Ron Franke is a happy man.
Twenty-five years after getting MS, he still approaches each day
with an eager sense of what’s
possible.
Flashback to 1982, the
week before Christmas: Ron Franke, a 20-something geologist, hurriedly
dressed for a family function. All was well, until he couldn’t
find his dress shoes. Ignoring the frigid temperatures, Franke
rushed barefoot out to his car to fetch his shoes. After he dashed
back inside, his feet felt cold, and the bottoms were numb. Franke
thought that the chilly sidewalk had caused the numbness, but it
never got better.
After a month, Franke
started seeing doctors about the foot problem, but no one could
figure it out. Why would a healthy young outdoorsman like Franke
be having such symptoms? Franke began to worry; what could it be?
Finally, a St. Paul neurologist diagnosed Franke with multiple
sclerosis in April 1983. Franke remembers feeling totally relieved
that he wasn’t dying.
Franke compares his
MS progression to a glacier, slow but steady. “The
next 13 years were a struggle, but I lived a relatively normal life,” says
Franke. He started using a cane in 1986, then a walker in 1991. Walking
got more difficult, so Franke took his last step in 1995. He recalls
initially feeling fear and loss; his mountain climbing days were
over.
Franke remembers the
1990s as his most difficult time. He experienced pneumonia, surgery,
and hospitalization. “At the same time, I
was going through my divorce for three years,” he recollects.
In 1995 Franke retired
and began receiving SSDI payments. Unfortunately, he didn’t have any health insurance from 1995 to 1997. “I
had to be creative with my healthcare,” recalls Franke with
a smile. When he saw his neurologist, he would ask what samples she
had in her drawer. She generally gave him whatever MS medications
she had on hand.
In 2000 Franke struggled
with his skin breaking down, followed by a third degree wound the
size of a fist. He spent another 55 weeks in the hospital and nursing
home. Franke’s definition of a nursing
home is “the prison with no bars.”
Franke recalls one particularly
dehumanizin experience in the nursing home: An aide came up to
assist Franke. Rather than ask him what he needed, the aide questioned
the staff member standing next to the hospital bed. Franke didn’t appreciate being treated as though he couldn’t
think or communicate. He likes using humor to cope with his challenges,
so he told the aide: “Feel free to ask me anything, my hearing
is perfect.”
Franke just wanted to
go home. “Luckily I hooked up with AXIS
Healthcare,” he said. The health management organization arranged
his bed repairs at home, and then helped him move back to his Hopkins
condo.
Today, Franke’s home is equipped with a variety of assistive
technology. For instance, he uses a headset device to control his TV
and telephone. Franke enjoys calling people on their birthday to sing
his off key rendition of Happy Birthday. When he called his friend
Karen Jensen, he made her day. “He’s one of my favorite
people,” she says.
Franke also receives
personal care assistance. Due to his upbeat attitude, Franke’s PCAs love to work with him. Franke’s
PCA Becky often stops by during her free time, because she enjoys
spending time with Franke.
Hanging out at home
with family and friends is Franke’s favorite
activity, because he is a “people person.” When asked how
he is doing, he usually replies, “Wonderful.”
In closing, here are
Franke’s words to the wise:
Just like the ocean
waves continually pound the shoreline into sand, so did the waves
of MS pound away at my mobility. But just like the waves could
never catch the wind, the waves of MS could not catch my attitude.
Even though my legs and arms don’t work anymore,
I wake up every morning with a smile. I have a great deal to be thankful
for. I am a happy man. I am a lucky man. Rather than reminisce
about times gone by or dwell on my lost abilities, I choose to revel
in my new life and all that I have. ![]()
