Delve into the light and dark that is Mark

For the majority of my life, here in Indiana, your license plate expired at the end of the month list on the sticker on the tag. But a few years ago that changed. Now there is a specified date on the sticker for the plate to expire.

Susie and Dad sent me a text yesterday to inquire if I had renewed my vehicle registration yet. I answered that I had not. I then sent Iohn out to see what day the plate renewal was due.

Imagine my astonishment to learn today is the last day. Unlike years before, I had forgot about the specified date. I knew it was this month as it is for everyone whose last name begins with I.

Thus a scramble ensued. Mom agreed to loan me what I needed to get the plate. She met Iohn and I at the Bureau of Motor Vehicles (BMV) this morning.

On a side note, this was the first trip out of Mark’s Den since May 9th when the doctor gave me the news of my pending demise. I weathered the trip well.

Instead of one of the standup portables on a roller, Iohn had my old small portable air canister. I asked if he changed it and he said he had not. Iohn went on to say the canister was still half full.

On the way back from the BMV in Sullivan, Iohn decided to drive up to Farmersburg and drive back to Hymera through the country. After turning onto Miner Road off of Sawmill I realized no air was flowing from the canister.

Sure enough it was empty. So for the next 10 miles through the country side I was without air until I got back to the Den. I did not go inside immediately. I sat on the lawn chair outside my door. Iohn brought me my tube connected to the concentrator.

Chooey came out to welcome me home and take care of business. Iohn put Frankie on a leash per my request. I sat holding the leash as Frankie romped around the yard and took care of his business.

All of this threw me late posting today.

Thunderstorms are on the horizon. Other storms passed through overnight.

That’s the way it is this Thursday in the Cornfield.

And how is your weekday going?  

#ThrowBackThursday photo:

In the back doing dishes is Aunt Doris, who passed on late last year. In the foreground is Grandma Ivy, who has been gone around 20 years ago now, with Brother #2 Lyndale aka Lynn.

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I am Mark Ivy, a born and bred Hoosier.
I am father to two wonderful sons, Dave and Kev, of whom I am very proud;
two terrific daughters-in-law, Anna and Hailey; three beautiful granddaughters, Dylan, Alaina and Amelia.

On May 9, 2017, my lung specialist hit me with the news I had maybe six months to live if the chronic obstructive pulmonary disease (COPD), the damage caused by the histoplasmosis described below, ran its normal course. I am now on hospice at home. Content and ready to cross over the river to the other side.

On September 2, 2014, I was diagnosed with disseminated histoplasmosis, a fungal infection, discovered by a biopsy of my larynx.
The infection is fatal if left untreated. For 2 1/2 years I lived under a death sentence being misdiagnosed
with a non-specific bacterial infection which left my right lung a “dried up sponge” and non-functioning.
I was aggressively treated for the infection with antifungals.
The treatment ended October of 2015 and fortunately did not take two years.

I suffer from chronic Horton’s Syndrome. The effects vary widely causing various problems.
Statistically, Horton’s affects only 0.1% of the population. Major depression also attacks me regularly.