Monday, December 1, 2014


UPDATE January 23, 2015 
The Inept Blog 2009 - 2010 -  Our Lives off the Grid in the Maine Wilderness

UPDATE -  December 17, 2014

Coming in Early 2015

The Inept Blog is going into hard copy format (e-book version, too).  Each book will contain a time spread of two years each.  Some books will be thinner, while others thicker. I hope that by 2016, that all blog entries to date will be in book format.

Knowing that our lifestyle here off the grid is unique, it is more so because Paul is disabled.  That, in itself is very challenging.  Living here with that disability is not only scary, but it makes living here much more difficult.  However, our love for seclusion in the Maine wilderness is one that we will not give up until we absolutely have to.  

Each year, especially as we age, finds living here more demanding on our bodies, especially mine.  I have said for years, “I am the muscle, Paul is the brain”.  We are determined!  We make the best of our life here and try to do so with a smile, not to mention a great appreciation of it all, even through the hardships!  

It takes a certain mindset to live here, but determination and a great want for this lifestyle is what sets us apart from others.  Some call us insane.  Some call us inspirational.  Some go as far as calling us modern day pioneers.  Whatever label you put upon us is your preference.  We simply call it LIFE.  

The first book in The Inept Blog series was the start of my writing about our experiences here at camp.  Over the years, my writing style changed from very informal and brief, to full-length retellings of our experiences without all the contractions.

If you wish to follow more frequent updates, please visit my FaceBook page.  There, too, you will see my other books. Also, feel free to visit and Like our public FaceBook page from where all these stories and updates take place,  Willey's Dam Camp.  From both pages, you can access the Dam Camp Photography page, too.  I am the photographer, however, my daughter started a small business selling my photography from where all these blog entries take place.  

The Inept Blog 2009 - 2010 -  Our Lives off the Grid in the Maine Wilderness

December 1, 2014 -  

Dear Reader,

The Inept Blog has steadily grown since its beginning back in 2009.  With 61,031 views, and 26,774 Unique Readers, 19,367 of you are from the United States! Thank you for reading about our lifestyle and whacky thoughts!

My most read blog entry of all time is the entry titled, "Why Should I Shave My Legs".  That has 1,071 Unique Readers, and I think that is kinda funny, and helps me understand my readers even better!   How fun!

As a result, The Inept Blog is getting a facelift and will soon head into a different direction.  I will explain more in a couple of days.

I left up a few readable entries, but most of them are unavailable at the moment.  

Meanwhile, if you wish to read more, please find us on Facebook at Willey's Dam Camp and/or to my author's Facebook page, Lori-Ann Willey.  You will find less activity at the author's page, but that is where you will find exciting new updates for 2015.

Thank you for you patience.

Lori-Ann Willey

Thursday, March 20, 2014

"I'm Proud to Be an American"

“I’m Proud to Be an American”
Copyright 2014 by Lori-Ann Willey

Many, who have followed my Inept Blog posts for several years, know that from time to time, I will write about our Veteran’s with heartfelt emotions from deep within.  Today is no exception.

Like many of you, Paul served fourteen years in the military.  He medically retired in 1995.    With a lot of hard work, wise spending habits,  a few wise investments, and some skillful thinking, too, we make things work so we can live the lifestyle we want.  Yet, so  many think that a military lifestyle is “easy” money, “free” education, “free” housing, “free” living, “free” medical, etc.  There is more to it than that.  All of that comes with a price in other ways.  Shake your head in disagreement  if you wish, but if it were not for our military YOU WOULD NOT BE FREE to do the things you do, or even free to express  your own thoughts,  choice of jobs, foods, homes, vehicles, doctors, or even read this blog, as I would not have the freedom to write it.  We owe EVERYTHING to our military.  They really do deserve our thanks.

Last Easter, we had the privilege of meeting an active duty Army Captain, and a retired Army Reservist.  With Paul also retired Army, they sat around the table and discussed Army  ”stuff”.  There, too, we met a young man who was uncertain of his career.  He was 20,  tall, buff, and yet appeared lanky, as his body sprang gently with each step.  He had eyes that twinkled when he spoke, and had eye contact that is difficult to find in so many people of today.  All combined with a beautiful loving smile, and a hug that also goes unmatched by youths of today.  While there, he and I had a conversation separate from the others.  During that time, he touched my heart as he told me about his job struggles to date.  I smiled, and encouraged him to follow his heart and mind, and that eventually things would come together for him.  Now he is 21, and today, he graduates from Army Basic Training.  I could not be more proud of this young man.   

At the time of Desert Storm, Paul was stationed at Ft. Devens, Massachusetts.  Luckily,  Paul was not deployed, but many of our friends and neighbors were.  It was a scary time for our country, but on an Army Post, like any military base, we all lived the horrors 24 hours a day.  I knew of one woman (our neighbor) who would not answer the phone to anyone.  The husband had to call, let it ring twice, hang up, and then call back.  The wife would answer the phone only if it were he on the other end.  Upon his return from deployment, she changed their phone number so family could not reach them from afar.  When neighbors knocked to welcome the man home, she would not allow the door to open. The man had to sneak away from her to call his own parents from work, because she did not want him to leave her sight, yet would not allow incoming or outgoing calls either.  Odd, maybe.   She was a very strong-willed woman, but that goes to show you the trauma our military families go through that many of you do not understand.  How can one understand if not experienced firsthand, read about, or witnessed personally?     This is why I am writing this today.  I hope you will better understand my appreciation.

During Desert Storm, the news was on 24 hours a day.   On any given day, I could literally walk the length of our housing unit and hear the news the entire way without missing a word.   Yellow ribbons were on every tree, mailbox, and antenna possible.  The song heard from a vehicle at any given time?  “I’m Proud to Be an American” by Lee Greenwood. (  Some spouses played that song for hours on end at the highest volume possible rattling the walls to the point that we felt sick to our stomachs at times.  Her husband was deployed, so we cut her some slack.  That was her way of coping.  Kind of rude and disrespectful maybe, but still, she was under a lot of stress and stress does strange things to people without them even realizing it.   She was raising three children alone.  The woman beyond her, two kids, beyond her two kids, beyond her one child, and the last three kids.   From the six “homes” in our building, Paul was the only service member who was not deployed!   

Our housing area went from full and lively, to like a ghost town over night with the exception of countless army trucks in procession that cut through our housing unit like something out of a war movie.  Ft. Devens was a hub for deployment.  I was one that always went outside and gave them my full attention, as they passed not 20 yards away.    That little bit of respect, appreciation, and admiration was heartfelt not only by myself, but to those soldiers who nodded as they rode past.  Many of them waved in appreciation of my attention.  I would always wave or nod my head, in return.  Such a subtle thing as a nod has so much meaning when in need.  Acknowledgement, no matter the topic, or situation is so important over silence.  “Silence, like a cancer grows” 

(Sounds of Silence by Simon & Garfunkel)  ( This is a song about materialism, apathy and greed in society. About man's inability to communicate with his fellow man. It illustrates people's tendency to be apathetic towards each other,...communication is all too often only on a very superficial level. No one dares to reach out to anyone else, so they draw within themselves and hopes that no one disturbs their sounds of silence. )

How many of those soldiers would return?   A community of strangers pulled together, babysat for each other, picking up groceries, mowed each other’s lawns, helped shovel after snowstorms, went  to doctors appointments together, and even attended births while the father was overseas dodging bullets and missiles. Paul became an “accountant” for many who did not know how to keep tally of their money, etc.  Such things as these go unknown.  I was nine months pregnant with Josh and I was push mowing the lawns of our entire building.  That is what it means to come together.  I babysat  during the day for months on end for a family of four children so the mom, who was a civilian nurse, could continue to work and not lose her job.  No, I was not paid, or was paid very little when I was.  Payment or lack of payment was not the point.  I worked nights on top of that at another job.  That is what people do.

The sadness on the faces of spouses that were  “left behind” as the sole parent for months and months on end, their tears not only seen, but heard, too, their kids becoming “Army Brats”, because the moms not only felt bad for themselves, but for their kids, too, so they allowed them a little more slack/freedom.  Kids did not understand why they were crying;  they cried because mommy was crying.  How can that not mess up a child in some way?  How can a parent prevent that “Army Brat” from developing under such situations?  They did not know war or what it meant to be in a warzone.  How  many of those kids heard what Paul and I heard so many days and nights, their mommy crying while doing housework or crying herself to sleep?   Army families became very close.  There are some today, that we consider family, because during that time, we became each other’s family by not much choice.  We laughed, we cried, and we disagreed, but we still had love for each other, and each will always be welcome in our home.  Empathy has such great rewards IF one allows himself to stop, and think outside themselves occasionally.

Now, let us flip that around and think of the spouse in deployment.  They are alone, too.  They, too, have to depend upon strangers,  not only as soldiers in a time of life and death situation, but also as a “neighbor”.    Their spouses at least could go home to family, or had children, and jobs to help make life a bit easier, but our soldiers have none of that.  They lean on each other.  They have to trust each other.  It truly is, “You have my back, I have yours” type of living.  High school friends of mine came back from Desert Storm.  We were in contact before their arrival.  I got a list of their favorites foods, went to the Commissary, and when they were due to arrive at our door, Paul and I had a huge meal waiting for them.   They even brought a friend.   Paul and I provided them with their first home cooked meal in countless months.  A meal that was not cold.  A meal that did not come from a pouch.  A meal where they sat in a chair and at a table instead of the depths and darkness of a foxhole with missiles flying overhead never knowing when one would hit them.  It was an honor, a sense of pride, great respect, and love for my long time friends, as well as for the stranger who was with them.   

After or before our meal, we sat and talked.  The horror on their faces, and their voices were and still are indescribable for me.  Neither their smiles, nor laughs, were the same as before.  Their emotions depleted internally.  Their minds preoccupied.    Despite their safeness on American soil and in the home of friends, they were still living those horrors.    How could they not? 

Please do not dismiss any military member for their services to this country.  Smile at that spouse who often single-handedly raises their children alone during long stretches of deployment, who not only have to be the mother and father, but also work so very hard to keep their child’s father in the minds and hearts of their young child.  I know of one AMAZING woman who mastered that technique!    She is the wife of the Captain mentioned above.  All while in constant worry of the safety of her deployed husband.  She always makes me smile.  It is not easy living a military lifestyle, and at times, it is downright hard for different reasons.   Do not dismiss it as an “easy” life or getting things for “free” as mentioned above.   Such things are mere trade-offs, if you will, and it is not nearly enough in comparison.   

You may not like how the government is run, but do not take it out on our service members.  Instead, offer them your hand, and thank them for serving and protecting our country.  Do what we do, send a Care Package, too. 

Monday, February 10, 2014

Paul's Rescue: One Year Later

Copyright 2014 by Paul and Lori-Ann Willey

* If you have not read the previous blogs about the rescue itself, the links are here:

The Rescue

Paul and I wrote our year-end summaries from two different angles.  Both are rather lengthy, but we had a full year to cover, too.  Some things may overlap briefly.  Though we spent the past 365 days together, we experienced those days very differently.  I guess you will just have to read each to get a larger picture.  

The Year End Summaries

Blogger does not do bookmarks, I guess, so keep scrolling down to find our year end summaries.

Meeting Up With The Rescue Team

Meet Heidi and Mark Evers.

Paul sleds out without a rescue team!

See that large plastic bag?  Inside holds the comforter that Mark and Heidi used to wrap around Paul to help keep him warm in the rescue sled.  One full year the Evers kept that comforter for us, washing it twice.  We hoped to meet up with this during the summer months, but it was not possible.  However, they held onto it for us and returned it the day we met them in town to treat them for a THANK YOU meal.

This "Wood Spirit" was carved by Mark himself.  He presented it to us at the diner table a few days ago.  He told us, "...needs a place to live." (the spirit)  We proudly have it at camp.

Copyright 2014 by Paul Willey

Twelve Months ago today began the longest, shortest, foggiest, hardest, confusing period of time in my life with some of the worst and best moments in my health care.   

It was Sunday, February 10, 2013 and I was just rescued via Millinocket Ambulance Rescue Sled with Heidi and Mark Evers assisting.   They weren't even on duty, or on call when the call came in, but by the sounds of the call, they realized that meds may be needed on scene and they were qualified to do so.  So, they volunteered to take the call.   The care at the ER was just as excellent, I have no Idea how long I was there, but I was mobile enough when I left for them to get me into the truck and we went to our residence in Palmyra.

Bob & Hope MacDonald picked up our snowmobile trailer from the snowmobile club and brought it back to their place for safekeeping.  

Once I was home and sought follow-up care is when the anger over health care started.   Naturally, being an MS patient, I was used to having IV steroids as I was given in the ER.  The reduction in inflammation was instrumental in getting me at least ambulatory with assistance.   I've had countless treatments over the years always on my calling, when I felt "I" needed them, verses a steady dose that many MS patients receive.  I refused that kind of care.    Steroids, like many other meds, are compensated for by your body, so the more routinely you take them, the more and more you need them, and the more damage is done.   It had been two years since my last treatment.  

I called the VA the day after my rescue and requested to be seen by the lead Dr. of the Spinal Cord Injury Clinic on Tuesday.   Which I did.   During that time, he refused to give me the dosage of IV steroids that are normally given to treat an MS flare!    We were furious to say the least.   Despite the pain and immobility I had, all he did was max out my doses of medications leaving me in a stupor, and doing absolutely nothing to relieve my symptoms.   I was still pretty much bed ridden, needing constant help from Lori-Ann and when the grand kids were over I remember hollering out in pain, swearing involuntarily. Something I never did in front of them.    

Since long ago, when I have bouts of pain, I masked them the best I could but of course Lori-Ann or the kids pick up on my clues.   Long ago if we were in front of other people, they would ask if I was OK...  I asked them not to ask, because I didn't want that attention.  I would just say, "I'm fine",  regardless.   Only other occasion I remember frequently yelling in pain, was while playing real golf.  The pain was real, but thinking back, maybe it got me a sympathy stroke or two! haha.    

After a week of being in a stupor, with minimal if any improvement, I did something I never did before.  I went outside the VA system for MS treatment.    I saw my civilian doctor and she gave me Steroids right in her office without hesitation and I started getting relief that I needed.   
Without a doubt, If it wasn't for the extra meds the ER sent me home with, I would've been in the same shoes again, .   My civilian Doc also gave me a neurologist referral.

Amazingly just 3 weeks after being rescued, I saw a neurologist.    I don't want to discuss his name on here, nor get into details, but I will just say he was by far the most thorough doctor.  I ever had.  He'd order test on a Friday, call me up on Monday morning, cancel that set of test and say... "I've been thinking and studying about your symptoms/history over the weekend...." and then order a different battery of test.   He wasn’t afraid to refer me to a different neurologist either for a second opinion, one who specialized in movement disorders. 

So between steroid treatments and adjustments of my medications/new medications just 5 weeks after my rescue we make a road trip up to Millinocket to get our snowmobile trailer while graciously thanking “Bob Hope”.   Lori-Ann helped me get on my sled, and we make a long slow journey into camp to tie up a few loose ends before we go on our road trip.   The trip is exhausting and we have to spend the night at a hotel in Millinocket before we go home the next day.   

Just 3 days later, we head out on a 50 day, 9,124-mile road trip around the country.   Our main objective was to see our son Joshua in Hollywood, but we stopped to see many family and friends along the way, as well as many of the tourist attractions of the west.   Places we figured we'd never get a chance to see.   

We left March 21.   We knew we'd have to take our time as Lori-Ann was the only driver and sitting up for long was exhausting for me.   You can see all the pictures and read some of our adventures here.

The closer the trip came to a close, the more tired we both grew.  Lori-Ann had to do all the luggage duty, as well as taking care of all my needs, and driving, so it was just as exhausting on her.   

My most memorable story of the trip is summed up in this post.   This is a brief summary and doesn't include some of the thoughts running through my head like, "How do I get out of this situation, please don't let that sound be what I think it is, etc, etc......"

"... we are at a restaurant because we were way too early to check into our hotel room. It was another place with a hard to maneuver handicapped stall, and just like every other handicapped stall I've been too, I have to fight to spin around so I can grab the door and shut it.

Well, this time while doing so, the back wheels of my wheel chair caught the front edge of the toilet, spun the toilet so the toilet bolts broke off the floor, and evidently when that happened the back edge of the toilet tank hit the wall, and since it isn't flexible it split in half right down the middle. It looked like someone took a splitting maul to the tank and opened it perfectly in half. Luckily, they have a good drain in the bathroom, because needless to say the water kept running....

Then I had to tell the nearest waitress, "I broke the toilet". She quoted me, "You broke the toilet"?... I could just imagine the thoughts racing through her head! LOL Then I told her I was spinning around with my wheel chair to shut the door and I caught it.  Before we left, one of the staff came up to me and made sure I was OK, and told me not to worry about it. I felt bad, but I every time I would start to tell Lori-Ann what happened, I would burst out laughing. I finally downloaded a sketchpad for my droid do I could show her what the tank looked like. I even had to stop myself my laughing before I came out of the bathroom to tell the waitress I broke the toilet."   (Memory fails me, but it was probably 15-30 minutes before I finally thought of downloading the sketchpad... haha)

So that gives you a clue as to how tired we were.   Just before that, I parked my wheel chair on Lori-Ann's foot in much the same way I did AhChoo's tail the other day.   Thankfully, both made a speedy recovery, but unfortunately for me, the cat treats didn't work at letting Lori-Ann forget her pain, especially since I'm a repeat offender.

Three days after our return to Palmyra, on May 12, we considered our road trip "OFFICIALLY" over (even thought we didn't count it in the travel days) because we returned to camp.  

I'd spend 99+ percent of time of the previous 91 days either in bed or in my wheel chair.    I had a new wheelchair from the VA, so I now had a rugged chair for outdoor use, and a lighter wheelchair for indoor use, but still had no real ramp system at camp.

One of the things that really clued me in at this time as to how bad things went south for me on a cognitive level was my ability to focus on things once it came time to get the camp ready for summer use.  It's a problem I always had,  but usually once I felt a period of alertness coming on I could focus enough to work on a task for bit.   However, this time.... I found myself zoning out after just 2-15 minutes maximum before my day or DAYS were finished.  I pushed though even longer just so I could accomplish something, but it made my time relaxation time even less enjoyable.

A perfect example for me was the lower unit in our boat needed to be replaced and the motor needed to be serviced.   We had the replacement lower unit.  EASY JOB... Ooops... missing one part.    Normally, I would've told Lori-Ann we are going for a ride to get the part, but not this time anyway, it was  3-4 hours of work... including the drive for the extra part.    I would just get lost, not know what to do next step despite having the manual, and/or just have to abandon everything and go to bed.   So, the actual 3-4 hours of working turned into 5 days.    

When we finally finished the boat.  Lori-Ann dropped me off at the landing on the first nice day. Just driving the boat from the landing to the camp, landed me in bed.   I was really worried about even having a summer at camp then.

In the mean time, we had more Drs.. appointments, more test, etc, etc....  Before we knew it, the end of June was here.   We knew if we had any chance of staying at the camp it had to be 100 percent accessible.  So, we put in the necessary paperwork and had the work done.     BUT, I also told Lori-Ann, and she NEVER questioned me for one second, (despite as demanding as it was to take care of and worry about me)  "I have my meds, and I don't want to see any more doctors or have any more test during the summer".  We had work to be done, we wanted our granddaughters here.  I want to TRY and enjoy that time.

As much as I tried, I never did enjoy those times with them.  They came.  I put on my best face, but I spent most of my time zoned out or in bed, it seemed.  I did my usual role of cooking the boat meals.   Which is what I REFUSED to give up, but it sucked everything out of me.   I love cooking while I watch everyone else play on the beaches, or driving the boat around the lake for scenic tours in hopes of making new discoveries for them.   AND, I would do it all over again. That is what Grampy is suppose to do.   I want them to remember me like that as long as possible.    But, I had silent tears of never really getting to enjoy the time with Autumn and Ellie. They were here, but they weren't.   It's so hard to describe.    My meds essentially were the same from a year ago, so medication wasn't the problem.   My health was.

We only went fishing 3 times during the summer.   I never really enjoyed any of those excursions either.

We often went for a week or two at a time without a ride even.  Relatively few boat meals.   We only made one of our trade mark "HON-NEY"  videos during the year.   The nights sleeping on the boat were far fewer and far more uncomfortable than in the past.   ALTHOUGH, I was much more comfortable on the boat than I was earlier in the year.    I enjoyed taking Lori-Ann out so she could get her photo or/and snorkeling  opportunities though.  That meant a lot to me.  I could rest on the boat, cooking for the two of us was relatively easy, and she helped quite a bit still.   

My plans on not seeing a doctor all summer turned into not seeing him through September, or October when I finally called for an appointment in November.  He said he understood perfectly, and there was no guilt trip of any kind. 

Then he said, ‘I think I see what's going on here.   I could send you to some more doctors for some more testing, and we MAY or MAY not be able to name one or more of your problems...   But I don't think we have to put you through that.   There are three medications I would like you to try, one at a time, they are all going to be for "Off label use".    These won't be a cure, but they should help your symptoms if I'm correct.    So basically between genetic and autoimmune disorders your neurons are having problems making the right chemical transfers in your brain and in your neuromuscular system.’   

I've already forgotten the first medication he tried, but even at the lowest dose, I didn't notice a brain fog improvement... BUT I noticed rather a rather quick improvement in pain and muscle spasms.    The improvement was way beyond expectations.  However, since it was also used to treat altitude sickness, it was a diuretic, caused me many sinus problems and other issues, so after less than a month I had to abandon it.

The next medication is primarily an anti-seizure/migraine medication.   He said I should see almost immediate results if it works.   And  WOW, did I ever.   However, it worked JUST the opposite of the first medication.   It did not improve my pain levels, or muscle spasms, but, it took away my brain fog, I found I could focus, I could push through pain without it shutting down from the pain.   I'm not what I was even a few years ago,  but I can function for hours at times before I start to "zone".  Zoning is not as sudden, IF I pay attention to it.   I don't want to sometimes, and try to finish things.    I still need "days" off, but I just had to take 10 months off from my life.      

I've done some unintentional experimenting by not taking my new meds a few days earlier this year and I found I was almost instantly back in the same confused state as before.  So that eliminated the placebo effect.  I've also discovered that I STILL rely on the meds I've always had as well as two new ones.   If I don't take them, along with the new meds, I found a determined brain can only push a body so far.   In reality, I like to think my body has years back, but from the days of ice fishing I can tell that the combination of my old meds, a med I started a year ago, and my newest med have my body back to where it was in the few weeks before I was rescued.   So I still have to be smart, and wise.  Hopefully more choices are ahead of me when I see my doctor in the future.

I also want to note, that in my first blog of, I noted my cognitive function test were all 100 percent up through 2013.  I was tested again in late November 2013, and for the first time ever, I did not score 100 percent.  The words the therapist said in Januray 2013 of “Even though you are noticing changes, you are still way ahead of the rest of us" were no longer true.   

Even on Facebook, my postings may have seemed "normal", but many of my post took 20-30 minutes on a daily basis, and I gave up on a number of my post.   So while I could communicate with written words easier, it took a considerable amount of time for me to do so.  Even though I could communicate what I knew about subject matter, it took so long time for me to dig it out.   I still caught several after the fact mistakes that I would correct.   Except for this paragraph and the next, I wrote this entire blog in one three hour sitting.  If I would've tried last year, it would've taken Months.   

UNTIL VERY recently things didn't seem to be turning around in the cognitive area.   I'm always repeating things, even in my Facebook posts I'm constantly finding that I repeat sentences or phrases.   That seems to be improving quite a bit over the last 2-3 weeks and I've even noticed my math skills are warming back up.   I still can't even guesstimate percentages and have to use a calculator, but I know how to do the math without using a formula.    While I still can't multiply triple digit numbers in my head, on February 7th for the first time in ages I added 3 triple digit numbers in my head. 

Then Today, February 9th, for the Dam Weather Page, I added 8 numbers in my head, 7 of which were triple digit, and then divided by 8.   I was off by .04, that's acceptable in my book!!  :-).    So while my body is lacking, my brain is still improving in function.   That's what was missing in my quality of life around here.   My body still needs many hours of rest, but at least if I manage my time correctly I can enjoy my awake time.  It's still a delicate balancing act, but I gained the upper hand again.   

As a side note, remember that VA doctor I mentioned WAY back at the beginning that refused me treatment?   He was "transferred" elsewhere.   I won't get into what we heard through the "rumor mill".   As the Spinal Cord Injury Clinic saw its patient numbers dropping dramatically over the few years he was there.  He disappeared.   Draw your own conclusions.   I like the conclusion we drew.

My unreasonable guilt of this past year was not having Mark and Heidi Evers at our camp as I promised.   As I know they understand, if I couldn't even muster up the energy for the grand kids, I couldn't find myself able to do that either.   We talked about planning lunches, but even that seemed next to impossible for me. 

Thankfully, they graciously allowed us to treat them to lunch this past week as a small token of appreciation.   They also gave us a "Wood Spirit" carved by Mark that needed a "place to live".    He will be MOST welcomed here in our home.    

I would just like to close with a post I put on Dam Camp's Facebook Wall on Christmas Day, 2013.

"Even though we didn't say so publicly, we knew in our hearts that things didn't look good for us being able to stay here this winter up until a month ago. We stayed here this year, but everything fell on Lori-Ann's shoulder's, to include worrying about me. BUT, a new Neurologist I found last March wouldn't give up, and he found the right class of meds that is helping me where I have the ability to fight through things again. Not a cure, but I am taking steps back towards my life before the Rescue Sled. 

The best gift I have is seeing Lori-Ann able to relax without worrying about my every move, or what will happen if she goes outside. 

The most ironic thing is despite this statement, Lori-Ann will confess that to her; the most frustrating thing this past year was that she couldn't give me a swift kick in the ass to get me doing something. She just could not understand why, and understandingly so. I always relied on her when I needed it as well. I tried so hard to make them (the kicks in the ass) work. BUT, now with the new meds; she keeps telling me... 'STOP.. You're going to over doing it.. you need to rest'. She can see I'm tired, but my brain is still going, and pulling, so she is trying to protect me.

I wish I could tag Mark & Heidi in this Post, but it all started with them, literally pulling me in a new direction. 

Merry Christmas Everyone!"

Copyright 2014 by Lori-Ann Willey

Edited by Patricia Tobin

A very special thanks to our friend Patricia  who helped me edit this piece.

It has been a year since Paul’s rescue last February 10th, and it is impossible to write about everything because so much of it was a blur for me, too.  What was not a blur were my struggles emotionally while watching my husband becoming more and more withdrawn as time went on.  I will try to explain how it affected me, and how it all affected our day-to-day living.

In the days and weeks after Paul’s rescue, I stayed by his side as much as I could, however, he slept nearly all the time.  I did everything for him to include cathetering, washing him, helping him roll over, to sit, to stand, and of course, needed to continue giving his allergy shots, too.  I catered to him.  

I hope he will get into the fiasco we had to go through with his VA doctor that was put in charge of the VA spinal cord clinic.  All he knew how to do was max Paul out on so  many pain meds and muscle relaxers that all Paul did was sleep, and was unable to form words or sentences for weeks on end.  I was missing my husband and did not know how I could make him better.   I felt helpless.  We were both very frustrated and emotional.  Doping him up was not a quality of life we were going to accept.  How long could I care for him as he was?  I would need help from professionals if that is what his life had become at that point.

As I listened to Paul try to talk with that doctor on the phone one day, I could tell by Paul’s already struggle to communicate, that the doctor was set in his ways and he was not listening to Paul at all.  I sat quiet, but as the conversation continued, I grew more and more upset.  Angry even.  I motioned for Paul to hand me the phone.  I spoke my concerns to the doctor, and then I listened to what he had to say.  I was not happy with the man, and I had him on the phone for about 20 minutes cussing him up one side and down the other.   I was frustrated, angry, and felt helpless.  I told him that I wanted it in Paul’s records that neither Paul nor I was satisfied with his treatment.  Surely, there was something the man could do for Paul except dope him up into nonexistence, but the doctor was set in his ways and would not budge in thought and my concerns went unheard and I made sure to let him know that several times.  That doctor had a history of NOT listening to his patients!  I was not going to give up that easy!

Keeping in contact with our kids, family members, and close friends, Josh (our son), feeling helpless as well, was clear across the country.  Hearing our struggles to communicate with a doctor whom would not listen to our concerns, he called the doctor himself.  Of course, the doctor could not talk with him, so that frustrated Josh even more.

Finally, we decided to go through our civilian primary care doctor.   She could tell that Paul needed steroids, but in the office, there is only so much she could give him legally, but would give him a prescription of the same dose to take over the next few weeks.  She recommended he see a new neurologist in the area. 

We were so tired of doctors that we both dreaded the entire diagnosis process all over again!  We were so tired of starting from scratch just to have yet another new doctor come to the same unknown solution and to an unknown diagnosis as the others did in the past.  Paul was diagnosed 18 years earlier with MS and it took years to get that diagnosis, why would we want to start all those tests all over again?  What could be tested for that was not already tested? 

A couple of years earlier, some doctors had already suspected that he did not have MS after all, but would not test further to see exactly what he had, so they just treated the symptoms.  Because he did not have the lesions in the brain, spinal column, he did not meet the new criteria for any sort of MS treatments, though some treatments in the past worked.  Some didn’t, but some did!   Because of the new criteria, he was stuck in limbo and prescribed medicines for symptoms without a clear-cut diagnosis.  That is where some of the medical professions left him…”I don’t think you have MS, but that is what we’ll stick with”.  It was so frustrating!

Now, with the drastic decline of his un-named disability, we thought long and hard.  We knew that this new stage of his health, the steroids helped, but he was by far not back to where he was before the rescue.  Something was not right.  Something had to be done.  Someone had to help!  We were not satisfied that all testing was not done that could be done, but at the same time, we were tired of all the tests and doctors that came up with the same inconclusive answers, too.  At what point do we say enough is enough if the doctors had already said that years ago?

After his rescue, his memory was way off.  Time perception was way off, too. When he was able to talk, he reflected backwards a lot such as talking in the present tense, when “the other day” was a year or so before that.  Not naming his nouns, or giving me a topic, or excessively using pronouns in referencing several people, and not naming them initially got me frustrated, too.  He would start off talking mid sentence and I would not have a clue as to his topic, time frame, reference, or anything.  All this while his sentences either, stopped abruptly mid-sentence or trailed off to inaudible mumbling.  I tried so hard to be patient and so hard to try to fill in the blanks, but often times I could not no matter how hard I tried.  My life had become being unable to communicate with my own husband and that frustrated us both.

Cognitive abilities? Paul had very little to none for a long time.  He would try to talk and hold a conversation, but many who listened could not understand much of what he was saying.  Some played along and nodded their head.  Some gave the same responses themselves, or simply answered their own questions.  Some dominated the conversations leaving Paul little time to try to talk in fear of not understanding his responses.  Sometimes, people would just talk to me as if he was not even in the room.  In Paul’s mind, sometimes he was audible,  sometimes he was making sense, and sometimes he was holding a conversation…and sometimes he was right, but mostly not.  I tried to prod him to find the words he wanted to use, to help guide him, but all he could say in return was, “Honey, I’m trying”.  In addition, he was confused as to why I could not understand him, when to me, he was making little to no sense with his words.  Just because he knew in his mind (kinda) what he wanted to say, did not mean that I did.  It was a constant struggle.

A few weeks went by and he was to turn 50 years old on March 16th, and he wanted a birthday party.  Honestly, I could not see how that was to happen at all, and I had my hands way more than full trying to just keep up with daily living, tending to Paul and his needs, too, that I could not plan for the party even at our own business.  Instead, he contacted his niece, Sara who ran the business and told her to “have at it”.  Gave the date, approx. number of people and to run with it.  She did a great job.  The cook that is also our friend worked for us. She was given my permission to “run with it”, too, with whatever she wanted to cook and serve.  She tried to bounce ideas off me, but I could not think long enough to say yes or no, and instead encouraged her several times to just take it and run with it.  I trusted her judgment.  Honestly, I was not looking forward to the event myself.  What would happen if he could not attend last second?  How could he plan such a thing if he couldn’t even roll over in bed by himself?

With lots of meds and lots of rest in his body, he was able to attend and did rather well, too.  That was very nice to see.  The turnout was plentiful, too, so that was a big plus.  I mingled a lot, as others kept him busy by gabbing.  I had been his voice more often than not up until then, would answer questions for him, would restate his sentences for him,  clarify what he was trying to say, etc., but that night I needed a break, sad to say, I know, but I needed to step away and instead of being at his side every second.  I  kept checking back often, and he was always surrounded by friends and family, so he was well tended to.  If anyone caught on with his lack of abilities to communicate audibly, they didn’t let on.  Maybe there were enough  people in the room so that people just simply pieced words together and called it good.  Even as I type this, I asked him, “How many people attended your party, do you remember?”  His reply, “I don’t have a clue.  I was too out of it.”

Paul continued to insist that he also wanted to do a road trip from Maine to visit our son, Josh, in California and then back to Maine again.  “Are you kidding me?”  I shook my head in disbelief,  “No!  Honey, there is no way we can make that trip how you are!”  I figured it was some farfetched fantasy idea and there was no way he was thinking in realistic terms AT ALL.  I was not up for driving all that way, take care of Paul, and me, too.  How could I do that?  The thought was impossible for me to even begin to comprehend.  I would need help driving, a passenger that could tell me the vehicle I was passing or the lane I would be merging into was safe to do so, etc.  Then, to unload our luggage with each stop, too?  No way.  I was struggling as it was!  I wondered if he was even considering my “job” at all during the trip.  In hindsight, I can see that he needed to have determination, a mind-set, a goal or goals in place to help push himself through it all, and eventually, I did see that, but only after I was over the initial shock of such a trip!  Only then, did I support him.  However, I am shameful to say, I was a big skeptic!

Each day, Paul made a little more progress thanks to the oral dose of steroids on top of the in-office IV treatment he got.  Luckily, his doctor agreed to give him another dose for the trip.  That was the only way I agreed to consider the trip at all.  I was still not sleeping well even then, and I would wake up or stay awake to make sure he was still breathing and was still with me in life.  This was throughout the summer months, too.  Many of you remember my countless near sleepless nights.  I even had them during the road trip.  I became very protective, as I always am anyways, but even more so.  I am a protector and a nurturer by nature, but I think for others that is a great thing, but for me, it creates a lot of stress knowing that he will be in my care and far away from his doctor, too?

We took our time to get from Maine to California. Driving 4-6 hours each day was long enough for the both of us. My problematic back did great and I loved the heated seats.  I could drive about 2 ½ - 3 hours before I needed to stop and rest my back, so my driving days seemed to linger.  Days were long and tiring, and still had to check in and lug our luggage up to the hotel rooms, and having to find a place to eat each night made for very long days for us both, but we managed.  Sometimes, we would just eat something out of a vending machine and call it good.  Sometimes, we would only eat one meal a day due to fatigue more than anything.  If we were hungry, we would order take-out delivery.   Our stops in Indiana, were the only time we had home cooked meals, and boy were those rewarding!  REAL food never tasted so good!

The days were filled with new sights and sounds, new faces, and new attitudes along the way, and finally, 50 days later, we were home in Maine.  The past 50 days kept my mind busy, and that was good for me.  However, once back home, reality hit me fast and hard in the face.  It was spring, May, and my whole being wanted to be back at camp and continue our lives as we had in the past, however, things were not the same.  Paul still needed a lot of rest, and a LOT of care.  His days were spent mostly in bed.  When he got up, he spent time at his laptop.  He barely spoke, and when he did, his voice was still weak, and his sentences still broken up, and inaudible when tired, especially.  I spent more time asking him, “What?” than anything else, I think.  Everything he tried to say, resulted in me saying, “What?”  Sometimes, it was several attempts to complete a sentence before I understood what he was trying to say.  That frustrated us both.

At camp, his daily energy was spent reading and researching topics of question when he could, but his cognitive abilities were not nearly what they were before.  People on Facebook always went to him for clarification of things, and he would always comply.  He was a reliable source, but now, it fatigued him beyond words…literally.  Yet, still, he would spend his wake time researching for them, debating when he could, and when he was finished helping them, he was too tired to do much of anything else, to include conversing with me.  Though I missed my husband, and he was sitting here three feet from me, there was very little communication between us.  One day, he got up and went over to feed the cat, and that was a shocker to me.  When I say he did absolutely NOTHING, I do mean nothing, and feeding the cat a can of food was a huge undertaking for him.  He had the ability to do that daily task about once a week this past summer.  Although it was a menial task for me, it was huge for him.  Even so, just feeding the cat once a week was a great help.  Yes, just feeding the cat.  It is hard to explain how that little bit of relief was huge for me.

 I spent much of my time inside camp, only going out when he was napping.  I was afraid to leave his side for very long, so I stayed pretty  much in the camp yard only and checked on him often.  It was a good year to pick up gardening again!  I spent a lot of time making soil (collecting natural debris and composting them).  I spent a lot of time with the chipmunks, too.  They would follow me to my garden and linger around there with me while I worked in the soil.  I would sit down and they would be up in my lap.  They made me smile and feel more at ease about being outside.  They helped distract myself from worries.  When I was on the phone with our friend (mentioned below), I would always sit on a log that lined my garden.  Between those conversations and the chippies, I would actually enjoy a few laughs.

Paul was still laying down and sleeping much of the day, so when he was up and sitting in his wheelchair at least I was seeing him, and repeating that, “what?” several times per sentence.  It was good to see him trying to engage others and his brain, too, but at what expense?  It fatigued him to the point that there was nothing left and needed naptime, but at least he was social with his typing fingers.  That was great to see him trying to get back to his social being, but I longed for conversation still, and longed for a conversation that made sense and not end in frustration.  It was like trying to communicate with someone who spoke a different language and was in search for words to help describe their meaning.

I kept busy as I could, but my mind was full and screaming.  When he laid down one day, I decided that I needed to vent my frustration, to preoccupy myself, to do physical labor, so I decided to lug rocks, and the larger the better!  It took me weeks to build a couple rock fire pits, lugging rocks so heavy that I could barely lift them, never mind carrying them through the woods and to the fire pit area.  All this was taking a toll on me mentally and emotionally.  As I felt my body getting stronger from all the lifting of rocks, I pictured them as making me stronger emotionally, too.  I had to be stronger than I was, and I would try any trick to get me there.  All this meant so much to me to keep it from Paul.  He had a lot going on within himself to worry about me in any way.  I knew I had many friends out there that would understand that I needed an ear, and family members, too, but I just could not bring myself to talk with them.  Pride, fearing they would not understand, fearing that I would be called a dramatic again (referenced below) all held me back.

I was afraid to leave the camp yard in case Paul needed me, so I felt like I could not do my usual summer activities.  I almost lost him to illness back in the 90’s and I was so afraid I would lose him if his body turned on him yet again.  I snorkeled very little this past summer and walks with my camera rarely happened.  I stopped sketching, and painting, and writing, too for a while.  Other than building a large rock fire pit, I was afraid to resume my  normal activities, because I was so afraid I would get hurt and how would that work?  If I got hurt, I could not care for Paul as he needed me to.  We would both be up “Shit’s Creek” and in Maine we have no “creeks”! 

It was not until this fall when I finally admitted to Paul that I was stressed.  Slowly, I was allowing others to see that within me, too.  There were illnesses within the family on top of all that…stresses from every angle, too, it seems.  Alzheimer’s, cancers, and dementia, depression, “missing” family member, and other issues and I felt like the world came to me with their issues and how could I help take care of others if I was struggling to take care of Paul and myself, too?  Family came to us for help with various things and though we could not physically or emotionally, we found a way to help most of the time, if not all the time, but it was a huge strain on us.  I could not understand why they could not see our struggles with all this, but I guess we hid it well, put on a smile, made the best of every day that we could, because we knew the alternative.  Health issues are our life, but because we do not work, and live at our camp does not mean we are able to help everyone that comes knocking near and far.  As much as it killed us to do so, we had to start saying no, especially if we saw other avenues for them to explore. 

I went from being a somewhat passive person whom would go out of their way to help people, to the point of hoping that I was not called upon to do anything. I hated that about myself, because I am the type of person that would put myself in danger to help anyone and not think anything of it, but I could no longer volunteer myself.  That was frustrating.  I just wanted our life back before the rescue.  I wanted my husband to be able to hold a conversation again instead of me listening and when he was done talking, have no idea what he had said much of the time.  In public, he stumbled over his words greatly and he often confused people.  When he would look away, they would look at me, like “huh?”  In talking, he would mix up his nouns and call objects by a different name totally and that added to the confusion.  It was like his brain was wired in opposites.  Right was left, up was down, here was there, that was this, etc.  I learned QUICKLY that I could not depend upon him helping me drive by telling me the way was clear when there was a vehicle coming.  Go was stop, stop was go, clear was not so clear.  He would try to the help me with the stoplights, but would tell me to go when it was red, etc.  He tried to help though.  Ha ha ha The boat was “the truck” on many occasions, too. 

Sometimes when Paul napped, I would go outside and call a friend of ours.  He distracted me, made me laugh, and talking with someone with same likes and dislikes was a great distraction for me.  However, it was not long before I apparently wore him out, because he would tell me that I was being a dramatic when I tried to discuss serious stuff…things that were emotional.  He would tell me that he was not my husband and to go talk to Paul about my concerns.  He did not know all the details about how Paul was doing, so I am sure my stress levels and emotional being did not make sense to him, but if he was already calling me a dramatic, then how could I tell him about the rest…things he did not know, things that I was working my way up to?  I could not.  My goal was a distraction, not a “pity party”, and felt that my outlet was instantly gone.  Our friendship spiraled down to no communication at all these days.

Tests after tests after tests, his new “outside the box thinker” neurologist is close to a diagnosis, and it is most likely not MS as thought for so many years, but possibly a genetic and autoimmune disorder that he probably has had all his life.  With new meds and a new direction, Paul is able to communicate better, is now up much of the day, and can think better, too.  His ideas are flowing again.  He is more mobile, and he is more himself, but that is all within the past month or so on these new meds.  He still struggles with speech, but in a different way.  The medicine that is helping him makes his voice hoarse and weak.  He is better at naming his topics, subjects, and uses fewer pronouns and uses more specific names now, too.  PHEW!  CONVERSATION again, though often short lived, but still!  PROGRESS!

The most recent “battles” have been over how I do things.  His thought processes have returned somewhat with this new meds, but in the past 10-11 months, I was the one that did everything and during that time, I did things how it was easiest and most convenient for me as I was the one doing them.  Now that he has some of his thought processes back, he has his own way of doing things again, and guess what?  It is still me that is doing those things, so I told him that I have lived like this for nearly a year, adapted my own ways, so just let me do things my way.  He means well, and is trying to be helpful, but his way is not helpful to me when I am the one still doing the task.   I think that is difficult for him to understand.

He has no real concept at how “lost” he was for such a long period of time.  Sometimes, I will listen to his directions, start to do them and he changes his mind;  that is not what he wanted me to do, so I listen and follow a different set of instructions all over again.  Sometimes, this is repeated several times when I could just do it my way in a matter of seconds.  That is our latest frustration.  I applaud him greatly for having his own thoughts, but he needs to remember that it was ME that was having to do things on my own for all those months.  That is a concept that he says he understands, but I do not think he fully comprehends how everyday living has changed for us both, and how I had to go about things differently without help.

Paul will “never” get better, and damages done are done neurologically, but if medicine can help in other ways, such as stamina, in cognitive abilities, socializing, and more mobility, then bring on the medicines, because it is good to see him more active and able to think, and hold a conversation again!

During all this, I have changed some as a person.  I learned that I am not as strong emotionally and mentally as I thought.  Nowadays, I call people out when someone tries to pull something over my eyes and then denies it.  When someone lies to me and I catch it, I let it be known, too.  Why should I let them lie to me?  Where is the respect for me?  I call out deception when I see it now, too.  I figure if someone thinks so little of me, or us, to do any of that, then I need to open my mouth and call attention to it, because how dare they think we are too stupid to know better?  We are not stupid people, and our perception is keen.  If I call you on a lie or deception, then maybe one should just tell the truth in the first place and do not take us as fools.  I will call attention to things and hold that person accountable for their words and actions, too.  People do not see what they choose not to see, but if it affects Paul or I, do not expect me to sit idle...I will call attention to it like it or not.  THAT is the new me.  Honestly, now, I would not decline a reality show, because I will not mind telling the camera operator to get the f*ck out of my face or care if they aired it!  (Joking, of course.)

As Paul slowly returns, and I do not think he will return to the state he was prior to the rescue, I am relieved, more relaxed, laughing more, whistling more, singing stupid songs more, and find myself wanting to be more creative, to look for unique things in nature again.  I am also returning more to my old self, too.  But, remember my new self, and “don’t piss me off”.  Oh wait, I was like that before.  The family always warned people, “Just don’t piss her off”.  But, honestly, I have the biggest heart of all…until I am crossed.  So, I guess not much has changed there, huh?

I love my husband to no end and we are a very, very happy couple.  We can and always have been able to be open and honest with each other.  There is nothing I would not do for him and I will always be here as his closest friend as well as the best wife I can be.  He is my soul mate through and through.  I applaud his determination that seems never-ending.  He is my hero, and a “superman” to so many. 

Thankfully, this new doctor is that outside the box thinker and has given my husband back the best he can be versus that doctor that kept him a zombie for so long.  His doctor “came” with a 5-star rating.  I would easily give Doctor Bomprezzi a 10 star rating without thought, without question!  He gave me “My Paul” back….kinda, but I will take him as is forever and ever. 

Thank you all for your patience in my posts in the past year.  I know I have come across as harsh and direct sometimes, but direct was my goal, as I had little or no time to eloquently type anything, or to please everyone either.  What you saw was my true being coming out under stress, I guess.  I had a few rants, but I always do.  We have done very little joking online and many of you have asked where we were because we were not the same, less jokes, less fun, fewer conversations, only one “Hon-Ney” video, I think, and we were both somewhat serious all the time.

I think many of you are as serious as we are when it comes to such a post as I just plopped up on my personal Facebook wall.  I just typed, “Who is here right now?” and that scared a few people thinking that I needed help or there was an emergency.  That is how serious we have been in the past year, and that is how serious Paul’s condition was throughout it all.  People that understood truly, deeply understood, and could read between the unspoken/un-typed lines. 

I am hoping, more so than you are, that we are slowly returning to those fun people, because we miss those people, too.  I have lost a few friends in the past month because I held them accountable for their words and actions, and that still saddens me.  I may have been wrong in being so blunt, but I KNOW what I saw and heard, and it is not my issue if they deny it or cannot admit to such things to themselves or even to each other .  I HAVE to look after Paul and myself…simple as that.  One does not have to understand what we have been through this past year, but if one does not try, then how can one understand our being throughout it all…or even how we were forced to change?