Medical Madness

DISCLAIMER: Contains graphic images.

Sometimes it is necessary to  make a decision in the interest of self-preservation. The reality of such decisions is that it can be a difficult decision. Sometimes, however, the answer is glaringly obvious. So it is with my decision to return to a skilled nursing facility. I know it is the right decision, the only decision that makes sense. Losing my foot is not an option I wish to consider, but it is a disturbing reality. I have been fighting with wounds on my feet for the past 5 years. On my right foot for about 3 of those years. For the most part, it has remained at it's status quo for the majority of the time. Open wound, wound care, some healing, undermining, debriding, dressing, wait a week repeat.

It has been a long and frustrating time as the wound showed little signs of healing as I was unable to stay off of it. So finally, had to lose a small bone from my foot. The surgeon also performed a radial graft, and for a moment, the wound looked great....

Until it didn't.... (four days later)

Now I really do not want to complain, as this really is my fault for not being able to stay off of it. But I am concerned that even though I have been off my foot for a week, the degradation may have continued. I find out later today when the cast comes off long enough for wound care. Fingers crossed. Hell... it may work, I have tried everything it seems except total compliance.

Update: The appointment went well! Both the podiatrist and I were pleased and surprised at how different the wound looked after only a week. I still may have to be here a month, but at least I know that it is possible for me to walk out of here at the end of this.

I don't want to complain. I do not want to whimper or whine. In fact, these would all be in conflict withe the man I want myself to be. Still, there are things which have been weighing heavily on my mind these past few weeks, things which I feel I must get off my chest.

First of all, having spent a fair amount of time thinking about this, I realize that I need to make an effort, a true effort to write in this blog more consistently. This morning a friend posted online that they felt that people were somehow treating emotions as something to be avoided, because in talking about their feelings, or listening to another person's feelings somehow made them uncomfortable.

I observed frankly that my childhood experience conditioned me to believe emotions to be something to hide. Emotions were not acceptable as they were a sign of weakness. Further, I was abused in most ways possible, and when talking about feelings were considered to be a sign of weakness, I shoved them ever deeper, thus causing further harm to my young psyche.

But after reading my friends post, I replied with these words:

  "I was forced to believe that emotions were not acceptable and it resulted in years of internalized suffering. I’ve since learned that emotions are an essential part of what makes us human. It is wise to be in control of them, to recognize them, to talk about them, and to feel them. It is not wise to let them control you."

I realized after the fact that I really should take my own advice more often. Sometimes, like today, I come up with real gems. This observation made me think, "Gee! I need to get back into journaling or blogging, or both. I got out of the habit, and the years I lost are only highlighted by the time I have remaining, however long that is. But I know that as I age further, I will have more to write about.  I need to spend time thinking about what I wish to blog, and what I wish to journal. 
All I know for certain is that this time, I cannot falter for long, or I may never return to it, and I have already lost over 20 years. How much life have I missed? The emptiness is filled only with regret. 

I shall try to write a paragraph aor two a day. amd see how it goes. Then I need to get into the habit of Journaling as well. 

Second, recent events which would have done me well to journal about are on my mind, as I try to sort out my memories in a cohesive manner. I need to finish the outline, and I need to determine my next few steps.These steps are critical.

 or blogging or both."

draft test

Well, Fuck...

What else can I say? What else needs to be said? I swear it feels like a lifetime has passed since my last entry, and perhaps it has.  I have been struggling with even being able to log on and add entries for a while now, in part because I have been having a problem with browser redirects. I Could not find anything in my browser that might be causing the problem. I tried several malware fixes, but none worked. I finally accessed the damn thing from my phone long enough to figure out which gadget was responsible. I deleted it from my page, and no more redirects. I can only assume that other people had the same problem as my site has seen no traffic in a long time. I doubt very much if I have any followers left.

I need to take time to get back to this, and start writing again. I have tried to start another blog, but because of my health issues, I found myself unable to follow through with it. I am hoping that may change. But it will not happen tonight. I have medical appointments tomorrow, and it is late. So for now, this is just a check in.

"It has been a long while, my friend. I haven't spoken to you in so long.... ! How have you been?  I did not realize how much I have missed you until just now.... ; It is so very good to see you!"

Have you ever had a greeting like that? One where you are so happy to see your friend that you are truly happy to see them... yet at the same time saddened, regretful that you had let so much time pass? The loss of countless moments when you could have been doing something... anything together.... and there is legitimate sorrow that these moments are lost?

Well,  that is where I am at in this, my blog, but also in many areas of my life. I just got out of the hospital again, not even really clear what was wrong, only that when I arrived in the ER, I was barely conscious, cold, running a fever of 103.7, and apparently with a heart rate of close to 150 bpm. My white blood cell count was up over 20, (whatever the hell that means!) indicating I was fighting some sort of infection, possibly viral. So they dumped me on antibiotics, a lot of them, treated me as if I had the flue (which I did not we learned later) and until they dropped 4mL of morphine into my veins, I was having a really hard time.... although now I can figure out why I do not remember much. It got a little foggy after that, and more so after the subsequent injection of dilaudid. I do not remember much about being taken up to the second floor. It is all a little hazy. As was most of the first day, though now it seems like several had already passed. Again, I wonder why? But apparently somewhere along the line I had the opportunity, while on morphine in the emergency room, to post a selfie on facebook. Guess I should be glad I was clothed.

 SO I got distracted. I saw my niece online and said howdy, and although brief, it may have been the most adult conversation she and I have ever had. I was there the day she took her first steps. She took them toward me, halting, unsteady, but determined, before collapsing against my knees with a gigantic grin. She balanced herself, lifted herself upright, and with a new direction, she ran back to her mother across the living room. (Maybe six feet... but it was the accomplishment, not the distance that was important.) That was pretty much the last time any of  us saw her sit still for a moment. At least that is how it seems to her mom and I.  It is getting close to four years ago now, the last time I saw her, and perhaps the last time any of us will see the little girl she once was. Her Mom was in the hospital very sick, needed heart surgery. And she needed to make some very adult decisions for her Mom. She was close to wits end, and I was as proud as could be of her for being so grown up. I told her so, and then, for a moment... just a moment, she was the little girl again as she stomped her feet and said "But I don't wanna be a grown up!"But I digress  I am getting off track.

"Life teaches us painful lessons, which we, as parents, want to protect our children from, but in the end, they too, must learn some things on their own. The circle closes, ad infinitum." ~ Me, during a chat with my niece

I chatted with her briefly this morning and it was during that conversation that I happened to type a truism. I like it when that happen because it makes me feel a little better about myself, the wisdom I have gained as I have gotten older. I come across them occasionally and surprise myself. I really need to start writing this down! Which is partly why I am here today blogging. My journals and blogs are in a way my friends. Who else but myself, and or my few readers would care about any of this stuff  Perhaps one day my blog will have a following, but in order for that to happen, I have to write in it. Otherwise, who would want to read it? So there I am. Life is right there,  just waiting. Begging me to reach out and take it.

To those who do read me, I apologize for being gone so long. I will try harder to write more often.

Part of what must be on my mind.

I do not often dream about people I can easily identify, unless I see them often. So last night it seemed odd that I should dream so clearly about my nephew Alan who is recently deceased. It was not a remarkable dream. For some reason, in my dream, Yvonne and I were out shopping at some sort of thrift store, and she had found several necklaces which appeared to be teardrop shaped glass pendants on dainty chains. Each pendant seemed to have images of babies, a little like Anne Geddes' art work, somehow embedded in high resolution into the glass. I get that... what woman does not like babies? Not something I would have bought , however... but the strange part was in my dream was my nephew Alan was apparently working at the shop in some capacity. He was wearing some sort of headpiece enabling him to manage the phones and talk to a supervisor while helping customers. That was strange. Alan liked people, and might have done well in retail at one time, but he preferred a different method to making money that did not involve actual work. Too, in the dream, he seemed happy, clean, and healthy. That was the odd part. I had not seen him be any of these things in several years. But, upon waking, I still felt somehow good, because in a way. I sensed that he may be those things now.

I am nervous, very nervous about tomorrow. I have been in pain so long now that I am desperate for relief, but I am still nervous. Not as scared perhaps as when I went in for heart surgery, but I have had a lot more time to think about this, and there are several reasons I believe that my nerves are getting the best of me. First of all, as with any procedure, there are risks. I could walk out of the procedure  and it could not work. I could have to go through it again. I could get a serious infection. I could end up walking out in worse shape then when I walk in. Or, it could work, and I may find the relief I seek. But even if I do, I know it is just a temporary fix, a bandage on a condition which I may have to deal with for the rest of my life. I hate that. I hate my damn walker, and I hate every moment of pain I have to go through. I took a shower last night, and the pain made it difficult to do, and more so, it made it difficult to dry off and get dressed afterwards.

That's the thing with this sort of problem, the little things we take for granted every day. When our body no longer lets us do those things without pain, or when the pain becomes so great that we cannot do those things at all.... it becomes overwhelming. Emotionally, since this all began, I have changed, a lot. But not necessarily for the better in all respects. In fact, all but one of the changes, it seems, are negative. The one positive change I have seen is that I am more appreciative of the "good days". But mostly, I regret not being able to do the things I once did. I regret that so much goes undone. I regret that household chores do not get done. I feel like a burden, and I feel guilt. I feel worthless, and I feel depressed.

I have no sense of accomplishment most days, and beyond that, I see things coming up that will require a lot of work, and I do not know how I will handle it. So it seems apparent to me that I am going to have to make it easier on myself in the future by getting rid of stuff, or I am going to have to ask for help. Asking for help is not always easy.But I suppose I had better get used to it. It would appear that some years in the future, I will have to rely more heavily on others. I hate that idea. But hopefully, I can maintain my mind, if not my body,, and I can at the very least continue to express my appreciation to those that are there for me when I need it. I used to joke that I planned on being difficult for the poor nurses when I do end up in a nursing home. I realize now, that by then, my pride will be largely broken, and I will be better off by being kind and appreciative. It may get me a lot further if I do not make all the nurses hate me.

I do have another option, and it is the scariest of all. I can make good choices now, and work harder than I ever have to reclaim my health, to strengthen myself, and to try to reverse as many of these things as I can now. That means a lifestyle makeover. I have to rethink everything, plan. make a commitment to myself, to God, and to others that I will not give up, that I will keep picking myself up when I fail, and try again. I have to will myself to beat this thing, and I may have to ask for help in doing it.

But for now, let me just get through this next week.

First Poem in a very long while.

Another poem by Jeffery F Walton

I do not write poetry as often as I would like. Nor do I necessarily write very good poetry. However, when I do get the urge to write poems, it is usually the result of feeling pretty low about something going on in my mind or life. Today, obviously, I am having struggles in my relationship.  It happens, but I have allowed things to get out of hand.

I do not necessarily want to go into details, and won't go into many. However, I will say that with the developments of the recent changes in my health, and the resulting pain, I have found myself    unable to control my emotions. I have been frustrated at myself and my situation. I have been angry at my inability to do the things I have always done with ease until now. I have been angry because in many respects my life feels totally out of control. Not good for someone with OCD. As a result, I have taken all of these feelings out on those closest to me. Shameful, I know, and pain is not an excuse for being an asshole. But there it is.

This poem is for the person I claim to love, but have not been acting like it. I do not blame her for her feelings right now. I only hope and pray that I can pull my head out of my ass and get back on track before it is too late. In as much as anything, this post is a public apology to a wonderful woman who deserves a whole lot better than I have been lately.

Unexpected encouragement.

Yesterday was a long day. I was presented with news that I could have gone a lifetime without hearing. The telephone rings, and a voice, perhaps familiar, perhaps not, disembodied, impersonal, yet belonging to a person who is faced with one of the more difficult tasks in life, proceeds to tell you that someone you know and perhaps loved is gone. It is a part of life. These things happen to each of us in time. Sometimes we are the recipients of bad news, sometimes the task falls to us to deliver the news to someone we care about, or other times to people we may not even know. It is an unenviable task, one which there is simply no easy way to do. You cannot really prepare someone for the news, because that only sets their mind to spinning, "Oh God! What is it?" On the other hand, the bearer of the bad tidings must be considerate of the recipients feelings. But there is no easy way. 

How do you tell them that someone they know and perhaps loved is dead, and not coming home tonight? In my experience, the direct approach is usually best. Don't beat around the bush, simply express your regrets up front, and simply state the facts in as clear and concise a manner as possible. Then remain with the person, either in person, or on the phone, long enough to offer whatever support and condolences that you can, listen to them, answer the questions, and then, making sure they are as okay as they can be under the circumstances, walk away. Your job is done. Anything less would be insensitive, anything more would be maudlin. I applaud young Quinn for the tactful way in which he handled the painful duty. He was personally involved with my nephew, worked with him, and knew him better than most. He was a friend to Alan John. I am thankful for everything he did for Alan, and in turn for me. Quinn is a nice man, a caring man, working in a challenging field, advocating for the needs of the homeless, focusing specifically on providing them with an avenue off the streets. 

In many cases, it seems like we walk past the homeless, sometimes not even sparing them a glance, or acknowledging their presence. But thankfully there are a few, people like Quinn, who find a calling in serving the needs of the homeless, of treating them with dignity and respect. People like Quinn who see people like my nephew Alan as more than just a sad statistic, but as a person, a human being who has a story, feelings, needs, but who most of all just one person to care enough about them to not look away.

In the past few years I have learned that there is a fine line between helping someone, and enabling someone. Sometimes doing one means doing the other. What can you do in those circumstances? That is something I have yet to figure out. But, along with the many other things that are important to me, this is something I have begun to feel strongly about. One of my things is that I enjoy writing, I find it cathartic. It helps me to sort out my thought and feelings. But I have a tendency to only write about the events as they happen. 

A friend of mine, last night, took me aside, and encouraged me to pursue my writing, as have many others before him.But he suggested that I not necessarily write in a linear fashion. Who says I need to keep things in any sort of order? The important thing is that I take the time, explore my observations, past present, and future, without regard to the actual sequence of events. Also to allow myself the freedom to write in whatever manner I see fit... forget about making points, or targeting audiences. Focus instead on the simple act of writing and see where it takes me. So... right now, I haven't a clue where it will lead, but I did want him to know that I did listen, I did hear him, and I genuinely appreciate the input.

Years End

It has been a long time since I last posted to this blog. A very long time. This is something I hope to rectify... I hope to begin blogging again in part because I think the simple act of writing will be therapeutic. The past couple years, my life has changed drastically, and in a way, I feel a little like the fish pictured above. My world has gotten smaller, and because of health issues, I have become trapped in my own little microcosm. I can see the world outside, I still have some movement, but it is limited by unseen barriers. I have my basic needs taken care of, but the freedom I once enjoyed  is at this moment lost to me. But the problem is, I can still see beyond the tank I find myself in... I can see the outside world, and it seems so close .... if I could only grasp it! So, I have started a new blog which will highlight this new journey I am embarking on; the journey to reclaim my health and my life. You can find it here:  http://comingbacktolife.weebly.com

It is my most fervent hope and prayer that 2013 will be the year I take control of my life and my health, and reclaim what is mine. 

Spot Check

It has been awhile since I wrote anything to my blog, and I am feeling a little guilty for being remiss in my writing. However, aside from simply checking in to inform those that read this, if in fact any remain, that I am still alive, I do not really have time tonight to update. Suffice to say, I am well, reasonably content in my circumstances, and looking forward to more positive changes as they happen. Life is pretty good lately, and I am truly blessed. Promise to write more later.

The two year rule

I should be in bed. I have a busy day tomorrow, but I do not feel tired. I am again up in the middle of the night pondering thoughts and feelings, wondering to myself how I went from Point A to Point B. I did not recognize the transition, I just rather abstractly observed that something in fact had changed, and I was surprised.

I suppose it is like growing up. We are young one minute, thinking that this will go on forever, then suddenly, it is 25 years later and we look in the mirror at the old stranger who now stares back at us with wrinkles, gray hair, and looser skin. Long vanished is the healthy glow of youth, replaced by the scars of experience.

I remember how painful my separation and divorce was, how I bargained with God, myself, and even my ex wife to not let it end, not looking, nor caring then, how unhealthy the relationship was. For a time after I watched her drive away without so much as a glance back in the mirror, I still clung to the futile hope that if I just loved her, it would all work out in the end. And so it did... it worked out, but not as I hoped, nor as I planned.

I began to fill my time with activities, and made new friends. As time passed, the anger and hurt faded, replaced with a lesser form of love and acceptance. I realized that I had fallen out of love with my wife, and I began to realize how our relationship was unhealthy and codependent. More time passed, and I began to deal with some of my underlying issues, only to find that there were more issues for me to deal with.  In time, perhaps because we started out as friends, we found that our friendship, albeit changed, was still there. To this day, I value her friendship above many others even though, honestly, there are times (and I say this with some alacrity) that I am glad we are no longer married.

Tonight I realized that I have fallen out of love again. It was just a matter of time, and Lord knows I tried to hang onto the love I felt. But the object of my affections quit returning my love long ago. The token gestures she has made over time has fallen woefully short of the love I needed. The person I fell in love with was not who I thought she was. Yet, for the longest time, oddly, about the same amount of time as it took me to come to the same realization  with my ex wife, I clung to a dream that my heart wanted to believe in, which my mind told me time and time again was not ever going to happen.

So tonight when I realized that, although I allow myself to maintain some feelings for this person, they are not to the degree they once were. I have no real feelings of regret or remorse, nor even sadness. In fact, I think if I had to choose a single word for what I am feeling, the word would be relief. It is too bad though. I really had hoped for better things, but with the loss of trust and respect, and to a degree, a loss of faith in this person, I can no longer hold on to the dream. Maybe someday, I can have a real friendship with her, but for the longest time it has been pretty one sided.I just wonder why it takes me longer to learn than others.

I have come to a conclusion though... Since it takes me about two years to come to terms with a failed relationship, I am going to allow at least four years for any relationship I am in. Two years of dating and getting to know someone before getting serious, and if it falls apart then, two years to pull my head out of my ass. Seems like a good number anyway.

Getting a move on.

I have not been feeling very well the past few days, and have accomplished very little. In the smallest sense, anyway, I do not feel I have been very productive. Today, accomplishing half of one chore outside made me feel a little better, but inside I have made several steps in the right direction. I still feel like shit, however. I have a doctor appointment two days hence, and I am both apprehensive about it, and looking forward to it at the same time. I do not like being in pain, and am hopeful that the doctor will take me seriously. It is not like I enjoy being in pain, but anymore doctors approach pain issues with kid gloves, and it is frustrating that many people are being made to suffer for the actions of a few. Oh well... it is a brave new world in which certain drugs are dispensed only by timed release, and everyone is looked at as an addict or an idiot. There is little in between it seems in the eyes of a pharmacist, who looks at everyone with skepticism. Who could blame him (or her as the case may be) in today's society?

Anyway, this morning I have freed up over 12 Gigabytes on my laptop hard drive, which is phenomenal... moving all of my documents and inessential files to an external drive. Next step is to do a back up of the laptop, just in case. Down the road, I will likely have a new laptop, and possibly a working desktop. I figure I may as well simplify now. Other things on my agenda involves going through my closet and alphabetizing my clothes. (An OCD joke) I have been struggling with the small opening to my closet compared to the large doors. The doors can never open more than 20 inches or so, making it impossible to really get to anything in the closet, so I took the damn things down.  Not that anyone besides me cares about such things, but this is what I am doing today.

By the way, the Ducks lost to Auburn, and even though I live in Oregon now, I just don't care. Does that make me a bad man?

Salad Days

I have had a recurring thought the past few days that I thought I might want to write about at some point, but am not really prepared tonight to give it the time or attention it deserves. However, having met my ex wife's Aunt tonight, I was again reminded that I need to put some thought into it. In my lifetime, I have learned that when things keep popping up in your daily life, there is usually a reason for it, and to me, this recurring thought tells me that I definitely need to spend some time thinking about it, and eventually writing about it at more length.

Tre's Aunt asked me how long she and I had been married, and I responded "Twelve Years," happy that it sounded like a suitably long enough time to suggest that plenty of effort was made to make the marriage work, "but we only were together for ten of those years." I amended. I think a lot about the whys, and the hows of my failed marriage, and I hold myself responsible for the failure, generally disregarding whatever role my ex played in the failure. "That part is for her to own, and it is not my responsibility to place blame or responsibility on her." I reason to myself. This is, of course, true enough. But it would be so much easier if I could blame the failures on my youth or inexperience.

"Salad days" is an idiomatic expression, referring to a youthful time, accompanied by the inexperience, enthusiasm, idealism, innocence, or indiscretion that one associates with a young person. The phrase was coined in Shakespeare's Antony and Cleopatra in 1606. In the speech at the end of Act One in which Cleopatra is regretting her youthful dalliances with Julius Caesar she says: "...My salad days, / When I was green in judgment, cold in blood..."  Whether the point is that youth, like salad, is raw, or that salad is highly flavoured, and youth loves high flavours, or that innocent herbs are youth's food, ... few of those who now use the phrase could perhaps tell us; if so it is fitter for parrot's than for human speech. Nevertheless, it is about the best title I could come up with for this entry. So much time has passed, my view of myself, my ex wife, my marriage, and the world in general has changed.

I would like to think I am a wiser man, perhaps better prepared now than I was then for when love again finds me. But I can only hope that when and if it does, that I can apply whatever wisdom I have gained in the interim, yet still find the same enthusiasm I had in the "salad days" of my youth.

MMXI

January 1st, 2011; A new year, with the same promises of years before, to be a better year for me. Naturally, I made no concrete resolutions, no promises of changing habits or behaviors, so 2011 is beginning relatively stress free. I do have a few things in my head that I hope to accomplish this year, and with a little effort on my part, a little planning, and a little good fortune, I am optimistic that some of these expectations I have of myself may come to fruition. But, and I say this with some alacrity, I am not going to beat myself over the head with any self defeating bullshit for any perceived failure on my part. I am just going to keep plugging away at things, and take a look at things again a year from now and see how I have done.

Without any firm commitments to accomplish even a single goal, I do have a few areas in my life that I think merit a little more effort on my part. I need to take a more proactive approach toward my healthcare... I need to be a better advocate for myself. That is probably the most important thing I will be looking at during this year. Additionally, I have a few financial goals, but I am not going to stress over them. I am just going to look at the individual steps necessary for me to be more fiscally responsible. I hope to use my time more productively in 2011. Time is my single biggest resource, and I am getting to an age now where I do not feel comfortable simply squandering my greatest resource.  Seems pretty simple, huh?  Yeah.. well...we shall see. I have never really been all that good at resolutions. I would set these lofty goals, and then beat myself over the head with every single failure, year after year.

Other things that are in the back of my head, but again... no promises...; I hope to write more this year, perhaps even some poetry. I plan on taking more photographs, as I have been truly enjoying taking photos this past year. Maybe I will take a couple classes, or maybe I will get more active in my church or the community... maybe I will learn to dance.... Yeah right! And Maybe monkeys might fly out my butt. Anyway.. you get the point. This is my year, my time, my life, and I mostly hope to start enjoying myself a little more. To those who still read this, I hope you find 2011 to be a fun and prosperous year as well.

Years End

I realize the need to update this thing, especially in that 2010 has been a real disappointment at least as far as my blog goes. I have hardly written at all. But, 2010 has been a great year for me... I am healthier than I have been in a long time, my attitude has improved, I am more active, and actually have somewhat of a life away from the computer. (I KNOW!) I have begun taking more photographs, and have made a few friends this past year, started going back to church and truly, for the most part have been enjoying life. I still have not blogged as often as I would have liked, and I have done no artwork.

I will be attempting to clean this up a little in the next few weeks or months. My web presence has gotten a little ... disorganized. I am hoping to take care of that as time goes on. In any case, it is my hope that 2011 provides me with many new adventures, a sense of fulfillment, and continued progress towards my personal goals.  I wish the same for each of you.

The Bitter Cold

It is cold outside, patches of frozen slush lie here and there beneath the trees that rise up from within the neighborhood like monolithic spires. The trees surround us here in Pheasant Park, like a mask, they both envelop and protect the neighborhood, towering mostly straight and tall above the homes and wetlands that lie beneath. Nearly invisible in satellite images, the quiet loops and cul de sacs are sheltered from the busy highway just a couple hundred meters away. Sheltered from light, noise, snow, and to a degree, even rain, the neighborhood is a testament to the dreams of the affluent people that lived here 40 years ago. It is a nice neighborhood, one way in, one way out, even the tires of the cars that venture past the NO OUTLET signs are muffled by the blanket of pine needles and leaves. The jays and the squirrels chatter at one another, while the herons wade through the wetlands. Residents walk their dogs to the end of the road and back, casually waving at each other as they pass. It is a nice neighborhood, and I am thankful beyond measure to be able to live here However, in the garage, where the spiders gather for their union meetings, plotting the eventual demise of the humans that also reside here, it is cold, dusty and unpleasant. This is where I have spent the last three days, scrubbing, cleaning, shuffling, moving, organizing, and stacking what seems like mountains of refuse. In short, I am not having very much fun.

Yet, I am glad not only for the place to live, and the kindness of the woman that rents to me, but also for the opportunity to do these chores which have been a welcome distraction from the myriad things on my mind. Too, I am looking forward to being able to go out into the garage and actually be able to move about freely and to be able to locate a tool or a box with relative ease. My landlord looks forward simply to being able to park her nearly $50k Volvo SUV out of the weather. We both look forward to being able to do things in the garage, ranging from painting, to carpentry, to pottery, to bike repair, and weightlifting. I marvel at my fortune to have landed such a place to live, and know it is part of a larger plan. It is that plan, and the personal struggles that I am having that occupy many of my thoughts lately.

The holidays generally are a difficult time for me, having little family around, and being uncomfortable around strangers. I miss having family around, and I miss being surrounded by those I love. Love itself is one of the things that troubles me. It adds to life, and makes it all worthwhile, but at the same time it can be so complicated, so confusing, and at times even empty and painful. A life without love is like thorns without a rose. Where is the reward for having to deal with all the pricks? (I know... my bad... but it seemed too apt to pass up on!)

I am in the middle... I think... of reinventing myself, of discovering who I am, and who God would have me be. I have always believed in God, but not always followed the rules. But as I reached my 40's, I really started coming into being. I know, without hesitation or reservation, that God has been actively working on me for quite some time... molding me, shaping me, leading me, preparing me for something big. Unfortunately, change never comes easily, though sometimes it comes quickly. In my case, I fight it, so it doesn't come all that quickly either. I guess I am just a slow study. Be that as it may, I have spent enough time in prayer and meditation to have realized that I am EXACTLY where I need to be at EXACTLY the right time. Even though I do not like it, I am supposed to be still, and wait. Continue what I am doing, and draw closer to God. That is what I know. However.... I have OCD and control issues, and relinquishing control for me is not easy. I want the things I want, and I want them now. I do not always understand why I have to wait. I am only recently learning how to apply something I have known for years. "Let go, and let God." Trusting people is difficult, and trusting God can be too. Especially if you are like me, and want to do things your own way.

Right now, I need to be out working in the garage, but I am sitting here typing. It is warmer in the house than in the garage. I want to continue with this thought, and am afraid if I stop, that I will not get back to it. Such, too, is the case with the garage. If I do not stop this, I will never complete that. Sigh* Wish me luck... This project and two others needs to be done by tomorrow afternoon. I will get back to writing a little later.

If you do happen to see this, please let me know you dropped by. I could really use the encouragement. Thanks, and have a great day, and a Happy Thanksgiving. Even if I do not want to celebrate, I do have a lot to be thankful for. What are you thankful for?

INSOMNIA

Middle of the night I should be dreaming, but awake....thoughts a streaming.

I dream of her, can't help it, I just do... Broken promises and dreams that won't come true.

Not intending to write a poem.... but 2:am, me up alone....

Wanting something... mostly not to dream.

Yeah, yeah.. hokey... but I was looking at a blank page at 2:00 in the morning. What the heck was I supposed to do? I began typing. Don't ask me for apologies. I have none.

In any failed love there are several things that hold true. One... there is always someone left behind. Two, whether or not we like to admit it, men tend to have a harder time bouncing back. Women talk, women cry, women move on. Men have less friends to talk to about it, and lets face it... most of our friends don't care to listen. We were all raised up to "suck it up" and pretend like we weren't hurt. But... in spite of our denial, we do hurt. Fact.

Anyway... my breakup has been going on for a very long time. Almost from our first kiss. I do not know why I fell so hard for this one... but I did. Now, it is time to heal and move on.... but every night when I go to sleep, she taunts me in my dreams. I really thought I had a handle on this thing. I know the relationship is dead, no chance of fixing it. The trust and respect are irretrievably broken, and there is no going back. What sort of a fool would I be if I did go back? Not that it is an option. She is still lying to me... still stringing me along, still trying to keep me at arms length... just in case things don't work out for her.... she tells me she loves me, that she will always be my friend... that she misses me... and even though she cheated on me, used me, lied to me, and blamed everything on me.... my stupid heart still wants her. So... at night, when I should be asleep, wishing it were in her arms, I am awake, having a battle between my head and my heart. My head knows that this is all bullshit. I know I need to let it go and move on. But my heart.... stupid thing... just won't let me. If she were to read this, she would get upset... call it hurtful, and tell me that I was being mean, and how she could not believe how hurtful I was being.

I love her... but, I really don't give a shit what she thinks anymore. Let her parade around with her mock hurt and tell me how mean I am being... when I am the one who was lied to, betrayed, and cheated on. I wish her no harm, no ill will, but I feel sorry for the next guy. He is gonna need some really broad shoulders if he is gonna carry her baggage around for her.

Here is the catch... someday she may see this... or someone may tell her about it. But while my heart is hurt, my head is angry. Later maybe... big maybe, I can be her friend. But first, I am gonna expect her to treat me like one instead of breaking one promise after another. A certain amount of let down is expected.. but a short list.... lets just focus on one thing... Dependability. She promised to get me to my sons wedding. FAIL. She promised to get me to my mothers grave on Mom's birthday. FAIL. She promised to get me to a job interview on time. FAIL. She promised to love me and be my friend forever... kind of hard to do when she never stopped looking while we were living together, cheated on me while we were together, many times.... lied to me, led me on, used me, and then, when things were not going her way, made me feel like I was the bad guy. If that is love and friendship... count me out.

UPDATE

I have been remiss in my responsibilities at least as far as blogging goes. I have been busier than normal, happier than normal, healthier than normal. In short, the move was a very good one for me. Met CrazyDogMomma this past month for lunch as she passed through on her move to California. Best wishes go out to her. She is likely settled in by now.

Life is good. If I could just get my financial under control, I would say that I am in the best shape overall in a very long time. Better in some areas, healthier in others. I do not recall simply enjoying life as much as I have recently, in a good number of years. I know I should post more, but really, for now.. that is the best I have. And Bruce.... Looking forward to the pics from Burning Man 2010.

BAGGAGE NO MORE

My first major move away from home, I left with the contents of one large cardboard box, the clothes on my back and my car. By the time I got married 10 years later, I had a full storage unit and I think and 2 vehicles.
A divorce brought me down to a two bedroom apartment floor to ceiling full of stuff. Unforeseen events brought that back down to a small storage unit full of stuff, and the clothes on my back. Now here it is, 25 years after that very first move, and I have another storage unit, but everything I own fit into one small bedroom. As I am going through it now, I am determined to reduce the crap to as little as possible. It is not that I can't take it with me; I no longer want to.

TIRED BUT NOT SICK, NOT YET.

I have not been writing. Life kinda got in the way. It happens. I have a pack full of troubles, like stones, dragging me down, hunching me over, busting my back, wearing me out, and breaking my heart. Okay... I am being overly dramatic. So, sue me! It is not as bad as all that. But I am very tired, and am finding less and less strength to face these things.

The move... I could write about that. But moving to Oregon is not my biggest problem. Who knows? I may actually like it. I have never actually lived there. Worked there, yes. But as a rule, I have never liked Oregon, because I did not know it. Turns out it is every bit as pretty as Washington, with a lot of places to see, and things to do. I am beginning to look forward to the move, but still have apprehensions.

What I want to write about, I cannot. Suffice to say, I am facing a dilemma which I am finding very taxing and emotionally draining. I am doing the right thing hopefully for the right reasons, but am realizing that the opportunity cost of either choice I make is rather steep. All I can do is pray it will work out for the best in the end.

MOVING OUT

To the few people that follow this blog, please accept my abject apologies for letting so much time pass between entries. I suppose it is simply a matter of priorities, and I have not made this enough of a priority to write in. Same applies to my journals. Life, it seems keeps getting in the way. The irony in that statement lies in the fact that I actually do not have a life.

However, for health reasons galore, emotional, physical, financial, I am moving out of the self imposed prison in which I have lived for the past 18 months. Last November, I moved in with a friend whom I have known for 30 years. Apparently somewhere along the line, I quit knowing him. Since moving in, even though basically he is still good people, his personal issues have made life for me here unbearable. So much so that I spend 95% of my time locked in my room. His drug use, drinking, relationships, attitudes, moodiness, and anger at virtually everything in the world has made my existence here a living hell. Not that it was a bad deal, but it was not equitable or fair. It was never my home. It was never my place. The lack of respect in certain areas made me feel taken advantage of.

Now, one month out, I plan on moving out of state into a new home, which I only hope is better than this one. I have taken my time finding a place, and asking every conceivable question of my new room mate. It seems like a good deal, and I am hopeful and fearful at the same time. It means a major change in the way I have been living across the board, and my biggest fear I think is trading one bad situation for another. Ultimately, I think I need to find a small place by myself. But for now, I have to keep things affordable. The heavy stuff gets moved today. This concerns me. I used to be the strongest person I knew,but as time has passed since the heart surgery, I am finding myself not as able to handle the heavy lifting I once did. I need to eventually opt for higher quality, yet lighter furniture. At least I am getting out of this second story apartment, and moving into a single level house. I hope for the best, but still fear the worst. I am angry at myself for feeling this way, but apparently, I have been conditioned to be like this. I know how and what happened, but feel impotent to change the defects in myself that cause the difficulties I face.

I guess the best I can do for right now is to move ahead, hope for the best, prepare for the worst, and ask those that do care about me to pray for only good things.

REALIZATION

Talking with a friend this morning, I realized something important. I will write about it later.

"In the beginning I was seeking redemption. In the end, I found it in an unlikely place: from within me, not from the people I was seeking it from."

TIRED (another poem)

I am tired of picking myself up
time and time again.
I thought that if I had just love
the world would be a nicer place to be in.

I am tired of love, I am tired of hurt,
I am tired of all these tears.
I am tired of hope, I am tired of trust,
I am tired of all of my fears.

I am tired of always feeling the loss
of someone I used to love.
I am tired of people who say it will work out
If I trust in God up above.

I have spent my whole life, doing just that,
wanting and waiting to live.
I have searched high and low, near and far,
and gave all I had to give.

I wander this world feeling alone
grasping at wisps of smoke
Such are the hopes of lasting love
While my heart quietly broke.

Pop In

I have no excuses. I just have not been writing in this blog. Shit happens, I guess. I lost my ISP for a little while, and to their credit, the rep I spoke to fixed it for me. I was about to find another provider. Gotta say the woman I spoke to was way cool, and truly helpful. Now if only I could find someone as cool at my cell phone provider. Riiight... best of luck with that.

It is 2am, and I am cold and tired. I want to write, but I don't. So consider this a check in for now, and I will write something good later. I promise.

WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?

Well, for starters, I know I must be boring, because no one seems to read this blog much anymore. Okay, that was just pathetic. Certainly I want people to read this, and I enjoy getting comments, because they more or less reassure me that I am not completely alone. Then again, the reason I write this is more for me than for anyone else, so who cares if no one reads it? Apparently, I do.

Anyway, aside from that little whine, I really do have something I want to write about this morning, and I just do not know where to begin. My mind and heart it seams are all twisted up. Love, it seems, has a way of knotting up your insides and making things less clear. I am not a foolish man. I do not believe I am foolish. But time and time again, when it comes to matters of the heart, I seem to do foolish things. I know several things about myself, and forgive me for brainstorming here, but this is one outlet I have. I could talk to the people who I know care about me, but that has caused problems in the past.

I do not like being alone.
I want to be loved.
I want someone to share my life with, the good, and the bad.
I have a lot of love to share.
Someone has to appreciate what I have to offer.
It should not have to be this hard.

So, in the past, when there were struggles I was facing, I talked to the people I trusted. But that served only to alienate me from the person I loved. It hurt her feelings, and caused her to not trust me. She claims I stabbed her in the back not only by that, but also by writing about our relationship here in this blog. She claims that she has never talked to her friends and family about me.

The problem is, I am not a complete idiot. People being pretty much the same wherever you go, I know it is rare to find a person who never discusses any details with the people closest to them. For me, I talk to my sister and my ex wife. I trust them. I know they care about me, and sometimes I just need a sounding board as we all do to sort out my feelings. I believe everyone is much the same in that regard.

The object of my affection claims never to have shared personal details about us with her friends, but yesterday I learned that the secret of my minor foot fetish had gotten out somehow. Made me go hmm. I am not angry. But that does contradict what she has told me. If she shared that even by accident, how much else has she shared? The truth is, I do not care. I really have no secrets to speak of. I just struggle with the apparent inconsistency. Honesty and communication are extremely important to me. In a relationship, I expect honesty, respect, communication, and all the things that fall under these three things.

THE BANKERS PRAYER

I found this today. Made me go "Hmm."


The Lord is my Dollar; I shall always want.

It maketh me profit off the hard work of others:

The dollar leadeth me by the nose.

It restoreth my black little heart:

The Dollar leadeth me down the road to oblivion.

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,

I will always know evil: for thou art with me;

thy stocks and bonds they comfort me.

Thou preparest a table before me with the fruits of other's labor:

thou clothe my body with fine threads;

my bank account runneth over.

Surely prosperity and mercilessness shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in a seat of power forever.



Amen

LOVE IS...

Your heart beating like a drum in your throat during the first kiss.
Intoxicating, Invigorating, and frustrating..... all at the same time.
A hug when there are no words left to say.
Two hearts beating as one.
Being unable to sleep when she is not there.
...revitalizing!
Holding your tongue when you know the words will hurt.
Giving up the last cookie.
A bubble bath and a candle on occasion.
The spark between two souls.
Comfort in each others arms.
Never saying a word about morning breath.
Chicken soup on sick days.
Midnight runs for ice cream.
Forgiving even when you don't feel like it.
Never Ambivalent.
Always worth it.

Please comment. I need help on this one.

TEARS, AGAIN. LOSS AND COMPRIMISE

I do not really know what I want to say. I just know I need to vent. I am not even sure what I can say as the object of my affections sometimes reads this. My last entry is a sore spot, and I do not wish to hurt her anymore, no matter how much I am hurting right now. Misunderstandings of days gone by are misunderstandings of today. Why? Well, simply because the communication is not as good as it should be. I tell her that I love her, and she says I love you too. I tell her that I want to marry her, and she admits that she wanted to marry me once upon a time. Now, however, and several times in the past several months, she has told me in no uncertain terms that she cannot, that she will not ever marry me.

Yet I continue to love her. I know better, but something in my heart won't let me let go. I hang on for dear life, but why? The relationship is apparently dead. During the last eight months since she called it off, I have clung to hope, and we have been on again/off again. Sadly, always coming back to the off position. I hate that. I believe with all my heart that she loves me, and believe that there is a future for us, but that it will take work. On the one hand I want to hang on. I want to believe in her, I want to believe in the power of "us". On the other hand, she seems to keep pushing me away. I suspect at times I know the reasons why, but who am I to judge her motives?

Again tonight, I am awake into the wee hours of the morning because I am troubled. I try to sort out my feelings, and all I find are more tears. As if I have not already cried enough the last year. I feel the loss, and I try to make a deal. I ask if I do this, or I do that, if it would make a difference. The answer is no. She wants it to be over. She wants to get the relationship with God right, she wants to stand on her own two feet. That is admirable. I respect her for that. But in the end, even I do not know the right thing to do in every case. But I know I will follow my heart. I know I have to be true to my nature. I will love her anyway. I will cry some more tears, and I will pray. God alone knows the outcome. My heart feels heavy and empty, like a piece of it is missing. She is, after all, My Peanut, and she means the world to me. At least you cannot die from a broken heart. It just feels like it.

CRYING A RIVER, BUILDING A BRIDGE, NOT WANTING TO CROSS IT YET

Yeah, well... I was kinda stuck for a title, so this will have to do for now. I am not having a good evening. I actually feel quite lost right now. This is normal. I always feel this way when my heart is broken. The truth is, I hate feeling like this, but I am a sensitive man. I am one of those weird guys who has gotten in touch with his feelings. I am not afraid to cry, but that is not to say that I enjoy crying. To the contrary, crying sucks. Yet sometimes it is the only way we have to release the painful emotions that come with a break up, or a death. Whatever the circumstance, there is a mourning period, and it is just something we must muddle through. It is seldom easy. If I had to describe my feelings at this moment, the best word I could come up with is "Lost". I feel lost. I feel alone, I feel afraid, and I feel like a part of my heart is missing. It feels like a part of me is gone. But all that aside, I am sure at least one person would blame the way I feel on gas or something like that. This most definitely is not gas, but as far as situations go, the situation stinks.

I am in love. I have been in love pretty much from the moment I met her in person. But I was afraid then too. I will never forget the nervousness as I beat feet down to the 7-Eleven where I was to meet her for the first time. I had seen pictures of her, and knew she was driving a purple car... actually, it was more burgundy. It was her idea to meet, and I could no longer validate putting it off. We had, after all, been chatting online for nearly 3 months. I was sooo nervous. I wanted to make a good impression. I put on a nice turtle neck, a pair of slacks, an overcoat, and a gentleman's hat, I looked pretty nice. I wanted to look nice for her. The first I saw of her was her smile. A beautiful infectious grin that only slightly masked the nervousness she was also feeling. That evening, we went down to the riverfront, between Beaches and McMennamin's, and walked along the boardwalk in the moonlight. It was a cool, but clear autumn evening. It was just over two years ago. I remember it like it was yesterday. I remember being so nervous that when I accidentally touched her arm, I nearly had a coronary. I thought perhaps I had accidentally brushed her breast, and apologized profusely. She just laughed at me, and told me that I was so cute, and sweet to be concerned. "But was it really so awful to touch me?" she asked.

We walked and we talked for a couple hours actually, and I think I knew then that I wanted to see much more of her. I even tried to be on good behavior. I really tried in the next several weeks to be honorable, to be a Godly man, and acted appropriately around her. I did not touch her or hug her, or kiss her. We just talked. But she respected me for trying to put God first.

But a couple months pass, and she agrees to take me to Bellingham to take care of a matter of personal business. It was supposed to be a simple trip, and I even made arrangements to stay with a pastor friend of mine. Sadly, I think we both knew what was going to happen. I think we both wanted it. That night, we crossed a line we could not cross back over again. Regrets? one or two. It was awkward, clumsy. and it was not what God wanted for us. But, we prayed about it together the next day, and we really did enjoy the rest of our trip. But that night, I hurt her feelings. My mouth.. my inability to keep my thoughts to myself. She ended up in tears, and I felt awful.

Still, upon returning home she had a new apartment, and as the weeks progressed, I was spending more and more time with her. She thought if I simply stayed, it would be a good thing. Her son likes me, she and I were getting along great, and for the next several months, I honestly believe they were the happiest months of my life. There were problems. But I felt like I belonged with her. Still some people frowned on us being together, and it made things difficult.

Things happened as things often do. Mistakes were made on both sides, and each of us walked away with new scars on top of our old ones. Even in he bad moments though, I could not keep from loving her even more. I bought her a promise ring which she says is one of her most treasured possessions. She claims to love me. But in all honesty, each of us is afraid of being hurt. We really are on the same page, but cannot seem to communicate.

I love her. She means the world to me. I want to do anything I can to help her, to be there for her. And without her, I feel completely empty and alone. I am reminded of a song that God gave me many years ago. I knew when I heard it for the very first time that it was important. Today, even though it is a different person I am in love with, the words hold just as deep a meaning to me now as they did all those years ago. I hope she understands that the tears I cry when I hear this song now, these tears are for her.

For her.... Mark Knopfler's "I'm the Fool"
( be sure to play the song itself in the window to the right)
I never thought I'd be the one
To be the raging bull
There'd always be a smoking gun
Who'd up and lose his cool
I never thought I'd have to say
I'm sorry, my love, because
I'm the fool I never
Fool I never thought I was

I left my dreams with broken strings
It's time I learnt to talk
Stop falling over things
Teach myself to walk
I'm not a superman
Or Mr. wonderful, because
I'm the fool I never
Fool I never thought I was

I'm the know it all
Trying to mend his broken heart
But I don't know who to call
And I don't know where to start

Now if you should lose your faith in me
I don't know where I'd run
I hope you'll always let me be
Your only one
Am I your one true love
Or am I too late for your applause
I'm the fool I never
Fool I never thought I was
Darling, I'm the fool I never
Fool I never thought I was

ON AGAIN, OFF AGAIN, BUT HURTING JUST THE SAME

For the past few days I have placed this blog in a state of suspended animation. It seems that my last entry was determined to be hurtful by someone mentioned in it. I read it several times over, and honestly, I cannot see how it is hurtful. Yet I apologized for it and the pain it allegedly caused. Today, following more pain of my own, I decided to be true to myself. That is what the last entry was about in the first place. I will not be silenced just because someone does not agree with what I think and feel. It really does not matter if I am wrong or not. I have a right to feel as I do, and to express myself. I will make subtle modifications throughout this blog to eliminate anything that may cause this person undue distress, but I will not do more than to eliminate any personal identifiable information. This may take me a little time to complete, but I will get it done in as timely a manner as possible. I wrote about taking the high road, about having some class and decorum in my last entry, but the entry upset someone I care very much for. They felt it to be a personal attack, and that is certainly not how the entry was intended. So... while I am not going to take it back, the damage is already done, I am going to try to prevent it from causing any more damage.

Meanwhile, my on again, off again relationship is back to the Off position. I wish I were able to repair the damage, but it occurs to me that the damage that exists may have been a pre-existing condition. I want to bare my heart and soul here, but feel limited in what I am able to say because they can read this, and have. It is not my intention to hurt anyone. I love the person I am referring to, and would do anything for them. Unfortunately for me, what this means at the moment, painful as it is, I have to back off, and leave them completely alone. I need to forget about the friendship, the romance, the love I feel for her and her son. I have to let go of the last two years, no matter how much it hurts me to do so. I have to give up on someone who means the world to me. Of course, I have been here several times in the last year, and the emotions I feel are at the very least perplexing. Like the picture says, The saddest thing in the world is loving someone who used to love you.

I cannot fix the problem, but I am beginning counseling within the week, and am optimistic that the counselor will be able to help me work through these myriad complex and confounding emotions. This blog will remain my catharsis. It will be my link to the outside and inside worlds.

There is no need to get hurt, or to allow myself to hurt others. Since last September, I have given every effort to try to save this relationship I was in, and I am coming to realize that one person cannot hold a friendship or relationship together, no matter how much they want it or how hard they try. I have not wanted to give up on the relationship even though I was told over and over again that it was over. Fair enough. I am still a friend, and will try always to be true to that nature in myself. Love hurts.... it really does hurt sometimes. But, I still cling to the belief that in the name of love, it is always worth it.

THE COURAGE TO GO ON

Aside from spending so much time in the hospital lately, I find myself in an emotional rut. I am depressed. I am not so much lonely as simply feeling alone. Sometimes at night, I lay awake wishing sleep would find me, but instead lie staring at the ceiling, alone with my thoughts, running at somewhat less than a million miles an hour. I start to fall asleep, and something happens. A door slams, downstairs, a phone rings, an instant message or email beeps in, or sometimes, nothing at all, and my eyes snap open. Then I, with nothing else to do, count my own heartbeats and wonder about my life.

It can be safely assumed that I am not happy. I am neither happy nor sad. I just am. I am depressed. I feel alone a lot. I fear death and contemplate my own mortality. I pray, and I worry. I am not where I thought I would be at this point in my life. I am not a failure, but I am not particularly successful. My dreams, most of them feel out of reach, unattainable. My family, by and large is scattered and broken. Months and years pass between contacts. Much the same can be said of my friends. I have a small handful of people I talk to regularly. All of them it seems have lives.

I want to discuss some things I have learned about relationships, and recently, the importance of the lesson I will write about today has been driven home with amazing clarity and precision. It pretty much validates to me that in premise, though certainly not worded very well, I am on the right track with my thinking.

I have been hurt in relationships through out my life, and I have hurt those I have been in relationships with. Being hurt is not a good enough reason to deliberately hurt someone you claim to love. I have learned that in relationships it is always best to keep your mouth shut, no matter what happens. If you want to save the relationship, then it is up to you to preserve it. If it fails, then you can explain the reasons if you want, but the nobler thing would be to simply let it go. Never bad mouth your partner, always be willing to accept full responsibility for the failure, even if you feel it was not your fault. Accountability, personal responsibility; let the petty differences go, let the more important issues go. Take the high road. Be discreet, be honorable, be tactful. There is no need to hurt the other person just because you are hurt. The only people that need be involved are the two people involved in the relationship. What happens in the relationship should stay in the relationship. Unless there is reason to discuss it with someone else, i.e., a counselor. If anything must be said, take the blame yourself, treat the other person with respect even if they betrayed you. Sort of following the simple acronym popular among Christians: "What Would Jesus Do? (WWJD) He was persecuted, beaten, lied about, tortured, and finally killed, yet He remained true to His nature. He forgave them all. He took it all upon Himself. I do not claim to be like Jesus, no sir, that is not my point. But I would do well to learn from His example and remain humble and meek. I have nothing to prove to anyone. No one that is, except to myself. Beyond that, I guess I simply wish I had the answers to the problems I am facing right now. I wish I could find the strength and courage to face them head on.

Sick and Tired of Being Sick and Tired

This month has been mostly crappy. I have been in the hospital most of it. I guess I have made my medical spend down, and then some. First MRSA infection in my leg... okay.. I was wrong. Technically it was MSSA, the same bug, but not resistant to antibiotics. But who the hell has heard of MSSA? Why cant they just say staph? Oh well. Then comes a bout of pancreatitis, gastritis, and now it looks like the infection in my leg is coming back in spite of the antibiotics. For the past 10 days I have been unable to eat without pain, everything I eat and drink causes me pain. As a result I am afraid to eat. As a result of all the hospitalization and my fear of eating, I have lost 31 pounds. The loss of that much weight in 3 weeks time scares the shit out of me, but otherwise, I am pretty cool with it. I wanted to lose weight, just not this way. I was in the emergency room again last night over in Oregon at the Adventist Health Center. They were nice, but could not really help me. It was the pain that took me there. I am so sick of hurting all the time. I want to eat, I need to eat, but with it hurting, What the hell am I supposed to do? Sometimes I get so sick and tired of being sick and tired all the time that I feel like giving up on life altogether. Then as it happens every time, I get over it.
Ain't life a bitch?

Super Buggin' Out

Well, you may have noticed that my blogging has dropped off a bit lately, and with cause. Todays entry is more or less just an FYI post for those that read it.

For the past three weeks I have been enduring the painful advance of a growing infection in my leg. Forced to wait until now because of my issues with my insurance and whathaveyou. I told them when they garnished my pay what would happen, and I was not lying. When I ran out of meds, the infection grew. So... now, after suffering many sleepless nights, and days upon end laying in bed with my feet propped up, I now get to go to the hospital for more of the same.

I do not need a doctor to tell me what I have. I recognize the symptoms, and know conclusively that my cellulitus has developed into MRSA (METHYCILLIN-RESISTANT STAPHYLOCOCCUS AUREUS). With my health conditions, the danger of this so called new superbug (originally predicted in the 1950s) I am aware I have put myself and my room mate at grave risk. I have had MRSA before and nearly died. The risk is the same here. Untreated, it could kill me. I am very sick now, and have kept very close watch on my progression. I have barely enough energy to function most days and have lost 10 pounds in the last month. My weight rarely ever fluctuates more than a couple pounds.

Anyway, I do not know if I will have internet access, and I no longer have my cell phone, so my contact with the outside world may be limited for a couple weeks or more. I do not know what to expect. I just know I cannot come home while I am still sick and/or contagious. But, I have a book, and some drawing paper, and a notebook, and a cribbage board and playing cards. I should be able to stay busy.

When I return home, I will try to bring this up to date. Life does not seem to stand still even though I do. Regards to each of you. Thank you for reading this.

Maintenance

Yesterday was my birthday, and I celebrated by cursing my computer most of the day. Thoughts included throwing it out my second story window, and aiming for the dumpster, and or creative application of fireworks and chemical accellerant. As I type this, I am trying (mostly in vain) to transfer my OS to a different drive.... lost most everything.... oh well. Its the pictures lost that suck the most. I had a thought a bit ago... If I can, I am going to figure out how to rename my "Followers" to "Survivors".

I have some ideas for some major changes in my life, and thus, have several blog enries in half finished mode I will post later. Wish me luck on the transfer. If it works, next time I am online will be with a better running POS outdated computer. Can't afford a new one just yet. Next month promises to be very, very lean. $7 to live on before meds, food, transportation, and laundry costs. But, at least the bills get paid. I just can't buy groceries, or order heart meds or insulin from the pharmacy, or go to the landromat. Being so broke, if I need to go anywhere, it will be on foot. Damn. Time to locate a food bank within walking distance I guess. It sucks having to choose between a place to live and whether or not my needs are met. This month, apnea wins... can't live on the streets. Not a good short or long term solution. It is only 4 weeks after all.

Waste Not, Want Not; Another Project

I have been thinking about this for awhile, this silly little project, and today, with a minimal of swearing at myself, and at the tools, and especially at the adhesive I used, I completed it after several hours.

I had an old leather jacket which I replaced last December when the zipper pull broke. I figured it was going to cost more than the jacket was worth to put a 3rd zipper in it. But I could not bring myself to simply toss it into the dumpster. I had worn the thing daily for nearly 10 years. It was time to go.

So, with my handy box cutter, I carefully cut out the panels of leather that were worth saving. (Everything but the collar and sleeves and pocket areas) The weathered remains of the de-leathered jacket... (basically a collar, sleeves from the elbow down, waist band, and the insulation and lining) are now in the dumpster as there is nothing left of the jacket worth saving.






















I also had this old wooden box that I wanted to refinish even though I never have figured out what to put in it. I then proceeded to stretch, pull, cut and glue the leather to my stupid little box... which I forgot to take before pictures of.... suffice to say it used to be brown, and was scuffed, and had writing of some kind on the top. I believe it once contained a high quality microphone back in the 70's or 80's not sure when.

This is what I ended up with, a leather covered box, and still no idea what to do with it. Maybe I can roll up and store the remaining panels of leather that I also do not know what to do
with. Maybe one day, should my new jacket wear out, perhaps I have enough leather to replace the collar or pocket linings. Waste not, Want not. Another area where I fall victim to my own OCD.

BOOK AND RELEASE

Well, as much as I hated to do it, I did finally call the Portland Police, and the officer who responded at dispatch was very nice. He could not tell me much, but did tell me that the police had made contact with Alan on the 8th of July at a park in the Pearl District, apparently for being drunk in public. He was taken in, a mug shot was taken, his info updated, and then he was released. He was not actually booked. This puts him basically okay as of a week ago but it still does not answer why he has not returned home. The officer suggested that he may have opted to go into a program to sober up. Perhaps he was hanging out downtown for easier access to alcohol and/or drugs, or perhaps I might check the mission again.

I hate the fact that Alan has these problems, and worry that he may throw this opportunity away that he has been given. There are many people vested in keeping him off the streets, yet he continually gravitates toward that lifestyle. I wish he realized that his family does care for him, and all we all want to see is him to begin caring for himself. Maybe that is too much to hope for. Maybe he is a lost cause. But whichever the case may be, it looks like I am going to have to go hang out in the Pearl in the hopes that I may run into him. Poop. Portland is a big town. The odds of simply running into him are against me. Maybe he will surface soon, and go back home.
Damn him anyway. Oh well, at least he is alive... or was a week ago. I can only assume he still is.

SLACKING OFF

Wow. Like most people, my life gets a little confusing sometimes, and myriad small distractions take me away from the things I either want to be doing, or should be doing. At this moment, a guilty conscience is driving me to take the time to make an entry here as I just now realized I have a small following, and as such I need to make a more sincere effort to write here a little more often, but my goal will always be quality, not quantity, so perhaps my entries will be shorter, but I will at least endeavor to port a little more frequently when I can. In actuality, this blog is taking me away from something I need to be doing right now. I have an early morning appointment tomorrow, and need to get my stuff together for that appointment, and try to get at least some rest tonight.

But, I do have something on my mind which for the past week has been causing me concern. My nephew Alan, who was pictured at the blues festival last week, has turned up missing. I have been unable to reach him by phone since last Saturday evening. This is not unusual for Alan to disappear, but it concerns me because it was unexpected. We all had hoped that he had settled down. He has been stable at this location for about a year now, and for him, that is a record, having spent much of the past 20 years living on the streets. In the past we (the family) have all worried that no one would know to contact us if something were to happen to Alan, and we might never know . Turns out that very little has changed really.

Alan has problems. We all do. But Alan and his brother Michael may have more than their fair share. This comes as a result of addictive behaviors, poor decision making skills, anger, and perhaps even a modicum of fear. They are both angry men, for many reasons, but the bottom line is they still have not come to realize that the bad things that happen to them are a direct result of the choices they make, and the actions they do. It is no one's fault but their own, and as best any of us (the family again) can tell, they both are still blaming anyone and anything that they can for the problems that plague them. It seems to be common among people with these sort of problems, and as long as they do not hold themselves accountable for the choices they make, they will likely continue on this very self destructive path.

I have not seen Alan's younger brother Michael since 2006. Until 2007, I had not seen Alan since 2000. So you can see the pattern they share. Nevertheless, I am concerned that something bad may have befallen Alan. I know his propensity towards alcohol and drug abuse, but I also know he had little money. He was owed like $30 by someone he knew, and I worry that when he got the money, he did something very foolish. Whatever happened, he has not been home in a week. I cannot help but fear the worst. Now, that I am worried about him, and do not know why he would not return home, I realize that should he end up dead, I now have no idea how or where to reach Michael either. But they are family, and I do care about them. I just wish they would let the people who actually care about them be a part of their lives instead of shutting us out entirely.

I have called the apartment manager, who was no help at all, and I have called every hospital in the greater Portland area. I have also checked the jail rosters for Multnomah County, and so far, have found no information. I can either wait and hope, or, I can take a more proactive approach. I am planning on calling the Police on Monday, and seeing if I can make a missing person report. Just in case. I wish Alan realized how much we all care for him and worry ... how much we have worried for all these years, and how much time and expense I have put into locating him in years past.

For now, all I can do is pray... and say Damn! a lot.

WATERFRONT BLUES FESTIVAL

I went to the Waterfront Blues Festival this weekend over in Portland with my Sister and Nephew. For the most part it was not bad, in the sense that we got there okay, we got to see a few acts and had a picnic lunch, and eventually found seating in a shaded area where we could see both main stages. But there were several things that did not go according to plan, and the event was not as much fun as I had hoped it would be.

As we got ready to board the Max train
I saw this sign, which I found amusing.

No Bicycling, No Rollerblading, No Skateboarding, No Nothing.

Governor Tom McCall Waterfront Park, Main Entrance

I liked the patterns in these leaves.

My nephew Alan in what he called his "Thoughtful Pose".

Alan took this photo of me in front of Waterfront Park.
I think he did a great job! I really like this picture.

It was 96 degrees outside, so we took advantage
of this shade for out picnic lunch.

I wanted to get a photo of this Touch Juggler,
but missed my opportunity. This is a shot I found
online of him a couple years ago. He was a little more
silver this year. I would think that he would be hot
since he was wearing a jacket, and was painted silver.
I suppose that is why he chose to perform
under the bridge next to the portolets.

Multnomah County Sheriff's boat patrolling the Willamette River.


Wonder What this guy is smiling at?

Oh! Never Mind!

Some of the myriad boats anchored to enjoy the show.
I was trying to get a picture of the Jolly Roger

Alan and Donna. Donna appears to be telling the
people in front of us to sit down so we can see.

Alan and Donna again. Donna is obviously ready for the 4th of July.

To Err is Human; To Arrr is Pirate. Is it weird for my sister to borrow my earrings?

Not sure who this is.

BELOW: Brian Jack & The Zydeco Gamblers

Sonny Landreth

Sonny Landreth and his Band

Sonny Landreth

Karl Denson's Tiny Universe

Johnny Winter

Okay, just so you know, this is the best picture I got of Johnny Winter.
Try as I might, I could not get any closer to him or the stage.

So I went online to find these three images.

Fortunately Johhny generally dresses in black t-shirt and jeans,
and it looks like these pictures could have been taken at the
same as all the rest, but in actuality I believe these were taken in
Ontario a year ago. These were the kind of shots I had hoped to get.

I am a little stunned at how old Johnny is looking
these days, but I forget he is like 65 years old now.