I have a chronic bacterial sinus infection and the harwking noses I am making remind me of one of my best friends. My constant whining about it does not remind me of Mark. In fact it makes me feel a bit ashamed.
The last thing that should be funny is Cystic Fibrosis. If anyone could dig humor out of this ravaging disease it would be my friend Mark.
 Image via Wikipedia |
| An example of a breathing treatment for a younger |
| Cystic fibrosis patient. Not Mark. |
Mark and I met on my first day of college in 1977. He is the friend I have known the longest; his wife, Pam is the friend I have known the second longest. He is a guy I could always count on. Never a complaint, no whining just daily good attitude. He lives on the left coast now—and lives is the exciting part of that. When Mark was 13, after about 13 years of what we called "sickly" he and his sister were both diagnosed. He has always taken whatever therapy was on offer very seriously. Granted, he has had many non-vital organs removed and no longer risks contact and the stress of a full time job. He is the only person for whom my dad would cease smoking his cigars.
Maybe it was my incredible hotness that started our friendship but an understanding of a bad nasty disease in my family helped me understand his life and I think helped bind our friendship.
The most important non-drug therapy for Mark is postural drainage with some sort of percussive assistance. Over the years this has one from cupped palms to bouncy massage balls on extension to something that looks like an electric drill I try for a similar loosening with the back of my sonicare. While it is remarkable that he is defying odds everyday, this is not about that, although that is something that makes me wicked happy. Even though we rarely see each other, when we do it is as if no time has passed.
Mark and Pam have always had birds, some that talk. As we have all learned birds learn to mimic sounds through repetition. Well, when their house was being worked on, Mark had to bring the bird to their upstairs where he does his therapy. The bird was very upset either about the work men in the house or by the pounding Mark inflicts upon himself.
A few months after the work was done we were visiting them at their new house. The bird lives in their office and the guest room is next door. I knew Mark was upstairs doing therapy because it is loud. But I was very surprised to hear what sounded like Mark doing his therapy coming from the office:
"Hawrk, pound pound, it's alright, it's okay", as a slightly of time echo to what was going on upstairs, but with that weird bird voice tone. Apparently during the time Mark had the bird with him while he did therapy the bird picked up all the sounds of the entire routine plus Mark's reassuring. I wish I had filmed it for Animal Planet. Six years later I still find myself chuckling.
It is classical comedy ripped from adversity Mark has spent his entire life outwitting. At the time they met, Pam was a respiratory unit nurse which he has always said was a big part of his survival. I think his attitude of enjoying life to its fullest has made a huge difference and made him the delight he is.
I don't think he reads my blog since he isn't big on the paranormal but can we ever tell our friends too often how much we appreciate them? Love you buddy.
