Chapter 8

     CHAPTER 8
     DIAGNOSIS

Some folks will tell you that God works in mysterious ways. I can speak from experience that He works in greater ways than most people could ever imagine. I didn’t know it at the time of my last layoff, but I believe he worked in a great way with my work situation, Not yet realizing that I had worked my last job in environmental services, I was expecting to be called back when things improved. What I had not known was that our regional office would be shuttered. It didn’t matter; I believe that God led me in an entirely different direction.

     It couldn’t have come at a better time. Once again, God knew what my needs were, but doesn’t He always? I didn’t see it coming, but He knew I would no longer be able to do the physical work that I did for years. I didn’t know it then, but it would become clear soon enough.

     Heading out to the store one evening, I crossed paths with someone I had not seen in years. I met an old acquaintance named Jack walking on Shunk Street one Sunday evening. We talked about the usual things that you do when you haven’t seen each other in a while. Fortunately, the conversation quickly swayed to things other than the weather. Jack asked about my current work situation. Mentioning being laid off opened a door to an opportunity that I had not known existed. Jack asked if I ever heard of the Advanced Industrial Council. When I told him that I hadn’t, he provided me with the details about the program and told me about the difficulties of being accepted. “It won’t be easy getting in”, he said, “but it’ll work for you.” He continued with the details. “When you go to the unemployment office, tell them that you want to take part in AIC’s job retraining program,” he said. “They’ll tell you that there’s no such program available. Don’t believe them and insist that they enroll you and train you in a new line of work.”

     After a long but helpful conversation, I thanked Jack for the advice and we parted company. It was great running into him after so many years and I wasn’t going to waste an opportunity. On my next visit to the unemployment office, I found that he was spot-on about everything he told me. The person that I spoke with repeatedly denied the program existed. When I pressed the security guard/receptionist, he replied, “Besides, the lady who can register you for that is only here one day each week.” Keep talking long enough and you’ll get results. I continued to badger him and right there I had caught him lying. I jumped on the opportunity to be enrolled in the program. When I asked which day registration was, he told me that the lady would be there on Thursdays.” Okay, schedule me an appointment with her.” I needed to work and wanted to take part in any programs available. Hey, I’ve paid my taxes, and the program was partly funded by the state. After arguing a bit more, he reluctantly set up the appointment. It was a new break, but it was also a blessing and one that helped with changes still unknown to me.

     I met with the woman who headed up registrations soon after. She questioned me to establish what type of training I was seeking. I told her that I was interested in working with computers. I had only used one once when our associate pastor John demonstrated how the one at the church worked. He showed me a few basic things. The computer was primitive by today’s standards: there was no Internet connection, no CD-ROM,  and none of the advances we know now and back when floppy disks ruled in portable digital storage. Still, between what I saw from a demo and from reading lots about them, I knew that I wanted to get in on this for my future career and that I wanted to work with them on the technical side.

     Those were big aims for someone who only witnessed a demonstration. I was convinced that I could do it, being more confident than I’d been about most things in the past. I never mentioned a lack of formal training or understanding of PCs, but I’m sure she understood that from my work history.

     As the interview concluded, I was scheduled to take the required test for entry into the program. With the exam, they provided a list of available training programs. Not one of them was for technical training. The only thing that had to do with computers was Microsoft Office training for clerical use. They provided the training to use a computer to write letters and documents and create spreadsheets and databases, but not how to service them. I didn’t care. I checked the box for that program, along with another course for a secondary program in case no seats were available. I can’t remember what that option was; only that I knew what I wanted to do.

     After finishing the exam, they sent us home with directions to come back the next week. Upon returning, I met with someone who would tell me how I scored and if I qualified to go further in the program. She was a nice woman, very pleasant at the start. Once she got through her greeting though, she became blunt, saying something like, “Mr. Bennett, from the score of the exam, it appears that you did well enough.” That was encouraging, but then came the letdown. “Reviewing some of your answers shows us that you don’t have the aptitude for this class.”

     What? I was blown away! Didn’t have the aptitude? That seemed like a cold shot. After telling me that I appeared to do well on the exam (what did “appeared to" mean?), the rest made little sense. Even more stunning, she continued. “We feel that you would do well as a police officer or dancer.” I was tempted to laugh, but I was too stunned. Was this woman out of her element? She had to be if she thought that I could be a dancer. If that woman had looked at my physique, she would see that I in no way had the body for it. I may have gotten stronger, but I was closing in on two-hundred-fifty pounds at that time. Plus, I had no interest in dancing. I couldn’t see that as a way of earning a living, not for me, anyway.

     The other option wasn’t a viable one either. There was no way I was going to become a police officer. That was something I had promised Patty sometime earlier when I took the firefighter exam. She soured on that profession when her sister married a cop and the job had changed him in ways that negatively impacted their relationship. Although she didn’t want me to be a firefighter, Patty said that she wouldn’t be opposed to me going for it. The fact that I applied for the fire department was a remarkable change from my youth. I was terrified of fire as a child. By the time I applied, I had become fascinated by firefighting and fire science. But the police department was different. We were engaged at the time that I made my promise to her. She told me that if I wanted to be an officer, I would have to choose between her or the department. The engagement would end if I went the other way. It didn’t matter and there was no need to discuss it; I wasn’t interested in law enforcement. I have full respect for police officers and this was nothing against them or the department. It just wasn’t my thing.

     Knowing her suggestions were going nowhere, I argued with the woman, insisting that I knew that I would do well because I would work hard and put those things I learned to use. I wasn’t going to waste the opportunity if it came my way. She asked, “Tell me, what do you remember about the exam?” I told her that a number of the questions were repetitious, and asked in a way as to see if the person taking it would give the same or different answers. “Oh, you noticed that!” she exclaimed. It was difficult not to see it. That one thing seemed enough to cause her to give in and allow my enrollment in the class. Alright, I was in! Well, almost.

     Once she had signed off on my placement, a man came to speak with me and said that I didn’t want to take that training course. I insisted that I did. “But Mr. Bennett, you’ll be the only male in the entire class. Everyone else registered is female.” So what? I didn’t care. I explained to him that I was there to learn new job skills, not to socialize. I think he saw that I was serious about starting fresh. He relented and agreed to place me into that program.

     Things went well from the start of training. And sure enough, I was the only male member in the entire class of twelve students. It didn’t faze me. Our instructor Fran was excellent in instructing when she had to. Most of what we learned was from a binder of self-paced guides. She jumped in to assist when someone was stuck or had questions than she did standing before the class to teach. Fran did give a detailed explanation of each software application before we started.

     We were given a set time to complete each module. We opened with training in Windows 3.1 and learned what an operating system was. From there, it was on to Word, Excel, PowerPoint, and finally, Access for databases. I was ahead of schedule, completing each module ahead of time.

     When some were ahead and had time to spare, struggling classmates would ask them for help. What I didn’t expect was other trainees frequently stopping by my workstation for help. I was glad to lend a hand, it helped me gain even more experience. Fran never declined to help her students, but she allowed us to work together as a way to encourage us.

     A new physical problem came while I was retraining. Now there was intense pain constantly plaguing my neck: the cervical spine. More MRIs were ordered, and this time the doctor provided an answer. Four herniated disks were pressing against my spinal cord. I was surprised that they weren’t found previously, being that other scans included that area. Now a neurosurgeon would be consulted. During my first visit, Dr. Flaherty gave me a quick steroid injection in my lower neck, and it did provide some relief. He must have been old-school. Every spinal injection that I had afterward from other doctors was done with an x-ray fluoroscopy for guidance and with anesthesia. Dr. Flaherty just plunged the syringe in and injected the steroid. There was no damage and slight discomfort. It would be hard for me to argue about his techniques. Another doctor used all the precautions and left me in greater pain later. It seemed that old-school had its advantages.

     With that much damage to the spine, going back to heavy lifting and physical work wasn’t an option. Carrying big loads had been part of my everyday routine. Rolls of polyethylene sheeting, buckets of encapsulant, sheets of plywood, plus tools like chipping guns and jackhammers were all weighty and could put wear and tear on the body.  As the tool and supply room manager, it was my role to keep them on hand and deliver them to the proper site location. I also had to maintain tools and repair what I could when they weren’t under warranty. Signing out and fixing the smaller things was the easy part. It was the heavy lifting that took its toll on me. It was good for building strength until it did its damage. That damage required a change in employment. Now I was hoping to find myself working in a technical role instead of on a demolition site.

     When the program neared its end, Fran called me into her office to talk about the future. “What are you going to do when you leave here?” she asked. I said that I would look into what was available where I could apply what I had learned. The good thing was that I became proficient at using a computer, at least in a classroom. I didn’t get the technical training I hoped for, but I knew that going into this course. Fran said “You’re not going to be happy doing clerical work. Have you ever heard of a position called Help Desk?” I had not, but what she said had my attention. She explained that it was a position where customers or internal employees would call for assistance using software or for technical help. That seemed to be the perfect fit for me. The work sounded interesting, so I started seeking employment in this type of position, and only that type of employment without considering other possibilities.

     I was limiting myself, but it didn’t matter. Among the various newspaper ads, I found one for Software Support at Automated Catalogue Services, otherwise known as ACS. They provided an address and phone number with few details other than Technical Support, so I rushed my resume the next day. It wasn’t long before the call came for an interview. After meeting with the Director of Human Resources, I was then interviewed by two other younger ladies, managers from the Subscriber Services department. It was a positive interview, leaving me feeling somewhat confident as I headed home afterward.

     Rewinding the event in my mind, I wondered if my experience at the church had been a benefit. It provided much interaction with people, and this would be a customer-centered role. Things were looking upbeat; they asked if I was willing to come for a second interview with the director of Subscriber Services. I’d be foolish to say no. Putting my old skills to rest, I needed to get a new start somewhere using the new ones I recently gained. It was the first time I interviewed for a tech position, and though I was feeling good about it, I had to consider that it was my very first go at it and there were more experienced people applying too.

     When that day came for my next interview, the area was blanketed by a snowstorm with about eight inches on the ground. I had to drive the nearly twenty-five miles again to Wayne, PA. It was an area I was unfamiliar with and this would make it a bit more difficult. It would be easy to complain about that storm and reschedule for another date, but it may have worked to my advantage.

     I was out the door early that morning and arrived somewhat earlier than the director conducting the query. She appeared slightly late, perhaps anticipating the weather would keep me from making the trip. I figured that not coming would give the impression that I was unreliable. There were storms nearly every winter. So snow, rain, or impending doom, I had to go.

     It was a good decision. Robin, the department director, seemed surprised to find me sitting in her office waiting. That second interview went well, but she told me that she still had one candidate to consider before making her final decision. We often complain about when the storms come but praise God! Could he have used the snow coming at that time to give me an advantage that day?

     After not hearing anything for a couple of weeks, I called Human Resources and asked if a decision had been made on hiring for the position. I was asked to hang in there; the decision would be made soon. Sure enough, it came later that same week and I was the person offered the job. I would start working in February 1996.

     I felt it would be foolish not to see God’s hand at work through the whole process. Everything seemed to fall perfectly into place: from running into Jack on the street to my instructor nudging me toward that specific field. To add to it, I got the necessary training in clerical software and found employment closer to the position I was hoping for. I would be working in software support instead of with computer hardware, but that was fine with me. I was getting a fresh start where I had no previous experience. The training on office software was a bonus. I would be using it daily for reports, documentation, and other needs, and knowing it well added to my learned skills, but were not yet tried in the workplace. My opportunity had come.

     My new career started well as I became acquainted with my co-workers and with the tasks to be done. Everyone in our department worked individually with customers by phone, but we all worked together in finding solutions to their various problems. Those of us who provided support had the title of Catalogue Specialist (the company using the alternate spelling for catalog).  Before the Internet became the modern way of doing things, the discs our company produced replaced the paper catalogs that users would browse through individually. There were trade catalogs available on CD-ROM for just about any type of service imaginable: commercial kitchens, welding equipment, electrical and plumbing supplies, and truck parts: the possibilities were endless. The discs were produced for various trade groups. In time, the goal was to produce specialty catalogs for specific businesses.

     Our company also produced and provided support for a program that allowed builders of restaurants and hotel kitchens to put together quotes on the equipment to be included in building the kitchen. This was a very detailed program that it seemed no one enjoyed providing support for, yet it was so complex that you felt satisfaction when you helped resolve an obstacle that seemed almost impossible. We escalated difficult problems to second-level support when we couldn’t provide an answer, but we tried our best to solve those challenges before moving them up. We all worked well together, and it made going to work a pure pleasure.

     One of the support specialists named Tom was working the evening shift during my first week. He told me: “When you come back tomorrow, your computer will be set up with everything you’ll need.” I thanked him, not expecting anything unusual. When I returned the next morning, my computer desktop was a sight to behold. The usual software icons were replaced with marijuana leaves, dancing bears, a skull and roses, and other unusual psychedelic symbols. Tom was a Deadhead, a devotee of the Grateful Dead rock band. His efforts caused me to shake my head and chuckle. How could I complain? He meant well and did have my PC ready for anything I would be required to do. I showed my appreciation and faced the new day. As time went by, I changed most of the icons back to those that were more appropriate, leaving a few for nostalgia. Would anyone seeing them have me confused with one of Jerry’s Kids –that’s Garcia, not Lewis? It was all in good fun and helpful to me in not spending time doing what Tom had already arranged.

     For two weeks, the introduction to my new career was a constant learning experience. Techniques, people, software, it was a lot to take in.  After that, it was time to get busy, thrown into the hunt group with the other specialists. Although each of us specialized in different catalogs, the software interface allowed us to provide service for any of the CD programs that Automated Catalogue sold by subscription. That made it easy for each specialist to help one another. Everyone there made for a good team.

      More neurological problems cropped up after a long wait, the first since starting the new job. We went through the same motions again, and it became frustrating not having answers. After various office visits and tests without a diagnosis, I was surprised to get some news when I went to see Dr. Stevens for another follow-up.

     “I think I can tell you now that we know what we’re looking at”, he said. “After many MRIs and other tests, I should tell you that it appears you have Multiple Sclerosis.” I must have had an alarmed look on my face, as he quickly reacted to soften the blow that came with the news. “But I should also tell you that in neurology, we have what we call the Five-Year Rule regarding this disease. That rule says that MS should behave the same way throughout your life as it has in the first five years. This already makes four, and there’s still some testing to do before confirming a diagnosis. Let’s try to be positive about this.” So that’s what Patty and I did, at least as much as possible after being given potentially life-altering news. I hated the thought of more tests and knowing that so many people with MS were confined to a bed or a wheelchair did not play well on my mind. Then my neurologist qualified his remark, saying: “There are no guarantees”. Like many things in life, there are no guarantees to ensure things will go as you want. Worrying about what could go wrong was as valuable as flat tires on a getaway car. I can’t say that I never once thought about what might happen, but it was senseless to dwell on the “what ifs” in life, especially when those things are beyond your control.

     By then, I had been saved for almost eight years. I knew that Jesus didn’t give His life to save me and then leave me to face this alone. The potential diagnosis explained a lot of what had been happening over the past few years. Still, dwelling on this now without a firm confirmation would be a foolish thing to do. It would do me much wiser to remember what Jesus said in Matthew 6:34:

Take therefore no thought for the morrow: for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself. Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.

     Tomorrow would have to wait. Enough is going on today. Why be concerned about what the future holds? None of us is promised another day, let alone a long, happy life. All we can do is hope for those things and pray for His will. I know that God gives His Word to us in the Scriptures that when that day does come and our lives end here, those who believe will be home with Him forever. When that day comes, I’ll be home in glory. I look forward to that time, but I still need to live a Christian life while looking forward. We look ahead to that time when we’ll be absent from the body and present with the Lord. (2 Corinthians 5:8).

     It’s not worth dwelling on the potential behavior of this disease. This nice fall day in 1996 had other things ahead for me. I had everything I needed: a wonderful wife, the love of God, great friends, a doctor with a solid reputation, and a career that I love. What could go wrong?

     That’s a question you probably don’t want to ask. My answer would come several years later, but given the positives, “going wrong” is probably not the best description. At this present time, there was plenty to do without thoughts of a physical disaster getting in my way.

     Navigating the healthcare system was a daunting thing. Because my union plan was still in force, I was seeing a doctor at their clinic for my primary care. That insurance had to expire before I could be covered by the plan provided by my existing company. I was at home taking a personal day when the union physician called and said that comparisons of my scans indeed confirmed a diagnosis of Multiple Sclerosis.

     Thankfully, the call didn’t come while I was at the office. I held my emotions together at first, but I gave Patty the news when she came home and I became upset. Having a second doctor noting the disease was troubling, and the thoughts I had avoided previously had come to shake me. Patty was the voice of calm hope. She spoke up amid my dismay, saying: “I know the news is hard. It is for both of us, but don’t you believe the same God Who saved you can handle this?” It was an excellent question coming at the right time, and it brought me to my senses. Her words of faith and calmness kept my emotions in check and kept me from dwelling on what could happen later. I was foolish to let the what-ifs catch up with me. The Lord had control and my wife’s words hit like a soft hammer that knocked gentle sense into my mind. She was right, and that was all that I needed to know. I called Dr. Stevens that afternoon. He refused to concur with the diagnosis without having all possible tests completed.

     My actual diagnosis came a year later in October 1997. Yes, there were even more tests in between. Something new was added to the usual MRIs: a spinal fluid test. We know it as a spinal tap. It was an unusual experience, but it wasn’t nearly as painful as some people had led me to believe.

     Dr. Stevens sent me to see Dr. Flaherty once again up at the hospital. When I got there, the doctor started to re-arrange the office and had me sit facing the backrest of a high-backed chair with my arms wrapped around it. He had me re-adjust my position a few times and numbed the lumbar area where he would draw fluid. After injecting what he considered to be a sufficient dose of anesthetic, he started the procedure. I flinched as the needle started to penetrate. “Don’t move!”, Dr. Flaherty commanded. I had to tell him, “Not enough, doc! I’m not fully numb!” He injected some more anesthetic and went for it, this time successfully without pain.

     While he was arranging things, the surgeon explained that it was his first day in the new office. When he said that, a thought ran through my mind to call it off. But I trusted that he knew what he was doing and went through with it. Thankfully, all went well that day. He told me to go home and lay down flat for a day or two, or else I could have a raging headache due to a loss of spinal fluid in my brain. My sister-in-law Dottie drove us to the appointment and I laid down in the back seat of her car for the ride home. So much for seat belts. I called the office and told my manager Kristy about my situation, informing her I would need a day or two off. She told me to relax and that she would see me when I returned. I found it hard lying there for one day, not being able to sit up. When I got up the next morning and had no sign of a headache, I got ready and went back to work. It was a time when I was highly motivated and sitting around the house or lying in bed wasn’t useful to me. Looking back at it now, it was a foolish decision. If the nasty headache came on while driving, it could have led to tragic circumstances.

     The latest MRI and spinal fluid test confirmed what the doctors said earlier. Finally, I had a diagnosis. At that time, my doctor continued with a wait-and-see approach before starting treatment. That was the protocol in those days. Neurologists have since changed the way that they do things and now prescribe a disease-modifying therapy as soon as there is a confirmation of a diagnosis.

     At first, the only person I had told about the diagnosis was Pastor Hickernell, There was a reason for that. I did not want my mother to know that I had a chronic disease that was possibly disabling, especially MS. She worried so much about things that I didn’t want her to be weighed down with even more concerns. Patty disagreed and said I should tell her, but I wouldn’t and refused to consider it. I’m glad that I kept to that decision. Years later when the talk show host Montel Williams was diagnosed with the same disease, she spoke as if there was nothing but gloom and doom ahead for him. “That poor man! He has nothing but misery to look forward to now!” she said with pity toward him that seemed heartfelt. Trying to gauge her response, I told her that not everyone with the disease becomes disabled, and many lead productive lives. She wouldn’t hear it. Patty now understood why I didn’t want her to know.

     The pastor wanted to inform the church members of my diagnosis. I was hesitant, but he noted that one could pray for me effectively unless they knew what I was facing. I understood and gave him my okay to inform them. My mother didn’t know many from the church, but there were a few. He explained the situation to everyone, and thankfully, it was kept quiet.

    Except for doctor visits or tests, the disease didn’t have an impact on my work performance. I was grateful for that being I loved what I was doing. With a year behind me, it was time for my first annual review, and I was nervous. We never had them in the blue-collar work that I did earlier. When I met with Kristy, I was hoping to hear that I was doing well or to at least receive some helpful criticism.

    I had an awesome manager for starting in a new field. Kristy was easy to work for, but she seemed willing to stand her ground and not take any foolishness if so,eone were to challenge her. I had not seen anyone do that from my first year until nearly close to when she moved on, but you often get an idea of a person in the way they handle things.

     After stating the purpose of our review, Kristy explained how the company provided raises. “ACS gives from one to seven percent increase, depending on performance." After a brief hesitation, she continued, saying, "We're giving you ten." We’re giving you ten.” I was stunned! Coming from a background where I either had to badger the boss for a twenty-dollar-a-week raise or accept the same wage that everyone else received whether they did well or slacked off, this was the first concrete example to show that my efforts paid off. Before I could respond, she continued, saying, “We don’t want to lose you to competition somewhere and we hope this gives you the incentive to stay with us.” She also offered her thoughts on the things she felt  I could improve upon. One of those things was confidence. Kristy said that she and the others seemed to have more confidence in my abilities than I did in myself. I was glad she exposed that. Moving from what was sometimes grunt work to an office job, I did have some doubts that I was making the transition well. This was the type of work I hoped for, but wanting it and knowing I was doing it properly was quite different. Our review assured me that things were okay and it gave me the motivation to grow

     My first illustration of that I was came just a week prior when I introduced myself to Joe, one of our sales associates after an FQU class, a training program for our quoting software. “Ah, you’re the Brian that Tom’s been telling me about. He said you’ve been kicking some butt.” Again, I must have had an odd look on my face, as he gave me a surprised gaze and qualified his statement. “Hey, that’s a good thing”, he explained  Anyhow, my review lasted no more than a half-hour and helped me to realize I was achieving a good reputation. Why anyone would think that I would leave the company was a mystery to me. It may have been my first tech position, but I was enjoying the experience and things were going well. From those I worked with to the company culture, I was there to stay as long as there was potential for growth and a good work environment.

    As time passed, there would be changes, but I worked well with everyone and accepted them. They would always move me to stay sharp. They should have annual reviews in all fields, helping employees to know where they stand and what they could do better.

     I felt cautious to reveal my illness and told only a few colleagues as time passed on. They may have figured that something was up due to my repeated doctor appointments. Kristy was one of three that I confided in. She sought to be as assuring as anyone could. but who knows how someone will respond when hearing news like this? I remember her saying: “If you ever need it, we’ll make sure you have a spot right outside the office door.” Our department entrance had easy access for a wheelchair if it was required: a slight ramp and ample parking to ensure a spot close by. I appreciated that she was thinking about potential needs, but I wasn’t looking forward to a set of wheels to lift into my trunk and I did my best to keep that thought out of my mind’s reach.

     I confided in two other specialists who I found trustworthy through working together when they asked how I was feeling. Both of them said they would keep things private, and I believe that they kept their word. No one else there ever brought it up, and besides, I couldn’t feel comfortable coming out to anyone with, “hey, I got this incurable disease.” I wasn’t seeking anyone’s sympathy, and not being disrespectful, but it couldn’t be helpful if I was going to stay focused on the things that mattered most. I felt that it was best to give support to customers and exchange it with fellow employees, to grow personally, and not let my health get in the way. That was the way I wanted it, but what I expected to do and what happened were things that weren’t under my control.