The Pain Game
By Michael Leahy
Washington Post
Long after winning his Super Bowl ring, Dave Pear says his life is now a 'torture chamber' of pain. Can he and other injured retirees force the NFL to rethinkits financial responsibilities to the generations that helped build the league?
"I can't get warm," Dave Pear says in the kitchen.
He is shuffling around his house in a heavy winter coat, the collar pulled snug to ward off the terrible chill he feels. Three decades ago, he played professional football for six seasons, made it to an all-star game, won a Super Bowl ring. Nowadays, his ravaged body is betraying him. "I'm so cold," he mutters, and shivers. "You cold?"
No, I say.
"I'm freezing," he says.
The thermostat says 72 degrees. But his kitchen's warmth isn't touching Pear, whose old football injuries, coupled with the many resulting neck and back surgeries, leave his extremities cold on most days, no matter the season.
It's football season, the time of year hardest on Pear's body and spirit. All the football talk on TV -- and in the Seattle suburb where he lives -- just serves as a bitter reminder to Pear of what has happened to his life and what he thinks the National Football League owes him. He walks unsteadily with a cane, his hips degenerating. He takes a step in the direction of the kitchen's fireplace and, unable to bend down, pokes at it with his cane, hoping to find a log there. No log. With his wife and two adult children off working for the day, he needs to deal with this problem on his own. He's been told by doctors not to lift anything as heavy as 15 pounds, preferably not even something like a log, if he can help it. He has what he calls "lightning bolts" shooting through his back and neck at all hours, and pains radiating clear down his left arm to his thumb.
(Continued here.)
Washington Post
Long after winning his Super Bowl ring, Dave Pear says his life is now a 'torture chamber' of pain. Can he and other injured retirees force the NFL to rethinkits financial responsibilities to the generations that helped build the league?
"I can't get warm," Dave Pear says in the kitchen.
He is shuffling around his house in a heavy winter coat, the collar pulled snug to ward off the terrible chill he feels. Three decades ago, he played professional football for six seasons, made it to an all-star game, won a Super Bowl ring. Nowadays, his ravaged body is betraying him. "I'm so cold," he mutters, and shivers. "You cold?"
No, I say.
"I'm freezing," he says.
The thermostat says 72 degrees. But his kitchen's warmth isn't touching Pear, whose old football injuries, coupled with the many resulting neck and back surgeries, leave his extremities cold on most days, no matter the season.
It's football season, the time of year hardest on Pear's body and spirit. All the football talk on TV -- and in the Seattle suburb where he lives -- just serves as a bitter reminder to Pear of what has happened to his life and what he thinks the National Football League owes him. He walks unsteadily with a cane, his hips degenerating. He takes a step in the direction of the kitchen's fireplace and, unable to bend down, pokes at it with his cane, hoping to find a log there. No log. With his wife and two adult children off working for the day, he needs to deal with this problem on his own. He's been told by doctors not to lift anything as heavy as 15 pounds, preferably not even something like a log, if he can help it. He has what he calls "lightning bolts" shooting through his back and neck at all hours, and pains radiating clear down his left arm to his thumb.
(Continued here.)
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