THERE'S NOTHING MORE PATHETIC THAN SELF-PITY

This picture shows my dad (in the background) in his prime.  He's the guy seated in the Radio Car giving pointers about covering a story to a young fellow in a work/study program.  As his ambulatory capacity started to deteriorate, Dad had no trouble sinking into bitterness and self-pity.  Shortly before symptoms began appearing, he had a hernia operation (that sort of thing can trigger an exacerbation, the same thing happened to me).  He convinced himself that the surgeon (whom he correctly assessed as an incompetant fool) had cut a nerve and all this talk about MS was a lot of hooey.  He succeeded in making everyone around him just as miserable as possible.

My dad was a very macho sort of person or at least, HE thought so.  He had his mistress, his "wholesome" wife and kiddies, and because of his work as a newspaper photographer, his innnumerable connections.  Once, while helping him walk up a hill in front of our apartment, Dad saw some children staring at him.  He suddenly said, "I am NOT drunk."  He'd rather they thought him drunk than ill.    Eventually he ended up (like me) in a wheelchair, and you can't be macho in a wheelchair.  So he just let himself go, finally landed in a nursing home, and was gone less than a year after that.

For me, he remains a perfect example of the wrong thing to do.  He never took care of himself, I exercise daily.  All his teeth came out due to neglect, I see the dentist regularly, floss, the whole oral hygiene bit.  Years in a regular "sling-type" wheelchair can do a number on posture and cause all sorts of problems from lack of support.  I use a very sturdy, specially fitted chair.

So because of that man's incredibly miserble attitude I can look back on a pretty dreary childhood.   He also provided some important pointers on what NOT to do, and what becomes of someone who wallows in self-pity.