A Gift Given and Received

by Dean Kramer 
December, 2002


I know a woman who refers to any non-disabled person as a TAB, by which she means "Temporarily Able-Bodied." That is, pretty much, what anyone is—unless they no longer are. My old friend Sue was, until recently, a TAB. Now she is one of us. And she recently quoted the Grateful Dead saying, "What a long, strange trip it's been." Because, though she has always been sympathetic and supportive of my difficulties, she never had to actually live with them in her own body.

Her situation is not permanent, a hairline fracture in the cervical vertebrae that will soon be healed. But in the meanwhile she is wearing a Hollywood collar and is in considerable discomfort, her pain controlled with medications (among them, Flexaril), her home filled with assistive devices, and her identity in the process of serious adjustment.

When she was about to come home from the hospital she had concerns about being able to maintain her independence and, fortunately, she had me to answer many of her questions because I had been there and done that way ahead of her. I knew what kind of walker would work best on her floor. I knew about the "uplift" cushion for her computer chair. I knew how to fit a cane and what kind of handle would be comfortable. I knew how long things like getting dressed, sweeping up a spill, and changing a bandage could take when your hands are weak and you can't get down on the floor to pick things up. I knew about the usefulness of reachers, remote phones, and multiples of supplies (pens, notepads, glasses) in accessible places. I knew how to talk to suppliers of mobility equipment. I knew their names and had their numbers. Best of all, I knew how hard it was to accept the changes and to forge a sense of self that was both comfortable and hopeful despite the losses she was facing. And, because I had all this experience and information, Sue says, her adjustment to life as a disabled person has been eased considerably.

I often try to make myself useful to others with MS, but this is really the first time that my life with MS has had such immediate relevance to someone without the disease. It's been a wonderful experience for me to have so much to offer. Oh, yes, I have had a lot to offer that had nothing to do with MS. But MS has a lot to do with me, and now others are finding my experience with MS helpful as well. Older people who see me out with my cane or with my scooter are beginning to ask me for information and seem to recognize that I'll understand their concerns and fears. I suspect that as we people with MS enter our senior years we're going to find that we've carved a trail for friends who come behind us into the infirmities of old age. We're going be quite the experiential data base as regards problems with mobility, cognition, incontinence—you name it!

I'm always looking for ways to make MS a positive force in my life. In this season of giving, having the knowledge to best help my dear friend Sue has proven itself an ideal gift for us both. Happy Holidays from Cripple Creek!