Waking to a soggy morning in the Cornfield on this last day of February, 2017, is not bringing any relief in the battle with my own body. I have been out of the hospital for over a week, but continue to suffer in misery.
Last night, I downed some Nite-Time, a generic equivalent of Nyquil, but it had no impact either. Guess I will just have to suffer into March.
Do have some help from my erstwhile house guest, who came back down yesterday. Said he would help me out around the house, since I am still recovering and unable to do little on my own for the moment.
If the meteorologists are correct, March will definitely be coming in like a lion. There are evening alerts about tornadoes in the forecast.
From my head pounding like no tomorrow, to the pressure in my chest and scratchiness of my throat, to the eyes which feel grainy and hard to focus, everything says it is Monday.
This manic weather is not helping. After a frosty weekend, the mercury will soar back to 70 by midweek.
If you did not watch the Oscars last night, you missed an unfathomable ending.
Poor Warren Beatty was left to look like a doddering, old fool as he stared at the envelope to announce the Best Picture. Showing her impatience, Faye Dunaway grabbed the paper from Warren’s hand and announced the winner was La La Land.
It was not.
The real winner was the low-budget, gritty film shot in Miami, Florida, Moonlight.
Steve Harvey must be so glad he was not at the ceremony last night.
A – You have not because you ask not S – You cannot find because you do not seek K – Doors remain closed because you do not knock
Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you: For every one that asketh receiveth; and he that seeketh findeth; and to him that knocketh it shall be opened.
This last Friday in February I am having a difficult time in justifying why to continue the fight with my own body, the struggle to remain relevant in the world.
Yes, part of it is the major depression with which I have struggled for decades, but part is the reality. I am not looking for platitudes or some altruistic explanation to fight on, but a real reason to not give in to the inevitable.
My parents are or soon will be octogenarians. Neither is in the greatest of health, but compared to others their age are robust and hale. Except for Mom, Dad and Susie, Dad’s wife, I seldom actually talk with, see or hear from anyone else in the family.
My sons are busy with their own lives and far from where I am. Both have their own families on which to devote time, energy and concern. My input, effect, interaction is nil – as it should be. I have nothing more, if I ever had anything, to offer either or to my grandchildren, which I seldom am able to see.
My soulmate left me and has become a person I do not know.
Face-to-face friends are virtually non-existent. I have those I call friends and angels online, all, but two I have never met face-to-face.
Yes, I have my fur baby and buddy, Chooey. I have already had talks in the event of the unforeseen befalls me to insure Chooey will have a loving home.
Last week, my baby, Frankie, my long-haired Chihuahua, succumbed to full kidney failure. He had a good life and was a tad over 10 years old. He lived out his last couple of years in a loving home.
How do I explain the utter fear that grips me each time I prepare to shower?
The trepidation, the panic that comes over me is debilitating. I have to muster all that is within me to pull back in the curtain and step into the mist.
So it was yesterday when after over a week, I had no choice, but to clean up myself. Reaching deep inside, I tugged every ounce of strength I had to push back against the panic which wanted to overwhelm me.
My ability to breathe becomes difficult. The action of showering depletes me of all my energy. The shower itself takes little time. But I stand for minutes – sometimes up to a half hour – trying to regain my composure as my body drips with the water droplets.
The towel close, but not close enough to grab.
Eventually I begin to dry off.
Eventually I am able to step out of the stall.
Eventually I can go to the bedroom and dress.
To their credit, Dad and Susie did get me a chair to use in the shower. Unfortunately, to adequately complete the task I have to stand. I do use the chair at times afterwards to regain my cohesive status.
With my physical condition, a bath would be better. Though bathing would not be easy, it would be easier than the shower. Alas, here at Stonebrook there are no tubs only shower stalls.
Following the shower, I have to wait – up to an hour at times – to be able to shave.
Though I have the oxygen, the tube in place, the air flowing, I am still sapped.
I am always afraid I will not recover. I am always afraid I may fall. I am always afraid I will not be able to get the phone to dial 9-1-1.
The following day, like today, I pay and struggle to regain.
Hard to believe, but it was 38 years ago today that my oldest son, Dave, came into this world. Hard to believe that over three decades have passed since I received the phone call saying that my firstborn had made his debut. I must pause and wish to him, “Happy Birthday Dave!”.
It was a cold day in February, 1979. Sadly his mother and I were separated. She had moved back home to Parkersburg, West Virginia after leaving the Air Force. We both had been stationed at Grissom Air Force Base, Indiana when we met and wed. I was still in service three months after she had returned home. Not dealing well with my second marriage failing, the day Dave was born, I was in the hospital at Howard Community in Kokomo, Indiana.
To try and begin to express the joy that welled up inside me when I received the news of Dave’s birth would be an exercise in futility for one such as myself incapable of putting those emotions into words. Upon hearing of the arrival of my son, I called my Mom and let other family members know.
It would be about 25 years later before I met my son. Due to circumstances, the twists and turns of life, greeting my firstborn for the first time was postponed for too many years.
Now 38 years later, Dave has his own family with three beautiful little girls: Dylan, Alaina and Amelia. He has a wonderful wife, Anna. He and his family live in the Indianapolis metro area about 100 miles from Mark’s Den in the Cornfield.
On this day, the only thing that matters is that Dave celebrates his birth surrounded by those he loves and who love him.
May this day be the promise of better days and better years to come.
May the sun always rise and shine its warmth in his life.
Happy Birthday Dave!
I love you and am very proud of the great man you have become.
As some of you may have noticed, I have been absent for nearly a week. Once more I found myself back in the hospital for a few days. I am still a bit shaky, but I have mounted the horse and trying to ride tall in the saddle.
The attack came on suddenly with fury on Valentine’s night. I managed to make it through until morning, sleeping, unmoving from my recliner. My speech was difficult to near impossible.
With my cell phone next to me, I managed to text out to my family, “Help 9-1-1.” The best I could do at that point in time.
Youngest son, Kev, in Austin, Texas came back immediately with “address.” I managed without punctuation to provide my street address. A moment later the response from Kev that the EMTs were on the way.
First to arrive was the Hymera Town Marshall Derrick Cullison, who also happens to be a paramedic. Next came the good volunteers from the Hymera Volunteer Fire Department. With Chooey overseeing it all refusing to leave my lap, the guys got me stabilized.
The Sullivan County Ambulance service was soon there to transport me to Sullivan Community Hospital emergency room.
As I was strapped onto the gurney outside the door of Mark’s Den, Chooey came bouncing out of the house. Hopped up on my stomach. Sat down. Looked at the medics with that look that said, “OK, I am ready. Let’s go.” All the guys had a good laugh.
Once at the ER in Sullivan, the staff and doctor had me back to near normal for me.
The diagnosis was exacerbated bronchitis. That is typical for me, especially this time of the year. Sent home with a good plan of heavy steroid intake and heavy antibiotic.
Great plan, but as with all plans subject to meet the unexpected. So it was in the middle of the night Wednesday, when I woke to go to the bathroom around 3 a.m.
Once more I was calling 9-1-1. The routine repeated. This time at Sullivan, the doc discovered a touch of pneumonia in my left, good lung. Next thing I knew I was in my room at Regional Hospital on 5th East, my normal haunt.
On Sunday, I was released. Over the past 20+ hours I have been recuperating with Chooey at my side.
I will be following up the hospitalization with my pulmonologist on Thursday at 1:45 p.m. Praying I continue to strengthen until then. On heavy uptick on my prednisone and an antibiotic, this time Cefdinir – a first for me.
The day is commemorated as one where we are to share and express love.
While most make it only about romantic love, I believe that we should celebrate love in all its many facets. Love can conquer all.
As Paul wrote in 1 Corinthians 13, “Now abides faith, hope and love, but the greatest of these is love.”
For the full reading check out this past Sunday’s Golden Text.
Today is a day celebrating love, romance and relationships around the world.
In honor of Saint Valentine, lovers and those wanting to catch the attention of that special someone exchange cards, candy, flowers, dinner and cuddle to romantic ballads.
That is everywhere, but one nation.
That nation, Uzbekistan, canceled Valentine’s Day back in 2012. The country’s leaders are hoped to snuff out the influences of the West and make the day one to celebrate a national hero from yesteryear instead.
Now you have a bit of history on this day set aside for lovers, but which has become more about business these days.