Tag: humor

Liebster Award

I was nominated for the Liebster Award by Laketra BFF and I’m pretty psyched. This whole “award” thing is pretty new to me but it’s nice to be noticed and I will participate if for no other reason than to thank Laketra for the nod. She’s a Social Worker with a beautiful soul and she writes about everything. I recommend you check her out. Thank you so much for thinking of me!

For those of you that don’t know, the Liebster Award seeks to highlight new/newer/newish bloggers. When you are nominated, you are summoned to:

1. Acknowledge the blogger who nominated you and display the award logo.

2. Answer 11 questions that the blogger gives you.

3. Nominate 5-11 blogs that you think are deserving of the award.

4. Create 11 questions for your nominees to answer.

5. Let the bloggers know of their nomination!

Here are Laketra’s questions for me:

 

1.) Why did you start blogging?
I was going through a very challenging part of my life and I thought it would be therapeutic to put my thoughts out there. Once it’s out you have to feel better. In addition, I was curious if anyone would relate to my story or tell me I’m nuts.

2.) If you could have 3 wishes, what would they be?
My father to be alive
A beautiful life for my children
The eradication of hatred…everywhere

3.) If you could have dinner with anyone (dead or alive), who would it be?
Again, my father

4.) Any advice for your 13 year old self?
Be yourself. Don’t try to be something you’re not. Lighten up.

5.) If you had to change your name, what would it be?
I wouldn’t change my name, I’m a Junior, named after my father.

6.) Favorite food?
Comfort food from my childhood. Mac and cheese, Hot Dogs and beans, Spaghetti and meatballs, a greasy Diner Burger.

7.) If you were a super hero, what superpowers would you want?
To live forever, to see the future, and to control Karma. Good people get theirs and bad people…well the Karma bus will back right over them and I’ll be the driver.

8.) What is your top strength?
People skills. I study them, I understand them, I can read them, I can handle the worst of them, and I’m nice to all of them.

9.) Read any good books lately?
The Storyteller by Jodi Picoult. Ripped my heart out.

10.) Dream job?
Anything working with kids. Adults are formed, there’s so much to be done with kids to help give them a better future. So much more than money. Since my disability I have been volunteering a lot. This summer I will volunteer at a retreat for the entire families of terminally ill children. It’s not a paying job but I would do it the rest of my life.

11.) Favorite childhood memory?
Weekends at the lake surrounded by family, friends, sunshine and water without a worry in the world.

My nominees. Now, my understanding of the Liebster is that it is for new(ish) bloggers so I don’t want to exclude any of the amazing bloggers that I read daily but highlight just 6 that are really worth checking out. Blogs that are about a year old or less.

1)The Daily Tales of Gregg Savage https://dailytales.com.au/ 

Gregg has taken on the amazing task of producing one children’s story a day for a year. His stories are amazing and full of metaphors, some subtle some not so much, that we adults could learn from. He really speaks for the kids, check him out he’s great.

2) badparentingweb https://badparentingweb.wordpress.com/ 

Funny, real and fun to read, this blog walks you through the life of a young parent and teacher. He’s got a great eye for the world and a keen sense of humor.

3) Karyn’s Domain https://karynsdomain.wordpress.com/

Ever wanted to drop everything and just hike? To really experience nature? Karyn’s blog is a heartfelt, earnest exploration of new chapters and fond memories.

4) MSGraceful…NOT!  https://msgracefulnot.com/

Grace is a funny, witty, brutally honest blogger who writes often, but not exclusively, about life with MS. She is a powerful force in the chronic illness community and she is a hell of a storyteller. I promise you won’t be disappointed.

5)Bojana’s Coffee and Confessions to go https://bloggingwithbojana.com/

Bojana’s writing skill is only surpassed by thought-provoking subject matter. From motherhood to her childhood and everything in between, Bojana will leave you thinking, and possibly rethinking, for days and hours after.

6) Brandewijn Words https://brandewijnwords.com/

Brandewulf, or “the Wulf” is a guy that decided that by night he wanted to explore his poetic side. I’m glad he did, this guy is great. His poems can’t be described by a non-poet like myself in any other way than “wow“. The imagery and use of language is some of the best I’ve ever read. Plus he’s a storyteller as well.

Here are my 11 questions for my nominees, should you care to participate.

1) Why did you start blogging?

2) What do you like most about yourself?

3) What would you change about yourself?

4) If you could sit on a park bench and talk with anyone for an hour, living or dead, who would you pick?

5) Who would you pick to play you in your biopic?

6) What is your favorite childhood memory?

7) What one food would you pick if you were stuck on a desert island?

8) If you could, would you ask for a do-over for any period of your life?

9) What smell reminds you of your childhood?

10) Who is your biggest influence?

11) Does your family know about your blog?

 

 

Alright, that’s it! This was fun! Thank you again to Laketra for the nomination!

People Watching

Hey there, I see you. Don’t think strangely of me if we make eye contact. Yes, I know it’s Saturday night and I am indeed in a booth alone. I’m not staring at you, I promise. I’m just people watching. It’s what I do. For a brief moment in time, you won’t even notice, I will simply absorb, perhaps steal a tiny portion of this moment from you. If you let me do my thing, I will move on to someone else in their room and I will steal moments from them.

It’s just one dinner, one cocktail or appetizer on one day of your life. It’s just one moment. But to me it’s more, I’m incredibly invested in it. You may not think of it as I do, but once this moment is gone all you will have is a memory. You may underestimate how precious that memory will be, but I don’t. See, I am not old enough to say that I will never be happy again, but I know that I am old enough that certain moments are forever past, others beyond my reach.  Vicariously is the only way I will experience them again.

I see you, sir. The young guy with the pretty wife and 2 young children. You are having dinner. Your daughter is trying to get your attention for approval on the puzzle she just completed on her placemat. You’re on your phone. I would trade a thousand tomorrows to have one like you are having. Moments when I was a giant to them and my approval was everything. What you don’t know is a lot of the time I also was too wrapped up in what I was doing to pay attention to them. I want them back, all of them. Please, put the phone down. The text can wait. That disappointed look on her face…you can change that. If you don’t appreciate this moment, may I?
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I turn my attention to the young couple in the corner booth, barely able to keep their hands off of each other. Don’t mind me for staring, I’m not a creep I swear. It’s just that I can’t get over the way you are looking at each other. As if one would simply melt if the other left the table. It must be wonderful to be in love…would you tell me about it? You see, I don’t think that I have ever looked into someone’s eyes as you two are now. I want to but I doubt it now. I think we skipped that part and went right to bitterness and resentment. If it pleases you, could you do better than we did? Regardless, can I just enjoy yours for a while?
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I catch the eye of Mr. Successful businessman at the bar. We nod and we then both look away. I see your $1000.00 suit, your Presidential Rolex and the drink that was poured from the top shelf. You clearly are doing great for yourself. Perhaps you are celebrating a promotion, a big close or merger. To your credit, you look like a guy with it all together. I’m happy for you. I struggled with money and success for my whole career. When I finally got close to wearing a smile like yours, I had to stop working. I hope you have something else in your life that makes you happy besides money. She’s a cruel mistress. But still, cheers. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t jealous.
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I take a sip of my drink and I zoom in on the happy couple at the other end of the bar. Older, smiling, looking at each other fondly as they speak. You are a couple that has been together for a long time. Your love has stood the test of time. Maybe you had it easy, but maybe you struggled with the marriage-crushing burdens of children, finances and work. If you did or didn’t you look like you made it through. I always wanted a love like yours. I hoped to someday say, in a crowded banquet hall, the words “I have been married to this beautiful woman, my best friend for 50 years” and soak in the applause.  It just didn’t work out that way. I am about to be, on Monday, the first member of my family ever to get divorced. It’s too late for me, but I’m really happy for you. If you look my way I’m not staring, I’m simply thinking about my three favorite things…

Could’ve
Should’ve
Would’ve

Who am I you ask? What am I doing here? I’m harmless I swear. You see, I am the petty thief of your moments. My satchel is full for now and I must go home.

What’s in a name?

A young Native American boy respectfully approached his Grandfather, a tribal elder and politely asked, “Grandpa, none of the children in my school have names like we do. Can you tell me how we Native Americans choose our names?”

“Sure”, his Grandfather replied and gestured for him to sit down. “We name our children after a significant event that occurred at the time of…ummmm…conception”. He looked for a reaction from the young boy, saw none and continued. “When I was conceived, my mother and father saw a large hawk flying overhead so they named me Flying Hawk”.

The boy was intrigued so he continued.

When your mother was conceived, I had seen a very large deer run by that day so we named her Running Deer. Do you understand or should I go on?”

“No, I think I understand. Thank you Grandpa”.

“No problem Broken Rubber, you run along now”.

boycott

I have found that the less time I spend on Facebook the happier I am. With the exception of animal videos and inspirational memes, there is not much on there that interests me anymore.

I used to love FB. I reconnected with friends from High School, made new friends through pages dedicated to my illness, found a group of mountain bikers that became real, genuine friends and I really do enjoy just knowing what people are up to. It makes me feel close to them. But in our hopelessly divided world, all of that is outweighed by the negativity and outright hostility we are showing towards each other as we continue to shout in Caps, defend our positions and flatly refuse to accept the viewpoints of those who don’t think as we do. When a tragedy strikes, it is a thousand times worse.

I don’t know if it was school or at home but I know I was taught by someone that we don’t have to agree with each other. That it is ok, even encouraged to have a different view than another, but always respect their right to feel the way they do. It is a human, dare I say American ideal. As Americans we pride ourselves on the origin of our great nation; the escape from political and religious oppression, the notion of governing ourselves and creating a document that can be amended in the event that society evolves and something the drafters of that document never anticipated arises. We shout from the rooftops that you can do and say anything you want in this great land of ours because we are free! Respect and intelligent discourse will always prevail.

Not anymore.

We are no longer the land of the free and the brave. We are now the land of the loud and closedminded. We don’t listen when others speak, instead, we are merely planning our next sentence. How can you learn anything if you don’t listen to another voice? If someone disagrees with us we get angry and hurl insults at them instead of debating them intelligently and calmly. To make matters worse, we have the attention span of a gnat. Instead of researching things and formulating an informed viewpoint, we believe everything we hear and see online.

I love the saying everyone is “entitled to their opinion”. Sorry, you are not. An opinion is formulated and arrived at by study, life experience, intelligence, and wisdom. To say that global warming is real, for example, there are actual statistics on both sides of the issue that can be used to support your “opinion” and a proper debate could then ensure. To say that it is the fault of aliens dressed as Joan Cusack trying to kill penguins because they hate Tuxedos is just a stupid statement. And there are plenty of those.
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But even if you do postulate nonsense or common sense, the vitriol towards others, only strengthened by “keyboard balls” is making me sick. The hatred being spewed back and forth as tragedies strike and everyone digs in for battle armed with a sling full of arrows of “Idiot”, “moron”, “shithead” and “snowflake” to be shot at anyone who has the nerve to not think like them is sickening.

I don’t care who you voted for. I don’t care if you think guns shoot by themselves. I don’t care if you think the earth is flat. I don’t care that you think the president is responsible for an earthquake in Peru. Say something intelligent and be accepting of others or just put the keyboard down. Going on FB now just makes me sad and angry. There is some good content left but so much hatred.

I almost wish that grammatical and spelling errors, duck-faced selfies by women who are way too old to be doing them, vague posts fishing for sympathy or gratification and pictures of ugly feet on the beach were the only aggravating thing about FB. From now on, FB is something to scroll while I poop. A fitting finale for this post. Too bad I don’t have the poop emoji…

my week in review

I try to post something every day. In addition, I try to post something of quality. I committed to writing every day to improve my skills and I have rarely missed a day. Yet I have missed the last four. I was on the verge of missing today also but I have forced myself to sit down and put pencil to paper, as it were.

I’m going to tell you about my week:

Wednesday was to be a big day. It was the day of my first divorce hearing. Financials were gathered, forms were printed signed and Notarized. We were ready to go. Soon it would be official, I could finally have some closure. Additionally, I am carrying my entire family’s income on my insurance and if I show income I would put us over and lose my insurance. Once divorced I could start working legitimately again. The hearing was canceled with no reschedule date. Now we are in limbo.

So I went to work with the guy who so generously has let me work for cash to help with my situation. I gave him two great days, one of which was highlighted by his normally stoic and stressed out CFO making a point to thank me for the contribution I have been making. Always expecting the other shoe to drop, I wouldn’t have to wait long for it. As I left on Thursday afternoon, Ben pulled me in and told me that he will have to reevaluate our situation because our arrangement is too expensive for him. He’s right, I’ve been lucky so far. It’s not that he doesn’t appreciate what I do, it is expensive to come out of pocket. He said he will leave it for now but with no divorce date in sight, it’s going to come to a head. This arrangement is not without its headaches as it is. It’s a lot of driving and extra time. But I have gotten so much satisfaction as I briefly returned to doing what I love.

Some good news, my mother-in-law has agreed to help my wife with an apartment. This was a surprise to me. I soon found out what had changed, my mother-in-law had made a deal with her: commit to going to therapy and she will help. My wife has finally acknowledged that she has a problem and I am so genuinely hopeful that she finds a way to be happy. But the hammer came down on the apartment, however, when the apartment complex she didn’t meet the income requirements and they wouldn’t accept the mother-in-law as a cosigner. Not exactly back to square one, there is now hope that she will be rid of the fucking Manson family she’s living with, but it is discouraging.

Yesterday I went to the local hospital so the vampires can suck more blood and copays to find that not only am I not anemic as expected, but my hemoglobin is getting higher. Which is good but makes absolutely no sense. For the sake of consistency at least my blood pressure was astronomically high. Stroke-level high. And my weight is up. They were so concerned they called my transplant surgeon’s office while I was there. The water retention in my legs is the culprit and it is not even close to funny anymore. Everything I drink goes to my legs like cupcakes to a fat kid’s ass. I was prescribed a larger dose of diuretics and went to the pharmacy to wait for it. An hour later I was told that it requires an insurance override that won’t be happening today. The only positive is that I walked the food aisles and read labels for sodium content. Something has got to change in my diet and I am prepared to cut/change whatever I have to in order to feel better and get my BP down to the point where I don’t hear bass drums pounding in my ears.

I spent yesterday afternoon slumped in my chair feeling generally shitty about things. Thanks so much to a good friend who was there for me (you know who you are) to talk me off of the ledge. I don’t often feel bad for myself but the entire week hit me like a sledgehammer to the face yesterday afternoon. I was disappointed at the possibility of not working at the job I’ve come to like so much. I was sad for my wife and my two youngest who are living with her in a bad house. I was disgusted and confused how I can be feeling good and yet so unhealthy, to be wearing the same clothes yet somehow almost 20 pounds heavier. I was daunted by the task of making extreme changes to my lifestyle and diet. And I was really starting to dwell on how mad I am that some miserable government desk jockey clerk has the fucking balls to make the decision that I don’t qualify for Disability! I rarely use this word but do you know what, this is one thing I deserve.

I do have one good thing to report, I am goint tonight to pick up my two youngest to spend the entire school vacation week with me. Maybe that will put me back on track and remember what it is that I’m fighting for.

Cheers and thanks for listening

The cool dad

The one thing I will never get used to is not seeing my children as often as I used to. I went from every day to a few times a month in one fell swoop. I keep my complaining to a minimum, it’s been hard for all of us. When it all collapsed, we went separate directions, no one’s situation was ideal. My problem was that I never felt right with the world once I was deprived of my nightly conversations with them.

When they were younger I would famously extend bedtime by telling extra stories or watching another show. I was complicit, if not the architect. of some serious bedtime schemes. My oldest daughter came up with her famous “asthma-scam” when she was 7. She has asthma so she would fake a raspy cough, I would get the nebulizer and give her a breathing treatment. Mom never figured it out that she was getting an extra 20 minutes with Dad on the sofa. I had something like this with all of them. I wasn’t home a lot of nights until almost bedtime so, selfish as it was, I found ways to get more. As the kids got older, the books and TV shows became nightly talks. Each kid had that one thing that they liked to discuss with me. Occasionally these talks morphed into conversations that most parents dread, but they happened so organically that it became easy. My kids talked often of their “Dad time” to their friends. We often had a yard full of neighborhood kids. I was the “cool dad”. Even as they got older my kids would tell me how much their friends liked me, that I was different than their own Dads. I was just being me. It wasn’t that difficult, I listened to them. I let them make their mistakes and I gave reasonable advice, not guilt trips. I fostered open communication and a friendly relationship without compromising my role as a father.
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After the collapse, I found myself 100 miles from them. I make the trip down as often as I can but when I do it is a long, carefully planned ordeal because they are all over the place. Two here, one there, one I need to see at his or her work, etc. It sucks but it isn’t going to change anytime soon. I make the most of the time I have with them.

Saturday I got a call from my oldest, asking me when I was going to meet her new boyfriend, who she is apparently semi-living with, and my new Grand-dog Coda. a six-month-old Husky. I told her I would come down Sunday morning. I then called my youngest 2 and found that one was available and one was at a sleepover. I told him when I would pick him up. I then reached out to my oldest son to see if he was working. He was moving into his new apartment that day so he would be available. I called my oldest and informed her that her boyfriend was going to meet all of us except our youngest and my wife, who was working. Her reaction was “John is going to freak out”. I assured her it would be alright. And don’t forget to bring the Dog.

We met at the restaurant at noon. Just by meeting him in the lobby I knew that the boyfriend was exactly as nice as my daughter had described. We got a table for 5 and sat down. John and I got along great. My daughter seemed happy. I caught them smiling at each other and heard her whisper I told you you’d like him. Dinner was great, probably because the one that would have stressed everyone out was at work. I picked up the tab, despite great resistance from John and we parted ways. I would not get to meet the dog that day but I was now off with my oldest boy to see his new apartment.

When we got to the new bachelor pad I parked and told him to lead the way. I grabbed the 30 pack of Bud that was in my trunk and we went in. When we got to the top of the stairs, I handed the 30 pack to them and said “Housewarming gift. I thought of giving you food but I knew you needed this more”. They were pumped. I did my tour and I left.

I dropped the younger boy at his house, bid goodbye and began my 2 hour ride home. I turned my Spotify on and ignored my phone the entire ride. When I pulled into my driveway I opened my text messages. There were 2, one from the oldest daughter and one from my oldest son. They read, respectively.

“John can’t believe how cool you are!”

“Dad, my friends said that I have the coolest dad ever”.

How about that? I’ve still got it!
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Smitten

For the last 3 weeks, I have been going into “town” for blood work at the local hospital. It’s a short 25-mile commute that’s only enhanced by its inconvenience. My doctor had told me 3 weeks ago that I was anemic, that I needed to get monthly blood work and a shot for the anemia. This wasn’t welcome news, it was towards the end last time that I started receiving these shots so these shots and I have a history. But I’m a good doobie so I went.

I had my labs done, checked into the oncology/infusion center and waited for the labs to come back. I scanned the room and evaluated the mix of sick people, bustling administrators, and nurses of all ages and *cough cough* body type. Hey, it passes the time. My bloodwork came back and yay, I was indeed anemic. But not enough for the shot. The real good news is that my BP was through the roof. I was asked to come back next week.

And I did. I was none too happy about it but I hauled myself out of a warm bed, stepped out into subzero temps and drove to the hospital. Again, I navigated the designated coughing and hacking area known as a waiting room, had my blood drawn by a humorless tech and headed over to oncology/infusion again. My lackluster mood changed instantly when Lisa opened the door and ushered me in.

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The sign above the door could have said “das Gas Chamber” and I would have followed her in.

Lisa introduced herself to me, said a whole lot of things and asked a whole lot of questions but all I heard was a choir of angels ringing in my ears.
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She offered me a coffee, I thought better of asking for an ice pack for a swollen area, and she was off. I took the time to compose myself.

Superman has been in a long, painful dry spell. Obama was in his first term the last time I saw a naked woman that wasn’t on my TV screen. The tight parking space I squeezed into on the way in was the most action I’ve had in years. But those years of isolation have made me numb also, and I’m rarely taken back by even the most wiley of charmers.

She came back and said that my labs weren’t done yet. I wasn’t complaining. We made small talk. Turns out she is married with two little ones. Not surprised there. She is also a former MA resident and we knew where each other was from. She was very nice and down to earth, which only complimented the fact that she was cuter than a duck wearing a hat. She took my blood pressure, it was really high again. Turning on the Super Charm, I motioned to the older, larger significantly less attractive nurse behind her and said: “have her take it and we’ll see if it goes down.” I was told to stop because of how “terrible” I am.

Alas, I still wasn’t anemic enough for the shot. But I didn’t mind this visit so much. She escorted me to the door and I remarked that she had to be about 4’11. She corrected me, her clogs were 2 inches and she was 4’10. I lamely exclaimed, “it’s a shame you’re married”. Her only answer was,

“with 2 rugrats”.

“I love kids, that doesn’t scare me off”. I was again told how terrible I was. I gladly made an appointment to come back the next week. “Ann, what’s your earliest appointment?”

I was back there this past Friday and Lisa didn’t greet me at the door. I was seated in a different area than last week. I put on my best disinterested, cool face and scanned the room. She was nowhere to be seen. And then, as I opened my book to kill some time she appeared. With a huge smile, she said, “you shaved your beard!”. Smooth as silk I replied,

“Oh, you noticed”. She’d better have I did it for her. She really seemed glad to see me and during the course of my stay she checked in on me often and I made as much small talk as I could. Wouldn’t you know that I was STILL not anemic enough and I have to go back this week?

I’m smitten. I’m GAGA. It’s also a fantasy. Even without my beard, I would have to hope she has Daddy issues and then learn what kind of cologne her father wore to even stand a chance. I’m also going nowhere with this. She is married and I would never touch a married woman out of respect for the husband. It’s guy code. It was just exciting to have an attractive woman pay any attention at all to me. There was just enough flirtation from her to make me feel alive. It also illustrated just how little it takes to turn me on. So many years of living with an ice queen and I have lost any swagger I may have had.

Superman needs some lovin’. I think it’s time to refine my lines. Get back out there. Maybe use the illness to my advantage. Something like,

“I may not be healthy, but I’m grateful!”

“I’m not going to be around in 10 years so there’s no chance of a long-term relationship”

“It’s been years, how long can it possibly take?’

“I’m Superman, I can ‘go around the world’ before you know it! And if it’s really bad I’ll just reverse time”

Do you think I have a chance?

What lies beneath

As the dreary month of February grinds on I take comfort in knowing that the worst part of the New England winter will soon be over.

While I can’t wait for Spring, I pause to marvel at the subtle beauty of winter. I look out my window at the endless sea of white and it occurs to me that in what initially looks like a barren landscape life is still a bustling ecosystem.

Beneath the ice covering the duck pond, fish teem. In the barren branches of trees the industrial squirrel forages for survival. Tracks in the snow of tiny and large creatures alike prove that the forest is still alive despite the deafening silence and grey skies.

Finally, I think of what lies beneath the snow. The grass waiting to grow. The plants eager to bloom. And of course the location of the iPhone 7 that fell out of my pocket In December as I was shoveling.

Come on Spring

You don’t look sick…conclusion

This series began as a discussion of what it was like, speaking for myself only, to deal with an increasingly visible illness. It has evolved into me telling my story. I have detailed my struggle to not let my illness define me, to avoid the default greeting of “how are you feeling”? Not because I have a problem with people caring enough to ask, but because I don’t want people’s first thought when they see me is, he’s “the sick guy”.

So, to catch up, I managed to avoid the above problem for the most part through “putting on a good face”. While people knew I had something going on, they didn’t see it on me and it basically went away. My wife called it Denial, and I have to admit it may have looked like it, but in actuality, I just didn’t want to think about it. There was a positive to it, there were people that had known me for a while and were not aware of my health issues that were inspired by my attitude. What they didn’t understand is that I am just a hard-headed guy who has never seen the point of feeling bad for myself. Stay busy, stay productive and hope the sun rises tomorrow. My doctor, post-transplant, would tell me that my denial was the best thing that I ever did. I entered the surgery much fitter and stronger than the typical patient. My wife never forgave the doctor for validating the behavior she detested.

Post-transplant I almost put an end to the “how are you feeling” era. I was up walking 2 days after my surgery, not the week that was recommended. I was back at work in 33 days, not the 90 days recommended. I dropped weight and I had color in my face for the first time. I didn’t look sick. For five years I kept it up. People knew that I was feeling good.

One night in 2016 I was serving a dinner at a Masonic function. I prepared a meal for 85 people all by myself. I was in my element, the kitchen. Moving and grooving, flipping pans and slinging some grub was fun for me. While serving the main course I suddenly grew fatigued and my hands cramped into a claw, making any dexterity impossible. I needed help to finish the dinner, people grew concerned. People who didn’t know me pre-transplant, they never saw the sick me. They wanted to know what was the matter. I knew. It was back.

In 2016 I would lose 48% of function in my new kidney. I would experience symptoms that were highly visible. My cramps happened to the point that I couldn’t hide them, my legs were swollen to the point that I could barely walk. I would contract a lung infection in July that would end up hospitalizing me for the entire month. I was out of work and out of options. I applied for disability. It was finally official, I was the sick guy.

By now, the fight was gone. I had hit bottom. That’s when I began this blog. To reap the cathartic, therapeutic benefits of putting my thoughts to paper. I embraced my illness, stopped trying to hide it and find a way to share a bed with it. Now, it is all about accepting that I have a condition that needs to be controlled, embraced and placed front and center. My reward for finally doing this is I have achieved so much peace of mind. Once you are at the very bottom you have nowhere to look but up.

20 years old…” how are you feeling?”. Good
30 years old…” how are you feeling?”.  Ok, why do you ask?
40 years old…” how are you feeling?”. I can’t tell you, so I’ll say great
45 years old…” how are you feeling?”. I would love to tell you, but I can’t afford to. I’m ok
52 years old…” how are you feeling””. I’m alive, thanks for asking.

There’s no escaping it anymore. Some days I feel great, other days I have an episode of crippling cramps in front of 5 old ladies while volunteering at the food pantry. Most people I know are aware that I am pursuing a disability claim.  I do my best not to look sick otherwise.

The other day I posted a picture on FB of the mountains of snow we have up here for my MA friends. The first person who responded didn’t ask about the snow, instead, she typed…wait for it…

“How are you feeling?”

I replied, “Fine, thanks for asking”.