Inspiration, news and knowledge from Polio Experience Network
No. 22: January/February, 1998
In This Issue:
Sharman’s News, Sharman Collins
“The Woods,” by Dave Graham
“The Eye of the Beholder,” by Elinor Young
The P.E.N. & ink LINK
Computer Connections
“Magnet Therapy, A Report on Recent Findings,” by P.E.N. staff writers
Bits & Pieces; Drug Alert for PPSers; About Those Ages; Humor
“Thank You” (subscription information)
POS Library (by Darlene Hansen)
Sharman’s News
HAPPY NEW YEAR! Nineteen ninety-eight will be a busy year for the Collins’ Family. We are building a new home–completion date is June 5. Meetings with the architect, builder, and designer keep me hopping. Lately, I have been dreaming about sink fixtures, bathtubs, carpet, tile, etc. And in May our son Ken and his wife Marnie and my grandson, Kenny, will be moving to Spokane! My new career as a Grandmother-in-action starts then. Break out the balls, blocks, play-doh, and riding toys!
…..Another year of great support group meetings is in the planning stage. In January, Dr. Bill Loomis will be our speaker. Dr. Loomis, in addition to being a Physician, is an Osteopath. He is equipped to perform complete rehabilitation through therapy, mobilization, and manipulation. In addition, he practices Homeopathy. Dr. Loomis will discuss with us the various services an Osteopath can render to help someone with post-polio. He’ll also explain the theories of Homeopathic treatment.
…..On February 24, Anne Phillips, an independent distributor of NIKKEN products, will lead a discussion concerning magnets and other technologies for non-invasive health and wellness. This will be an informative hands-on demonstration of these products. I’m looking forward to seeing you there.
…..Meetings are at Shriners Hospital in the 5th floor auditorium at 6:00 p.m. Shriners is located at W. 911 5th Avenue. There is easy access from the free parking garage under the hospital. If you are able to join us for dinner in the 4th floor cafeteria, please be there by 5:00 p.m.
Much love from your friend,
…..Sharman
The Woods
by Dave Graham
For years I have lived on the edge of my disability, post-polio syndrome. One day I am restricted by physical limitation and pain, while the next, I feel like my old self again, ready to take on the world.
It was one of those good days, October 23, 1997. I went deer hunting with my son, Shawn. He is a big healthy guy, so I felt confident that my own limited physicality could not get me into too much trouble. It felt so good to be doing once again an activity that held so many good memories.
The evening hunt began shortly after Shawn got off work at 4:00 PM. Earlier I had come upon a new hunting area and I was eager to show it to Shawn. We had a doe tag and only one day left before the season was to close.
After driving into the area, we spotted three deer heading up a far bank to our right. Shawn exited my van and stealthily followed their path. I proceeded on, up hill to a wide spot in the logging road. I parked atop an open knoll.
I exited the van and walked in a South-Easterly direction for another 50 yards. Suddenly I heard Shawn’s gun bark out it’s loud report. Focusing my attention in his direction, to my right I could see through an open area only about 75 yards. There was movement, then a large animal came scurrying through the brush.
Now, I’ve been hunting for exactly 36 years. During that time I have harvested 13 deer. There was a time that I could recount each triumph, but now I need to be huddled around a camp fire to rekindle those memories. So when I spied this animal and it’s awkward gate, I knew Shawn’s bullet had met its mark. The deer had been hit in the hind leg and was now looking for a place to hide.
In an effort to finalize the kill, I raised my rifle to my shoulder, aimed at the animal’s neck and fired. My aim was true. The animal was hit, but it’s adrenaline pushed it onward. Experience told me that it would go down hill and that it would not go too far if unprovoked.
As I pondered my next move, I surveyed my position which was by then about 100 yards down into the forest from the van. I knew we had only a half hour of daylight left so I could not wait. I had to pursue. I figured Shawn to be another 100 yards to my right and the deer another 100 yards straight East, down into the deepest part of the forest. I was right.
Struggling downhill through the forest, it took me at least ten minutes to come upon the big animal. I made sure she was dead, then called out for Shawn. Moments later he came bounding through the underbrush wearing a smile ear to ear. There would be meat in the freezer this year.
After tagging the animal, the first thing we mentioned was the diminishing light. We had to get moving. As Shawn gutted the deer, I took both rifles and headed back up to the van intending to drive it closer to the kill. An animal this size would be hard to move.
As I trudged back through the forest, up hill toward the knoll, I was walking West into the fading sunset.
My disability makes walking under normal conditions a bit tenuous. But here in the tangles of underbrush and downed limbs I felt like a fish out of water. Carrying 20 pounds of rifles, it seemed like it took forever to climb back up that hill. When I reached the summit, the light of day was gone. In the slight glow of reflected light, I realized a grim reality. I could not see my van. I could not even see the road.
Now this becomes very hard to write. What, moments ago, was a lifetime of confidence in my abilities in the forest, suddenly became a questioning bewilderment. I staggered East, back up the hill, thinking perhaps the road had ended at the place where I left the van. Minutes passed. I ran into dense thicket. I fell. Picking myself up, my legs felt like Jello. With heart pounding, I headed West again, thinking I had not come far enough, but then I was going downhill. Again, I walked into dense forest and darkness. It was dark all around. I could barely make out the features of the land.
With a bit of fear showing in my voice I called out to Shawn. Thankfully he heard me as I explained my plight. His voice was barely audible despite the quiet of the forest. His only option was to drag the deer down hill. He called out for me to find an opening atop the hill for a reference point.
I headed back to the opening above me. I fell a second time, then a third. With deep gasping breaths, I had to rest.
The evening temperature had fallen to the low thirties. I had left my jacket in the van and I was getting cold as I perched on a wet stump. Without thinking, I pressed on to the East again, then South, then West, falling and failing. I called out again for some lick of confidence in hearing Shawn’s voice, but nothing. I whistled my loud piercing shriek. No reply.
I was lost. My physical resources wasted, my options were gone. There in pitch darkness, I fell to my knees.
For years I have openly claimed that I could rely on God to get me through my worst times. This was truly one of those times, so I prayed.
Little did I know that at that very moment Shawn was also praying. He had pulled the deer down to a logging road far below and had been calling out to me for what seemed like hours.
My plea to God was short and to the point. I sat there in the dark, blind, helpless, contemplating. If God was to lead me out of these woods, I was going to have to be upright and moving. I struggled to regain my feet. It was then that a strange confidence came over me. Without much effort at all I proceeded North. That made no sense. There was nothing out there but more dense forest, but somehow my feet carried me in that direction.
Minutes passed. A few stars shone overhead. Perhaps it was their brightness that revealed to me a loggers’ skid trail, a path of darker dirt in a dark surrounding. That was good. Experience told me that log skids usually lead down to roads. Moments later that single log skid became two dark lines- – tire tracks! I followed upward only another few feet and there, hardly more than an arm’s length in front of my face, stood our van. I laughed out loud, praising and thanking God.
As I started the vehicle, I honked the horn and turned on the brights. Far below me Shawn saw the beams through the trees. He left the deer lying in the road and fumbled his way up through the forest toward the light.
Well, you know the rest of the story. We picked up the deer and, as we followed the road back out of the forest, we recounted our experience.
What a blessing to be able to talk freely with my son about the wonders of God’s grace.
God has helped me through many tight spots, but for some reason I seem to remember them for only a short while. Well, not this time. I wrote it on my calendar, “Today God led me out of the woods”.
The Eye of the Beholder
by Elinor Young
Behold the hippopotomus! We laugh at how he looks to us. And yet, in moments dark and grim
I wonder how we look to him.
Peace, peace, thou hippopotomus! We really look all right to us. As you, no doubt, delight the eye Of other hippopotomi.
(author unknown)
That’s one of the silly poems that I memorized as a teenager. Every once in awhile I find an occasion to quote it with great flare to some bemused audience who thinks I’ve lost a few marbles.
It came to mind recently when no one was around to impress with my eloquence. This time the occasion was someone on an e-mail polio list, describing a childhood incident that so many of us can relate to. Being laughed at, called names and assumed to be sub-intelligent because of the physical aftermath of polio’s attack.
Identity. Who assigns it to us? Whose assessment do we accept?
For 17 years I lived and worked as a missionary among what we would call a “primitive” tribal culture in the interior mountains of Irian Jaya, Indonesia. The Kimyals live a subsistence life-style, making, growing or gathering everything they need for their way of life. Kimyal culture has a rich oral literature of legends and chants which paint a picture of who they believe they are.