I learned late last night that Tom Grissom had been found dead in his
apartment from an apparent heart attack. Tom lived alone and his body
wasn’t discovered for a couple of days after his death. He is now in a far
better place.

Divorced and estranged from most of his family, Tom’s passing will likely
be noticed by very few people as it was very hard to stay close to Tom. He
was retired from the Navy for several years when he came down with a
mysterious and debilitating disease. Medical science wasn’t able to quench
the overwhelming fire that seemed to burn in his feet. Tom lived in
constant pain, sometimes enough that I’m sure in the late night hours he
would seriously contemplate ending it all with a single bullet from the
Glock 9mm pistol he kept nearby.

Many in his family could not understand Tom’s pain and that often the only
way he could deal with it was to talk almost incessantly and usually late
at night. He couldn’t keep a job and soon thereafter his marriage ended.
When I first met him about three years ago he was living in a one-room
walkup apartment that he couldn’t afford since he was under a court order
to turn half his monthly Navy pension over to his former wife. The Church
stepped in to offer as much assistance as he would take.

Social Security had denied his application for disability and he needed to
appeal the ruling. The appeal process would take 14 to 18 months,
evaluation by a number of doctors, and the services of a lawyer familiar
with government machinations and idiocy. A good member of the Church and a
respected lawyer stepped up to take Tom’s case at no charge. Finally a
little less than a year ago he got his appeal hearing. He would have to
wait another 60 days for a favorable ruling and then another 45 days
for the disability payments to start.

Meanwhile Tom was evicted from his walk-up because a housing inspector’s
surprise inspection revealed that the landlord had illegally modified the
building in a way that didn’t conform to code. Tom wanted deperately to be
able to make his own way and not have to live on charity. When he won his
appeal, he would receive disability payments from the date of his original
application. Tom kept a running tab of how much the government owed him and
in the meantime would petition eveyone around him for a loan to be paid
back when he won his appeal. This constant pleading for a loan further
estranged him from family and friends.

One day I decided to make a loan with Tom. I’d “loan” him $150 a month. In
return he would let the Church welfare pay his monthly rent. That would
give him about $400 a month of money that he could spend on food, gasoline
for his small, battered pickup truck, insurance, medicine co-pay, and a
telephone.

Tom was on a lot of pain medication. The military doctors would often
prescribe just to get on to the next patient. None seemed interested in
trying to really figure out what was wrong. About the only medication that
helped very much was morphine. Tom hated taking morphine because it made
him constipated and over time the dosage had to be increased as the
narcotic became less effective. The pain was the worst late at night as Tom
lay in his bed trying to get to sleep. Sometimes he was awake and tormented
for thirty hours or more before he was exhausted enough to fall asleep.

It was often in these very late hours when Tom would call. We would talk
about anything, mostly guns and bass fishing, to distract him from the
fires burning in his feet. Tom loved guns and had collected them for a
while. All but one had been sold to pay for medication and daily living.

Finally, the hearing as held and the first hurdle had been cleared. He had
just to wait until January of this year to get the ruling. Further, a
doctor decided to see what could be done with some kind of a bio-feedback
device coupled with a catheter down into Tom’s feet connected to a pump to
feed pain killer directly to the nerve bundle near the ankle. For the first
time in several years, Tom had several nights of normal, uninterrupted
sleep. The relief didn’t persist, but Tom’s quality of life was improved
and the late-night calls got much further apart.

After being evicted, Tom finally found an apartment in another part of
town. A different Ward picked up the financial support. I still kept in
touch and when he got the favorable ruling on his disability claim, I
talked him into letting me forgive our “loan” when he learned that he was
going to have to pay taxes on his disability payment. The last time he and
I talked was shortly before we moved to Pocatello. He was then in the best
mental condition that I had seen since I had come into his life.

He had just come back from Oklahoma where he had gone bass fishing in his
favorite spot. We had talked about this place many times and I’m sure I can
accurately describe the bend in the river, the small island, and how the
river flows into a reservoir. The big bass lie just under the northeast
edge of the island under a tall, old tree that shades the area during the
heat of the day. Tom had caught two of “the big mamas” and was very proud
of his achievement. His doctor had some additional ideas for pain
management that offered Tom some further hope. He was going the next day to
do another temple session. For more than a year he had been going
faithfully to the temple once or twice a month and fighting through the
pain to sit through a session and make the drive up and back.

A few short months later Tom is dead. His suffering is over — both with
his feet and with the estrangement from his family. His methods of dealing
with his pain had driven almost all of them away. One son who lived out
east stayed somewhat in touch, but all those who lived nearby wanted little
if anything to do with him. His circumstance now is much better. The pain
is gone and he is surrounded by family who love him.

I shall miss you, Tom, and our late-night phone calls, our visits in your
apartment, and most of all your determination to live when many others
would have ended it all. You have a special call on our Savior’s atoning
love. Goodbye and godspeed.