Remembering Mrs. Dahl

There is an old proverb that says,

We all die twice: Once when we die and

again when people no longer speak our name.

When I was growing up in Robbinsdale,

Gladys Dahl lived three houses away from us

in the brown brick house on the corner.

She was widowed and lived alone far longer than

made any sense. She was friendly and delightful, but 

was one of the few people I knew who was clearly

malnourished. She loved her cookies and coffee

and her cooking days were far behind her.

In addition to being a wonderful cook, my mother

had a real knack for interacting with the elderly.

Many were the times that one of us kids made the trip

across two yards to deliver her a plate of dinner.

We don't know if she actually ate it.

Eventually, she moved to the Augustana Nursing home

in the Elliot Park neighborhood in Minneapolis and the 

house was sold. We all missed her.

I don't know about you, but I recall times in the past 

like little vignettes, with an oval frame around them.

Mrs. Gladys Dahl

District # 4 Country School, 1934.

A treasure.

Mom is third from the right in the third row.

She is standing next to her best friend, Martha.

They are in the sixth grade.

Martha's sister Margaret is just above her.

Her other sister Agnes is just below her.

Miss Fredrickson is on the far right.

The twins are in the center of the second row.

I cannot be sure, but I think it is Dickie on the

left and Bobbie on the right.

Otto is the second from the right in the first row,

wearing the Mickey Mouse shirt.

District # 4 School

I heard a LOT about this school in Arden Hills growing up.

My mother and her siblings went to school here.

It was in the country, on County Road G, now Highway 96.

Ethel Fredrickson was her teacher.

The 8th grade graduation of the Rural Schools of Ramsey

County, Minnesota, was held at the Assembly Hall,

University Farm, St. Paul.

CLASS MOTTO:

A man's true wealth is the good he does in the world.

Recovery

Feeling more Scrat-like these days!

There are still many question marks ahead,

but there are two things that keep me going.

The first is, my doctor saying,

"You'll be all right."

The second is, a fellow Wegener's patient telling me,

"One day, you won't have Wegener's anymore."

The Other Casualty Of War

This is a photo of my mother in August, 1941,

leading Prince & Queenie to the auction block.

This was traumatic.

The United States was on the verge of entering

Word War 11 and the government had taken over

their land in New Brighton, Minnesota, to build

a munitions plant. This was traumatic

.

The National Guard was called out and did not

even allow the families to gather the produce out

of their gardens! This was traumatic.

We live with this, to this day.

The blessing is that none of Dorothy's 

four brothers perished in the war.

Visit to Grandma Geisbauer

The occasion is my First Communion, May 20, 1962,

54 years ago. I was 7, Grandma was 77.

Any milestone in a child's life is important across

generations. Being unable to attend the actual event

at St. Joan Of Arc, of course, Grandma wished to

see me in my dress. So, it was off to Rice Street in

St. Paul. I lived too far away from my other Grandma.

I remember this so vividly-Grandma didn't want to

crush my veil, so her arm is barely touching me 

outside of the veil.

I wonder if she had memories of milestones at the

church of her childhood. I always ask people if they

feel a kind of pull toward places of their past.

They always say yes, as I do.

As was typical of the time, the film was not developed

until 2 years later!

Dr. Wegener

I had been wondering how it was that I landed at 

the Mayo Clinic with such speed. I knew there had

to be some kind of connection, but I didn't know the

specifics until my last visit to my ENT doctor.

I selected this doctor completely at random. I live

within a mile of a medical center, but when I was told

that I could be seen in 3 weeks time, that just wasn't good

enough. I picked an ENT specialty clinic on the edge of

downtown Minneapolis, an area I know very well.

My doctor looks like he is about 12. The gentleman the 

second from the left is his father, also an ENT. They both

trained at Mayo. The gentleman the second from the right

is Dr. Wegener. The group is standing on the site where the

Gonda Building stands today and where my doctor's office is.

The Belle of Belle Plaine

While not the best photograph, one can easily get the idea.

My Dad managed to capture the essence of the best person

I ever knew, Dolores Stark. 

Her husband George, was Dad's cousin.

The occasion is probably a wedding anniversary of

George & Dolores. Likely their 40th, as Dolores passed

away at age 65, in 1984. This is 1979. It is at 

St. Mark's Catholic Church in Shakopee.

Dolores loved everyone-especially George-and everyone

loved her! 

She would not fit in everyone's small box. She had uncorrected

strabismus (cross-eyes), but to me, it only added to her charm.

      

It was because of Dolores & George, that I became a cabin person.

They owned a place on Prior Lake and for 2 years (I was 6&7),

so did our family. I can still see them coming to visit us in their boat.

Always warm. Always kind. Always happy.

My Mother called her "The Belle of Belle Plaine"-

without a hint of derision.

Daddio

It has been 10 years now since my Dad went straight 

to heaven, I am certain.

He was lovely. So well mannered. He never even swore!

A hyper-spaz, he was not.

The occasion here, is the arrival of

his grandson Sebastian on Christmas Eve, 1987.

That smile!

Dad spent 12 days in hospice in 2006.Jeff Calder & I took

turns spending the nights with him.

Thank you Jeff.

Growing up, I could not imagine anything more terrible

than his death. Then, I found out that there was something 

more terrible-his suffering.

Dad was really smart. He knew that he couldn't control

everybody and everything. He let people be who they were.

He didn't try to hide his malice behind a mask of virtue.

He just didn't have any malice at all.

The Other Door

I had been dealing with what I thought was an ear infection,

for weeks, mid October, until mid December, 2014.

Longer than made any sense.

Nothing my ENT doctor tried resolved it. Shortly after he said,

"We have to start thinking outside the box!" and said the word

"Wegener's", about 6 weeks in, I had a prescient dream.

I was riding my bicycle fast and became aware

that someone was riding beside me on my left.

The person was a woman with dark hair.

The woman reached over and put her hand on

my lower left arm, but I got away. The chase was on.

The scene changed to being in some type of large

building. I was relieved that I seemed to be able to

elude this person. I saw an open elevator door and

when I looked in, it was empty, so I entered. However,

she came in behind me! This is what the elevator looks

like in the Gonda Building at the Mayo Clinic, that takes 

me the the 18th floor, to the woman with the dark hair.

The Open Door

Pretty boring door, isn't it?

This is the side door into St. Austin's Catholic Church,

at 40th & Thomas in North Minneapolis.

It was a short hop off the playground of our school and I 

passed through this door many times, much to my relief.

In the Catholic Church, the age of reason is age 7.  I knew

at a very young age that I could not live life apart from my

very own personal relationship with God.

So, I made very many "visits." I was only and ever the only

soul in the church during the day. I can only remember the

door being locked a couple of times.

This wonderful experience, starting at age 10 or so, has prepared

me, far into my future, for a different kind of door.

David's Work

When David comes over, he likes to go into the workshop.

This is what he comes out with.

Wow!

(Semi) Rocky Road

No, not the ice cream.

So, I have read this horror story of the treatment

of Wegener's in the 1980s & 90s. It makes what I

am experiencing at the moment, like nothing at all.

At the moment, I have steroid induced myopathy.

This means pain & stiffness. Eh. I have a high pain

tolerance anyway.

As time goes on, I get the idea that some folks

mistakenly believe that this is all a nefarious,

deep, dark secret kind of thing. It is not. 

If you want to know about it, ask me.

The Way It Is

Next month, I will make my 5th visit to the Mayo Clinic.

Things are getting more complex. One of the drugs I take

is a chemotherapy drug called Methotrexate. I would be

on this drug for one more year, except that it is adversely

affecting my liver. I have known for months that my doctor

is considering switching me over to an IV drug called Rituxan.

This drug has the potential to do serious damage to my brain.

When I asked her what she would do if it was her mother, 

she said she didn't know.

I have also found out that my right knee has "a lot of

degenerative wear and tear." This is a nice way of saying

that it is shot. I will be seeing an orthopedic surgeon shortly.

I am also tapering off of Prednisone for the second time.

For those unfamiliar with this drug, it is a doozy.

Fat city, lots of pain. You can find a "Prednisone Parody",

by Duncan Cross, online. 

I'll take my humor where I can find it.