DATE: Thursday, March 20, 1997              TAG: 9703180165

SECTION: NORFOLK COMPASS         PAGE: 06   EDITION: FINAL 

TYPE: COVER STORY 

SOURCE: BY JOAN C. STANUS, STAFF WRITER 

                                            LENGTH:  124 lines

BETRAYED BY HER BODY A DETERIORATING DISORDER IS FORCING ONE OF NORFOLK'S MOST ACTIVE VOLUNTEERS TO SLOW DOWN.

HARD AS SHE TRIED, Connie Dorsey couldn't keep her secret any longer.

The ladies in the Hunton YMCA senior group noticed her stiff walk. Her fellow board members on the Park Place Community Development Corporation could see she was exhausted.

At committee meetings - where she was helping develop programs to fight infant mortality, breast and cervical cancer, and declining childhood immunization - Dorsey could barely keep her eyes focused. More than once, she got dizzy while working as a court-appointed advocate for a juvenile entangled in the legal system.

It was evident something was terribly wrong.

So last fall, Dorsey realized the time had come to reveal the dark secret she'd been living with for years.

Like her mother, two sisters and brother before her, the 38-year-old Norfolk woman had been stricken with the ``family curse,'' a neurological disorder, genetically transmitted, called ``spino cerebellum degeneration.''

Dorsey's mother and younger sister have already died from the crippling disease. Another sister, now 33, is wheelchair-bound and unable to live on her own. And a brother, although still mobile, suffers dizzy spells, poor vision and spells of imbalance. He hasn't been able to work in years.

Now, Dorsey, one of Norfolk's most active volunteers, a woman who for years has devoted herself to projects on behalf of inner-city residents, can keep silent no more. With each passing day, her body is betraying her.

``I can't keep this all inside anymore,'' the 38-year-old woman admitted. ``As I've gotten older, it's become evident there's something happening to me. I'm still in the early phases of the disease, but already I've got very poor vision. I have a lot of fatique and I occasionally fall. Walking is getting more and more difficult.

``But until the day comes that I can't get around at all, I'll keep on doing what I've been doing. I'm not too proud to say nothing's wrong.''

For the most part, continuing ``to do'' has meant maintaining a hectic schedule attending dozens of meetings, planning programs and educational campaigns, and galvanizing other volunteers to help with various pet projects. Because of her disabilities, she can't drive, so Dorsey rides the bus to get wherever she's going.

And she goes ``full-time.''

``I've always felt like I'm part of the problem or part of the solution,'' she explained. ``I can't complain about something unless I'm willing to do something to help.''

Over the last decade, she has been more than willing.

As a board member of the Park Place Development Corp. during the last few years, Dorsey helped plan a number of projects, including spearheading a neighborhood Health Fair last summer that provided neighborhood residents with free physicals, immunizations and medical information.

As a member of special task force funded by area health agencies, she helped implement a study that sought ways of eliminating barriers to childhood immunization.

She has worked on the advisory board of Resource Mothers, a program that matches mentors with pregnant women in Park Place and Lambert's Point in an effort to combat infant mortality. As a Court Appointed Special Advocate volunteer, she has provided judges with a better understanding into the lives, family dynamics and special needs of juveniles caught in the legal system.

She also teaches Sunday school and coordinates promotions for a fledgling black repertory theater on Granby Street.

And for the last three years, every Friday, she goes to the Hunton YMCA, where she coordinates field trips, arts and crafts projects, a speakers program and other activities for a group of about 15 elderly women from Tidewater Gardens and Huntersville. Under Dorsey's direction, group members take ``unofficial'' Norfolk tours of African-American historical sites, attend museum exhibits and theater openings, eat lunch together and develop charitable projects.

``These are women who did not stay at home when they were younger,'' Dorsey explained. ``Now that they're older, they're looking to get out and keep active. It's always been a dream of mine to work with seniors. And they're so appreciative, whatever we do. They make me feel so special and loved. I feel like they're all my grandmothers.''

Not surprisingly, the feeling is mutual.

``Connie is the best,'' said Anna M. Vaughan. ``She has a lot of patience.''

Added another group member, Louise Leary: ``She works hard for us . . . and she don't ask for nothing. I do appreciate her.''

The director of the Charlotte Street YMCA, G. Wayne Orton, admits few volunteers devote as much time and energy as Dorsey.

``She stands out among the volunteers,'' he said. ``Even though she's a volunteer, I consider her one of the staff. She has enthusiasm, creativity and consistency. Those seniors never seem to want for an activity, thanks to her. Connie is truly a remarkable person.''

A native of Norfolk's Kensington neighborhood, Dorsey has been committed to volunteerism since childhood. A former Girl Scout, she realized early on that she wanted to help others. After graduating from Maury High School, Dorsey aimed for a medical career, hoping to become a pediatrician, but eventually went into biology. She earned her bachelor's degree from Old Dominion University.

After graduation, she moved to Philadelphia, got married and started working for a national insurance company. Even while working full-time, she volunteered as an AIDS buddy for a Philadelphia support group.

But by 1991, Dorsey began to feel the effects of this neurological disorder that had begun to ravage other members of her family. After receiving a medical disability, she stopped work and returned to Norfolk to help care for her mother, whose condition was rapidly deteriorating. Two months after moving home, Dorsey and her siblings put her mother into a nursing home.

Then divorced, Dorsey and her sister, Linda Scott, a former Maury High School and Virginia Commonwealth University basketball star, who also needed care, moved into a nearby apartment.

Since then, Dorsey has been forced to cope with her mother's death and watch the health of her sister and brother continually deteriorate. Wondering who will be next among her six brothers and sisters has taken its toll.

Now, she, too, has had to cut back on some activities. Last fall, so fatigued she could barely get out of bed in the mornings, Dorsey resigned as a board member of the Park Place Development Corp. As her role in some projects are completed, she has been unable to take on more. But, for the most part, she has continued volunteering ``full time.''

``As long as I can keep doing all this, I will,'' she said. ``Believe it or not, I feel blessed. All our lives are on a timetable.

``I have so many things I want to share, things that people have taught me and I want to pass on to others. This is my legacy . . . these people are my legacy. When I die, I want my life to have counted for something.`` ILLUSTRATION: Staff photos including color cover by MOTOYA NAKAMURA

Ailing Connie Dorsey, left, gets a hug from Margaret Cherry, a

member of the Young-At-Heart senior group at the Hunton YMCA, where

Dorsey organizes their activities.

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