Before the Fall

   On a hunting trip to Wyoming's Snowy Range Mountains in Medicine Bow National Forest - surrounded by his buddies from the steel mill in Ohio, enjoying his first big camping experience away from the familiar mountains of northwestern Pennsylvania - Phillip tried to forget the nameless fear living in a back corner of his mind for the past fifteen years.  Recent neurological tests had shown nothing wrong, but privately, silently, Phillip knew an unbelievable truth ... his legs were gradually being destroyed.

On smooth ground he walked almost normally. Moving across sagebrush was anothr matter: Again and again, he stumbled. Again and again, he picked himself back up. Between falls, he shot a mule deer with a small rack.

 

Phillip's 270 caliber rifle had been custom built many7 years earlier by a gunsmith. From the amount of measuring that went on at the time the order was placed, Phillip could have been buying a new suit. The finished product had a walnut stock, mauser action, Douglas supreme barrel and was fitted with a Redfield 3x3 variable swcope. It could easily hit a groundhog three hundred yards away.

 

On the horizon he could see pronghorn antelope walking across Elk Mountain. He wanted on of those creatures, and before the end of the trip he had one with an eighteen-inch set of horns.

 

In 1986, three years after this hunti9ng trip, Phillip fell in his own front yard and, for the first time, was unable to get back up again. An MRI diagnosed Multiple Sclerosis. At last he had a name for the monster taking control of his body.

 

He wanted to try Interferon, but was told he was too old and the disease had progressed to far. He was given methylprednisolone sodium succinate intravenously. It didn't help. He took anti-inflammatory corticosteroids. No improvement. When traditional medicine failed, he turned to natural remedies. During one three-month period of time he endured six hundrd bee stings. The experiment failed.

 

I wasn't part of Phillip's life back then. I came later. I came after he spent thirteen years alone, fighting a battle he knew he couldn't win. I walked into his life, carrying big problems of my own. His one good arm gathered me close to his heart and we made a vow to each other. Whatever lay waiting up ahead, we'd combine our strengths and face it together.

 

He was almost glad to begin using a cane. His gait had become so unsteady that strangers seeing him on the street believed him to be drunk. In time, a walker replaced the cane. After a few more years passed, the walker disappeared to the basement and a wheelchair took its place. Finally, Phillip became confined to a hospital bed.

 

His wheelchair sits in plain view ... waiting, hopefully, to be needed again someday.

 

Meanwhile, Phillip lives a full, busy, interesting life. MS has not dampened his spirits, nor has it diminished his intellect. His over-the-bed table is covered with phone and business papers. He takes care of banking, car maintenance, insurance and other business matters as well as fielding all social calls that come into our home. An RN visits regularly. Physical therapists put him through range-of-motion exercises. A forty-six-inch TV is mounted on the wall directly across from Phillip's bed, and the remote is always within easy reach. Clint Eastwood spends so much time with us I consider him a family member.

 

We have a good life ... my Phillip and I ... and we tell each other, often, how lucky we are. We're together, we're independent and we love each other. We're happy.

 

Still ... sometimes .. at night in his dreams ... Phillip swings strong healthy legs across fallen logs on a trail in Northwestern Mountains of Pennsylvania and moves eagerly toward that buck of a lifetime hiding behind the next tree.

 

Or he strides easily across the sagebrush of Medicine Bow National Forest, scanning the horizon for pronghorn antelope walking across Elk Mountain.

Reviews

[Dan Hiland]

Very nice. Touching without being maudlin, descriptive without a snip of dialogue. Short but to the point. And lots of strong detail about his disease, guns, hunting, and the back country.
And it comes back around to the beginning, like many great stories do. The message about gratitude has great impact.
Don't know what else could be done to improve on this- unless you were to expand on your part in his life, how you met, etc.
Thank you for sharing this- and welcome to the site.

[Jonelle]

Thanks, Dan ... for reading me and for the welcome. Thank you.