http://www.pittsburghlive.com/x/tribune-review/news/s_5168.html
Friday, November 23, 2001
Sitting in his dining room five years
ago, then-Westmoreland County Commissioner Dick Vidmer contemplated suicide
as multiple sclerosis began to make his last movable appendage useless.
Today, Vidmer, 56, is a quadriplegic
who no longer holds a job. He requires a staff of four to help him with
life's most basic tasks.
He says he has given up hope, and
he couldn't be happier.
"Giving up (hope for a cure) is the
best thing that ever happened to me. I fought this like the ... Germans
fought the Russian Army - yard by yard. It only gave me insight into my
stupidity and stubbornness.
Multiple sclerosis, he continued,
"has been a great gift for me. My disease stopped me cold. I would have
liked nothing better than to run for re-election and to go on to other
offices. But in my case, it was a God-given opportunity to stop, wake up
and look around," Vidmer said, sitting in his motorized wheelchair next
to the same dining room table where he considered ending it all.
"It would have been a disaster to
go campaign after campaign and never awaken - to never see what a privilege
it is to be a human being," he added.
Multiple sclerosis is a disabling
disease of the central nervous system. The body's own immune system attacks
the insulating material surrounding the nerves that carry signals to and
from various body parts.
As the nerves are short-circuited
or severed in the auto-immune attacks, scars form, sometimes eliminating
various functions of the body.
Vidmer was a record-setting quarterback
at Hempfield Area High School and the University of Michigan in the 1960s.
He got his master's degree, then began a career in public service in Washington,
D.C., as an aide to then-U.S. Rep. Don Bailey of Greensburg.
When Bailey lost his re-election
bid in 1982 after a redistricting, Vidmer returned to the area to run for
office and also coordinated Bailey's successful run for state auditor general
in 1983.
That same year, Vidmer was diagnosed
with MS.
He was appointed county commissioner
in 1985 after John Regoli left to work with Bailey.
Vidmer was able to hide his disease
in its early years, but was forced to go public shortly after his successful
election campaign in 1988. The news was released to counter rumors that
sprang up after he was seen stumbling at a campaign event.
Otherwise, Vidmer remained defiant.
The former athlete exercised harder
than he ever had in an effort to stop the disease's progress. He tried
long-shot alternative measures like not eating meat or cheese - for seven
years.
The disease slowly broke him down
until he could no longer stand or dress himself - and he was left at his
dining room table with a choice.
"In the transition - in that no-man's
land - I thought about (suicide) more than once, that it was the best way
out of this. I laid my head right on that table a couple times.
"It wasn't easy. I've done a lot
of soul-searching and a lot of pain and (contemplated) suicide - looking
for something to get me out of this vest that was squeezing the life out
of me. It took me awhile to realize that that was a life boat - that I'd
been rescued.
"It seems so long ago. It wasn't
in terms of years, but it was a long time ago in terms of my own development.
In many ways, I'm an improved product," he said.
Vidmer now sees the disease as a
gift, not a curse.
"Without it, I would be far worse
off than I am now. If I had a case where I could have got by using a cane,
I never would have stopped to reflect.
"I have been awakened. Before, it
truly would have been a boring existence. To go through this whole life
without knowing who you are would have truly been a tragedy," he said.
Vidmer considered writing a book
to relate his experiences to others, but has since dropped the idea. He
wants to use the time to mature further and to contemplate his situation.
"It's now my challenge to make something
of this awakening. I need more time to think about it, and I am," he explained.
Vidmer decided not to seek re-election
in 1999 because of his disability. In the public announcement, he said
the rigors of another campaign would have been too much of a strain.
Vidmer still had some use of his
right hand, but little other mobility. He already had to be tied into his
wheelchair to remain in a sitting position, and had difficulty with public
speaking because he was losing the ability to breathe deeply.
Today, Vidmer has grown a mustache
and long sideburns. He has gained weight.
His time since retirement has been
spent reading, exercising his mind and contemplating the world around him.
During an afternoon interview, he
quoted poet e. e. cummings and talked of the pleasure of looking at a tree
while lying in bed.
"I never would have been able to
see these things if it had not been for this so-called disability. I can't
run, I can't win an election or throw a forward pass anymore, but because
of it I'm seeing a new world that I never saw - a world that was right
in front of me.
"This has fundamentally transformed
the person that I was. I look the same, but I'm really not," he said.
Most of his old associates no longer
come by to visit - and he likes it that way.
"I don't need people; it's bothersome.
I need time to think. I like people, but I'm in a different place," he
said.
Partially because he is concentrating
on his development, and partially because it strains him, Vidmer no longer
tries to keep up with the day-to-day happenings of county government.
Still, he likes what he sees from
the current board of county commissioners.
"They're capable and competent. While
there may be a lot of smoke and mirrors of politics and party, they are
all wrestling with the problems of county government. They've done very
well. The county is a good place to live and work and raise your kids.
The county government has been a big part of that," he said.
Vidmer even had kind words for his
former nemesis Tom Balya, who criticized Vidmer during his 1995 election
campaign for working with then-Commissioner Terry Marolt, a Republican.
Balya "gave me a lot of grief" for
working with Marolt, Vidmer recalled. Balya's alliance with Republican
P. Scott Connor these days "shows that you can't always believe what they
say," he continued. "I think that expediency and opportunism are the appendages
of many politicians.
"Things were said years ago. That's
part of politics, and I know that. I don't have any hard feelings," he
said.
In his political heyday, Vidmer was
as powerful as he was unapologetic, a dealmaker who simply ignored his
critics. Those critics claimed he skirted laws on purchasing and contracts
to steer profitable business to his friends.
According to Vidmer, he didn't do
anything wrong.
"Everything that I did was in the
best interest of Westmoreland County. There may have been so-called friends
that may have profited from doing the job. But they were completely professional
and well-capable of doing the job," he said.
In any case, it's all behind him.
Vidmer said he's happier as a disabled man in early retirement than he
ever was as a working politician.
"They can run around and have their
little meetings. I wouldn't go back now if I could. It's just not where
the action is," he said.
According to Vidmer, his new-found
spiritual thinking would not have come about without a severe, debilitating
case of MS.
"I'm sorry to say, but the average
person in good health ... is crippled. I can see now more than I ever could.
And it never would have happened unless I was thrown a real cross-body
block. And that would have been a tragedy.
"I used to think of who I am and
who I wanted to be - who my heroes are. And it was all wrong. It was all
phony. I was a very ego-driven person, which is a huge inadequacy and handicap,"
he said.
Toward the end of the interview,
Vidmer fought for breath while considering his time in office and the life
he led until 1999. His gaze went to a window, and his struggles eased.
Holding office was "not really that
vital," he said. "Being able to love, to show compassion, to be grateful
for what you have is so much more important. For me this was the better
arrangement.
"I would have gone through life blind
- blind. And I wouldn't have appreciated it."
Matthew Junker can be reached at
(724) 425-2338.
Images and text copyright ©
2000, 2001 by The Tribune-Review Publishing Co
By Matthew Junker
TRIBUNE-REVIEW