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| St. Therese of Lisieux The Little Flower public domain |
IT MAKES SENSE TO ME
By Larry Peterson
For
those who believe in God, no explanation is necessary,
For
those who do not believe, no explanation is possible.
St. Thomas Aquinas
Loretta was my high
school sweetheart and we began “dating” when we were about 15. Several years
later, after both my parents had passed, and even though I now had three
younger brothers to care for, she stood by me.
Her family, especially her mom,
was somewhat horrified at the thought of her daughter getting involved
with a young guy with all the “extras” and tried her best to stop her from
marrying me.
However, she stood by my side, we got married, and
came home from our honeymoon with only two of my brothers waiting for us. The
youngest, Johnny, had moved in with my sister and her new husband, Bob. Everything, although not traditional, was
okay. We had stayed together as a family, and we had a home.
I had been sponsored into
the Lather’s and Reinforcing Iron Workers Union, one of the best building
trades unions in New York City. By the time I was 22 I had finished my
apprenticeship and was earning journeyman wages. Loretta and I got married when
we were both 23 and moved to New Jersey from the Bronx. My brothers were both
in high school, one a senior and the other a freshman, and besides feeling
totally out of place at parent’s/teacher’s conferences, all was okay.
A few years passed by and
I started to stumble a bit and lose my balance. Sometimes I appeared to have
been drinking. Then I experienced what is known as a ‘foot drop.” My left foot
was flopping around as I walked. It was like it was not mine. I remember it so
well; as I walked the foot would go “splat-splat splat” with every step I made.
It was like it belonged somewhere else, not at the end of my leg.
I was admitted to the
Neurological Insitute at Columbia Presbyterian Hospital in NYC. After five days
undergoing various neurological tests including a myelogram,
it was determined that I “probably” had Multiple Sclerosis. My doctor informed
me that it would gradually get worse but
was very unpredictable and it could go into remission. At that time, it
was impossible to give a precise course for the illness.
I could no longer work in
the construction industry but was still getting around okay. Physical therapy
had helped me to get some of my foot function back and I could walk with a limp
and drag the foot instead of having it go “splat-splat.” So I bought a used van
and started a small package delivery service.
I managed to make ends
meet for a while and then the illness reared its ugly head and the exacerbation
was quick. I could barely stand and
before I knew it I was using Canadian Quad canes for support to get around. My
doctor recommended we move to Florida. The rationale was simple; no ice, no snow,
and it would be much easier to walk around with crutches.
Loretta’s maid of honor
and best friend, Angie, had moved to Florida several years earlier. She was
encouraging us to move there. My brothers were young men and now on their own. Danny,
had gotten married and Bobby was working as a trucker. It was just Loretta and
I and the kids. We sold our small house and headed south.
Angie updated us about
the area and the schools and helped us find a place. I actually managed to
start making some money writing resumes, but I was getting worse and my new
neurologist told us I would be blind, incontinent, and in a wheelchair within a
year or two.
It was Christmas of
1980, we had three small kids, no money,
and things were looking bleak. I had received medical assistance from County
Social Services, food stamps, and prescriptions (Billy, age seven, was
asthmatic and needed inhalers and a few other things which I cannot remember.
Loretta was diabetic and needed some meds to help her keep her blood sugar at
acceptable levels. The insulin would come a few years later. And that is how it
was. Enter The Little Flower.
Thursday, January 8,
1981, was Loretta’s birthday. I had
taken the boys to school and on the way home picked up Egg McMufins at
McDonald’s. Loretta loved those, and it was her birthday. Mary was only three,
and I know I got her something; what, it was, I can’t remember.
When I walked back into
our apartment my dear wife was standing there next to the dining room table.
She had her arms outstretched and was smiling ear to ear. I was quickly trying
to process whatever was happening. “Well,” she says, “What do you
think?”
I said nothing but on the
table were all these birthday cards, all opened and standing next to each other
forming a semi-circle. She pointed to the cards and said, (I remember the words
as if it was yesterday:“Today is my birthday, and I got the only present I
wanted.”
“Please, tell me what is going on? What am I missing
here?”
She raises her voice and
says, “Look at the cards, look at the cards. Every single one is covered
with roses. I prayed a novena to St. Therese that you would get better and just
look. I don’t even know half the people who sent these. But every card has roses
on it. You are going to be fine. St. Therese just told us. You will be fine.”
There was no instant cure
but that very day I tossed my Canadian Quads and began using a regular cane. I
started going to Easter Seals for rehab and after three months I was doing a
lot better than expected. In due time I tossed the cane too. If you saw me
today you would never know I had MS. My urologist who treated my prostate
cancer and is a great doctor tells me, “I think they made a mistake. I don’t
believe you had MS. Most of my friends have no clue either, just some old
ones from way back when.
On September 6, 1978, while still living in New Jersey, our fourth child was
stillborn during Loretta’s sixth month. She was a girl and we had named her Therese. Isn't that something.
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