gratitude – Superman found his phone booth

’tis the reason for the season

Ahhhhhhh….Spring. I make no bones about the fact that winter is longer and harder on me than Elementary school was. Short spans of daylight, cold weather, gray skies, and staying indoors all the time are really not for me. So Spring is my default favorite season, by the very logic that it follows my least favorite. This Spring is especially sweet because for the first time in years I am entering my favorite season healthy.

Things have been going very well for me lately. My life has completely turned around in the last 7 months. To think that I was admitted to the Wacky Shack last fall for threatening to harm myself, an all-time low, continues to amaze me. I am simply not the person I was then. I am still a bit traumatized by the whole thing, to reflect on how far I had fallen from my trademark optimistic and upbeat self is nothing less than surreal. If you had told me then that I had 6 months to live, I wouldn’t have cared. The thought of tomorrow had no appeal to me. Now, I look forward to every day and what I can do with it. Life matters to me again.

My health, and the constant comments of family and friends as to how healthy and happy I seem is of course the greatest thing going for me right now. But I can’t minimize what I can only call the additional blessings that have been bestowed on me as a result. I have a girlfriend, a beautiful, smart, and very challenging (a highly valuable attribute in my eyes) woman with whom I am sharing my life. It is yet another second chance for me. In addition to health, I now have happiness, one more thing I thought I would never experience again.

I have a job. And in the typical fashion of late, it just fell into my lap. I met a guy that was looking for someone with my exact skill set and he wants to invest in me. How many people work for an employer that says something like that? When my disability runs out, I will go full-time in an environment where I can thrive. If all goes well, I will give my mother back her beloved house and privacy and get my own place. If all goes according to plan, maybe I will get a place with my girl. Wouldn’t that be an amazing thing?

One last thing that I have to mention is my Motorcycle. My bike is not merely a piece of iron with two wheels. It represents so much more to me. It is my therapy, my escape, my conduit to my own special brand of Spirituality. When I was sick, cruising on my iron steed was the only thing that gave me hope. Now that I am healthy and free from the constraints of dialysis to go where I want when I want, it is the symbol of my new life. Yesterday, after 6 months of staring at her in my garage ( I was forbidden post-transplant to ride because of the weight of the bike), I took her out. I think she missed me more than I missed her. The ride can only be described as transcendent. It is my connection to nature, to the memory of my father, to God. It is not just an expensive toy, it is a symbol. Of freedom and rebirth. And amazingly enough, I rank the privilege of being financially and physically able to enjoy it up there among my greatest blessings.

Gratification

I have been working a lot. My new boss has been very generous to me and in turn I find myself very willing to go the extra mile for him. I am really excited about working for him, and downright thrilled to be working at all. It’s always been one of my favorite things to cook for people. Making delicious food and watching people enjoy it is a honest and enjoyable way to make a living. When I worked at the Restaurant many, many moons ago I worked long hours often without breaks but I loved what I did. I had pride in my work. It wasn’t until I got married that it was pointed out to me that I was under-performing financially and that I could do better. This is a nice way of saying that my wife and mother-in-law thought that I was in a loser job. I knew that I wasn’t making a lot of money but I didn’t really have a lot of prospects then. When I started there the economy was in a major recession and my first “professional” job offer upon graduation was $18,500/yr. I was making 40k at the restaurant.

It’s sad that the jobs that we want often don’t pay the bills. The hardest working people make the least money in many cases. EMT’s get paid the same as someone flipping Burgers at McDonalds. They save lives, fast food workers do not. I don’t think there are many fast food workers who have PTSD from their vocation. Social workers barely make a living and they have one of the hardest jobs one can have. They do it for the cause, not for the money. My take is that if it makes you feel good it may not pay enough to support you. So many adults are forced to take the soul-sucking corporate jobs that drain our spirit for the sake of financial responsibilities. The takeaway is that you can chase your dreams, but do it after work.

I have always loved making food and at this point in my life I suppose that I can afford to live on what it pays. That makes me lucky. For the first time in 25 years I will again enjoy what I do. I also have for the first time a boss who respects me and wants to do things for me, to invest in me because he believes in me. A boss who wants to know what he can do for me. What a concept!

This opportunity is just one more positive thing that has come down the pike for me lately. I am experiencing an amazing wave of things going my way and I can’t explain it other than to think that the positive energy I try to put out into the world is coming back to me. I live with a grateful heart and I see the good in all situations, no matter how bad. I’ll enjoy it while it lasts.

Reflections

It is starting to settle in how different my life is now. In just 13 days my life has gone from “can’t” to “let’s do it”. Restrictions on diet, travel (the extension cord is only so long), and countless other things that I had long dismissed as just not possible are now doable.

The big one is no more dialysis. It has finally settled into my mindset that I am done for dialysis. At least for a while. The goal is 15 years and I’m going to fight like a cornered Wombat to reach that goal. I hated dialysis and that is enough reason to prolong going back to it as long as possible.

When I first started dialysis I was the model patient. I walked in with my characteristic “proud peacock” walk, sat down with a book for 4 hours and then strutted out again (sounds cocky but that’s how people see it so I guess I have to go with it). The treatments didn’t kick my ass as it did some other patients. The older and seasoned (to be fair I was one of the younger patients) patients looked at me with jealousy. On a side note the walk or strut that I have become known for is not new. When I was a Cancer patient back in ’97 I overheard another patient remark “what’s he doing here? He looks like a fine specimen”. And I was, I was going to the gym right after radiation treatments and I was in good shape. But I was 31, at 56 I still have that walk. Anyhoo, I made it a goal that I would never get to the point of deterioration that most patients do. There are a few who always looked good, I’m not saying I’m the only one. But eventually I did anyway and I hated myself for succumbing to it.

First came the sepsis/near death infection episode 2 months in. I almost died, no exaggeration. But I bounced back from that. I cruised for about a year until I hid a bad stretch of infections and diet-related complications. On a Renal diet even healthy foods could be taboo. A tomato, a healthy food contains Potassium. Without a functioning kidney to process it it may as well be rat poison. I see-sawed back and forth between too much and too little Potassium, Phosphorous and Magnesium, just to name a few. Sodium and fluid restrictions, if ignored would mess me up for weeks. I never really got those things under control despite uncharacteristic attention to my diet. It got to the point that I was hospitalized several times and the actual treatments became so uncomfortable that I was sometimes unable to complete the treatment. Imagine having a reaction to Phosphorous in which I was itchy all over, the itch would pop up like a whack-a-mole and it was so bad that I was thrashing in my chair. Imagine being held down and being tickled with 2 1 inch needles in your arm. It was miserable. Towards the end I was everything I detested in that room, I was just like the others. I must be an arrogant fuck to think that it wouldn’t. In short it sucks.
I heard yesterday that one of my friends there chose to stop treatments. He was dead in a week. It happens more than you want to know.

One positive is that I really love my dialysis nurses. I think they do God’s work and I appreciate them. They did more than stick needles in my arm, they my welfare and genuinely cared about me; first in making a very difficult transition for me easier and then keeping me on course when confronted with challenges. Of course, I can only speak for myself, but nurses have a special place in my heart. I plan on visiting them when I am able and thank them for everything they did to make it to where I am today.

One nurse I am particularly fond of is Jesse. Jesse is one of the youngest nurses at the clinic and I have felt a special chemistry with her since the day I met her. We share a devilish sense of humor which is tampered by the strict codes of conduct in the clinic regarding patient interaction. Still, we manage to have flirty and somewhat sexy conversations in sneaky ways, even the exchange of glances or funny faces. I loved it when she was there, it made the time pass a little better. It’s safe to say that if there wasn’t a clinic policy against dating patients I would have asked her out.

Now I can. And of course, now that I can I’m seeing someone else. No regrets, Lisa is awesome and I’m nuts about her. And there are considerations with Jesse that make me reticent even if I was available. She is much younger than me, almost 15 years younger and she has small children. I’m not sure that I have the patience for young children and I also wouldn’t want them to get close to me and then not be there one day because their mother and I didn’t work out. Jesse and I talked about it. We had discussed covertly a few times about the possibility of dating and it was always “get a transplant and we’ll talk”. So we did. I put it all on the table and as it turns out she doesn’t want a relationship at the moment. She works a lot and spends every available free moment with her girls. As it should be. She’s a great mother and her girls are very sweet. She’s doing a great job as a mom. I don’t know what the future holds but I look forward to hanging out with her as a friend over coffee or lunch. As with everything in life, you never know what’s in store for us but it helps to be ready when opportunities arise.

How many?

Just how many comebacks are allotted to one person before God says
you know what? It’s someone else’s turn.”

I have had so many comebacks that I struggle with the notion of worthiness. A traumatic head injury when I was a child. A near-fatal motorcycle accident as a teenager. Cancer at 31. End stage renal disease that started when I was 17. 2 Staph infections, 2 transplants. I came back from all of them stronger than ever. Other than Scottish heritage, I have no other explanation for my apparent indestructability. Due to the overwhelming good fortune I have experienced I carry around a lot of emotional baggage. Between my periodic bouts with anxiety, the spectre of depression during what I call the “dialysis days” that still haunt me (probably because it was so uncharacteristic of me), the anger over losing my first transplant after only 5 years and the myriad of other shit sandwiches I’ve been forced to eat in the name of my health, I now carry the weight of gratitude. And if I don’t continuously act on that gratitude then you can add guilt to the plethora of heavy emotions I carry.

I know that may sound odd, to portray a wonderful emotion like gratitude as if it were a negative. It certainly isn’t a bad thing at all, I am simply saying that it is as heavy as any other emotion. If one is truly grateful, that gratitude should be present in everything he does going forward. I can’t speak for anyone but myself but as a truly grateful person I feel compelled to incorporate it into everything that I do.

I hope it’s not just a phase. I hope that this feeling of deep gratitude and desire to be worthy of the gifts that I have been granted never fades. I think that after all of these years I have found my calling. I will leave the pursuit of wealth and power to the rest of the world, I will keep it small and local as I share the wisdom that only a life of setbacks and comebacks can provide.

It’s the very least that the Comeback Kid can do.

7 years

Seven years ago today at this time I awoke from Anesthesia in a tented room. The first thing I noticed was the plethora of wires and tubes sticking out of my neck and arm. A doctor soon entered the room, followed by a team of nurses. They took my vitals and the doctor then asked me a few questions to test my mental acuity

“Sir, do you know what day it is?”
“Tuesday I think, unless I slept longer than I think” I replied foggily.
“Correct. When did you work last?”
“Yesterday.”

“And your last dialysis treatment?”
“Never did it.”

“Sir, we have a number that we use to determine how due someone is for Dialysis. 10 is average. Do you know what yours was?”
I nodded my head. His snarky attitude was pissing me off.
“110. You made it, but you were foolish and took a big risk.” He then walked out of the room condescendingly shaking his head.

Of course I avoided Dialysis. I would have lost my job. Then I would have lost my house and my family. I fought it with everything in my being for the longest time. And it worked, my Angel eventually came along and I got the gift of a new Kidney. It was an amazing gesture from a remarkably down to earth, humble young woman.

She was a co-worker. The daughter of my Assistant. I knew her pretty well but not well enough to think that she would do such an amazing thing.But it turns out that it is just the way she was.

I was hospitalized one day with a kidney-related infection, My boss came to visit me. He dropped it on me that Deb was willing to be tested. I was floored. When I returned to work the next week I first gave her a giant hug and then carefully explained to her the process.I thought for sure she would flinch. She didn’t.

Within a month her testing was done. She was a perfect match. It was scheduled soon after for Dec 13^th.

Word soon got out among our customer base about the situation. It was big news. A local CBS affiliate came to our office to interview us. We were on the 6 O’clock news. The interview was priceless. When Deb was asked on film why she was doing this she curtly replied “I have 2,he needs one. I don’t want him to be on dialysis and lose his job so here we are. Short and sweet. For weeks after wherever I went people came up to me and said, “Hey, you’re that transplant guy I saw on the news!”

December 13 ^th arrived and we met at Tufts Hospital at 6 AM. My mother and father took me in, Deb was already there with hers. Our families had never met, so they exchanged pleasantries. We were all nervous but I was the only one to show it. At 6:30 the doctors called for us. I gave Deb a hug and told her that I would see her on the other side.

As you know I made it to the other side. I had a quick recovery, 33 days from surgery to return to work. Beyond my physical recovery I was tasked with reconciling with the overwhelming gratitude I felt towards Deb.

We became great friends. We made jokes. People at work were afraid to mess with either of us for fear of retribution from the other. She was tough, her famous joke was “Take care of that kidney or I’lltake it back.”
I believed her.

It’s somewhat painful to reminisce on this, given that her gift has failed and I am back to square one. I had the hardest time telling her because I was so torn that her gift hadn’t lasted longer. As if I hadn’t done my best to make it last. When I did tell her, she didn’t flinch but instead said “I hope it gave you what you were looking for, no matter how long it lasted.” A more grounded person have I never met.

Despite the physical viability being gone, her gift changed me profoundly in so many ways. Beyond giving me a new lease on life, it also transformed my attitude towards everything. It helped me to exemplify the traits that I had always wanted to dominate my life…gratitude, empathy, charity and humility. I was given the ultimate gift, that of life. I owe such a debt to Deb, her selflessness and generosity will never be forgotten.

I may have been wrong to dread Dialysis as much as I did. It’s no fun but it’s not nearly as bad as I thought. And it beats the alternative. The gifted kidney may have failed but the lessons of the transplant remain intact and healthy. I am still grateful. I am stillhumble. I am still appreciative of all that I have. If attitude were currency I’d be a truly wealthy man.

Don’t let people tell you that people suck. There are some wonderful people in the world. I know because I am surrounded by them.

If you don’t know one… be one.

A blessing in disguise

A very dear friend, a fellow blogger with a chronic illness (you know who you are) once told me at length how her illness was a blessing. She spoke of being grateful, of appreciating the small things in life and of not wasting precious time. I wholly agreed with her, but I stopped short of calling it a blessing.

Now, I’m not so sure.

My illness has made me a better person, there is no doubt about it. I feel comfortable in my own skin for the first time in my life.

My blog has always been a labor of love. I started it as a means to tell my story and to vent my frustrations. I vowed to not dwell on the negatives, there were a ton, but to matter of factly talk about my life. Like my social media account, I made a real effort to be positive. No complaining, no placing blame for my situation and zero anger. Many have said that I have inspired them, that I am a good person. I suppose that I am a ok person now. But to be fair, I wasn’t always.

I would never go so far as to say that I was ever a bad person. Instead I would describe my former self as deeply flawed. I used to be closed off. I was angry. I often resorted to pettiness. I was jealous. I blamed others for my lack of success. I tried to be something I wasn’t and did a lot of things I am not proud of.

When I got married and started a family I genuinely wanted to curb some of my bad habits. I wanted to cut down on my drinking. Eat healthy. Be more loving and open. To lose my anger. But it wasn’t to be. Marital strife, financial issues and career challenges dominated any attempts to be a better man. My illness, particularly the hypertension that often bordered on out of control, combined with a drinking problem resulted in a horrible temper and some outbursts that I would give anything in the world to unwind them. I fought with my wife and said terrible things in front of my children. I would get mad at the kids if they took sides or interjected. My oldest daughter and I had horrible arguments. As tough as she was, I was failing her. I failed to recognize that I needed to be the adult. But my version of an adult was an angry, sick, disappointed and frustrated version of the man I wanted to be. Then one night I had a transformative moment.

After a particularly nasty argument with my oldest daughter I went to bed angry. I hated myself for the things that I said. It was truly unforgivable. Somehow, despite my raging blood pressure and self-loathing I somehow fell asleep. What happened next changed my life.

I dreamt that I was watching my daughter through a pane of one way glass. She was in jail, or a mental institution, I’m not sure. At the time of the argument my daughter was 12. But in my dream she was about 3. She was in a room, alone. I was watching her play with blocks. Her hair was pulled up in a tiny ponytail, she was wearing the cute stretch pants that I loved when she was little. She was intent on the puzzle, silent and sad. I somehow had the knowledge that she would be in that horrible, cold and loveless room forever. I pounded frantically on the unforgiving glass for her to hear me, to see me. For the opportunity to mouth the words, as late and fruitless as they were,
“I love you!”.
“I’m so sorry!”
“Please forgive me!”

She continued to listlessly play with her blocks.

I awoke in a cold sweat. I was crying. I did not fall back asleep that night. I was haunted by it for weeks. It still bothers me. For weeks and months I hated myself. It was then that I took a long, hard and brutally honest look at myself. I acknowledged my illness and made a real commitment to address my shortcomings. I knew I had to curb my drinking, my anger and mend my relationship with my daughter. By reconciling with my mortality, true healing began. I felt urgency to work harder. Most important, I committed myself to positive change.addressing my shortcomings.

I am happy to reveal that my commitment to repairing my tumultuous relationship with my daughter paid off. We get along wonderful now. Despite no apparent issues with my other 3, I know I formed a much better relationship with them that wouldn’t be possible if I hadn’t been honest with myself. It inspired me to fix the other areas of my life.

The true catharsis occurred when I received a kidney from a co-worker. Her altruism changed my life. I received a humongous lesson in gratitude. Which resulted in a pay-it-forward attitude that I have yet to lose. I became charitable, if not with money I offered my time which is more valuable than any financial offering. By diving into charity, tapped into a well of empathy and caring I didn’t know I had. It made me a better husband, father, son, co-worker and friend to all.

I think we all look at our lives and think that we have about 80 years on this planet, more if you are lucky. It allows us the luxury of putting off things until “later”. Chronic illness puts a serious damper on the notion of later. This realization changed how I did everything. Before my transplant failed I had one time frame on my mortality. After, I had a much different, and shorter one. Later may be too late.

Chronic illness has caused me to be the man I always wanted to be. I owned up to the fact that it’s ok to walk away from a fight. To forgive those that wronged me. To ask myself if I’m right before I shoot my mouth off. To be nice in place of rushing to judgement. To let things go. To be kind and open to the struggles of other. It led to my life-guiding mantra of knowing that there is no value in self pity. Someone always has it worse.

Today I walk upright, true to myself and others. I try to give as much as I can of myself to others. I think of my funeral, whenever it may be. How I will be remembered matters to me. I want to be remembered by those that matter to me as a good person. This is an attitude that is lost by many in their pursuit of wealth, power and prestige. I have lost all of those things and in the process gained a unique viewpoint.

If i were to live 100 years as the man I was, I would never achieve the clarity of mind and comfort in my own skin that I have now. I thank my illness for this. I know in my heart of hearts that my illness made me a better man. Not perfect, but better.

That, my friends is indeed a blessing.

Happy Bird-Day

My family always had a bit of fun with me at the Thanksgiving table when it came my turn to say what I was thankful for. Maybe I waxed a bit too poetic about deployed soldiers, the homeless and the lonely. I just felt it needed to be said. Eye rolls and sarcastic cracks aside, I still do.
Recent events in my life, while debilitating in some aspects, have had a profound impact on my ability to be grateful. It is almost a superpower. I have so much for a guy with so little. The best part is that it lasts all year, not just the holiday season.
If you live with the knowledge that no matter your situation, someone always has it worse you will achieve a generous spirit that will survive more than one Thursday a year.
This time of year there is an abundance of people who show up at pantries and shelters to volunteer. Sometimes people are even turned away because too many show up. But in August they are begging for volunteers. The need doesn’t go away when the trees are taken down, neither should the spirit. Giving doesn’t have to be a grandiose gesture. A simple smile and a good word may be all someone needs to have their faith in humanity restored or energized.
No-one can do everything, but everyone can do something.
I am grateful for my family and my friends. I am thankful for all kindness and generosity, regardless of the scale. My goal is to spread that mentality like a bee spreads pollen.
Happy Thanksgiving to all. If you have a little extra spirit, I’m sure someone would love a slice.
Every day can be Thanksgiving with the right outlook.

A New Year’s Toast

A Toast

to the parents struggling to care for their family. May they provide sustenance and love for the children

to the first responder running towards danger when others run from it. May you always stay safe

to the soldier thousands of miles from those that love them. May your mission be righteous and your body unscathed

to the health care workers who give more to others more than they give to themselves. May their selflessness be recognized and appreciated

to the bullied child. May your struggles be recognized before it’s too late

to the bully. May you see the error of your ways

to the ill. May you experience recovery

to the grieving. May you experience closure and peace

to the hungry. May your plate always be full

to our leaders. May they do what is right, not what is profitable or electable

to the disenfranchised, the angry and the frustrated. May you find an outlet and peace in your heart

to the practitioners of hate and division. May you become part of the solution, not part of the problem

to those that chose the path of honesty and integrity. May you never second-guess that choice

to those who are glued to screens. May you look away and see the beauty all around you

to those fighting a hard battle. May the people you meet treat you with kindness and respect.

Here’s to a better you. A better us. A better world. It’s up to us to make it a good year.

Here’s to you.

Inventory

I was reminded today of one of my favorite expressions.

“Happiness is not having what you want. it’s wanting what you have.”

And in a very close second comes the Stones with

“You can’t always get what you want, but you get what you need.”

2 years ago I would have measured my success as a man by how much stuff I had. It was the life I was living. I lived in a nice neighborhood with neat lawns and beautiful cars in driveways. I had the Jones’s on both sides of me and I was trying frantically to keep up with them. I couldn’t. My illness was increasing, my income was dropping and trying to keep up was literally, and I never use that word, killing me. When I lost my job the bottom fell out and we knew that moving and breaking up the family was imminent. I was livid, disgusted with myself, mad at the prospect of not seeing the kids every day and feeling like a complete failure. I was also relieved to be out from under the crushing weight of the lifestyle I was living.

Fast forward 2 years and what do I have? If measured in possessions…not much. I own as much stuff that would fit in a ’13 Honda Civic. If you were to measure my heart. I have everything.

Once I realized my career was virtually over, my dreams of a beach house were gone, my marriage was beyond repair and my health was in serious trouble I had to assess what I did have. It took some serious soul searching but I found that I was a wealthy man in assets that money cannot buy.

I don’t have everything I want. By the old standards. But I really want what I now have.

I have become a totally honest person, in particular with myself. I know who and what I am and no longer have a job pushing the boundaries of my ethics on a daily basis. I am comfortable in my skin for the first time.

I have a wonderful relationship with my children. The distance has created the need for quality time, and conversations were had and growth was achieved. I found that they respect me and understand the situation. They just want what is best for me.

My mind is clear and sharp. I’m reading the books I’ve always wanted to, I’m writing on a daily basis, reading some great bloggers and thinking on a level previously unachieved. In addition, I feel inspired.

I have renewed my relationship with my mother. We were very close until my wife put a wedge between us. We are like best friends again. Not to mention how much she is helping me right now.

I have optimism for the future. There are still so many things that I want to do, and if I set reasonable expectations and listen to my body I may be able to do them.

By having some “me time”, forced or otherwise, I realize that for the first time I like myself. If it’s possible to not say that in a self-serving way that is.

This year-end I want to end on a high note, with momentum and heading in the right direction. Unlike many other years in which I was down, defeated and counting on a new calendar to give me a better life. It just doesn’t work that way, I have to make it happen.

Happier New Year

I am really looking forward to seeing 2017 limp out the door Sunday night at midnight. I hope that it was a wonderful year for anyone that sees this, but for me, it is one to be forgotten. I won’t dwell on the bad stuff if you are a reader of this blog, you already know what I have been dealing with. I am encouraged that, after self-evaluation, I am still able to look to the future as an opportunity for better things and new opportunities.

My son last night told me he is glad that I am optimistic after this last year. I explained to him that I had, in fact, lost it for a while but now have it back. I explained a boxing analogy to him. A good fighter can take a good shot to the chin, shake it off and come back swinging. For years I was able to do that. This year, this fighter took a devastating series of blows that I couldn’t shake off. I fell to the mat and was down for the count. But I’m back now and I want a rematch. As I tear a page from my daily planner, underneath is a fresh day.

One thing I am very happy about in 2017 is this blog. I have always dabbled in writing but never had the time to commit to a blog. Now, for better or for worse, I have nothing but time. I have committed to working on this blog every day. It has done wonders in helping me to exorcise my demons, to express myself, and to unburden myself of the excessive emotional weight of the events of my life. And I am so happy to have readers.

I have almost 40 followers. A paltry amount to many but a big deal to me. As an aspiring writer with a story to tell, you give me the motivation to continue to write, to explore my boundaries, to share my story and in the process, free my soul.

I follow so many of you, I enjoy your posts and admirable writing styles. You give me feedback, hope, and encouragement and you have become a part of my life.

I hope all of you have a wonderful New Years Eve and a fantastic 2018 full of pushing forward towards your dreams.

My car has a big windshield and a small rear-view mirror because what is behind me is not nearly as important as what is ahead.