Don’s squirrelly problems of astigmatic myopia and hyperhidrosis

We know much more today about children’s special needs than we did in the fifties and sixties. Serena had an overactive bladder but she also has shared with me that she was flat chested [http://www.breastaugmentation.com/index.php] [http://www.breastcreation.com] while at Reinhardt; I had my own goddamned problems. When I was on the Reinhardt Rams championship football team, at the final game of the season--we were at the Spruce High School field at night and the stadium lights shone on the faces of my friends and their parents packing the stands--I had a problem whenever I was on the field. I couldn’t see anything. Whenever Mr. Gerber called me in to play, I handed him my horn rimmed glasses, which he put in his pocket, and headed off toward a fuzzy set of figures out on the field. I couldn’t figure out why he decided to play me at offensive end. In the huddle, I frantically told quarterback Steve Green not to take the long pass option to me because I couldn’t see him in the backfield or a football flying toward me. I was a bit ashamed to say that to Steve in front of my nine other teamates but thought it was better for him to try to make a better play than to throw a ball at me, which might hit me in the head before I saw it. I was still able to play defense fairly well and was proud that Mr. Gerber had put me, playing right defensive end, up against the biggest boy any seventh grade had ever had for a player. I must have been about 5’4” and weighed 80 pounds. He was 6’2’’ and weighed 200. After the game, my Dad reproved me with a comment, “Why didn’t you block and knock down that big boy you were supposed to be guarding.” We lost the game with a score of something like 36-0, and I felt bad that I allowed that big guy to rush past me so many times to knock poor old Steve to the ground. Oh, well, my athletic days were near ending anyway, due to delayed spurts of testosterone, another medical condition which I’m sure has a name and a treatment.

I’d like to think that if I were to relive my life today, Mr. Gerber and my Mom would figure out that I needed some sports glasses, contact lens, or something. Perhaps those didn’t even exist back in 1962.

My problems with hyperhidrosis (see http://www.sweatypalmsinfo.com/) began at about the same time. On our seventh grade State Fair Day, as I walked down the Midway holding hands with my date Alison Posey, I knew my hyperhidrosis was creeping up and so did she. At a certain point, I think we were near the Merry-Go-Round, she very politely but firmly grabbed my wrist, wiped my palm off on my shirt, and dutifully tried to make a dry start of things. My hyperhidrosis problem re-emerged during the first week of classes at Gaston. I found myself in the drafting class as homeroom and thought I would like to take drafting. Mr. Klapp was encouraging. But after a few days of seeing the small pools of sweat I was leaving on the drafting table, I prudently realized that drafting wasn’t for me, I would just make a mess of things, and told Mr. Klapp so much.

I’d like to think that if I were to relive my life today, Mr. Klapp and my Mom would figure out that I needed something, perhaps some antiperspirant or an endoscopic thoracic sympathectomy.

I really think my experience with Mr. Gerber at that football game was a pretty good life lesson, in that through my work career I have continuously had bosses lacking in the most basic common sense when it comes to marshaling and caring for their team members.