I loved my husband; I loved my life. I was living the fairy tale of my dreams. First along came a bouncing baby boy, followed by a beautiful baby girl, two new loves of my life. At the time of my children's births, my mother always asked me how I was feeling. I found that somewhat odd but didn't give it much thought at the time.

Three or four months after my daughter Janelle was born, my leg began to hurt. At first I shrugged it off as a pulled muscle; however, when it didn't subside, I thought that perhaps I had a blood clot and made an appointment with an orthopedic surgeon. After viewing the x-rays, he casually told me, "I won't touch you because I cannot help you."

He further explained that my hip joint had slipped out of the socket more than likely during childbirth and was gradually tearing its way through my muscles and nerves with every step I took. He assured me, though, that he would refer me to a surgeon who could help me. Great, just great! This is NOT fair! I have two wee ones (and one big fella) that need me.

Driving home that afternoon, I remembered my mother's question, "How are you feeling?" She knew--she knew all along that this was a possibility, didn't she? But how did she know and why didn't she forewarn me? I was upset with her even though it unquestionably wasn't her fault that this had happened.

Later that evening after explaining the situation to Terry, I telephoned my mom to give her the bad news. There was no confrontation because she admitted immediately that she knew this could happen. The doctors at the Shriner's Hospital had told her that the hip would eventually wear out of the socket, but they thought it best to leave it as it was. It could last for tens of years; in addition, I had perhaps not finished growing yet which would cause further problems and possible surgeries which they couldn't perform because I would be beyond the age of 16, the limit set by the hospital.

When I asked her why she hadn't told me this before,  she quietly responded, "Why worry when there is no reason? We only worry when the time comes. You'll be back to feeling normal soon."

I truly believed that my mother was always right and knew everything there was to know; but  in this case, not even she could predict what lied ahead for me.

To be continued...

Conquering Obstacles (Part 48--The Proposal?)

Oh, yes, I'm recalling the night I transformed from "a plaything into a person" right before my eyes and without even knowing it. I had no idea what that meant but assumed he was admitting that he loved me. Being on the "shy" side definitely has its downfalls.

With a long distance relationship now ongoing because I had moved 300 miles away, I tried not to get my hopes up for anything permanent. As Montana winters lurked in the near future, he came to see me every other weekend until the snow flew and the roads became dangerously wicked. I, too, would make the journey to see him whenever possible.

After three years of racking up the highway miles between us, I became restless. This relationship was going nowhere except "back and forth" between two rural towns. Obviously he was content with the way we were, but I wanted more. Don't all women want more?

He was too easy going, too laid back. In order to get what I wanted, I'd need to be more assertive and take things into my own hands. Once I had a plan, I grabbed his sister Karen and took her with me to the jewelry store. You have to know Karen to understand just how crazy the two of us were that day. We giggled, we laughed, and we picked out the perfect ring for me and her brother that day. Of course, we had no money to purchase it; besides, that was neither my intent nor my job!

The jeweler photographed the ring for me so I could show the prospective "groom" and said that he would hold the ring for ten days. If after that time the ring was still there, it would be returned to the showcase.

Later that evening, I presented the photograph to him and nonchalantly said, "I have a birthday coming, and if you'd like, you have ten days to pick this present up for me at Zale's." He never said a word, but...

...he gave me the ring for my birthday and two months later we were married. After what I consider the longest "enragement" (my pun for engagement) in history, we are still together 34 years later....the love of my life...my "true friend." I love you, TC.

To be continued...

Conquering Obstacles (Part 47--"The Scarlet Ibis")

While teaching a freshman literature course, I felt it was necessary to hold a brief class discussion regarding the  main topic of the short story we were about to read. By using this technique, hopefully the students would be able to empathize with the characters. I knew that on this particular day, the discussion could become either a revelation or a total failure depending on their reaction to my questions as I prepared them to read  "The Scarlet Ibis."
The Scarlet Ibis is a story of two brothers, the narrator, whose name is not given but is simply referred to as "Brother" by his younger sibling, and "Doodle". Doodle is born a very sickly child who isn't expected to live. His brother wanted someone who could run and jump and play with him, but instead he got the fragile Doodle; this makes him angry. Determined to make Doodle into the brother he wants, Brother pushes him constantly, past the point of physical endurance; he is often cruel to him, even making him touch the coffin that was originally built for him as a baby. Doodle does learn a lot from Brother, but this comes at a high price.


Eventually, at the age of six, he even learns to walk. Enlightened by this, the brother decides to teach him how to run, climb vines, swim, and even fight to prepare him for school. However, almost a year after the plan was made, and the deadline was almost up, Doodle was still far from the original plans.


One day, a big red bird appears in the garden, looking sick and tired. The boys' father identifies it as a Scarlet ibis, a tropical bird that must have been blown off course because of a recent storm. When the bird suddenly dies, Doodle, pitying the creature, decides to bury it. Afterwards, the boys go down to Horsehead Landing, a nearby swamp. On their way back to the house Brother has Doodle practice rowing. A sudden rainstorm comes, and when they reach the riverbank Doodle is tired and frightened. Brother leaves Doodle behind in the pouring rain, angry that he can't finish "training" Doodle before school starts. He soon returns for Doodle, only to find that he has died with blood flowing out of his mouth, staining his throat red. He had died like the Scarlet Ibis. Brother cries with regret for what he had done.

I opened the discussion by asking, "How do you feel when you see a handicapped person?" Their immediate reaction was to look everywhere--down at the desk, out the window, at their friends--everywhere except at me. Fortunately, one student broke the classroom silence and others followed suit. Comments poured out as well as examples of people they knew or had seen who were handicapped. "I feel sorry for them." "I just ignore them because I don't know what to say." "I'm glad it's not ME." "I wonder what happened to them." The normal 10-minute opening discussion turned into an entire class hour with just a few minutes at the end for a question and answer period. That's when a young boy raised his hand and asked me, "Aren't you embarrassed?"

"Why do you think I would feel embarrassed?"

"Well...you know, because of the way you walk."

I could feel every student's eyes glued to me while they were more than likely thinking to themselves, "He shouldn't have asked her that."

My response was, "If I were embarrassed, do you think that I would choose to spend every day of my life in front of high school students, who can be the most critical people on earth at times?" I chuckled at all the strange looks, and they chuckled, too, accompanied by an enormous sigh of relief. I did tell them the story of being one of God's "special" children," which was the smartest move I possibly had ever made. Now they could understand who I really was.

To be continued...

Conquering Obstacles (Part 46--The Mockery)

I settled into my new apartment and new school in a rural eastern Montana community. It was slightly larger than my previous "homestead," and I was somewhat anxious about meeting my students for the first time. Heaven only knows why I thought that my new students would be similar to my previous ones, but I had a rude awakening.

I could handle the little seventh grade girl who walked out of my study hall and mumbled a little too loudly the word "bitch" referring to me because I had just reprimanded her in class for intentionally slamming her textbooks to the floor. Quietly confronting her with "If you are going to call me names behind my back, then you best have the guts to do it to my face, so now is your opportunity," convinced me that the next time she would lower her voice. It didn't upset me because I knew that early teens were in the habit of practicing their "swearing" abilities.

What did upset me, though, was to learn that students through their own actions can subsequently hurt their classmates. I had seen several students mock the way I walk as they moved from class to class. I assumed that it would eventually no longer be funny to others and ignored their behavior. However, several months into the school year I was approached by a little eighth grade girl who was in tears. As I tried to comfort her, she explained that she was sad because an older girl (to remain nameless even though I haven't forgotten) was making fun of me and the way I walked. "You should do something!" the little girl demanded. "Perhaps it's time I should."

Several days later as I was monitoring the halls during lunch hour, I spotted the culprit demonstrating her "walking skills." Now was the time. I approached her and led her by the arm into an empty classroom. "We need to talk." Even though I kept a calm, soft voice, she looked horrified as I began, "If you are making fun of the way I walk because you are trying to hurt my feelings, it's not working. I have been made fun of, laughed at, pointed at, and mocked more in my life than you could ever imagine. And your friends don't think you're funny anymore. It's time to stop please."

I definitely hadn't intended to make her cry, but the tears began as she said, "I'm really sorry. I won't do it again." 

"Good girl, thank you."

And she didn't, at least not that I know about. Hopefully, another obstacle in my new environment had been overcome.

To be continued...

Conquering Obstacles (Part 45--A Plaything)

It took him three weeks to find me with no thanks to Shirley, my pool partner, whom he harassed nightly regarding my whereabouts until she finally gave in to his demands. If I had been her, I probably would have done the same.

When he called, I wasn't particularly interested in hearing what he had to say; after all, he was so verbally cruel to me the last time I actually had seen him, that nothing he could do or say would change the way I was feeling. More than likely I could and would forgive him, but even now I can't forget the hurtful words.

During the tense telephone conversation, he casually mentioned that he was injured in a farm-related accident and had just been released from the hospital. He asked if I would come home to see him. Without any hesitation, I said, "Yes, when I have a few days off, I'll be there." What was I thinking? At a most vulnerable time in my life, I open myself up for more heartache. Oh, well, it wouldn't be the first time, and more than likely, not the last.

Even though I wasn't a "list" type of individual, I actually compared the pros and cons of this very odd relationship. He always had a great time wherever he went and whatever he did; I loved listening to his jokes and stories; he was so easy-going and laid back that I had yet to see him lose his temper; my parents adored him; he liked me for who I was and definitely could be the "true friend" I had been seeking my entire life; and I loved him. Why? I had no idea.

The cons included the fact that he had no life-long goals but preferred to take each day as it came; he was shy when it came to revealing his feelings; and he wasn't the quickest at making any sort of decision.

During the entire trip to see him, I weighed again and again the pros and cons. I wondered how true the saying was that "opposites" attract. Could we eventually have a life together? I needed to know more about the last night I was with him before I could even think such thoughts. Besides, I was going to be moving from the area so that could possibly be the tie-breaker. Time would tell, but for now...

I needed some answers. After first seeing him and listening to the horrid tale of his injury, I asked him, "Why did you say those horrible things to me that night outside the Horseshoe Club?"

He wouldn't look me in the eye but quietly revealed, "That was the night you turned from a plaything into a person."

To be continued...

Conquering Obstacles (Part 44--Moving On)

There were times in my life when I had regretted doing or saying certain things, but nothing compared to the regret I felt after having asked him that "question." It was as if it had turned him into an entirely different person and not for the better, which took me by total surprise. 

 He continued to stop by but the visits seemed to become further and further apart, similar to the late night phones calls before bedtime. I couldn't help but feel that he had lost interest in me, which was more or less a common pattern in my life by now.

My Tuesday nights were always spent playing in the pool league, while his league night was normally on Wednesday. We had never attended each other's competition so when he showed up one night while I was playing on league, I was slightly confused, but happy to see him. However, it would have been nice if he would have at least spoken to me, but he didn't. This continued for several weeks, and on the last night of our league season, he walked through the door with another girl, woman, lady...whatever she was.

I was so hurt and angry that I couldn't stand the sight of him. How could he do this to me in front of all my friends? But when the competition was over and he had left, I told Shirley, my partner, "I'm gone!  I am following him!" So I did...to the Horseshoe Club. As I walked through the door, our eyes met simultaneously as though he had been waiting for me. He immediately came to me, took me by the hand, and led me outside.

What ensued was not what I had expected by any means, and I will not share with my readers the most vicious comment he made to me that night. I cried harder than I had in a very long time.The next evening (Wednesday, his league night) he called to apologize and said that he'd come to visit on Thursday night if I wanted to see him. I agreed because I needed to know what was going on in his mind. Thursday night came and went, but he was a "no show." I was angry at him, but more so at myself for being such a fool. How many times was I going to let this happen to me?

I had initially decided not to return to work in Yellowstone that summer, but early the next morning, I made a call to my former boss asking him if there happened to be an opening for me. (Most employees apply in January or February and it was now the end of May.)

"Can you start work tomorrow morning?" he asked.

"I'll be there bright and early."

My anger drove me that day to quickly pack my household belongings, which I took to my parents house to store for the summer. I certainly didn't need to burden them with my problems, but I asked them to say nothing to anyone regarding my whereabouts. They agreed. I also contacted several of my friends that he knew, and explained to them what had happened, and asked them NOT to tell him where I was should he ever ask about me.

I returned to gather the rest of my belongings and then head for the park. Locking the door behind me, I quietly said farewell to this chapter of my life for I knew that I would never return.

To be continue...

Conquering Obstacles (Part 43--The Answer)

For the following nine months he would become a temporary fixture in my life. We'd go for "shorter" drives in the country which I loved. As I had no sense of direction once off the main highways, he tried to teach me about sections of land and how not to get lost which I had done on more than one occasion.

We also managed to spend time with each other's family. I understood why he had such a great sense of humor once I met his parents and siblings, who were fun-loving folk unlike I had ever met before. As for my parents, they appeared to adore him, especially my father who would chat for hours and take him into the garage to tinker. Both our families were so opposite and yet so much alike in their own special way.

It was almost a year to the day he first came into my life, and I had yet to ask the question. While watching "The Untouchables" one night, the time seemed right.

"Could I please ask you a question?" I began.

"Yep, just don't make it too hard."

"Why is it that you've never asked what happened to me...why I am the way I am? Aren't you the least bit curious?"

"No, not really."

Wow! That was totally an unexpected response, and I wasn't exactly sure what that meant or what to say next when he continued.

"But if it would make you feel better to tell me, then I'm listening."

As I briefly shared a few tidbits of my life, I watched him intently and saw absolutely no reaction from him. This meant either one of two things:

He liked me for who I was and my disability made no different to him... or

He didn't care because he wouldn't be sticking around for long.

To be continued...

Conquering Obstacles (Part 42--The Joy Ride)

Why didn't I ask him what made him remember me? That would have been the perfect opportunity to discover what people see in me; but it's like so many times before, I never think to ask the right questions until it's too late. I made up my mind that the next time I saw him, I'd ask; except that he, too, seemed to have disappeared.

Once again I spent a fun-filled summer with my friends living and working in Yellowstone National Park. I was mesmerized the park's beauty and wished I could live there all year long, although I also loved teaching and was looking forward to spending the upcoming school year with my students.

It was two days before school started, and I was busy unpacking my belongings and settling into my home when I heard a knock at the door. I couldn't imagine who would be here so early in the day, but as I reached for the doorknob, I heard his voice. He was back after six months.

"Let's go for a ride," he joyfully remarked.

"Well, I'm rather busy moving."

"It can wait...let's go."

I grabbed a sweater and we were off cruising down the highway. "Where are we going?" I inquired. This was a rather strange series of events, and I was more than totally clueless.

"Let's go to the park."

"What park?"

"Yellowstone...it'll be a great ride."

"You aren't serious, are you?"

"Yep!"

I'm thinking to myself that this will be a 350+ mile joy ride. I'll wait to ask him the question that had been lingering in my thoughts since we first left. There would be plenty of time later...350 miles worth of time to be exact.

He kept me in stitches all the way to the park and home again with jokes, stories from his past, and trivial nonsense that I thoroughly found interesting. I never laughed so hard, though, when he mentioned how "shy" he was. Shy? This fella is anything but shy! Anyone who would yell at a perfect stranger across a pool table is NOT shy!

Sharing a goodnight kiss on my front steps, I remembered the "question" that I was going to ask him, but this was not the right moment...next time...

...hoping that he wouldn't wait another six months before returning.

To be continued...

Conquering Obstacles (Part 41--The "Jerk")

"HEY, TEACH!  Don't Miss it!"

I didn't, but rather than celebrating with my teammates, I was concentrating mostly on the "jerk" who yelled at me. Why did he call me "Teach"? I couldn't keep myself from staring at him thinking that by chance I had seen him before or perhaps even met him and just didn't recall. No, he was too scruffy looking and reminded me so much of the first time Ron talked to me that I would have remembered him.

Scoping out the men's teams, I was looking for someone that I might know, someone that would have told this fella, whoever he was, that I was a teacher. I recognized none of them. Case closed...

...until I walked out the door and found him following me to my car. "Hey, Teach, could you give me a ride home?"

Who was this guy? "Hmmm...I don't think so. I'm not headed back to Billings. You'll have to find another ride home."

"I live close to you; and I could really use a ride, or are you going to make me walk?"

It was the middle of February with the temperature hovering around zero. With the amount of beer he appeared to have consumed, he could possibly freeze to death, so I said, "Get in." I certainly wasn't in the habit of picking up strangers, but he seemed harmless enough.

Thirty-five miles later, he spotted his boss' truck at the small-town bar and said he'd catch a ride from there. He was gone, but not before he had explained to me that he called me "Teach" because he had seen me at the high school basketball and volleyball games. That made me wonder.

Do people remember me not because of who I am but rather because of the way I am? I wish I had the answer...Why didn't I ask him that?

Perhaps because I didn't want hear the answer.

To be continued...

Conquering Obstacles (Part 40--Pool)

With my inability to participate in any sport that involved running or strenuous physical activity, I chose to learn how to play pool while in college. I spent hundreds of hours practicing because if I were to do this, I wanted to be the best I could possibly be. Sherry, my friend who wore full-length leg braces, became my partner in crime.

 

Every weekend night the two of us found ourselves hitting the local establishments searching out the pool tables. With most tables being used, we would have to "challenge" the winner in order to play. Our strategy was to allow our male opponents to win at least the first game, perhaps the second, depending on our mood and how good they actually were.

 

Our main purpose of playing was to win and to hold the table in order to shoot pool for free while the challengers fed their quarters into the table. Sometimes we would play for a drink, but never would we play for money. More often than not, our opponents would try to distract us by chatting and asking rather personal questions. Sherry was absolutely the best when it came to shutting down the invasion of privacy.  When asked about her braces, she had a vast number of responses, but my all-time favorite was, "I used to be a professional downhill skier until I hit a tree." That normally would leave our opponents somewhat speechless.

 

While dealing with my personal problems, I found solace by joining a women's pool league in Billings. It wasn't long before my team partner Shirley and I were ranked at the top of the league for the highest percentage of wins. Year after year we held that position and became the "target."

 

Even after starting my teaching career, I continued to play on the league, living less than an hour from Billings. Normally the men's and women's leagues did not play at the same establishment at the same time, but one night, both teams were playing in Molt, Montana, about 10 miles outside the city.

 

My team was in an extremely close match, and Shirley and I were playing the last game which would determine the winner. As I concentrated and lined up my "do or die" eight-ball shot, I heard someone literally yell, "HEY TEACH! Don't miss it!"

 

Moving nothing but my eyes, I glanced upward to see what "jerk" was trying to distract me. He, too, was in the midst of leaning over the table preparing to make a shot, and I thought to myself, "I'm going to punch his lights out if I miss this eight-ball."

 

To be continued...

 

 

Conquering Obstacles (Part 39--The Broom)

Nine months had passed, and I decided it was time to get back on track, which meant returning to college and receiving my degree in December, a year and a half later. There was no big celebration, no announcements, no college pictures, and no formal graduation ceremony. But for me, it didn't matter. It would have put me in front of hundreds of people who would remember the young lady staring at the floor hoping not to trip going up the stairs and awkwardly walking across the stage to receive her diploma. It was another blessing in disguise.

I hadn't dated at all in the past two years, not even while living in Yellowstone National Park during the summers. I just had no desire to be a part of that scene. Chances were slim to none that I would ever find that "true" friend I had been searching for off and on these past years. It would only lead to heartache.

I considered myself fortunate to find a teaching position (in January) in a rural school not far from Billings. The high school was comprised of 35 students; and I taught business courses as well as a sophomore English class, which included a section on public speaking. I personally enjoyed my "speech" course in college, especially since I had the "Take me or leave me--I am who I am." attitude on life.

I felt more comfortable in front of the classroom than I had initially anticipated. There were no stares, glares, points, or giggles from my students. They appeared to accept me for who I was and asked no questions. Most of their attention was drawn to Kip, the new sophomore boy in school. He had come from the Yellowstone Boys Ranch (a home for incorrigible, troubled boys) to live with a foster family who would hopefully adopt him.

One particular day in speech class, the students were to give an impromptu speech on a topic they would draw from a box. They would only have 30 seconds to organize their thoughts before giving the presentation. When it was Kip's turn, he drew his topic, glanced quickly at it, and headed straight to the podium. His topic--a broom.  His presentation went something like this:

Having a broom is like having a very best friend. It comes in all sizes and shapes--tall, short, square, round, or just in between. It comes in all different colors--white, brown, black, yellow, red. Like a friend, it's always close by. When you've made a gigantic mess of things, it will be there to help you pick up the pieces. A broom is like having a very best friend.

Here was a troubled young man who was trying to put his life back together and giving us a life lesson on friendship. Kip taught me that day that I should not give up my search for a "true" friend. He might be very close, perhaps just around the corner.

To be continued...

Conquering Obstacles (Part 38--Death)

Everyone copes with a death of a loved one differently; as for me, I avoid funerals unless it's absolutely necessary that I attend. Don't try to comfort me because it makes me cry all the harder. The worst possible thing someone could say to me is, "He's in a better place now." I understand that, but my question is "How can a healthy, vibrant 23-year old be in a better place. This is supposed to be the prime of his life."

With that said, I am keeping this blog brief. Ron and I spent most waking, non-working hours together until Christmas break when I returned home for the holidays. Because it meant we would be away from one another for three long weeks, Ron decided to fly to Billings the day after Christmas to spend New Year's with me and my family.

I was about to leave for the airport because his flight would be arriving shortly. The call came from his mother; Ron had been hit by a speeding car at the airport and had died instantly. No one is supposed to die before they even board the plane. Shattered and destroyed is what I had become at that very moment.

My parents offered to fly me back to school immediately, but I told them, "I'm done. I'm not ever going back." And I didn't.

With the holidays behind me and nothing but tears inside me, my parents tried their best to comfort me. They encouraged me to transfer back to Eastern Montana College to complete my junior year. But I didn't.

At this point in my life, I didn't want to do anything. It was just so unfair. Life was so unfair. My two loves were gone. Hadn't I endured enough pain...first the physical pain and now the emotional pain.

To be continued...

Conquering Obstacles (Part 37--Late Night Call)

An almost whisper of a "Hello" instantly brought the tears. It had been three years since I had heard Vic's voice, as I recalled immediately that he had not answered a single letter of mine. I couldn't imagine why he would be calling now.

With the initial "Hellos" and "How are you?"s out of the way, I began with the unanswered questions I had been carrying with me all this time. "Why didn't you ever answer any of my letters?" "Why didn't you call?" "Did you think that I would forget about you?" "Didn't you even care? or maybe you just found yourself another girlfriend and threw me to the wind without even telling me."

For the next hour he told his tale of what actually had happened since he left me. He had written hundreds of times and received nothing from me in return. He thought I was the one who no longer cared for him. I don't remember exactly how he discovered the scheme, but his mother had intentionally sabotaged our relationship by withholding my letters to him and failing to mail his to me. Her not particularly liking me proved my "6th Sense" was accurate once again; I found her actions utterly loathsome beyond belief.

My heart skipped a beat or two when he asked if he could come visit me. Without a moment's hesitation, I pleaded, "Yes, yes, yes...please do." He would be leaving as soon as we said our good nights and would arrive sometime the following evening, but would call when he was was nearing Cheney.

Watching the sunrise through my dorm window, I thought only of how it would be when we were together again. Would we still feel the same about each other? or Would we find the magic of love had disappeared? Why is it when you want time to travel faster than the speed of lightning, it stands so solemnly still. Evening couldn't come fast enough for me as I waited by the phone for the call.

The call never came that evening...or the next...or the next. It would be 17 years later before I learned the truth about that night.

To be continued...

Conquering Obstacles (Part 36--The Hello)

Ron asked me to meet him at the library later that afternoon because he needed to get some sleep. It was 8 a.m. and he looked as though he had just crawled out of bed. I couldn't have been more wrong. He was actually a student by day and a musician and disc jockey by night; and he definitely was more eye appealing after he returned later that day.

For the next week we worked diligently on the project though it was sometimes difficult. He was more of a babbler than I was (that's hard to believe, isn't it?); and I was so curious to know all about him. He was born and raised in Spokane, had played in a band since he was 16, had been a DJ since he turned 18, and had never really had a girlfriend because they were "time-consuming" according to him.

After finishing our project and closing down the library late one night, he walked me back to the dorm. While heading to the elevator he spied the baby grand piano in the student lounge, grabbed me by the hand, and literally dragged me into the room. Sitting down at the piano, he asked, "Do you play?" I looked at him and with the straightest face I said, "Monopoly."

I was in awe as he proceeded to pound out song after song; in fact, it turned into a night of "Name That Tune." It was obvious that Three Dog Night was his favorite group. "One is the loneliest number that..." He couldn't really carry a tune, so I did most of the singing...and I think he was quite impressed if I do say so myself.

I couldn't imagine his never having a girlfriend. He was wholesome, sincere, polite, humorous...and after meeting his parents, I knew why he was so genuine. They treated me as though they had known me for years and made me feel like part of the family.

He usually worked two or three nights a week DJ'ing and one night a week doing a "gig" with his band, but spent most other nights with me (and sometimes Janice, my Wacky Weed friend mentioned in a previous blog). Most of our little "date" nights consisted of listening to music at his place, playing "Name That Tune" at the dorm, or attending concerts and gigs in Spokane or on campus.

What I loved the most about him was how comfortable he made me feel about myself. There were times when I was able to forget about the obstacles and struggles of my past. I felt "special" but in an entirely new way. As we stood outside the door of my dorm room, having just returned from a "Paul Revere and the Raiders" concert in Spokane, I thought to myself, "I could love him for the rest of my life." Everything was unbelievably perfect for that one moment.

Once inside my room, I took a shower, chatted with Susan my roommate for a bit, and was more than ready for a date with the "sandman." What seemed like only minutes later, I was awakened by a ringing of the telephone. I glanced at the clock...2:30 a.m. Late night calls usually carried with them bad news.

Drowsily I answered the telephone, "Hello...?"

An almost whisper of a "hello" instantly brought me to tears.

To be continued...

Conquering Obstacles (Part 34--The Awakening)

When my cousin Bill returned from his tour in Vietnam, he and Rita threw a huge party for all of his friends. Among them was a fellow named Lyle who I recognized as one of my classmates from high school. Within seconds he was sitting beside me striking up a conversation about who knows what. I was only half-listening and would  just give him an occasional nod because I was more interested in who was walking through the door.

I stopped in my tracks! "What did you just say?"

"Oh, so you were listening to me. I said that I was in class that day that Ken slapped you."

"That was totally embarrassing."

"Did he ever tell you why he did it?"

"Like I would have ever talked to HIM. Why? Do you know something I don't know?"

"I know WHY."

"Oh, do share."

"Because he liked you, and you wouldn't give him the time of day. I don't ever remember you even talking to him, and I think it made him mad. You were so stuck up in high school."

"What are you talking about? I wasn't stuck up."

"Are you kidding? I could have been lying dead in the hallway, and you would have either stepped over me or walked around me. Everyone liked you...even me, but you were in your own little world."

I couldn't believe what Lyle was telling me. This guy is just plain weird. Me? Stuck up? I doubt that. "Well, I liked you, too, but I don't get it. It doesn't make any sense; besides that, I was just SHY, not stuck up. Why didn't you ever talk to me?"

He laughed so hard then as though that was the funniest thing he had ever heard. "You were shy? Now that's just not the case. If you were shy, you wouldn't have raised your hand all the time to answer questions in class; and I didn't talk to you because I didn't want to be rejected. I wasn't THAT dumb."

That made us both giggle, "Well, thanks for sharing, but I think you're wrong." My new attitude regarding friends must be working, though, because he's talking to me now, and I'm not rejecting him.

However, the entire conversation struck a nerve. Here is this poor fella admitting that he liked me in high school but I totally ignored him. If he's right, then that means my "6th Sense" was doing me more harm than good. It was turning people away from me, people who could have become my good friends, perhaps even "true" friends.

To be continued...

Conquering Obstacles (Part 35--The Beaus)

With Lyle's revelation regarding my "stuck up" attitude, I decided to quit the search for a "true" friend and just take things as they came. My college classes were going well, and I seemed to have more friends than ever before. Most didn't ask me personal questions which was a huge relief. I must admit, though, I wasn't always the best judge of character.

I had a crush on one guy in particular, and it took him quite awhile to ask me out to a movie. We saw "Easy Rider," and afterward I got a peck on the cheek. I thought that was rather odd, but then again, we were just friends. We stayed friends even after I transferred to Eastern Washington State University. He wrote often, but in his last letter to me, he indicated he was "gay" and would be moving to Tempe, AZ. That explained the peck on the cheek. I must have been one naive girl not to have known.

Steve was a few years older than I was, and obviously head over heels for me because he gave me a diamond ring after dating for only two weeks. When my parents met him, I could feel that they didn't particularly like him. They always seemed to know what was right for me; so one day while I was shopping in downtown Billings, it occurred to me that I didn't particularly like him either. I took off the ring and threw it into a snowbank. When I looked back on that moment, I wished that I had taken it to the pawn shop. I was then and still am much too impulsive for my own good.

I was living and working in Yellowstone National Park during my summers and had what I called "fun" boyfriends because we all knew that when the end of the season came, so did the relationships. They positively widened my horizons, though, because they were from all over the country--Huntington Beach, CA, Huntsville, AL, New York City, etc. They gave me the urge to travel which I have never lost. (as I write this blog from a hotel room.)

When I tranferred to EWSU, I didn't realize that the student body ratio was ten males for every female. I remember sitting in an English Communications class that consisted of 34 males and 1 female....that would be ME! Most girls would have drooled to be in a class like that one, but I was feeling outrageously uncomfortable. The male teacher would tell jokes and talk to the fellas in class as though I weren't there. After catching my look, he'd say, "Oh, we have a lady in the room. I'm sorry."

So was I! I had been in class for two weeks and no one had yet talked to me. I was going to give these fellas one more class period to acknowledge me (even a HI would have been acceptable); and if they didn't, I was dropping the class.

To my surprise, the scruffy looking, dishwater blonde sitting next to me actually spoke to me... again and again and again...until the teacher had to ask him to refrain from talking. After class he asked me to be his partner in a magazine research project we had been assigned.... thus the beginning of a magnificent friendship.

To be continued...