Heading to the Slammer - Because We're Not All Doctors

                Last Thursday, my son gave me a simple, yet powerful, reminder of why raising money for the Muscular Dystrophy Association is important for me to do.  Naturally, Joey did it in his blunt, funny, innocent three-year-old kind of way, but he really got me thinking and further inspired me to try to help the folks that the MDA serves in the limited ways that I can. 

Though I was participating in MDA’s Executive Lock-Up three years before he was born, having Joey in my life added a lot of inspiration and perspective to this activity each summer.  From rolling over to crawling to walking and now being all over the place in a split second, I have witnessed my son’s mobility enhance at many levels over 3-and-a-half years.  As each Lock-Up came around after his birth, that got me thinking more seriously about the fact that many individuals served by the MDA either didn’t make it to the levels that Joey has or their physical abilities declined at some point in life.  That’s a problem that must be addressed.  That is also why I admire the fact that the MDA funds and facilitates BOTH research for treatment and prevention AND resources and activities that help patients of muscle disease do as much as possible in spite of physical limitations.  They address all sides of the challenge.  However, beyond that added inspiration to see others able to be as active as Joey, he has added his own personal brand of philosophy to the mission.

While most of the donations that we “jailbirds” receive is through a Lock-Up bail-raising website, we also take cash and checks directly.  When I receive donations that way, I try to deliver them to the Nashville MDA office as soon as I can.  Over the last two years, I’ve taken Joey there with me on a few occasions, and he has always been a big hit (of course!).  The last time I was there, my “parole officer,” Rachael, insisted that I bring Joey the next time I visit.  Ask and she shall receive!  (The local MDA office is also located between our home and Joey’s daycare.)  When Joey and I left our home last Thursday morning, I told him that we were going to visit some of our friends.  He asked me who it was, and I told him that we needed to take some money to Miss Rachael and that she was looking forward to seeing him because she hadn’t in a few months.  We got in the car, turned on an Elvis CD, and started driving toward Brentwood.  With a Joey-style series of questions, he got me thinking a bit deeper about my forthcoming “time behind bars.”

Joey:  Where are we going, Daddy?”

Me:  We’re going to see Miss Rachael at the MDA office.

Joey:  What’s a MDA office?

Me:  (pausing and thinking of how to explain this in 3-year-old terms) Well, the MDA helps people who are sick with diseases that cause them to have trouble walking or moving around like you and me.  It’s a disease called muscular dystrophy.

Joey:  Oh….  But I’m not sick.

Me:  No, you and I don’t have muscular dystrophy.  But some people do, and it makes some things tough for them.  The MDA helps those people go to the doctors they need and get the equipment that helps them move around and play.  But, all of that costs money, and we try to raise money each year to help them pay for all of that.  Today, we’re taking some of that money to Miss Rachael.

Joey:  Oh, ok.  That’s good!

                Knowing that I had probably gone too far and gotten a little too deep, I waited for the inevitable follow-up question or simply a whole new topic.  Joey didn’t say anything for a couple of minutes, but soon picked up where he left off as we were about to turn into the parking lot.

                Joey:  Is Miss Rachael a doctor?

                Me:  No, Miss Rachael isn’t a doctor.

                Joey:  (emphatically) Why?

                Me:  (laughing) I don’t know.  Am I a doctor?

                Joey:  No.

                Me:  Well, why not?

                Joey:  Because you’re not.

                Me:  Ok, well, Miss Rachael isn’t a doctor either.

                Joey:  But, why?

                Me:  I’m not sure, son.  But you should ask her when we go inside.

                Joey:  Ok.  I will.

                When we entered the office, the MDA Nashville staff was hard at work preparing for some of their many summer activities.  Everyone stopped to chat with Joey, and I turned over the donation we had come to deliver.  Though talkative in the car, Joey switched to his slightly shy mode inside amongst the group.  Rachael charmed a few lines out of him with her enviable energy and positive personality, but Joey never came out with “the question” of the day.  After a few minutes, I asked “Joey, weren’t you going to ask Miss Rachael something?”  He wouldn’t budge.  I tried a little more, but finally told her myself that Joey had asked if she was a doctor and then asked why not when I told him that she was not.  Rachael knelt down in front of him with a smile and said, “Well, I guess I’m a doctor of fundraising!”  Joey didn’t ask what that means and didn’t immediately start comparing types of doctors, but he seemed to like her answer.

                As we drove away a few minutes later, I simply followed everything up by saying, “So, I guess Miss Rachael is a kind of doctor, isn’t she?”  To which Joey just replied, “Yeah, she is.  I like the MDA office.”  I told him that I do too and that we would be back there before long.  Joey is in a phase now where he knows when we are close to a place with which he is familiar, and he wants me to be sure to pass by it or point it out to him.  Twice already since that visit, he has made sure that I show him when we pass the Nashville MDA office.  After church on Sunday, just before reaching that section of Old Hickory Boulevard, he pointed to four different buildings and asked, “Is that the MDA office?”  When I finally pointed out the real thing as we passed it, I heard a loud “Yay!” 

                Maybe Joey will be helping the Muscular Dystrophy Association in some direct capacity someday.  Until then, he helps my small efforts a lot.  In this case, he reminded me that, as much as I would like to cure neuromuscular disease – I can’t.  But, just because we’re not all doctors or scientists, we can all find our ways of helping.  For the last seven years, mine has been to raise a few dollars to fuel the efforts and fund the people who, I believe, will one day end this plague.  So, if Joey ever asks why we jailbirds raise money, I can simply say, “Because we’re not all doctors.”  Whether you are a doctor or not, I hope you will join us.