March 8 1998
There I was. In a small room, the lights were dim emanating the feeling of an intimate classroom environment. About twenty five students sat around in a circle lining the room. You could feel the energy in the room as we discussed concepts regarding a recent teaching at the Starseed and Urantian Schools of Melchizedek. A discussion about a Celtic love song that included the characters Itchy Mc Dougal, Bonnie McVeigh, and Maggy McGee was getting under way. As the laughter subsided, my lower abdomen began to feel a little strange.
The muscles in my legs began to tense up and become spastic. The distinct sound of moving liquid in my lower bowels echoed within my shirt and paralyzed (T-12) body. "Uh-oh" I thought to myself remembering the new muscle relaxer drug ,Levbid, I was taking for my spastic bladder. Unfortunately it seemed it was relaxing the wrong muscles. The all too familiar signs of an impending bowel movement was well under way. I tried to ignore the signs thinking about the embarassment to be had in such a small intimate setting surrounded by friends. My pride was in jeopardy. In less than a minute the slight twitch of my sphincter signaled the arrival of the unwanted fecal visitor. Before long the deplorable waft began to fill my nasal passages and I knew it was time to act!
Patiently waiting until the end of one of the students remarks I timidly raised my hand and with as much dignity as I could muster said to the driver of my ride, "Landau, my friend, I need to leave. There's something going on inside me," my fingers pointed to my lower extremities, my eyes fixed on his I communicated the urgency of the situation. He quickly responded by clearing a path for my untimely exit. Getting my Urantia Book and sweatshirt together I rolled my wheelchair defeatedly across the room saying, "good night everyone. Enjoy the rest of the evening," The class understandingly replied their sympathies for my unexpected absence.
"I'm experiencing one of the joys of being paralyzed," I sarcastically replied rolling myself throught the doorway. I was growing indignant to the situation. Transferring myself into the vehicle I could feel my lower bowels relax completely. My frustration grew as Landau put my chair in the back of the car and jumped in the driver's seat. "You probably want to roll the windows down," I said as I stealthily checked my pants for any embarassing moist spillage in the crotch of my pants. Thankfully there was none that would seep into the car seat. That evening I was luckily wearing (depend)ant protection. "Well, that's one way to get out of class early!" Landau joked. His humor was greatly appreciated on the way home. Our laughter tremendously soothed my frayed nerves and tattered pride. We both laughed and joked the entire way home.
This is an example of how I handled a slice of life's "humble pie". There are those crucial instants when life presents it' most trying times upon our pysche. Having a good friend, such as Landau, family member, or lover can greatly ease the tension of the moment and perfectly antidote the poison of self importance. Living in a wheelchair has been a difficult transition for me, or anyone, to cope with. We, just like everyone else in the world, need all the support we can get, perhaps even a little more at times. So the next time the cosmic laws of cause and effect dish you a slice of "humble pie", instead of sprinkling it with frustration flakes opt for the delicious frosting of friendship.
March 8 1998
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