Cooking, eating, grocery shopping.

Feb 252016
On the left, the way we were in 1996. On the right, with some of my grandchildren and great grandchildren, late last year.

On the left, the way we were in 1996. On the right, with some of my grandchildren and great grandchildren, late last year.

Normally, my “Chronicles of Disability” consists of annual reports on the changes in my health over the previous 12 months. I forgot to post a report for the year 2014, but perhaps it’s just as well because there were very few changes – – just more weakness in general. So now we come to this major milestone. It has been 20 years since I was diagnosed with inclusion body myositis (IBM). This rare muscle wasting disease is described as “slowly progressing”. That may be true one month to the next or even one year to the next. But when the person I was in 1996 is compared to who I am today, the contrast is jaw-dropping.

Twenty years ago I didn’t think there was much wrong with me. Yes I was slowing down in my running, and my golf shots seemed to be getting shorter, and I did fall once in a while, so what? I was 55 years old, just normal aging? I could still hike mountain trails, jog (slowly), show up for work every morning, work around the house, go to parties with my wife, take long driving vacations. Life was very good.

Now, I very nearly meet the criteria of a quadriplegic. I can’t move either of my legs or my left arm. I can only raise my right arm a few inches above my waist. I cannot stand, walk, or transfer without the aid of an overhead lift system and a caregiver. This will probably be the last year that I am able to continue feeding myself, unless the new drug (BYM338) gets released and actually works. My fingers don’t bend and my speech is getting quite weak. This is making my writing avocation more challenging and I may need to give it up within a year or so. Unrelated to my disease, but definitely affecting my life, my wife died of her own rare muscle illness in 2012.

My current home features the ultimate "open floor plan". My wheelchair loves it.

My current home features the ultimate “open floor plan”. My wheelchair loves it.

At the time of my initial diagnosis, we were living in a two-story four-bedroom home overlooking the mountains of southern California and a little slice of the Pacific Ocean. Today I am living in 250 square feet in an assisted living facility. The room is comfortable, the view isn’t bad (mostly of an ancient olive grove), the caregivers are friendly and helpful, and the food is very good. My days are spent doing what writing I can, either for Huntington Manor or for my Life Disabled blog, but that work is getting more difficult every day. So instead I am catching up on a lot of movies and television and doing a little reading. I also like to take my wheelchair out on long jaunts through the countryside and down to the local business district of Poway. Huntington Manor is launching a major renovation of the facility and I have been promised one of the beautiful new rooms that will overlook the garden and the hills beyond. That is enough to keep me motivated to stick around until the project is finished in 2017.

When I first started this blog, and when I wrote “Rolling Back: Through a Life Disabled” I suggested that the newly diagnosed read about my experiences to be properly prepared for what lies ahead. Now with a new treatment on the horizon, it is quite likely they may never have to experience this severe of a decline.

I have reposted many of the pictures and captions from the past 20 years. I think they tell an interesting story about the effects IBM has had on one person’s life. As you’ll see, I have remained generally happy and hopeful throughout that time, but I must admit that my general mood has been declining. Recently, I saw a neurologist who lowered my expectations for the new drug by pointing out that it would not be of any use for the muscles that were already dead and that, in my case, most of the muscles are completely destroyed. The most I can hope for is maintaining the minimal capabilities I have now.

By the way, one of the special pleasures I get these days is when someone purchases my book. It’s available on Amazon — just click on the link on this page — seven dollars for paperback and three dollars for the Kindle edition, or free if you are using Kindle Unlimited.

Feb 132014

The paperback version of Rolling Back: Through a Life Disabled

The paperback version of Rolling Back: Through a Life Disabled

Rolling Back has been published in paperback and is available on Amazon for $6.99 ($6.64 for Amazon Prime members). There is also the Kindle version that costs $2.99. I have provided links to each of them below.

Writing and publishing Rolling Back as been a personally rewarding experience that I wouldn’t trade for anything. Several people have urged me to write another, and I will probably try. However I think I’m ready for a change of pace and may attempt a fiction novel next. I’d be interested to hear your thoughts.



Feb 042014

This is the cover for my new book. The art is a slightly modified version of one of my late wife's paintings.

This is the cover for my new book. The art is a slightly modified version of one of my late wife’s paintings.

My book, Rolling Back: Through a Life Disabled, has been published and is available as a Kindle version on Amazon. You don’t need a Kindle to read it, you can read it on any computer or any tablet for smart phone using the free Kindle app. Kindle owners who are Amazon Prime members can borrow it for free.

Rolling Back will be available as a paperback in a few weeks. Right now it is only in the Kindle format, but will be expanded to include other e-readers in three months. The price for the Kindle version is just $2.99. If cost is an issue I hope to be able to offer it free for five days on Amazon. When that happens, I will let everyone know.

Nov 182013
Read more about my drinking problem below.

Read more about my drinking problem below.

It is time for my annual update of “Chronicles of Disability.” However rather than simply cover the changes that have happened this year, I have decided to add some new content. This is partially due to my work on a new book I am writing which will tell the story of the journey (or should I say forced march) that my wife and I traveled through the jungles of disability. My own struggle with inclusion body myositis began in 1985, 11 years before I was formally diagnosed, and it continues to this day.

Part of the new content is a gallery of photographs, some new, some from earlier posts on this blog. My goal is to eventually put the entire visual record of my attempts to adapt to inclusion body myositis in one place, organized in chronological order.

This past year has been very difficult. It began with grieving for my wife who lost her battle with myotonic muscular dystrophy October 11, 2012. That grieving process will probably never end although it does change and has become less intrusive on my daily life. During that time I have also experienced the worst decline of physical function of any previous year. Most of that physical loss has been focused on my shoulders, arms and hands. I can no longer hold a Beefeater on the rocks, a Johnny Walker Black with a twist of lemon, a Cadillac Margarita, or even a glass of Petite Syrah. I also can’t hold a glass of water, but that seems to be a minor inconvenience by comparison. Dressing myself is now completely out of the question as is holding a camera or picking anything up from the table, bed or floor. Eating has been reduced to a process resembling a scene from a Monty Python movie. Getting anything from a plate to my mouth involves a slinging motion that frequently sends food flying in unexpected directions.

Now before this pity party gets out of control, I should point out that I continue to find ways to adapt. For example, there is a terrific acrylic beverage cup on Amazon that I use for coffee, whiskey, and wine. It is lightweight, has a handle that fits my hand perfectly and is relatively inexpensive. I can sling it through the air, provided it is only half-full, and generally get it pretty close to my mouth. (There is a slightly larger mug that I use for water.) As to the photography, that problem was solved when I purchased my GoPro and installed the iPhone app to control it. (See an earlier post.) Eating remains an unresolved challenge although I would rather put up with a messy aftermath then resort to being fed. I can only imagine how the pressure to eat quickly and my swallowing problem would combine, with serious consequences no doubt.

Voice recognition continues to get better with each iteration. Now my new iMac with its Mavericks operating system has built-in voice recognition that is almost as good as Dragon Dictate but has the advantage of being launched immediately by simply pushing the function key twice. I still use Dragon Dictate for the longer projects such as this post.

Apr 142013

Preparing Work Apron for washing

When my Work Table apron gets dirty, I just remove the masonite panel and throw the cloth portion in the wash.

I have had several requests for the patterns for some of my projects. Unfortunately, by the time I was doing the videos, I had lost too much of my finger dexterity to be able to draw well enough to create a pattern. Instead, I would use voice recognition to dictate instructions to myself. Following are the instructions for making an insulated apron for use in the kitchen.

These instructions can be modified for making a work table, by replacing the insulation and batting with a piece of hard board such as Masonite and leaving one end open.

We are making an apron 24 x 17 with two twelve inch straps with velcro fasteners. (NOTE THAT THERE IS NOTHING AROUND THE NECK!)

For apron:
Cut fabric with four and five eighths inches extra on ends and five eighths extra on sides.
Result is two pieces 33.25 x 18.25.
Cut insulation and cotton batting 16.5 x 20.
baste insulation & batting together with shiny side of insulation out.
Sew two fabric sides wrong side out the long way.
Turn inside out.
Insert filling (insulation, batting, with insulation facing top).
Run stiches across short ends to lock filling in place.
Use a wide roll hem (approx 2″)at each end.
Sew long edges to lock pellon in place.
Baste layers together and use walking foot to quilt the insulated surface.

For straps:

Cut two pieces of fabric 13.25 x 6.25.
Hem the short ends.
Sew the long seams inside out.
Pull them through to be right side out.
Cut two pieces of fuzzy velcro 2″ x 5″.
Straddle the seam with the velcro and sew in place.
Fold the opposite end of each strap and sew together.
Use reinforcement stiches to attach the straps to the hems of the apron.

Aug 162012

Ergonomic Grabber on Chair

I always keep an ergonomic grabber on my chair. (Attached with Velcro.)

Anyone who has trouble bending over, reaching down, grasping or pinching has probably found the need for a reacher/grabber. But most grabbers require you to have finger strength in order to operate them. That’s something I don’t have, nor do many others who suffer from inclusion body myositis or other disabling conditions. The best solution I have found is the tool called an ergonomic grabber. The difference is that it doesn’t require strong fingers to operate. As long as you’re able to squeeze a bit with the base of your thumb and the inside of your palm, you can operate it. I keep one of the smaller ones attached to my wheelchair with Velcro. I keep longer ones stashed around my room so that I always have one available when I drop something. They come at least three lengths that I know of. The link below is for the longest one but they are also available in 24 inch and 18 inch versions.

Jul 122012

Spray cans are very frustrating for those of us with weak fingers. Mine have gotten to the point where i needed two hands — one to hold the can, the other to push on the button with my thumb! Try painting that way, or spraying oil into a skillet, spray starch onto a shirt, or lysol onto a countertop. Then I discovered the device shown here. It works for me, and that’s really saying something! I bought mine on Amazon. In fact, I buy almost everything there. Saves time, saves money, and I can’t drive to the store anyway.

Mar 112012

With an appropriate mobile arm support, I hope to some day return to creating art such as Quiet Harbor now part of the Muscular Dystrophy Association Art Collection.

Since I was diagnosed with Inclusion Body Myositis (IBM) 16 years ago, I have been stubbornly maintaining my independence. I have made use of every technical aid that I could find, beginning with canes and walkers and scooters and ultimately graduating to wheelchairs and hospital beds and overhead ceiling lifts. I started with a swing away lift in the back of van to take my scooter with me wherever I went, then bought a van with a ramp and a transfer seat, and ultimately moved to a van with an ez-lok system in the driver’s position. All these were steps to allow me to independently get around. I adapted my bathroom and my kitchen so that I can could continue to cook et cetera. I adapted my studio, even my workbench in the garage. I designed and sewed special shoes, pants, and leggings. No matter what, this disease was not going to get the better of me.

Today I am reluctantly admitting that this is one battle that ultimately I could not win. IBM is too progressive, too relentless, too untreatable. The final straw came when my right shoulder and arm became so weak that I could no longer raise my arm much above my waist. This meant that it was no longer safe for me to drive. It also meant that I could no longer chop vegetables or stir a skillet. It meant that I could no longer hold a paintbrush and create art. And worst of all, it meant that I was no longer an appropriate caregiver for my wife, whose own battle with Myotonic Muscular Dystrophy was not going well.

The first thing I did was have my van converted once again, only this time in the opposite direction. I had the passenger seat moved over into the driver’s seat position and put the ez-lok on the passenger side. This meant that I could pull into the van and lock myself in on the passenger side — provided I had found a willing driver to take me where I needed to go. Fortunately, my friends and family and neighbor have pitched in and I still have been able to get around when absolutely necessary. Perhaps more importantly, my wife, who also can’t drive and who has more medical challenges than I, could get to her various doctor appointments. When drivers aren’t available we are able to get to appointments using the accessible bus transportation called MTS access. It gets the job done, but it is certainly not a convenience. I plan an article on the general subject of bus transportation (and lack there of) soon.

But the really big change I have made is to hire caregivers for the two of us morning and night. The loss of arm strength meant that I was at great risk of being stranded when trying to use my ceiling lift to get into or out of bed or onto and off the toilet. After several close calls and more than a few minutes of hanging suspended in a very painful and awkward position, I realized I simply couldn’t go it alone anymore. It is an expensive adaptation and one that we will not be able to afford indefinitely. But for now it is getting us through each day. In future articles I will talk more about the good points of having caregivers.

I am also searching for a “mobile arm support.” The right one might restore some of the functions of my right hand and could possibly let me try to paint again.

Mar 162011

Preparing Work Apron for washing

When my Work Table apron gets dirty, I just remove the masonite panel and throw the cloth portion in the wash.

I first took up sewing to fill my need for a special type of “apron/worktable” that would be helpful and safe to wear when in my power wheelchair. I demonstrate three of them and explain their fabrication in the video below. It is the first in a new Life! disabled Video Series. Future videos will demonstrate topics such as using overhead lift systems to remain independent, driving with hand controls, and using GarageBand on the Apple iPad to create music.

Dec 222010

Rainbow north of our Rancho Bernardo home.

Rainbow north of our Rancho Bernardo home.

The New Year is often a time for reflection and introspection. So in 2010 I took this opportunity to review the highlights (ho ho) of my journey with inclusion body myositis, along with my wife’s struggle with myotonic dystrophy. This is my second annual update. Sadly, my wife’s struggle ended October 11, 2012.

1985-1995 (pre-diagnosis) stumbling while jogging, golf club flying out of hands, difficulty rising with backpack, jogging speed declining

1996 – diagnosed at UCSD Medical Center

1997 – started using walking sticks to help avoid falls

1998 – purchased scooter with elevating seat for distances more than 100 yards

purchased van with lift in rear for taking scooter along

1999 – fitted for full leg braces (KAFO) and forearm crutches

purchased Jazzy wheelchair with elevating seat

had condo modified with ramps at curb, entrances, sunken living room

replaced roman tub with roll-in shower, added roll-up counter in kitchen

bought fiberglass portable rampp

2000 – purchased raised toilet seat

purchased hand controls for van

retired on disability

gave up piano, golf, tennis, took up watercolor

2001 – became coordinator for paint out group of San Diego Watercolor Society

2002 – became Membership Director of San Diego Watercolor Society

2004 – became International Exhibition Director of San Diego Watercolor Society

purchased van with ramp and transfer seat

2005 – purchased Pride lift chair

became Technology Director of San Diego Watercolor Society

began making hooks and dressing sticks

purchased grabbers (six)

Beth erroneously diagnosed with ALS by local Centre for Healthcare neurologist

(two months later) Beth correctly diagnosed with myotonic muscular dystrophy by MDA neurologist

acquired Permobil C500 (Medicare) for Mike

purchased Jazzy 1103 wheelchair for Beth

2006 – purchased Biobidet

became President San Diego Watercolor Society

purchased single story home in Rancho Bernardo (San Dego)

added 200 feet of outside sidewalks for wheelchair access to yard

added ADA bathroom (elevated toilet with bidet, low-lip shower, roll-under sink, room for wheelchair)

acquired hospital bed (Medicare)

2007 – began using shelf liners to lift legs

began purchasing wheelchair pants from USA Jeans

2008 – purchased ceiling lifts for bedroom and bathroom

2009 – purchased rechargeable wine opener

2010 – purchased iPad for drawing, games, voice recognition, etc.

purchased automatic can opener, jar opener

purchased computerized sewing machine (no foot pedal)

made belly bag, art apron, cooking apron, robe, work table, sliding pad

2011 – Lost ability to make horizontal transfers and began using overhead Waverly Glen lift.

Sewed pants that velcroed around me after being lowered onto them.

Hired part time caregiver for showers ( no longer safe to do on my own).

Lost ability to drive, began relying on the bus.

Hired second caregiver and greatly expanded their hours to daily as Beth also needed help.

2012 – Beth began hallucinating.

Moved both of us to assisted living and put home up for rent.

Beth died of respiratory failure due to myotonic muscular dystrophy.

Lost most strength in arms, began using mobile arm support.