Rob’s Ramblings

Something has been on my mind for several months that I will try to explain it to you all today. Fair warning this is not a story of silliness and mayhem but of life and its struggles.

Growing up it was never a question of how strong my family was and my father was a solid rock in our family foundation. Dad was a high school football coach most of my young years and it was common to hear the words “Suck it up!” around the house. This wasn’t a demand or a motto but an expectation for us all. If you fell down… you got up, if you were sad or upset…. you got over it and if you wanted things to be different….. you worked harder to change it; all in all you “Suck it up!”.

Emotions and praise were not to be shown or expected (as a male) and being responsible was required. You didn’t start something that you didn’t finish. You never did anything half ass. You always did what you were told and by god you took the lumps as they came without complaint.

In 5^th Grade I played baseball and it was the first time I saw fast pitch baseball. I was scared of that ball being thrown at me and at the end of the first game I wanted to quit. So I told my dad and he said no problem I didn’t have to play next year but I made a commitment to the team for the season. He didn’t raise a quitter, so I dealt with it and pushed my way through my fears. Even today I can’t stand to have that ball flying by me.

My father, the rock of the family, was someone I never saw scared at anything and would not shrink from any task. I remember him telling off a gang of 10 bikers one day at a gas station. They got smart with him and he got in there face. Then he got in the truck afterwards calling them pussies and making sure I knew how to deal with bullies. He taught me to fight, punch and to be meaner than the opposition.

He worked hard and always amazed me with his ability to do almost anything. It shows today when you look at my parents farm; the garage was built to store our stuff till we could build the house, the house, the rock walls and walk ways around the house, the plumbing in the house, the wood work details inside the house and years later the attached garage to the home all built by my father. I was lucky to grow up helping and learning these skills.

Dad was also an intelligent man he didn’t go buy house plans, he drew them himself. He is a leader in his beliefs and was in public office, being placed there by the Governor of Missouri. He ran his own business for many years in Insurance and then eventually went back to his love …. Football.

I can remember him doing play charts with pages of information on the St. Louis Cardinals football team scattered across the basement. He was coaching them from his living room and it was a good thing when he returned to coaching again. Even now go anywhere and we are consistently approached by men that dad coached…. it’s really great to see the admiration in their faces and sincere joy at seeing my father again. Even though he was tough and rough, he was always respected.

Let me be clear my father has many faults and has done things that we don’t see eye-to-eye on but those pale to all the positive things I have learned from him.

As a child I have two memories of my Grandfather (dad’s father), one is him playing with me at a very young age like 1^st grade. The other is seeing him laying in bed at Barnes Hospital a withered man of skin and bones. I made a couple trips with dad to go see him and help my grandmother. The stories I heard about my grandfather showed how much we were alike. He died in that hospital of a genetic disease called Huntington’s disease. Many times my dad told me he would never die like his father.

Years later I was married and thinking about trying to have a baby with my now X-wife. I started thinking about what killed both my Grandfather and Aunt (dad’s sister) at such young ages. So I read about the symptoms and details of the disease. I found out that dad had a 50% chance of getting the disease. If he had it then my sister and I had a 50% chance of getting this horrible disease.

Researching the disease I started to worry that maybe I was showing early signs. Then I found out there was a test to find out if you had the disease. A simple blood sample was all that it took. Now finding somewhere that performed the test was difficult. If I had the test and it was positive then my insurance company could deny coverage in the future or drop me. This is known as genetic discrimination and is very common. I found a place in San Antonio that performed the test and was not very expensive. They also would take cash and not inform insurance companies.

I took the test in the fall of 2003 and by the time the results were in I had convinced myself I had the disease. I was just expecting the test results to be a confirmation of my own worst fears. I had also started planning what to do, it was a three part plan; one get a vasectomy, two get a divorce and three plan my suicide for when the disease got really bad. I know many people will think this is horrible but you didn’t see what it does to people and I know how horrible the consequences.

The day of receiving the results my x wanted me to not get them….I think she suspected my plans. I wouldn’t be stopped on my quest and got the results. They were negative; my CAG was only a 13 (you need a 40 to have the disease). I was happy but I didn’t know how to react to the news. It took me months to process and become ok with the results.

In March of 2007, my father had the test and it was positive with a CAG count of 40. He is 68 years young and had probably been living with the mild effects of the disease for the last 10 years. When my parents came to TX to visit and tell me the results I was scared. I did a ton of research again and found homeopathic treatments for the symptoms. I found success stories of peoples struggles with the disease and I was prepared to talk to my father. My dads words returned to me “I won’t die like my father”.

Knowing from my research how many people commit suicide (depression being a symptom) and how I felt dealing with it on my own. I was scared but resolved to be open and honest with my dad. We talked about it all and he got excited about having a chance to fight the symptoms. We discussed suicide and what that means to mom, me, sis, the grandkids, etc

For now my father is fighting using homeopathic treatments, yoga and medications to make the disease progress more slowly. He has improved a lot and is doing great with the treatments. I go home to see my parents every 3 or 4 weeks to make sure they don’t need anything done on the farm.

Somehow I’m trying to be the rock and fill the void my dad is having a harder time being. I want him to know that I am only able to do this because of the man he taught me to become. I’m proud every day to call him my father and so lucky to be taught his values.