And in Other News – Hockey Has Started

Another hockey season began last week, which is a perfect time to tell you about my new endeavor.

Playing hockey.

(Hello! McFly! You’re 51-years-old, you’ve never played hockey, you can’t even skate, and you’re disabled. You think you can play hockey?)

I’m speaking about Sled Hockey, also known as Sledge Hockey. When you’re disabled, you need to make some type of adjustment for everything you do. If you’re disabled and you want to play hockey, you adjust the way you play the game.

The origin of sled hockey, as written in Parasport, a website about all Para-Olympic sports, goes back to the early 1960s when a bunch of former hockey players in a rehabilitation center in Stockholm, Sweden bolted two hockey blades to the bottom of a sled, and armed with rounded poles in each hand played the game they loved.

The origin of my involvement in sled hockey goes back to New Year’s Eve 2011. Nik, Amy, Mom and I went to an Arizona Sundogs hockey game in Prescott Valley, Arizona. Before the game started, Prescott’s Tom Lopeman, who lost both legs to injuries he suffered while serving in Vietnam, skated out on his sled to deliver the puck to the referee. During the first intermission, we talked about his equipment and playing the game. Tom invited me to practice with the Phoenix Coyotes Sled Hockey team that he plays for. A couple of weeks later, I met the team at the Ice Den in Scottsdale. The guys on the team were fantastic. They let me borrow a sled and some equipment, helped me get on the ice and got me involved in their practice. What I was able to do can in no way be confused with playing. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life. I could barely skate the width of the rink before I had to stop and catch my breath. After an hour and a half of the team practicing on half the rink and me hoping to not have a coronary on the other half, practice was over. My arms were so sore I could barely lift them, but I loved being on the ice. I had to be able to actually play this game.

First, I had to get my upper body prepared for the rigors of just skating. The muscles of my arms, shoulders and back were not prepared to propel nearly 200 pounds. Perhaps if I had walked on my hands for 50 years, I would have felt better. I got a membership to Kate’s House of Fitness in Prescott Valley. Kate Cooper is a professional bodybuilder and does not look feminine. Kate is a wonderful lady but scary looking. I told my dad if I was ever in a dark alley, I wanted Kate by my side. Kate wrote up a workout program and showed me how to complete the program without injuring myself. I went to Kate’s House of Fitness three or four days a week until earlier this when she closed her gym. Now I go to a different gym that has more equipment but not as nice as Kate’s.

The weightlifting is paying off. This past summer, a Phoenix organization called River of Dreams reserved time at the Ice Den for anyone wanting to try sled hockey. Tom and other members of the Coyotes sled team were there to help novices like they helped me a year and a half earlier. I was able to skate the length of the rink multiple times and I never thought my arms would fall off my shoulders. And I’m glad Nik was one of those first-timers. He enjoyed it and he did great. Of course he is nearly 40 years younger and 75 pounds lighter than me.

I have all my personal gear. A few months after my first attempt at sled hockey, I came across a man from Flagstaff who was selling his helmet, gloves, pads, and bag – everything but his skates – on Craig’s List. I don’t need the skates anyway. I have prescription heavy-duty athletic glasses. I look like a raccoon, but I don’t have to worry about breaking my everyday specks. And I’m saving for my own sled and hockey sticks.

My goal is to play sled hockey, not just in practice, but in a game. I still have strength gaining and a whole lot of conditioning yet to do, but I have a goal. And what better place to have a goal but a hockey rink where there is one on each end.

Time for CCR

Once again, another court case that stirred the masses to be judge, jury and executioner has ended. Just as the Rodney King trial, just as the OJ Simpson trial, just as the Casey Anthony trial, just as the Jodie Arias trial, the George Zimmerman trial resulted in people taking sides.

In case you’ve been under a rock, Zimmerman was found not guilty of either murder or manslaughter in the death of black teenager Trayvon Martin. Now is a time for CCR – not Credence Clearwater Revival, but Constructive Critical Review.

How does this case expose the wrong ways I think and act? Am I more suspicious of people who are a different color or ethnicity than me than I do people who are the same color or ethnicity as me? If a person is wearing a certain style of clothing, do I watch him or her more critically? Am I judging other human beings as guilty before he or she as individuals do anything illegal?

I know what it is like to be viewed as guilty. I have committed no crimes. I have a clean police record. But I am a divorced male and a divorced male who is a father, and because of the thousands of abusive and philandering males and deadbeat dads in our society, I am seen as one of them.

Every American state has No Fault Divorce statutes which were written and enacted in response to the actions of the scum of my gender. The Indiana judge in my divorce case did not care about my attempts to save my family and have my child grow up in a two-parent household. The judge did not scold my ex for not submitting her personal documents like bank records and tax returns like I was ordered to do. I submit 60 percent of my income to child support, even during months when my son is with me and I am directly supporting him. I pay the entire cost of Nik’s travel to and from Arizona and until Nik’s mother gave her permission, I had to escort him on airplanes, which tripled the cost. The first time I ordered my son’s school pictures directly from the photographer, the photographer called my ex to verify it was okay for me to have pictures of my son.

Suzanne Venker, author of The War on Men, and Dr. Helen Smith, author of Men on Strike, each understand the hypocrisy of the laws.

“The Violence Against Women Act (VAWA) is easily used against (men) since its definition of violence is so broad that virtually any conflict between partners can be considered abuse,” Venker writes.

“If a woman gets angry for any reason, she can simply accuse a man and men are just assumed guilty in our society,” Smith adds. “This is particularly heinous since violence in domestic relations is almost 50 percent from men and 50 percent from women.”

I do not like being on the wrong side of the guilty or innocent scale. And if I am a follower of Jesus Christ and the teachings of the Bible, then I should be treating others as I want to be treated. Am I? Always?

The Bible also identifies an ultimate judge who will gauge our entire actions and thoughts. That ultimate judge is not me, so what gives me the right to judge others without proof of wrong-doing?

“You have to be suspicious of other people in our society these days,” people close to me have said. They’re correct, but is that the right attitude to have? Is that why our society is what it is these days? Does our society need improving or is it fine the way it is?

I think the state of our society is the worst it’s ever been, and based on what I’ve read in history books and heard from extremely knowledgeable people, that is very very bad.

I want the society I live in to be better, and therefore I need to act and think better. And conduct regular CCRs.

Why I Am What I Am

March is Multiple Sclerosis Awareness Month as proclaimed by the National Multiple Sclerosis Society. Just in case you have missed something I’ve said, not read something I’ve written, or not seen certain pictures of me; let me make you aware that my body doesn’t work.

My wheelchair or scooter is what I need to get around.

Towards the end of August 1996 – I can’t remember the exact date – a doctor told me she suspected I had Multiple Sclerosis. More specialized tests the following month confirmed it. Thinking back, I felt the first symptoms in 1993.

For some reason, antibodies intended to devour germs and bacteria that make us sick, start eating the jelly-like film that protects neurons in our brain and spinal column. Just like an electrical wire, when the insulation is good, electricity zips through the wire at blinding speed. But when the insulation is damaged or removed, the electricity gets interrupted. Thus is the problem with the “wiring” in my brain. The body tries to repair itself by covering the damaged insulation with scar tissue, but that further hampers the body’s “electrical grid.”

The damage messes up the messages from the brain to the muscles. Muscles don’t do what muscles are supposed to do until the brain tells the muscles to do what they’re supposed to do. If the path between the brain and a specific muscle is damaged, the muscle “hears” “mumble, mumble, mumble.” If you do not fully understand what your teacher at school or your boss at work wants you to do, chances are good you’re going to fail at your assignment. Same goes for muscles.

My problems are below my waist and with my left hand, which is a real pisser because I’m left handed. The writing of this entry has already taken four times longer than anything else I’ve written. My sense of feeling in my hand is not as acute as in the past, I can’t control my pinky finger very well (instead of hitting the “A” key, I hit the “Caps Lock” button), and my left hand is weaker. I’m now using my right hand to eat because I can’t hold my food-loaded fork as securely as I like.

From 2010. I have a better scooter now.

My left leg also is worse than my right leg. Both legs feel like they have 20 pound weights hanging on them all the time, but I also can’t pick up my toes on my left foot when I walk, so I’m always stubbing my foot on the ground, or a rock, or a blade of grass. Since my balance isn’t very good, any little thing that hampers my gait causes me to fall down. I use a wheeled walker in and around my home and a wheelchair or motorized scooter everywhere else. I have a device that allows me to depress the accelerator and brake pedals on my van with my hand instead of my feet so I can still drive.

And when by body wants to release liquid or solid wastes, it’s going to do it no matter where I am. Yes, I’ve had plenty of “accidents” and embarrassments. The good side is I can tell you where all the quickly accessible bathrooms and large, full bushes are anywhere in northern Arizona.

There is no cure for MS because everybody with MS is completely different. You and all of our friends could have MS and we would each have different symptoms and severities. Some of us may not even know we have MS. MS is called “A Designer Disease”, which is why a cure-all medicine is still out of reach.

Right now, the various MS drugs on the market just slow down the progression of the disease not stop it. Kind of like a closed but unlocked door. If the door is open, you walk through without hesitation. But if the door is closed, you need to spend two extra seconds to stop, turn the knob, and pull the door open before you continue on. Research has been going on for more than 40 years and progress has been made. A cure will come. I’m not confident it will come during my lifetime. I hope I’m wrong, obviously.

What I am completely sure of is Multiple Sclerosis will not get me down. I have gone through the periods of anger, depression, why me, and worry only to discover that I still have a whole lot to live for. Multiple Sclerosis itself is not a fatal disease. Because of MS I could stumble and fall in front of an oncoming locomotive, so I tend to be careful around train tracks.

I can do a lot of thinks, like Sled Hockey!

I’m still breathing. I’m still able to see the blue sky, feel the sun’s warmth on my face, hear the birds chirp, have my dog jump on my lap and lick my chin, read a book, eat a perfectly prepared steak, kiss my sweetheart and tell her “I Love You”. And most people want to help me. Most people ask me if I need or want something, and will get it for me. Most people will hold a door open for me as I approach. Those that don’t have their own issues to deal with. I go places I want to go to, and do the things I want to do. It may take me longer to get there or do something than it will you, but MS is not going to stop me.

You may be thinking “Scott, you have a wonderful attitude.” Attitude is the key to living with Multiple Sclerosis. I know people who have had MS for decades who only look at the negative. A couple of years ago, I read about Jeanne Goldy-Sanitate, or “Jersey Jeanne” as she’s become known. Take a couple of minutes to read about all that Jersey Jeanne does and has done at http://www.va.gov/health/NewsFeatures/2013/March/Veteran-with-MS-Adaptive-Sports-Champ.asp#.
Why would I, or anyone of any ability, not want to live like Jersey Jeanne or have the experiences she has?

Living with MS is a challenge, but it will only defeat me if I let it. The victor of this fight will be me.