Saturday, March 28, 2020

Prologue

Prologue
September 2001
It ain’t about how hard you hit. It’s about how hard you can get hit and keep moving forward, how much you can take, and keep moving,,, Forward.
~Rocky Balboa~

         It was the worst shave of my life. I had not been out of my bed for quite a long time. Now here I was. Sitting in a reclining chair. I had a little table in front of me. The television show “Pardon the Interruption” was on. I had a little mirror, a bedpan filled with hot water, and a bed pan filled with cold water in front of me. I brushed my teeth and now was shaving. The first thing I noticed was how tired I was. Not necessarily sleepy, more like I had just ran a marathon. And I was sweating. Really sweating. A lot. Like Ted Stryker at the end of “Airplane”. I remember wanting to just lay back down. I quickly finished my shave and buzzed the nurse to help me back in bed.  She came in, helped me into bed and checked my vitals. I couldn’t seem to catch my breath. When she got my pulse reading, her face had a look of panic on it. She quickly checked them again. She asked how I felt. I told her short of breath. She hit the emergency button. I asked what was wrong. She informed me that my pulse was racing, and I had a high fever. I had been in the hospital for almost two months, and I was almost ready to go home. So while this was going on, all I could think was I hope this doesn’t delay my exit. Those fears were realized when a team of doctors and nurses came rushing into my room. By now I was barely able to get a breath. Everything started to get fuzzy. I had a tube inserted into my heart. They did something to my lung to get some air. They rushed me down for a C.T scan. They brought me to the I.C.U. Then I passed out. I was in and out for the next few days. I didn’t realize until much later how serious the situation was. That was the first time I almost died. But I am getting way ahead of myself. The real story begins exactly one year before.



Saturday, April 9, 2016

For Max




For Max
“A story about a boy”
Keep on when your mind says quit, dream on to you find you’re living it, I’ll be right by your side
Eric Bibb
            This is the second blog I have written about my son. I strongly encourage you to read the first, which can be found here: http://www.southpaw359.blogspot.com/ and it is called I’m a C.P Dad. Since I gave background on my son Max in that blog, I will refrain except to say when my son was about 16 months old, he was diagnosed with mild Cerebral Palsy. We were told he had it mild, and he would walk and talk and be fine. That was November 7th 2012. The day after the presidential election. I remember the level of vitriol, on both sides was astounding. I am all about patriotism, but I just kept thinking how someone can be this passionate about something that at the end of the day affects their daily lives very minimal. This isn’t a political blog, so I am only using this to point out that if complaining about the president is your biggest problem, you are living a charmed life. So anyway, as my previous blog said, Max began to make improvements with therapy. But as of August 16th, 2013, he was not talking. Flash forward to today. He is still not talking. Things have changed in our life. I got new job. We moved. Max has a baby sister Samantha. Still no talking. I’m not going to lie and say it hasn’t been difficult. It has. It is the hardest thing that has ever happened to me, the hardest thing I have ever gone through. My father died when I was 15. I almost died when I was 20 after having spent 2 months in the hospital. This is harder than both. After 3 years of being told he will talk when he is ready, my wife and I finally got some real answers. We went to Boston Children’s hospital and Max had a neuro- psych evalue. For some time, my wife Ashlee and I had our concerns that there may be something else going on with Max besides the C.P. As we read about C.P, the signs and symptoms all lined up with what we were experiencing with Max. But there was other stuff going on. He did not really respond to his name. He does not play with toys in the traditional way. While he loves to be around people and kids, he is not active in playing games with them. And of course, the non verbal part. Our initial thought was Autism. We asked several of his therapist and several doctors. They all seemed to think that it was the C.P causing these things. In my research of autism, which was basically me googling Autism, I did notice that these symptoms were present in Max. The biggest difference was the social aspect. Max loves to hug and kiss. He is very affectionate and loves attention. Maybe it is just the C.P. But enough had been enough. We needed answers. And on March 18th 2016, almost 4 years since he was diagnosed with Cerebral Palsy, we received a new diagnosis; Autism.
          I think when you first are told that you are going to have a child, you just hope that everything is ok. But for fathers, when they are told they are having a son, you begin to imagine doing all the stuff that you got to do with your own father. Or if you didn’t have a father, you imagine all the things you will do with your son that your father didn’t do with you. I found out I was having Max on December 23, 2010. One of my favorite students played me a song by Brad Paisley called Anything Like Me. It basically talks about all the things that the father and son will experience. I listened to it about 2 million times before Max was born. Some of the best memories I have with my father are me and him, just being together. Like when I was 6 and he took me to see the greatest basketball team of all time, the 1986 Boston Celtics. He dismissed me from school and we ate lobster in Boston before the game against the Sacramento Kings. Or when I was 12 and we went on a Tuesday night to the movies to see Rudy because of how much I loved Notre Dame Football. Or the last movie we saw together, Get Shorty, another dismissal my freshman year of High School. I will never forget the day before I started High School. We went to lunch at the El Morocco, went to the mall and bought all my school clothes, and he taught me how to tie a tie. I cherish those memories. But the most important things I carry are the times playing catch in the backyard. Shooting baskets in the driveway. Watching The Red Sox, Celtics, Patriots, or any boxing match we could get on Pay per View. Or my favorite; laying in his bed, and having him tell me stories about his life, or about any subject that I wanted to know about. I thought about all this those months before Max was born and couldn’t wait to be able to do the same with him. I want you to know, I love my son more than anything in the world. I would die in a heartbeat so he didn’t have to feel one once of sadness or pain. I read a lot of blogs and articles written by parents of special needs children. They all end the same way; they wouldn’t change a thing about their kids. And I get that. I really do. But I would be lying if I didn’t say my heart is broken over our situation. I am angry and frustrated and sad and scared. I feel helpless on good days and useless on bad ones. I can’t help but feel I had so many dreams ripped away from me. Watching him play organized sports are gone. Being a typical kid is gone. There is a good chance he will never live on his own, never go to college, never get married and there is a good chance he will live with me the rest of my life. And I can live with all that. But to say that it hasn’t broken my heart is not the truth. It has. The worst feelings are the ones I get when it is well after midnight and I haven’t slept yet. I have to get in a few hours for work and I stare at the ceiling. I think about his safety. Will kids be mean to him? Will they hurt him? How long can I protect him? I don’t want to cry or yell. I just want to vanish. And that makes me feel guiltier than you can possibly imagine. I once heard someone say it’s a cash and carry world. Pay as you go. Sometimes you only pay a little. Mostly it’s a lot. Sometimes, it’s all you have. I never cared about being famous. I am the furthest thing from materialistic. I am not the smartest guy or best looking guy you will ever meet. All I want is to hear my son call me Dad. I’ve waited four years so far. I’ll wait four hundred more if I have to.
          I do not want this post to be negative. I understand that some people have it way worse than me. I know how lucky I am to have my son. Anyone who knows him knows how much happiness is in him and how much joy he brings people. As hurt as I am I would not trade Max in for anything in the world. Sometimes, I just don’t know what to do. So I think of a quote from my favorite movie Shawshank Redemption. Andy Dufrense says it best. “It comes down to a simple choice really. You either get busy living or get busy dying. After four years of waiting, four years of hurting, I think it’s time to get busy living. We are on a path now. Max will finally get what he needs and what he should have been getting all along. I am hopeful that one day I will walk into my house after school, like I have done his whole life so far. I will say hi buddy like I do every day. He will look up at me and smile like he always does. But in this scenario he will say Hi Daddy back. On that day, there will never have lived a richer, happier person on earth. I think often about what I have gained and what I have lost. I always thought I was strong. My favorite trait is perseverance. Max has taught me more about that word than I ever thought I could have learned. I couldn’t wait to teach my son everything about the world. What I didn’t know is that I would be the student and he would be the teacher.  




Tuesday, August 19, 2014

Who says you can't go home

Who Says You Can't go Home

          

                           Who Says You Can't Go Home?

 "Been there, done that, it's been a long long road, feels like I never left that's how the story goes"


              I am 33 years old. I was a student at Holy Name. I have worked there for the past 8 years. 12 years of my life has been spent in that building. Or, roughly one third of my life. And I have loved every minute of my time there. 

             My first day of teaching, September 1st 2006, I looked at 30 sets of eyes looking back at me, and I thought I was going to shit my pants. I thought to myself, what the hell did I get myself into. I didn't plan on being a teacher. I thought about it, but writing was my passion. I thought, well I'll have a lot of free time to write. Summer's off, a week vacation every ten weeks, out at 2:30. Cake. I never thought I would fall in love with the profession. But I did. Those first few weeks of terror turned into waking up everyday, so excited to get to work. A lot of it was my kids, the amazing class of 2009. They were without a doubt the best class I have ever taught. To this day they mean the most to me. And that is saying something, because I have had some unbelievable kids. It has been 8 years since I had them in class, 5 years since they graduated, and they still keep in touch with me. My second class, the class of 2010 was also amazing. And so on and so on. It would be to long and hard to list them individually, especially 2009. I would leave someone out and that would not be fair. They have all made too big an imprint in my life. But they all know who they are. Coaching basketball has given me even more perspective. The kids that I have coached have became my family. It was an honor to be "Pops", the nickname a group of wonderful kids gave me. I worked with an awesome faculty and a dedicated administration that made teaching a much easier transition. Any person would be lucky to have had the experiences in their careers that I got to have at Holy Name. That is why leaving is the hardest thing I have ever had to do. But I am leaving.

            I will be starting a new job in September, teaching English at Assabet Valley Tech. It is a great school and I am looking forward to teaching there. I believe it will be best for me and my family. I feel like I have accomplished everything I need to accomplish at Holy Name. A wise man once said "you either die a hero, or live long enough to see yourself become the villain". It is time to move on. So to all my students I say this: I have loved every minute of my time at Holy Name. I can't thank you enough. I walked into Holy Name in 1995 a scared kid, and left in 1999 a confident young man. I walked back in as a 25 year old single guy and left a married father. All the kinds words that I have received the last 8 years have meant more to me than you will ever know. I can never ever thank you enough, the kindness you have shown me, I'll take it with me for the rest of my life. As Conan O'Brien once said, "Nobody in life gets exactly what they thought they would get. But if you work hard and you are kind, amazing things can happen. It did to me. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Friday, August 16, 2013

I'm a C.P. Dad
by: Ross Abdelnour

"Close your eyes, have no fear, the monster's gone, he's on the run, and your Daddy's here".
                                                          ~John Lennon~

Some of my favorite stories involve the relationships between fathers and sons. My favorite T.V. show is Lost. My favorite play is Death of a Salesman. My Favorite book is the Book of Joe. My Favorite movie is the Godfather. All these are in some form about the relationship between father and son. I lost my own father when I was 14 to lung cancer. My dad was my best friend. Don't get me wrong, he could be a very difficult man. He was very old school. I would not be surprised to learn that he was probably bi-polar. He did not have the greatest upbringing. But it is funny. Although he was old school, unlike a lot of father's from the baby boomer generation, he was very affectionate. Not a day went by where I didn't tell my dad I loved him, not a day went by where I did not kiss and hug him. Losing him hurt so bad. But I think it honestly did make me a stronger person. And it made me long for the day where I would have my own son or daughter (preferably both). And on May 31, 2011, at 11:34pm, the wish came true.
Max Richard Abdelnour is my son. He was the happiest baby on earth, he continues to be the happiest 2 year old. I honestly go weeks without hearing him cry. He loves Mickey Mouse and Sesame Street. He will eat just about any food. He loves swinging and wrestling. He has a constant smile on his face. Nothing puts that smile on his face more than his mother, my wife Ashlee. He is tall and slim, like most Abdelnour men. He has brownish blonde hair, brown eyes. He is the best thing that ever happened to me. And he has Cerebral Palsy.
My wife had an amazing pregnancy. She truly enjoyed having that little bundle inside her. She almost never complained. She went into labor on Memorial Day, around 9:30 in the evening. We went to the hospital the next morning around seven o'clock. I had no idea what lay ahead of us. In my ignorance, I depended on movies, where the girl goes into labor and barely makes it to the hospital before the baby is here. Ashlee finally started to push around 9 p.m. The poor girl was in so much pain. I wanted Max to get out of her. She wanted Max to get out of her. Max, not so much. The doctor told us that she could have him out in two pushes. All she needed was the help of the vac. A suction device that literally sucked Max out of the womb. When we asked about the side effects, the doctor told us that he would have a very bad cone head. So we consented. And a few pushes later, Max was here. And everything seemed fine.
Around 10 months Max started to crawl. He would stand up as long as he could hold onto something. I never really noticed anything until he was about 14 months old. His right hand was always very tight. And he walked on his tip toes, but only on his right side. And he wasn't talking. Or mimicking. So at the advice of our day care provider, we set up Early Intervention. It was at his session with our Physical Therapist that she suggested we have him looked at by an Orthopedic doctor. On November 7th, 2012, Max was officially diagnosed with Mild C.P. It was like the life had been taken from my body. Like a dream I couldn't wake up from. At the time I did not know what Cerebral Palsy was. The extent of my knowledge was that the kid on Breaking Bad had it and the guy that Daniel Day Lewis portrayed in My Left Foot had it. Two very different ends of the spectrum. The Doctor told us that he had a very mild form of it, and he would walk and talk and when he was older it would not be a big deal. But I had heard doctors promises before. I sat in my car and cried. I hugged Max, kissed him, and cried some more. The whole time he is smiling and laughing. I felt like I went to bed the night before in one life and woke up to a different one. That night though, I made a promise to my self and to Max that I would learn everything I could about his condition, I would do everything I could to help him, and that I would never let me or anyone else treat him differently.
It has not even been a year since Max was diagnosed. He is walking. He using an A.F.O brace. He sees a Physical Therapist, a Speech Therapist, and an Orthopedic Therapist. He is not yet talking, although he seems to be improving every week. It is very tough to feel sorry for him. I know every parent thinks their child is the best, but sorry, Max is. I mean, someone has to be the best right? Well, that is Max. He wakes up everyday with a smile on his face. Literally. He goes to bed every night at 7. Most nights, he literally laughs himself to sleep. He is affectionate. He loves people. My anger, my sadness is something that is directed at myself. I feel sad that he is not "normal". I feel sad that he has all these therapies. I feel anger that my wife and I are good people who did not deserve this. I feel angry because Max did not deserve this. I am very aware of a couple of things. One, I know that in terms of the damage to Max' brain, we are lucky. He has mild C.P. I know it could be a lot worse. I also know that there are children who have it much, much worse. I know all this and I am truly grateful for my boy. He is special. He is the most special thing in the world. He is my boy. Every time I am feeling sad, I look at him. He looks at me and sits on my lap. I tickle him and he begins his infectious laughter. And I hear that laughter and know how truly lucky I am. If I could change one thing about Max it would be his C.P. But if that changed anything about him, then I would keep him exactly as he is. Because I do not think it is humanly possible to love him more. I know patience is a virtue. And I sit patiently waiting for the day when my son can look up at me and say "Daddy". And I know that will be the greatest thing anyone will ever say to me. I know there are a lot of C.P parents out there. And I pray for you and your children everyday. I hope the moms are like my wife, the greatest mom in the world. And I know your little ones give you the same pride that Max gives me. I never thought something like this would happen to me. I never thought I was lucky enough to have Max.

Tuesday, August 13, 2013

                                                          We are the Ones Who Knock
                                                          A Defense of Walter White
by: Ross Abdelnour

Over the last few months I have watched seasons 3-5 of AMC's Breaking Bad. I have also listen to more than a few interviews with the show's creator, Vince Gilligan. Multiple times, Gilligan has stated that he originally pitched the show as Mr. Chibs turning into Scarface. Essentially, a mild mannered, everyday American goes from teaching chemistry to using his knowledge of the subject to cook a crystal meth with unbelievable potency. Along the way he kills several drug dealers, poisons a little boy, and choosing not to save the girl friend of his partner as she chokes on her own vomit, and orders the death of his former partner's business associates. He is generally regarded as a bad man. There is a scene in the final season premier, where Walt's D.E.A brother in law Hank has just realized that the man known as "Heisenberg", has been Walt all along. As Hank reenters the party, we can hear Hank's wife refer to Walt as the devil. But is he? Many critics and people on twitter are hoping that Walt gets his come up-pence. He is an evil man who makes evil choices of his own free will. There may have been a time when Walt's choices could have been defended. He is a public school chemistry teacher who makes 46,000 dollars a year. He works part time at a car wash. He is diagnosed with lung cancer. He will be leaving behind a pregnant wife and a teenage son with Cerebral Palsy. He wants to leave behind enough money for his family, and because we live in a world where being an honest hardworking american doesn't mean shit, he knows he must take it upon himself to provide. Before I begin my defense, I will explain a little bit about myself.

My father died when I was 15 of lung cancer. He did not work for the majority of my life. So when he died my family was left with very little. I do not know the exact details of what he left behind for us, but i do know that the government, my father's family, or anything else had nothing for a single mother with four children. When I was 20 years old I was diagnosed with with severe colitis. I had my entire colon removed, only to discover that a year later it was not colitis but crohn's disease. The two are very similar, but one major difference is surgery is usually not performed with crohn's disease. Every six weeks I get intravenous medicine that costs roughly 23,000 per bag. Luckily, I have health insurance.

I am 32 years old. I have been a private school teacher for almost 8 years. I make 40,000 dollars a year. I work after school in the fall, coach basketball in the winter, and coach tennis in the spring to make ends meet. I have a 2 years old son with Cerebral Palsy. I pay 300 dollars a month in student loans for a state college education. I have had countless students and parents praise me for the dedication to their children. I have done everything the American dream has told me to do. And I am losing.


Walter White's back story is he was in the early stages of a company, then left, losing a substantial amount of money in the process. When we first met him he is a weak, broken man. He is walking through a seemingly joyless life. By happenstance, he sees a former student while on a ride along with the D.E.A. It is then that he gets the idea to begin to cook meth. Meth is a dirty drug. It cannot be glamorized with Hollywood cocaine, or rock star heroin. It is the white trash drug of the nation. And Walter White cooks it better than any human being in the United States. Walt is fifty years old when the series begins. He has seemingly done everything the American Dream has told him to do. And as the pilot opens, he is losing.

In 2008, our country fell into the worst economic down turn since the great depression. All over the country, loans went unpaid. Houses were seized. Jobs lost. Those of us who were lucky enough to keep our jobs continued to work for money that barely allowed the cost of living in America. Democrats and Republicans put on a show that would make the WWE jealous, all the while failing to work together and pull us out. If you are rich, then you do not need to worry about money. If you are poor, the government will help you. But what about the working money. I make too much money to be helped, but not enough to pay my bills. And this is why Walter White, for all his bad deeds, is a victim of the American Dream.

From day one, we are told that if we work hard, we can be successful. What we are not told is that if we work hard, but the other person has a better connection, the better job will go to him. Walter White is a genius. Whatever room he walks into his is the smartest person in said room. He has taken shit all his life. The creation of Heisenberg is the same creation any person who is picked on has. For boys, it's superman. Underneath their Clark Kent is an invincible god. There is a scene in the pilot of Breaking Bad where Walt's son, Walter Jr. is being picked on because of his C.P. Walt seems to walk away. His wife, Skylar is walking over to address the problem. When we realize that Walt did not walk away but rather left through the back of the store and entered the front to almost cripple the young punk who was making fun of Walter Jr.'s crutches. As a father with a toddler with C.P, i cannot explain the rage I had when watching that scene. I know it is a tough cynical world, and I know teenagers can be as cruel as hell. So the pain it caused me to watch Walter Jr. be made fun of cannot be put into words. But neither can the satisfaction of seeing Walt but a beating in the punk. To me, this is the moment where Walt says, I am going to be in charge of my destiny. This is where he looks at the phony "American Dream", the same one Willy Loman died chasing, says "fuck you", and puts a stranglehold on the true American Nightmare.

It would be impossible to excuse or justify all of Walt's decisions. He made enough money to protect his family and continued to cook meth. It would be impossible to not realize that his partner, Jesse, is the one who deserves our sympathy. However, I blame the american dream on Walt's descent into evil. He woke up one morning and realize that America failed him. He knew he had a skill, a skill that nobody could match. in that skill he came alive. I do not agree with Walt's methods. I don't use or sell drugs. I think what he has done at times is despicable. But I know the feeling of losing health. I know the feeling of losing wealth. And I know the feeling of trying to do right by the American Dream, only to have it kick you in the teeth. And that is why I am rooting for Walter White to win. There is a scene in season four where Skylar is worried about Walt being in danger. He replies with "I am the Danger". His former partner Gale is killed at Walt's behest, by Jesse, by a gunshot after Gale opens his front door. Walt tells Skylar the "He is the one who knocks"! Put in the right circumstances, any American who has had enough could be the knocking as well.

Wednesday, May 25, 2011

Prologue

Hi, below is the prologue to my book, "Gutless Wonder". I was going to publish the whole thing via the web, but I think I will  just put bits and pieces on here. I am going to share some very personal, at times embarrassing things that happened to me. I would love your comments, but some wounds never heal right so rip my writing all you want, but please be kind about the medical stuff. This is really hard to do, and I am not doing it for love, attention or sympathy. I am doing it for money.
Thanks and Enjoy,
ROSS


Prologue
"Let Kingdom Come, I'm gonna find my way, through this lonesome day"
                                                                                                                                ~Bruce Springsteen
  
    It was the worst shave of my life. Sitting in a chair, barely able to keep my head up, using hospital issued razors and a bed pan for a sink. I could not stop sweating, like I just played an entire N.B.A basketball game,  and I was so tired. I just wanted to lay down and sleep. I finished shaving as quickly as possible. It was the first time I had been out of bed in weeks. The nurse came into the room to check my vitals, and right away she knew that something was off. Maybe it was because I looked like Ted Stryker flying the plane at the end of "Airplane". My heart was racing and I couldn't seem to catch my breath. She helped me into bed and checked my vitals. I don't quite remember what my pulse rate was, but I know it was enough to see the blood drain out of her face. It is one of the few things I do remember from that day. She hit a button in the room and a few nurses came in , then a few doctors. It was getting harder and harder to breathe, and I had no idea what was going on. A doctor came in and told me my pulse and heart were racing. They needed to first slow it down, then find out what was causing it. They would have to open my lung up so I could breathe, then I would need a C.T scan. They stuck a needed into my lung and heart. That gave me some breathe, and then they began rolling me down for the scan. I didn't realize until much later how seriously the situation was. I do remember being bummed for two reasons: I thought I was going to be able to leave the hospital that day, and Wayne's World 2 was on t.v that night.  That was the first time I almost died. But I am getting way ahead of myself. The real story begins exactly one year before.

Monday, May 23, 2011

What it is

Well, I guess I should point out exactly what it is I get treated for every 6 weeks. In December of 2000 I was diagnosed with Colitis. However, it has since been modified to Crohn's  Disease. So here are some links, courtesy of wikipedia, to crohns and colitis, as well as the Crohn/Colitis Foundation of America.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Crohn%27s_disease
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Colitis
http://www.ccfa.org/