Misery on Misery

Delve into the light and dark that is Mark
The sky may not be falling, but it sure is crying as tears stream and flood the Cornfield today. This only piles more misery on an already miserable day.
Such is life.
Sleeping is great. No issues or concerns once the Sandman sprinkles dust in my eyes.
That is a horse of a different color for sure.
That’s the way it is in Mark’s Den.
And how is your Tuesday going?
Thanksgiving, 2008, Sullivan City Park shelter house. Grandma Powell, who is 100 now, is in forefront.

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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.