5. Another Boss Demands Answers

If I had been 19 years old – instead of 49 – my new one bedroom apartment in Dallas might have thrilled me. It did not, but I had little time to dwell on that. I had accepted a position offered by a former employer who had become a life-long friend. My job was to solicit customers for oil and gas deals, through telephone cold calls. I found that I was fearless on the phone and very good at what I was hired to do – but the company I worked for was getting licensed as a broker-dealer and I was told that I must be licensed, too.

I studied for a week and passed the Series 63 exam. I studied for another week but failed the Series 22 test, which meant I had to wait a month to take it again. I was focused on studying when, one day, my boss / friend said, “I want you to get that damn arm looked at! When we all walk down the hall we swing both of our arms, but your right arm just hangs there!” I had previously explained that I had crushed the ulnar nerve, and that nothing could be done about it, but he insisted, saying “I just know there is something they can do to fix that.”

Wanting to believe he was right, I scheduled an appointment with his doctor, who referred me to a neurologist.

The neurologist performed nerve conduction tests on my arm and concluded that my nerves were just fine. I sighed with relief just before he said, “But I’m pretty sure you’ve had some sort of Brain Event.”

His words rang in my ears like a fire alarm! And then he added, “I want to schedule an MRI. This could even be ALS – Lou Gherig’s disease. We need to rule that out.” “Yeah. Let’s do that,” I thought, but couldn’t speak..

And so I showed up for the MRI. They ran me through the tube. Not fun. Real noisy. I was all alone – and I hated that most of all – until it was time to run the test again, this time with dye, …Apparently, I have small veins. And small veins require small needles. But who knows this stuff? …Not I! And, obviously, not the technicians, either.

I lay there as they stuck me – time and again – trying to inject the dye. …Right arm. ..Left arm. …Right arm, again. ..And, just as they prepared to transport me to the nearby hospital, they struck a vein! With tears streaming down the sides of my face, and, my arms sore from repetitive pricking, back into the tube I went. “Don’t move,” they reminded me, again and again, as I fought the urge to cry convulsively.

Somehow I got through that test, but the test date for the Series 22 license still loomed ahead. I felt like a pin cushion and both of my arms were badly bruised. I tried to focus on my studies, but my brain was wrapped around the doctor’s casual mention that “this could even be ALS” and I was very afraid. I begged to postpone the 22 exam, but was admonished to take it on schedule. Again, I failed by a slight margin, which doomed me to another 30 days of studying the material.

Then, the neurologist called to say that my MRI films were back. “I’m referring you to a specialist,” he said, without further explanation. …I went numb as fear gripped me, so I wouldn’t have heard him, anyway.