Tag: stuff

A Daughter’s love

I received a text from my youngest daughter late last night. We text almost every day and I always light up when I see that it’s her.

She told me that she has an English assignment to write a 20 sentence essay about a powerful moment in her life, and would I mind if she wrote about my last hospitalization. I joked with her, which one? It was a caustic joke, making reference to the many crises I’ve been through in the last couple of years. It wasn’t funny of course, my battles have had a real impact on my kids, one that I wish they never had to deal with. The last one, I’ve heard, was particularly bad. I have to rely on what I’ve heard because I was unconscious for 2 days.

I told her I was fine with it and asked her to email it to me. Here is what I opened.

As I pulled up to the hospital, I did not know what to expect when I walked into his room. My mom and I made it into the hospital, to the elevator, and into the ICU. The nurse led us into the room and my heart dropped to my stomach as I saw my dad. I have never seen someone look so helpless, while he laid there with a tube down his throat and a machine breathing for him. The nurse was talking, but I couldn’t listen. All I could hear was my heart pounding, the machines beeping, and the sound of oxygen being shot into his lungs. The first time I saw his chest rise then fall, tears came to my eyes, but they did not stop. Tears kept pooling in my eyes and falling down my face. I could not breathe. I felt like I needed to have oxygen sent to my lungs, too, because I couldn’t seem to breathe on my own. They told me to talk to him, but what do I say? Would he be able to hear me? All I could do was hold his hand and hope he could hold mine back, but he didn’t. Even if he wanted to, he had gloves on preventing him from ripping the tubes from his mouth, which he had tried to do during the many attempts to wake him up. So I did the best I could and I held his hand and spoke soothing words to him. I told him I loved him. I told him he couldn’t leave me, and he didn’t. He stayed strong for me, for my family, and for himself, like the fighter I know and love. “He’ll be okay,” they told me. He’ll be okay.

She will be reading that in front of her class.

I was floored. I cried. I was so sad for her that she had to go through that, so proud of her ability to express herself so boldly and honestly, and so taken back by her account. Above all, I was blown away by the love this child has for me.

I told her how proud I was, how well-written it was and that I was moved by her words.
“Well, it’s all true”, she matter of factly replied.

I continue to struggle with that episode of my life. I’ve had a couple of medical close calls in my life and I sincerely remember traveling towards a tunnel of some sort before being revived. I know what I experienced and no skeptic will ever talk me out of it. But the last one was the worst. I was inches from the dirt farm, to the point where the Doctors were discussing my DNR.

Through Doctor and family accounts, I’ve been given details of the ordeal. The 2 ambulance rides, the first to a hospital that was ill-equipped to treat me. The 104.9 fever. The medically induced coma. The breathing tube and the bedside dialysis. I don’t remember any of it of course, and there lies the frustration.

The one thing I have never wrapped my head around is what my family went through during that time. The guy who always tried to act strong, through a carefully orchestrated design of denial and lying about my health was, in my daughter’s words, helpless. Helpless is not a word often associated with me.

My mother, my ex-wife (who was amazingly supportive and present throughout the ordeal), and my older children were all deeply concerned. But my youngest, she was beyond herself. We have a special bond.

As all of these thoughts ran through my sleepless mind last night, I texted her:
“That was a scary time.”

“I was more scared that I wouldn’t be able to say goodbye.”

Is there anything that would make a guy want to keep plugging on stronger than that? God, I love that kid.






Basic

Jeff is the rare “3 AM friend”, if I called him at 3 AM he would be there for me (he has). When he called me last week and invited me to play Poker I jumped at the chance. The prospect of playing cards with him was worth the 2-hour drive.

I met up with him at noon on Sunday and we headed out to get snacks and drinks for the game. We arrived at our friend Justen’s place on time. Jeff and Justen were the only ones I knew, but as a believer in “a stranger is a friend I haven’t yet met” I immediately became friendly with 3 of the 4 new guys. The fourth set off my “Spidey-Sense”, I didn’t like him at first impression.

My senses were accurate, not long into the tournament I concluded that he acted and played like a Dick. But I put up with it.

As the game wore on, players began to drop off. Our Texas Hold’em tournament was 1st and 2nd winners only, once you were out you were out. It had come down to me and the Dick. After a showdown in which I bet and he made a huge raise, I was forced to fold. As I threw down my cards he laughed and talked some trash. I ignored him.

In Poker, if your opponent folds you are not required to show your cards. It is an unspoken rule. When he threw his cards in, I scooped them up in preparation to shuffle and deal the next hand. In the process I accidentally flipped his cards up. He immediately reacted, accusing me of looking at his cards. I assured him that it was an accident.

It escalated. I stood up and told him that if he didn’t stop we were going to take it outside and handle it a different way.

That is when Jeff stepped in.

“Dude”, he said to the Dick. “Bill wouldn’t do that. If he says it was an accident it was, he is one of the finest people I know. Sit down before he kicks your ass.”

The Dick sat down. He and I finished the game. He won, I took second place, doubling my buy in. He took his money and left.

Soon after, Jeff and I left also.

“Thanks for getting my back, brother” I said to him.
“No worries, bud. I meant what I said.”
“Finest people I know?”I joked.
“Bill, you are an amazing human being. One in a million, maybe a billion.”

I was floored. I was unable to offer a response other than to thank him.

Soon, I was on my way back home with 2 hours of quality “me time” ahead of me. I love to drive, I do my best thinking behind the wheel. I can’t count how many blog posts came to me while driving.

This ride, I was thinking about what Jeff had said. What about me made him say that? I’m a pretty laid back guy, I try to be honest and kind-hearted, I’m not judgmental and try to be nice… But I’m nothing special. Then a word popped into my head.
Basic.
Basic is a urban slang word, like fleek, lit, woke, bae,. Etc. Words my kids use that drive me crazy. Basic is a derogatory word denoting one’s lack of spark, of being of no particular interest. Not a nice thing to be called. But it’s a great thing to be and people seem to admire it.

In the last two years I have embarked on a spiritual journey to find myself. By applying the harsh spotlight of self-evaluation, unwavering criticism and acceptance of unwanted but necessary truths I emerged as a person who, for the first time, could look into a mirror and like what he saw. I had stripped myself of pretense, hubris, ego, pride and the conventional measures of success. Isn’t all of that a fancy way of saying that I got down to the basics?

I’ve never been happier.

I am basic. Like a child. Remember when we were children?

We loved everyone because we did not know hate.We were friendly to all because we had not learned prejudice and bigotry.
We were honest because we had no reason to lie.
We were happy because we had not been taught cynicism.
We said the “darndest things” because we were too young to be censored.
We asked questions to learn, not to make judgments.

Then the world changed us.

Fortunately, I have restored myself back to “Factory Settings”. Not amazing, not particularly noteworthy. Pretty basic overall. Some people seem to like that so I think I will run with it.




Play along–7 and 3/4 Nutty questions

7 and three quarters Nutty Questions

I was inspired by a post by Sadje to answer the following questions. I found the questions and the concept interesting so I dove into it. Please pop over to her blog and show some love. It’s a great blog, you’ll like it!

7 and Three Quarters Nutty Questions

How Bizarre

Don’t just answer these questions with quick one word answers, but give them some body! Throw yourself into it.

What will your epitaph read like?

Here lies Bill, in the hole again!

If you could explore anything Indiana Jones/Lara Croft style, where would you go first?

I’d like to journey into my ex wife’s psyche and find something that makes her happy. All conventional methods have failed to this point

What has been your biggest mistake in the kitchen?

I am an experienced cook. I was also, for a very long time a experienced drunk. One night I came home from work 3 sheets to the wind and I started a pot of rice. I fell asleep with the burner on and set the smoke alarm off. I woke my family and my wife tore me a new one about ruining a pan that was a wedding gift (and for being a stupid drunk).

What was the craziest thing you did at school?

We were on an exchange trip to Ajax, Ontario and my friends and I wanted to drink. We stole a case of beer from one of our hosts and filled 2 suitcases with beer and ice. We planned on walking to a local school and drink there. We were walking down the street and the suitcases were leaking water from the melting ice. We were stopped by police, asked why we were carrying dripping suitcases and promptly arrested. THAT was a fun phone call home. oy.

When you dream do you dream in colour, black and white or technicolour?

Vivid technicolour. As are the memories of them

What quote or saying do people spout but is complete and utter rubbish?

“Everyone is entitled to their own opinion.” I agree to a point. But an opinion needs to be an informed one, based upon due research and a genuine understanding of the subject matter. A tomato may be technically a fruit, but it is my opinion that it would taste like shit in a fruit salad.


What’s the most interesting thing you’ve read or seen this week?

I don’t want to open a can of worms here, but the most interesting, in a disgusting way of being interesting, was New York City lighting the top of a building in celebration of a barbaric new Abortion law. I’ve never taken a political or religious stance on this issue, and I respect a woman’s right to choose, it’s interesting that people who cry about children being separated at our border are celebrating the ability to slaughter a baby up until the day before it is born. Sorry, it’s disgusting. And interesting…how much more barbaric are we able to be?

What’s the most useless talent you have?

I’m not blessed with many talents and I have none to spare, but I am very talented at trivia. I am a wealth of useless knowledge. It does come handy in bars, however.

Would you rather be alone for the rest of your life or always be surrounded by annoying people?

I used to love to be around a lot of people. Then I lost my ability to tolerate annoying people. My definition of annoying for the sake of this conversation is people who are fake, loud, backstabbing or untrustworthy. My life for the last 2 years has been fairly solitary and I found that I am ok with being alone because I finally like me.

Would you rather be locked in a room that is constantly dark for a week or a room that is constantly bright for a week?

I would prefer to be in a dark room for a week. Because I would be so happy when I was reintroduced to glorious sunlight, which I will never underestimate as one of the greatest joys of life.

Would you rather relive the same day for 365 days or lose a year of your life?

Groundhog Day! Great movie. We all have a moment, or era that we wish we could do over. Imagine having one year to completely change, by learning and practice, to do it over like a boss. Especially if it leads to a better outcome.

Would you rather find your true love or a suitcase with five million dollars inside?

5 Million dollars. I am no longer capable of romantic love, I’m damaged goods. Now I’m into charity. The good deeds that I could do with the 5 million would make me a happy man.

Answers please on the underside of the topside of the backside, that’s just plain square!

I don’t understand the question.

If you like these questions, hear over to The Guy or Bloke and generate your own post.

#Keepitalive

Just Jot it January day # 28–Testify

#JusJoJan 2019 Daily Prompt – Jan. 28th

Your prompt for JusJoJan 2019, January 28th is brought to you by Dan! Click here to find his last post and say hi while you’re there! Dan’s word for our prompt today is “testify.” Use it anywhere in your post or make it the theme of your post. Have fun!

tes·ti·fy
serve as evidence or proof of something’s existing or being the case.

It took mere seconds to say “I love you.”
It took me an hour to explain it
It takes a lifetime to prove it

We are no longer together
couldn’t withstand the weather
I did not abandon you
did what I said I would do
and kept promises made

I am aware of our status
I’m currently persona non gratis
although I don’t live near
I will always be here

My friends don’t get it
but I don’t regret it
This is how I testify to the oath I made
on our wedding day




SoCS & Just Jot it January day # 26

The Friday Reminder for #SoCS & #JusJoJan 2019 Daily Prompt – Jan. 26th

Your prompt for #JusJoJan and Stream of Consciousness Saturday is: “ad/add/AD (Anno Domini).” Use one, use ’em all–bonus points if you fit them all into your post. Have fun!

I was having breakfast this morning and our server was a very lovely young lady who was, how should I say, as pretty walking towards me as she was walking away. As I watched her in mute admiration, I realized that she was young enough to be my daughter.

It logically followed that I would take stock of my situation and I concluded that women like her were not realistic but I should make an effort to meet someone.

I composed in my head the AD, in the yet to be determined outlet.

“recently divorced guy, balding, one testicle, on dialysis with no future prospects of success or moving out of my mother’s house seeks…well SHIT…anyone. Note, in exchange for physical intimacy I will be the most grateful motherfucker EVER.”

I’ve heard honesty is a turn-on.
We’ll see.

Just Jot it January #25–Balance

#JusJoJan 2019 Daily Prompt – Jan. 25th

Your prompt for JusJoJan 2019, January 25th is brought to you by JP! Click here to find her last post (honestly, I’m assuming JP’s a her–sorry, JP, if I’m wrong) and say hi while you’re there! JP’s word for our prompt today is “balance.” Use it anywhere in your post or make it the theme of your post. Have fun!

For years I spent every minute of my life worrying.
I worried about money.
I worried about my health.
I worried about being a good parent.
I worried about the consequences of failure.

The last 2 years have taken so much from me that I have learned a whole new way of life. Life was once analogous to walking a tight rope. One slip and I would lose everything. A fall would be into a pit of alligators and razor blades.

Now, looking from the base of the canyon up, I have such an appreciation for the joys of life that don’t revolve around money and success, that a fall from the tightrope may be a fall into a pit of rubber balls and puppies.

Walking that tightrope, I wouldn’t be so worried should I lose my balance.

#Just Jot it January # 22 Curiosity

#JusJoJan 2019 Daily Prompt – Jan. 22nd

Your prompt for JusJoJan 2019, January 22nd is brought to you by Pamela! Click here to find her last post and say hi while you’re there! Pamela’s word for our prompt today is “curiosity.” Use it anywhere in your post or make it the theme of your post. Have fun!

To all of those who took risks that led us to a greater understanding of our world, I applaud you. For if you hadn’t had the courage to convert your curiosity into action we would dwell in the uneventful, safe realm of the known, and not charging headlong into the unknown.

Just Jot it January # 21 Echo

Echo-cho-ho #JusJoJan 2019 Jot #21

“Echo” is the prompt word for today, brought to us by Lady Lee. Thanks, Lady Lee! Click here to find her JusJoJan post for today. And say hi while you’re there!

A message from Dr. King

I had a dream
with the world I shared it
that we’d embrace diversity
not run scared of it
please explain it to me
I have nothing but time
how ending the lives of each other
honors the memory of mine
I fought without fists
without anger or spite
I called for equality and love
not to spill into the streets and fight
I reached out in peace
extended my hand
hoping to set an example
that would echo throughout the land
yet still we fight
we hate and we label
to see beyond the color of skin
we seem hopelessly unable
I left this earth many years ago
but I still watch from above
as my dream remains just that
in the absence of brotherly love
we must come together as one
recognize hatred as cowardice
that labeling a man by his skin
is a terrible injustice
it’s never too late
to right this wrong
when we walk and live hand in hand
that will be my victory song

Just Jot it January Day # 20

#JusJoJan 2019 Daily Prompt – Jan. 20th

Your prompt for JusJoJan 2019, January 20th is brought to you by Jill! Click here to find her last post and say hi while you’re there! Jill’s word for our prompt today is “serendipity.” Use it anywhere in your post or make it the theme of your post. Have fun!

Serendipity is a happy accident. It’s also a pretty good John Cusack movie.

When I think of Serendipity I think of an event that occurs over a short period of time that isn’t ironic yet it’s profound.

I like to think I have an example of Serendipity that occurred over a longer period of time.

I dreaded dialysis for most of my adult life and I did almost everything I could to avoid it. How surprised am I at the overall impact on my general well-being; the wonderful nurses that I get to see everyday doing God’s work for the love of the job and not the money; and the effect it’s had on my ability to empathize and relate to those worse off than I. I was already pretty good in the last category but now I’m even better.

It’s a happy accident that I am benefitting from something I once thought was the Ninth gate of Hell.

It is Serendipity indeed.

Next Stop Willoughby

#JusJoJan 2019 Daily Prompt – Jan. 17th

“Next stop Willoughby”.

The sleeping man woke to the conductor’s voice. “Excuse me, did you say Willoughby? That stop isn’t on this route.”

“It most certainly is, sir.” The conductor replied.” Just look out the window.”
As the train screeched to a stop, the man looked through the faded window to see men and women, dressed in fancy clothes from the last century, carrying umbrellas and carefully wading through a crowd of excited children scurrying around the gazebo in the center of town. He watched as the scene began to move as the train slowly left the station. He sat back in his seat and closed his eyes, taking a mental picture of what he had just seen.

“Stanton. Next stop Stanton.” The conductor again woke him as he walked down the aisle. The man captured the attention of the conductor. As he approached the man asked him about Willoughby. The conductor gave him a puzzled look.

“Sir, I have never heard of Willoughby.”

Confused, the man gathered his coat and satchel and exited the train.

He enters his beautiful home and greets his attractive wife. Her looks couldn’t detract from the contempt in her eyes for him.

He begins to tell her of his terrible day. How his boss had demeaned him in front of the entire office. He told her he wished that life were simple, how he was tired of the cutthroat business world and the way in which he needed to behave in order to survive in it. He explained to her that he was really just a nice guy, too nice to be a part of it.

His tale of woe was not met with sympathy. Instead he was told how he must compete, must continue on course and to stop thinking in such a way. She needed him to keep providing so that they could maintain the lifestyle that was killing him.

He was done. Washed up. Burned out. All he could think about was the lovely, if not odd town of Willoughby.

The next day he goes to work only to have another confrontation with his boss. He goes to his office and calls his wife. He tells her that he is leaving his job. Quitting and coming home to her. She tells him not to come home if he quits his job. He leaves and gets on the train home. He rests his weary eyes.

Again, he is wakened by the conductor’s announcement of the stop of Willoughby. This time, he jumped out of his seat, grabbed his coat, left his briefcase and stepped off of the train to check out the town.

He was found dead.

Shocked men stood over him, wondering why this stranger had thrown himself off of a moving train. They would never know that he was dreaming, dreaming so hard for a new life that he died in pursuit of it.

Some story, wouldn’t you agree? I wish I had written it. It’s actually an episode of The Twilight Zone from 1960 entitled “A Stop at Willoughby”. I watched it in deep fascination on the SyFy New Years Day Marathon. I haven’t stopped thinking about it since. I could have been that man, yet it was written 5 years before I was born.

The correlations to my own life are nothing less than staggering.

At one time I owned a house in a nice town, in a nice neighborhood that we didn’t belong in. It was out of our league. Because we somehow managed to pay the mortgage we kept the water level below our noses. But we were in way over our heads. Our children went to school with a lot of wealthy kids and we clothed them accordingly. All activities were A la Carte and we did our best to find a way to enroll them. What we didn’t have, we charged. My wife wanted a lifestyle that was becoming increasingly difficult to maintain. I tried to protest, to voice my concerns over our mounting debt but it fell on deaf ears. In hindsight I should have protested louder, but it’s too late for overthinking that. I lived by the mantra “happy wife, happy life.” What I didn’t know is that I would never have either.

For a while, the pace of my career kept pace with the increasing burden of my lifestyle. I kicked and scratched my way up the professional ladder and I did what the situation dictated. I worked long hours, competed with some cutthroat players and managed to come out on top enough times. I definitely engaged in tactics that were not my style but stopped short at the unethical. Like the sympathetic character in Willoughby, I was a nice guy. Unlike him, my career benefited from that very reputation. I was known as honest, reliable and good at my word and I am proud of that to this day. But the toll to my health was immeasurable and devastating. Kidney disease causes Hypertension, as did my career in sales. The rush-hour traffic, the constant looking over the shoulder, the high intensity of negotiations, the nights before the big phone call letting you know you got the contract, and the stress of failure took years off of my life.

Like our hero, I was also afraid to voice my concerns over the nature of the work I needed to do to maintain our address. The few times that I did, I was also told to stay the course, that we were committed. And sadly, if I were to come home after a bad month, I wasn’t met with empathy or a “you’ll get ’em next month”, I was chastised for failing to do “my end”. Or worse, I would get the silent treatment accompanied by a disappointed scowl. Many times I tried to tell her that shit like that wasn’t helpful, she didn’t care. I almost became afraid to come home for fear of the reprisal.

At my last job I achieved the most security I ever had. A strong salary, a achievable bonus plan and decent hours were a welcome respite. But alas, there was a catch. I worked for a megalomaniac. 85% of the time he was a very nice man. But his dark side was abysmal. I would learn that he had to be right; I was to be good at what I do but not better than him; I was never to talk to his boss about anything because of his paranoia and love of the “chain of command”; and I was to be his puppet and totally devoid of independent thought. If I violated any of the above tenets I would be subject to a minimum of a one-sided rambling lecture and at the maximum a violent and irrational episode. Once he actually challenged me to a fight. I put up with it. Why?
Because I had to.
I had a family at home that needed health insurance, a roof over their heads and most importantly, a childhood. A man supposedly never walks away from a fight. This one did, because a man also doesn’t make his family homeless over his temper or pride. But to stand there and be called the names that I was called, spit flying into my face by a irrational, butt-reaming asshole who was wrong on 10,000 levels took every last drop of restraint that I had. Not hitting him may be my best career accomplishment.
Still, when I got home it was all about the paycheck.
If I had called home and said “Honey, I’m done. I can’t do this anymore” I would have been told not to come home. So I dealt with it. I was forced to dream of the day when life was simpler, more honest and manageable. Where I didn’t have to claw, scratch and claw for every inch.

I wanted my own Willoughby.

I know that in my heart of hearts that if I rode a train and I was woken to the vision of a town 100 years in the past where simplicity reigned over technology; courtesy over competition; a handshake over a notarized document; family over clients; ethics over business, love over money and simplicity over chaos…I would jump off of the train as well. If the fall killed me, so be it. I would still escape the lifestyle that I loathed. The risk would be worth the jump.

I wish I had found my Willoughby, and to find that it wasn’t a dream after all.