Hoops Family Medical Fund
Donation protected
Thank you for finding your way to our site, and welcome to our family!
If you're a friend of the Hoops clan, you've likely been apprised of our current situation, but if you haven't been in touch lately, or you've never even heard of us before, please keep reading!
The patriarch of our little family, my male progenitor, Mark Hoops, was recently diagnosed with ALS (amyotrohic lateral sclerosis), also known as Lou Gherig's Disease. This illness is ruthless, degenerative, unrelenting, heart-breaking, endlessly frustrating, and entirely unpredictable, except for one universal characteristic: this is a terminal illness.
If you know my father, you probably know his loud, unmistakably unique and husky voice, his overflowing personality, knack for bad jokes and infamous one-liners, and a collection of wise adages, which have molded the lives around him for the better. You probably know about his affinity for firearms, and the absolute joy he derives from shooting 23 out of 25 clay pigeons at the range. You may even know him as a man who refers to biking on the Harlem Valley Rail Trail as "church," the place where he feels closest to whatever deity rules the universe. Most of all, if you know my father, you have felt his love- his unconditional, unfiltered, sometimes overwhelming affection. He never much cared what anybody thought of him, and that contributes to his unembarrassed displays of appreciaion, which are part of why his friends and family love him so much.
A defining characteristic of my Dad is his fierce independence. He's always been a go-getter, confident in his ability and his intelligence, and devoted to innovation and efficiency. However, as this disease takes hold of his once (not so long ago) strong and healthy body, he loses his independence, a little bit every day. As a result, we, a modest middle-class family led by a New York State employee and private practice behavioral psychologist, must obtain and pay for a full-time nurse, physical therapy, walking aids, tools around the house to maintain some of his independence, communication and breathing assistance, etc.
As if things weren't already difficult for my family, in late November my mother, Lorinda Arella-Hoops, was in a serious car accident. She cracked seven ribs and broke her ankle in several places, and required surgery to affix screws and titanium to keep it together. She is home now, bound to a wheelchair and unable to leave the first floor of the house, but while it is unclear as of yet how quickly she will recover, it is certain she will not be able to care for Dad for quite some time.
Subsequently, it's important for us to acquire hired help to aid in keeping him comfortable at home as long as possible.
Our family can use as much help as we can get at this point, whether it's kind words, a vote of support, a home-cooked meal, assistance in getting everybody out of bed in the morning (okay, that one is for me...), or (obviously, with the most impact) monetary donations. Anything you can give would make an enormous difference.
In addition, if you're interested in seeing our family, eating brunch, and contributing to our cause at the same time (maybe even "roasting" my dad at the microphone), we'll be selling tickets for a benefit brunch in Poughkeepsie, NY on December 28th, 2014. Everyone is invited and any proceeds will go directly to helping my family get through this difficult time, and making my father's final days substantially more comfortable.
For more info and tickets, click HERE
If you have any questions or would like to get involved, please do not hesitate to contact us. Thank you for your support!
--Kirstin
If you're a friend of the Hoops clan, you've likely been apprised of our current situation, but if you haven't been in touch lately, or you've never even heard of us before, please keep reading!
The patriarch of our little family, my male progenitor, Mark Hoops, was recently diagnosed with ALS (amyotrohic lateral sclerosis), also known as Lou Gherig's Disease. This illness is ruthless, degenerative, unrelenting, heart-breaking, endlessly frustrating, and entirely unpredictable, except for one universal characteristic: this is a terminal illness.
If you know my father, you probably know his loud, unmistakably unique and husky voice, his overflowing personality, knack for bad jokes and infamous one-liners, and a collection of wise adages, which have molded the lives around him for the better. You probably know about his affinity for firearms, and the absolute joy he derives from shooting 23 out of 25 clay pigeons at the range. You may even know him as a man who refers to biking on the Harlem Valley Rail Trail as "church," the place where he feels closest to whatever deity rules the universe. Most of all, if you know my father, you have felt his love- his unconditional, unfiltered, sometimes overwhelming affection. He never much cared what anybody thought of him, and that contributes to his unembarrassed displays of appreciaion, which are part of why his friends and family love him so much.
A defining characteristic of my Dad is his fierce independence. He's always been a go-getter, confident in his ability and his intelligence, and devoted to innovation and efficiency. However, as this disease takes hold of his once (not so long ago) strong and healthy body, he loses his independence, a little bit every day. As a result, we, a modest middle-class family led by a New York State employee and private practice behavioral psychologist, must obtain and pay for a full-time nurse, physical therapy, walking aids, tools around the house to maintain some of his independence, communication and breathing assistance, etc.
As if things weren't already difficult for my family, in late November my mother, Lorinda Arella-Hoops, was in a serious car accident. She cracked seven ribs and broke her ankle in several places, and required surgery to affix screws and titanium to keep it together. She is home now, bound to a wheelchair and unable to leave the first floor of the house, but while it is unclear as of yet how quickly she will recover, it is certain she will not be able to care for Dad for quite some time.
Subsequently, it's important for us to acquire hired help to aid in keeping him comfortable at home as long as possible.
Our family can use as much help as we can get at this point, whether it's kind words, a vote of support, a home-cooked meal, assistance in getting everybody out of bed in the morning (okay, that one is for me...), or (obviously, with the most impact) monetary donations. Anything you can give would make an enormous difference.
In addition, if you're interested in seeing our family, eating brunch, and contributing to our cause at the same time (maybe even "roasting" my dad at the microphone), we'll be selling tickets for a benefit brunch in Poughkeepsie, NY on December 28th, 2014. Everyone is invited and any proceeds will go directly to helping my family get through this difficult time, and making my father's final days substantially more comfortable.
For more info and tickets, click HERE
If you have any questions or would like to get involved, please do not hesitate to contact us. Thank you for your support!
--Kirstin
Organizer
Kirstin Hoops
Organizer
East Fishkill, NY
