How Many Threes Are in Your Life?

Welcome to my telling “How Many Threes Are in Your Life” which provides stories, spanning three generations, that are based upon actual events I either heard about or personally experienced, I have changed the names of characters, as some people jokingly comment, “to protect the innocent.” In fact I changed my family surname to be further enigmatic. The stories serve as a backdrop to my experiencing a significant life challenge that affected me spiritually, mentally, physically, emotionally and relationally. Throughout I tried to be factual and described events that occurred as best I could recall or my impression of what occurred. People will have to read all the episodes of “How Many Threes?” to fully understand how this created a battleground that tested the opinions and wills of Canadian medical experts against that of military and NIH experts, and of course mine and my wife Miriam’s because we were caught in the crossfire. I leave it to the reader to decide who was right. With every battle that pits two or three forces against each other, there is usually a winner, with hopes that it is not a pyrrhic victory. Who won in this case? God did; we had our miracle. Once again welcome to my telling of “How Many Threes Are in Your Life?.” I hope you find it enjoyable. Excerpt - Chapter One – Military Legacy, Page 10 Friday evening I was welcomed to the gracious hospitality of General Ryan and his wife Isabella. An excellent dinner came and went. There was enjoyable small talk and laughter, typical of when I spent time with the Ryans. They were a great military couple, and there were jokes now and then that Isabella wore the pants in the family. Gen Ryan confided in me over a scotch one evening that he was aware of these comments but he was head of the family. He and Isabella shared opinions on most things and agreed who was going to do what to help make the Wing a better fighting unit. This included finding new ways to take care of airmen and their families. Almost as if on cue, Isabella made her apologies by saying, “I know you two are going to talk about work so I’ll leave you two alone.” I was surprised, thought she would want to hear all about Miriam’s travails, and we had barely touched upon that during dinner. Almost reading my mind, she added, “Besides Rick will tell me anything about Miriam I miss or do not overhear as I do the dishes.” Smiling, she left and I soon could hear her making busy in the kitchen. This then was Gen Ryan’s cue as he started the conversation by saying, “So tell me, Steve, how is Miriam? Your reports from DC and then Canada once or twice a week were sketchy. We really had no clue what was going on up there in DC. Last I heard, she was paralyzed from the waist down and they were recommending you seek early retirement or a humanitarian assignment for you to remain in the DC area. Then I heard you were on your way to Canada for another emergency operation after which I heard you were on your way back here. I did not know whether it was to out process or what. I was actually surprised to see you at the out-processing line the other day. Looking like hell, but there you were.” I was in shock. It slowly dawned on me that because Gen Ryan was involved in generating the Wing for an approaching war that I rarely spoke to him directly. Most times when I called his office, I was told Gen Ryan was unavailable and ended up speaking to his executive officer, secretary, or deputy. Sometimes they asked me to call Col Sweder, the med group commander. All these intermediaries promised me they would tell Gen Ryan what I had told them. But this was a definite lesson in the art of communication. “Wow sir! I just thought you knew. I mean I spoke often to your staff, and just the other day I told you I was returning. But of course, how could you know? You were deploying the Wing. And I was up there in my own little world oblivious to all except your great support of Miriam and me. At times you said you were deploying the Wing; however, they were still processing the orders; and waiting until other countries expressed their support of the American war effort. I figured I had the time to take care of Miriam and then return here.” Gen Ryan patted my arm. “Not to worry, Steve. I understand.” And I felt he really did, judging by the tone of his voice and the look in his eyes. “Could you now tell me a little bit about what happened up there?” I took a deep breath and focused on relating the facts, which at that time were clearly etched in my mind. Who knows how long I talked, what I really said, or how lucid it all sounded. I recall him asking a few questions that caused me to pause and clarify a point or two. Sometimes Isabella would call from the kitchen with a question. I started by saying, “You know I was running long distances and working hard to get into shape because we were sure the Wing would deploy. Every morning o’dark thirty, I was out there. I have to tell you, I think all that running and working out served me well when I was in DC and then Toronto.