Tag: work

Not so super

The longer you are away the harder it is to come back. But here I am. I offer no promise of quality writing or even linear thought. It’s been 11 days since I have posted and I miss it.

11 days ago I had a good day. I haven’t had one since. Hard to imagine, but my good day consisted of my going in for my bi-weekly lab work. I wouldn’t say that I enjoy going there. I spend over an hour in an infusion center surrounded by some very sick people. I like to think, as I await the results of my labs and a determination is made whether I need a shot or a bag of iron or hemoglobin, that I make some of the nurses smile during my brief stay. I know that I had a pretty big smile on because my lovely Lilliputian Lisa was there. I haven’t seen her since the day I composed a post in her honor entitled Smitten.

Apparently, she doesn’t normally work Friday’s but when the infusion center door opened. there she was. 4 foot 10 of pure sexy awesomeness. And I think she was happy to see me also. We exchanged pleasantries as I dutifully followed her to a seat. I reminded myself to behave. Yes, I am newly divorced but she is married and there is a man-code. She took my BP. It was higher than Willie Nelson. I was reminded of the last time she took it. I had joked that if she walked away it would go down. But I behaved and didn’t do it again. She then said “maybe it’s me?” and gave me a coy smile. I told her that I was being good, she needed to as well. She smiled again and walked away. That’s it, I thought to myself, gloves are off. When she came back I pulled a gem out of my quiver of pick-up lines and said: Are you familiar with Confucius?

“Of course”, she replied.

“My favorite quote by him is ‘He who wants hot nurse must first be patient’.” I could almost hear her underwear falling off.

That was the highlight of my day. I couldn’t get an infusion because of my high BP, a very concerning problem, and she escorted me to the door. I joked with her that she should swap her shift again because I would be there in 2 weeks. She didn’t say no so that’s a sign I guess. To what end I don’t know, all I do know is that she was flirting with me, something that NEVER happens to me and I’ll fucking take it.

I’ve been sick since. My BP is out of control, I am on several new meds and nothing is working. I’ve basically been housebound since. I have missed work, only gone out when I had to and even then I had to force myself. I managed to pull off serving an Easter Breakfast for the die-hards who attended the sunrise service and after 2 hours I was exhausted. I used to be able to work 15 hour days in a kitchen and that 2 hours almost killed me. I went home, napped and went down to MA so see the family for Easter. When I got home I was cooked. I haven’t been out since.

The headaches, the pounding in my head like a John Bonham drum solo, the dizziness, the not-so-patiently-waiting for the new meds to start working is taking a terrible toll. I need to sleep just one night. I hope that night is tonight, I really can’t take much more of this. Old Superman can’t save the day until he remembers how to fly again.

thanks for tolerating my rant. Peace

 

In my element

I managed to return to work this week for a glorious 2 day stint. I have been away for 2 weeks. School vacation with the kids, a minor concussion from going ass over tea kettle in my icy driveway and about 60 fucking inches of snow have kept me close to home. Fortunately, my head is fine…my head is fine… my head is fine …slaps forehead…yea my head is fine and despite a sore back, I made the trek to MA on Thursday.

The CFO was really happy to see me. Apparently,  she sees the contributions I have made. No one else seems to make them in my absence. So I have a niche. The rank and file were also happy to see me. It seems that morale sucks a bit lately, which confuses me because the owner is a super nice guy. They are very busy and a bit short-staffed so I suppose it makes sense. They need comic relief, which I always provide. Any role is fine, it’s just nice to be somewhere you are appreciated. The worst thing to me is to be the guy who took 2 weeks off and no one noticed.

I am starting to expand my role a bit, taking on tasks that nobody wants or can handle due to time constraints. Most in the building are not aware of the extent of my expertise in the business, they just think I’m some guy the owner knows. But I have jumped right in and handled some delicate stuff of importance, some of which involves the dreaded phone. Most people hate the phone, and a lot of those who don’t really aren’t that good. Myself, I’m like Michael Jackson on the playground, I’m in my element. This week my coworkers saw a new side of me…phone me.

One of my tasks was to call customers who had recently purchased a motorcycle and introduce our company, review the contact information, go over the contract and answer any questions they may have. It usually consists of about 50 calls, 35 that go to voice mail and the remaining 15 can go any direction from a hang-up (they think I’m a telemarketer) or a cooperative call. I have fun with those. I don’t just ask a bunch of boring questions, I talk to them about their bikes. I build excitement by establishing a bond. It’s so easy for me. As I was making calls, I saw that some of the people in the room were taking notice of what I was doing. One call, in particular, was with a gentleman in Texas. His mother raised him right, he was friendly, courteous and didn’t treat me like a schmuck. So I had some fun with him.

“Mr. Beegle, how are you enjoying your new Harley Soft tail?”

“Well, I’ll tell you what buddy, if I was any happier I might damn explode!”

“Great news, enjoy it.”

“Well, I don’t know about that. See my hot little girly, see she’s a Latina. Fiery little thang. She don’t much like riding on the back of it.”

“Mr. Beegle, I want you to listen carefully, ok?”

“Sure, Bill.  Go ahead” he said.

“Mr. Beegle, women are easy to find, but the right bike comes along just once in a lifetime.”

I’m pretty sure he pissed himself laughing. We completed the call and I put the receiver down. All eyes were on me. My CFO said, “Did you just say…?”

I looked at her and said. “Yes, I did. But if it helps, I had absolutely no control over my mouth so it’s not my fault.”

My cell phone rang, I turned around and answered it. I recognized the number.

“Suicide hotline…please hold.”

I’m going to Hell, but for now, at least I’m having some fun. To imagine I’m going to be dating again soon…

A second chance at a first impression

I spend more than any one man’s fair share of time in Doctor’s offices, Labs, and Pharmacies. It’s a part of my life that I’ve had to embrace. In my endless travels of maze-like offices, antiseptic hallways, hack-and cough centers that double as waiting rooms and backed up pharmacy counters I deal with a lot of people.

I have spent years working in restaurants, retail and customer service and have answered a lot of phones with some angry people just waiting to tear into me. I learned early and often that there is only one way to conduct yourself in order to get any results, and that is to be nice. That’s it. It serves 2 purposes. It is the right thing to do (if you give half a shit about society in general), and when someone is expecting a fight it throws them off when you go the other way. I know for a fact that a receptionist, lab technician, Pharmacy Tech, or cashier are fully expecting customer’s to escalate all of the time. People seem to think that it is acceptable to raise their voice, argue and even belittle those whose job it is to serve them, bad attitude and all.  As a person, as well as an employee, they just don’t need it.

Since I’ve moved up here I have escalated my campaign of self-improvement. My high blood-pressure, coupled with a lifestyle I couldn’t keep up with was making me sick,  anxious, quick to temper, and impatient. It was a struggle to be patient and understanding as I struggled with insurance coverages. prescriptions, PCP’s, referrals and all of the small details associated with losing your family and moving in with your mother with only the shit that would fit in a 2013 Honda Civic. As my health, and consequently, my attitude improved over time it became easier to be the man I wanted to be. In short, it is nicer up here from the air to the people. Customer service, on the other hand, is a problem. There are plenty of workers but the skills aren’t there. Still, I resolved to be nice. And if I couldn’t be nice…apologize.

Nice was easy for me. Understanding was manageable. I wasn’t exempt from being aggravated.

Last week I was in the middle of a three-way, not the good kind, between myself, my Dr’s office and my Insurance company. I was in need of a dosage increase on one of my meds. Getting ahead of it, I called my pharmacy to make sure it was approved because I would burn through the current 30-day supply quickly and then be without. It wasn’t approved, I was told to come in on Monday (it was Friday at the time) and it will be all set. Stupidly, I didn’t call first and drove the 25 miles to the pharmacy. I had planned it perfectly, I could pick up 4 (of my oh so many) prescriptions at once. I wouldn’t be that lucky.

After driving through snowy, frost-heaved roads, a packed and crazy parking lot, and a long line at the pharmacy I was called. I obediently toed the line, recited my full name, DOB, marital status, confirmed that I was indeed circumcised (maybe I just volunteered that information) and properly insured. 3 were ready, the one that I was almost out of was still not approved.

I was incensed. I asked the young girl at the counter if she could check for me to see if it may be a mistake. She assured me that it wasn’t. Now, in hindsight, this is where the situation went in the wrong direction. The place was busy, there was a line behind me and she was the only one on the counter. She was stressed and couldn’t handle it. But I pressed her and she blurted out “that’s what my screen says, what else can I tell you?”

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I tried to explain to her that I was in need of that particular one and didn’t want to make another trip. She said again that it’s not ready. Would I like to take the other 3 prescriptions now? And then she made the critical mistake of rolling her eyes and looking behind me to the next person in line. I became annoyed and said,

“Excuse me, but you’re not listening to me. What are you going to do to help me get this resolved?”. She then informed me that the note in the system said: “See pharmacist for instructions”. I told her, as non-snarkily as I could, that such information would have been helpful in the beginning. I shuffled down the counter to meet the Pharmacist, the man behind the curtain. With a 5 minute call, the pharmacist had made the insurance company understand and approve. I was on my way.

I felt bad on the way to the car. While I could give a bunch of reasons why she was wrong and perhaps rude, I was supposed to be bigger and better than that. I could hear my 18-year-old son in my head saying “Well, so much for the kinder, gentler you, Dad”. He had remarked months ago that he liked the “new me”. He wouldn’t have been pleased with his Dad there. But, But, But..I was frustrated blah blah…too much driving blah blah…I need I need blah blah. It doesn’t matter, it’s all bullshit I could have done better.

The whole ordeal had slipped my mind until I went back today to pick up 2 more prescriptions (heaven forbid they could all be filled at one time). As I walked to the counter and toed the line again I saw the same young lady standing before me. If she recognized me she didn’t show it. We smoothly completed the transaction and I was about to leave when a little voice in my head said Superman do the right thing here. I turned back to the counter, apologized gently to the woman approaching the counter.

“Excuse me, but last time I was here I was less than nice to you. I feel bad, I was fighting with the insurance company and I took it out on you” I said.

“Oh, I don’t take that stuff seriously” she replied.

“Well,” I replied, “it doesn’t make it ok. I want to apologize to you.”

Her face visibly brightened, “Thank you so much for that, it really means a lot.”

I smiled at her and excused myself. As I walked to my car it occurred to me that I hadn’t been that rude to her. She had some part in it also. But then along came that little voice again.

It doesn’t matter jackass, It was the right thing to do.

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.

the other shoe

If you have been following me recently you will know that I have been doing some part-time work for a friend. It has been an overall good experience for me. In addition to having a little bit of money to play with it has also given my ego, in particular, that section that controls not feeling like a useless piece of shit, a boost. I would like to say that it has been an awesome experience but there a few downsides. For starters, it is 2 1/2 to 3 hours away depending on traffic. It is not without expense, it is at least a tank of gas plus food for 2 days which cuts into the overall “worthwhile” of it. It also requires that I stay with my friend who works there also for up to 2 nights a week. He and his wife are the ones who offered it in the first place, making this even possible and claim they enjoy the company but I feel like a burden. That’s the way I’m wired. I’m not paranoid, but I know that when I watch football and the players are in a huddle…yeah they’re talking about me.
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I also haven’t gotten too excited because let’s face it, I’m always waiting for the other shoe to drop. I fully expected a wrinkle and it came the week before last.

As I was leaving on Thursday I checked in with my friend and boss to let him know that I was leaving for the week. He turned to me and asked me to close his office door. Here we go, I thought, the other shoe.

“You’re getting expensive,” he said. “I want to help you out but I really don’t have it in the budget right now”. He looked upset, I knew that he was genuinely conflicted. I never actually considered this to be any more than a “we’ll see how long it lasts” scenario I played it cool. But inside I was a little miffed. I wanted to explain what I’ve been working on, the contribution I’ve made and the slew of compliments his CFO has given me. But I stopped myself.  Instead, I told him that I would only be available on Monday the following (last) week. I politely told him that if he doesn’t need me, just tell me and I’ll be ok. We left it that we would talk about it Monday. I managed to successfully leave his office without reverting to the old me.

The old me would have been reactionary, upset, filled with a sense of dread and lament wrong decisions made…both real and imaginary. That was when I was a slave to a -paycheck, in fear of harming my family, forced to “suck-it-up” for the benefit of others. I’m not that guy anymore because I don’t have that situation anymore. The new me doesn’t need the job, I just like the job. By choice or otherwise, I am now in a position where I can choose what I do for money and if it doesn’t work out I will find something. The bar is set pretty low but I it is oddly liberating.

I am also blazing a new trail in that I am using my knowledge of reading people. I know that Ben is happy with what I’ve been doing and he likes having me around. I know him enough to know that he can get creative if he wants in how he compensates me.

It also occurred to me that my work has and will speak for itself. I know, not think, that I have found a niche and have worked on an area of his business, with some solid success, that he didn’t even know he needed. He knows it now. So last Monday morning, early, I called him and told him that I wouldn’t be in. 6 hours of driving for 1 day was just silly. He understood. I sat back this week to see what would develop.

As of Friday morning, I had received 3 emails from the CFO and 2 texts from Ben asking me when I was available to come in this coming week. I simply responded Why, do you need me?

It seems he does.

Job and pride both intact, I think I like how the new me handled this one.

 

 

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

this could have been so much easier

One of the many things I enjoy about working again is that I was able to find something in my field of expertise. That is to say, anything involving the sale of something with wheels and a guy who sells it. I have done it all in the world of wheels from oil changes to repossessions and I love it all. When I began to help out my friend at his Powersports Finance company he soon found that there wasn’t a job in the building I couldn’t do (except accounting). Because I was to be part-time, he started me on some time-consuming projects that were taking too much time from his already overworked full-time crew. These tasks could be as simple as minor dealer issues, customer service calls or as complex as sorting out issues with local and state agencies. After cleaning up some small crises in my first week, he promoted me to a really fun one. I was to have a Motorcycle inspected and have a new Vehicle Identification Number assigned to it.

Having a new VIN# on a vehicle is a major ordeal. The entire history and pedigree of a vehicle are tracked by it. The state requires serious documentation from the owner in order to sign off on this task. As the lienholder, because we repossessed it, it is even harder. So I took my time to learn the exact process, what forms I needed to prove ownership, and what documentation I needed on hand to prove ownership. Over the course of the first week, I was able to gather all paperwork, pay all fees and gather all receipts and call for the appointment. Once the appointment was made at a local inspection station I would begin the process of coordinating how to get the motorcycle to them.

Between the initial attempt at making the appointment and actually completing it would take 2 weeks. It was a giant series of telephone tag and miscommunications (on the State Police’s part)until I was finally able to set the appointment for 10 AM Friday morning. time.

When Mike and I pulled in (Mike was helping me with the bike because it was very heavy) the trooper told us to park the trailer, unload the motorcycle and he would be right back. He then proceeded to get in his cruiser and drove off, after all of the efforts we had made to get there on time. He came back 15 minutes later with a cup of coffee. Mike was visibly pissed, I was containing myself for now.

Trooper Burns was a large, fit man with a grey buzzcut and a blank expression on his face. He began to ask me a series of questions that I had already answered, some of which weren’t even relevant. I kept my composure and explained my case again. Trooper Burns seemed to delight in being difficult but I stayed on point. At one point he told me to start the bike to prove that it runs, I told him there’s no need, it’s not a salvage inspection it’s a reassignment. He knew I had him and moved on. 15 more minutes of explaining our situation, how we came into possession and what we needed to be done he finally agreed to go online and do his due diligence. 30 minutes later he came out and said “This is the wrong bike”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“This is the wrong bike,” he said again.

I took a deep breath and patiently replied: “I heard that, please explain it to me”.Mike was facepalming in the background.

“This engine number is off of a bike recorded stolen in Florida. Can’t let you leave with it”. Now, this was not a completely unexpected turn of events but not ideal. We talked for a while about our options, what he was going to do next and when to contact him again. I went to shake his hand and he caught a glimpse of my Masonic ring. “I didn’t see that before…Good men the Masons. My brother and father both are members. I wish I saw that earlier I wouldn’t have given you such a hard time.”
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I paused, took a deep breath, and said,”Trooper Burns. As a Mason, I wouldn’t have needed to glimpse a ring in order to treat you decently. As a Mason, I would have been decent right out of the gate. This could really have been a whole lot easier”. I studied his face for a reaction, I think he understood me. “Show me the secret handshake,” he said as he smiled for the first time since we had met.

As Mike and I drove out of the lot, empty trailer and all he said “Brass Balls, man. You’ve got Brass Balls.”

“No, he knew I was right. He has a tough job and deals with a lot of assholes. What he didn’t recognize is that I’m not one of them. Now he knows.”

“So, tell me about this ring…”

 

 

 

 

 

a day of rest

I’m so tired today. It’s that feeling that kidney patients have difficulty explaining to others. I don’t have a virus, I’ve been washing my hands. Yes, mom I’m taking my meds. I’m just washed out. I woke up as tired as I was when I went to bed last night. Cold, weak and the very thought of doing anything is dismissed as impossible. Carrying my laptop seems a Herculean task.

I am prone to feeling useless on days that I don’t accomplish much. I’m still transitioning to the stage where I openly accept that I’m not capable of doing as much in one day as I once was. I’m getting there. I spared myself the mental beat down today. I actually feel quite accomplished for a refreshing change.

I put in 3 very solid days at work this week. I am starting to feel comfortable in the office. My co-workers seem to have accepted me. I don’t think for a second that they didn’t like me, instead they probably were just curious of my sudden appearance, my lack of a learning curve, and why the owner and I are so comfortable with each other. In addition, I have found a niche. Without getting into detail I recognised a need and tackled it. My ability to dig into the source of issues and resolve them by putting new systems in place has been a contribution. That’s all I ever wanted, to be of use and contribute.

In addition to a productive day, I made a date for last night. An hour after I left work, I was getting a giant hug from a very beautiful, special lady. My youngest daughter. We went to our favorite diner, ordered off of the breakfast menu and just talked. It was so great to just sit, listen (even when I had no idea what she was talking about sometimes) to her prattle on excitedly about everything from boys to school to makeup. She seems to be doing well and I am so relieved.

To think that I once joked that if she were Native American her name would be “Alcohol-related-accident”. She wasn’t planned but today I cannot imagine my life without her. My other children would hate me to hear this but in July the only thing I could come up with for a reason to live was her. It’s not that I don’t love all of them to death, it’s about how much I mean to her. If I had done what I wanted to, it would have destroyed her. As I looked across the table, I wanted to thank her for saving my life.

As tired as I am today, I feel better about things. That things are getting better for everyone. As if my dad was again sitting with me over a beer telling me his favorite, comforting sentiment…

Things always seem to work out.

I didn’t really believe that when he was alive. Now I’m starting to. Tomorrow is a new day and I’ll get as much accomplished as I can. And feel good about it.

Peace my friends

 

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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Acceptance

I want to thank those of you that read and interacted with me on my recent “you don’t look sick” series. The series started out as my take on having a condition but not allowing it to define me. I allowed it to morph into my telling that basic story that has pervaded my entire blog but in greater detail. In a sense, I told my whole story.

I reviewed the series this morning, fearful that I had painted too vague a picture and not stayed on point. All in all, I think I said what I wanted to say and stayed on point. I also read the comments and it was then that I realized that I had left something out. Considering that I read Elizabeth Kubler-Ross in High School when two of my best friends died in a fiery car crash I should have recognized that I left out Acceptance.

When I began this blog I was at a low point. The title itself, Superman can’t find a phone booth, was conceived in a hospital bed and suggests the futility of being once-powerful and now without an outlet. As my blogging journey progressed I began to come to grips with my homelessness, financial situation, relationship with my children, deteriorating marriage and place in the world. The one thing I did not embrace was the obvious-to-everyone-but-me fact that my illness was not to be ignored anymore. No amount of positive thinking, Tony Robbins podcasts or denial was going to make me better.

I speak often of the fearless, forge-ahead at all costs attitude that I was able to maintain for so many years. I still maintain that it was the right thing to do. I managed to keep my family worrying about me to a minimum and it allowed me to work for as long as I could. But, I always rejected the notion that it was denial. I joked about it when confronted with it, spinning it back on my detractors with its success rate. Hell, even my doctors begrudgingly admitted that it worked for me. But only recently, perhaps it was today when reading the comments of some bloggers who are “in the know”, it occurred to me that I have moved past the denial phase and have achieved Acceptance. This is a bittersweet step for me.

I can accept that my condition will not go away if I ignore it. But I’ve never really allowed myself to think openly and honestly at what the future holds, even though I know. Years of Dialysis, a possibility of another transplant and a hope for a cure. Without my denial, will I resign myself to this path or fight it?

I can accept that I may never work full-time again. This kills me. But my recent dabble in part-time work, albeit fun, has taken a physical toll. I don’t think it’s a matter of conditioning, my body really can’t take it. Consequently, I have to accept that 2 days of work requires two days of recovery.

I can even accept that I will likely live in my mother’s house until the day I die. It’s technically mine, she is leaving it to me, and she will outlive me anyway so I’m getting my inheritance now.

What I am having difficulty accepting is how lousy I have felt and the lack of breaks between symptomatic episodes. I have always had “flare-ups” of gout, edema, cramping and other fun little side effects of kidney disease. But they passed and I would experience a period of relatively good health. Since this past summer, it has been something almost every day. For a while, I was hopeful that I would improve, be relatively symptom-free and look to the day when I can resume some of my favorite activities; biking, hiking, weight lifting, basketball. Today, as I have spent most of the day on the sofa because my blood pressure is dangerously high, I am lightheaded and dizzy when I stand up and extremely listless and unambitious after a busy, but not that busy day yesterday. I am down, and I never, ever get down.

I don’t know if I can accept that a mere 3 years ago I was playing basketball with teenagers, yet my shoes are now collecting dust.
That I was a part of a mountain bikers group that became great friends but now my bike is sitting sadly in the corner of my garage.
That I was at the gym 4 days a week, moving weight and feeling strong. Lately dragging my ass out of bed counts as Cardio.

Fortunately, I do accept that I will never completely give up. I keep the bike and the shoes not to torture myself but as a reminder of what feeling good feels like. In the event that things turn around, or dare I hope for a medical advance of some kind(?) that these things will be at my disposal again.

I’ve never mixed hope and realism before. So far I can tolerate the taste. It’s not the same type of relationship as giving up and accepting.