Chapter Three

PAINT A PICTURE & DIE

The year was 1961 and I had been out of the Air Force for two years. My disability, Myasthenia Gravis, now affected my legs, arms, eyes, breathing, swallowing, speech and facial expression. When I say affected I mean these areas had varying degrees of weakness at different times up to and including total shut down.

Without the medicine, Mestinon, all of the above muscles would cease to function and I would end up in the hospital. This is called "going in to crisis" and is something that occupied my mind quite a bit lately. Crisis is something that I, very much, wanted to avoid.

The Mestinon dose that had started with one 60mg pill every three hours had slowly, through necessity, been raised to six 60mg pills every three hours. In addition, two 180mg Time Span capsules had been added to get me through the night. A Time Span is a slow release capsule that lasts twelve hours. Without this Time Span I had, on a number of occasions, stopped breathing in my sleep. This had always resulted in my waking with a giant gasp. The confidence of that always happening was wearing thin.

Continuing to raise the level of Medication, as it became less effective, was fine but I knew the time would soon come where I could not tolerate the increased dose. This worried me a lot. I would end up in the hospital on "God knows what" kind of machine until the mestinon became effective again.

My life was in a very precarious state. I believe Howard Cossell once said "Perched on the precipice of peril." That certainly described Clete Gress in 1961.

Joan and I had managed to buy a small house in the town of Escondido, California. I was unable to work but, still needing something to do, I signed up for an Art Class in oil painting. On the first day, after getting our materials and tools together, a potted plant was positioned in the center of the room and we were told to paint it.

Having never painted before I was surprised at the challenge. I liked the atmosphere and the people and felt good about this new direction. At the end of class the teacher told us to take our work home and finish it before our next class.

Fine! I could do that. Good Plan.

That evening Joan went to bed shortly after getting the kids down and I found myself with peace and quiet and the kitchen table to continue my painting. It was 9 o'clock and, I was still pumped up from the afternoons class. Totally immersed in my work, I painted on without regard to time or the whole universe. This feeling of excitement and enthusiasm had been absent from my life for several years and it felt real good to have it back.

There-----it's finished, I thought, as I looked at the clock for the first time. 6 AM--LORD! I should get some sleep but couldn't resist sitting and admiring what I had done. Marvelous, Grand------It is wonderful and I am wonderful and All is right with the world!!!!!

And then a thought----MEDICINE!

I hadn't taken any since--------when? 8 o'clock yesterday evening. Oh God ten hours!

Within seconds Myasthenia Gravis rushed at me from every direction. Weak LEGS, ARMS, DOUBLE VISION!

"I have to get my pills," I thought.

Panic swept over me like a blanket of ink!

Swallow, I commanded, Oh God swallow! But my throat would not obey.

Under your tongue--fool--put it under your tongue--Geez it tastes bad.

Slowly I felt I could swallow and I put five pills in my mouth, some water, and with a silent "God don't let me aspirate," felt them slide down my throat.

I lay on the couch, breathing with my stomach muscles until the Mestinon took hold.

Scared? You bet. Probably more scared than ever in my life!

Exhausted, I went to bed.

I had not Died.

Not this time.

I had won.

Barely.

I went to sleep.