I Love The Smell Of Wednesday Morning

I find myself appreciating my odd day off more and more. The whole two jobs covering six days is for the damn birds. The one and only one benefit is the extra income that this entire escapade has continued to produce. No, I’m still not telling y’all where I work, but I will tell you that @ one place I’m a mechanic and @ the other place I work in a family business. Both jobs provide over 40 hours in 3 days each, yes that is well over 80 hours in a 6 day work week. So, enough about work.

I haven’t been up to much else and for a long time I have been trying to get back in the groove here on my blog. As I looked at it again this morning I see things that I might want to make changes to. First of all, unless someone can figure out how to update my Facebook account without divulging my true identity I would really appreciate it more than words can express, I like my on line status to remain as anonymous as possible. Yes, I know, a handful of y’all know me in real life, and I’m good with that, but I want to keep the list as short as humanly possible. So, if you have cracked the code or now how to do it and want to share, just email me or post a comment to this post. Sadly, I kinda miss Facebook a bit, mostly because I could silently stalk my favourite blogs and people. Unfortunately, people don’t just people anymore, it has to be some sort of social media or one cannot communicate with others. I always knew that wasn’t who I am, but one gets lost or lonely every once in a while.

Time is a commodity with me. Why? Because I have very little to claim as my own. Makes me sound needy doesn’t it? This is the first day in many months that I woke up and didn’t have a “to do list” waiting for me. So I treating today like a vacation day and I plan on fucking off all day long. Yes, greed has taken over and the damn clock and alarms and schedules can go to hell until tomorrow. It gives me a perfect opportunity to read emails, look at my lonely dusty blog, and try to reconnect with you. So, one might get some more blog posts with some stuff I have found laying around. Who knows what kind of trouble I can get into with a free day. Also, for those of y’all that have shown concern for my well-being, I’m still kicking!

I would like to address a sensitive subject for many people. I’ve had more than one debate about the February 14th shooting massacre in Florida. I’m going to give y’all my personal opinion based on upbringing, the way I raised my children, and how society has tried to ruin it all. Save the hate mail, the whining, and the rest of the crazy crap. I’m not going to try to change anyone’s opinion, I’m merely going to be the one to say what I could only hope others think as well, and if not then maybe a little thought should be given to it. First of all, I blame the parents, I do this because I believe there was poor involvement in his entire life. Yes, I have read and listened to his family history and his troubled youth. That exact thing is what everyone blames, he fell through the cracks of society. Every adult or guardian or parent that was supposed to raise him failed. Now there are 17 lives taken and many, many more changed forever simply because he could do it because nobody was paying attention. I don’t blame the school, I don’t blame his friends, and I don’t blame guns. And personally I find this a real shitty opportunity to debate gun control and those people really disgust me as well as disappoint me because they are fucking blood sucking vultures. Now, as the aftermath fades away into history, I can only ask, where were his parents, his guardians, his caretakers, and his family. By tossing his life away they tossed the life away of many others. Why wait until a day murders to protest, how is protesting either side really honouring the lives lost, and why is it now that people choose to use this for a political platform. Fuck you people, bunch of fucking money grabbing shitheads using this and other occasions to push your damn agenda. How do you sleep well at night knowing that you will profit on this, quite simply, you make me fucking sick to my stomach. Want someone to blame, look in the fucking mirror.

I suppose, in the end, I feel frustrated simply because I’m a father of three who spent countless hours in their lives, talking with them, and being a part of their lives in general. We didn’t/ don’t just provide for their basic needs but we also are here emotionally for our children. We are not the model family, but we care about our children and their well-being, we are involved parents because we want to be in our children’s lives, not to control them, but nurture them and love them. It will forever aggravate me watching parents not be parents. Again, we are not the perfect family unit, but we’re family first and foremost. So, be pissed, be mad, and be involved, but try to direct your energy towards positive outcomes instead of trying to change the past. We don’t live in the past, we only have our present to make a difference.  In conclusion, I would like to wish my condolences to the victim’s families, just know there is at least one family out here who sheds tears for your losses.

The older I get the more I tend to not people much because so many people are centered in their own world. My message to parents is to become more than just provider and provide a positive presence in your children’s lives, they deserve it. Yes, I know,  my words will mostly fall on deaf ears, blind eyes, and angry minds. I feel as though I have the lone voice screaming a message nobody wants to hear. So, carry on, get those guns, get people at the school fired, and let the world know that those things are what are important to you.

If you have children, hug them tight and assure them you will always be there for them. I don’t know what to say to people without children other than if someone makes a choice to do something destructive that the person will find a way. Anyway, I’m sure you all have better things to do, so get back to doing it. Until next time……. have a great Hump Day!

 

Can All Questions Be Answered Fairly?

Here’s a question: What is the true test of one’s commitment to freedom of expression? Is it when one permits others to express ideas with which he agrees? Or is it when he permits others to express ideas he finds deeply offensive? I’m betting that most people would wisely answer that it’s the latter, and I’d agree. How about this question: What is the true test of one’s commitment to freedom of association? Is it when people permit others to freely associate in ways of which they approve? Or is it when they permit others to freely associate in ways they deem despicable? I’m sure that might be a considerable dispute about freedom of association compared with the one over freedom of expression. To be for freedom in either case requires that one be brave enough to accept the fact that some people will make offensive expressions and associate in offensive ways. Now, do you speak freely?

Return Of The Scorpion, Reloaded

Have y’all ever been awake in bed, staring at the ceiling about a million different things and in the midst of all your deep thoughts you find yourself wondering what it would look like with mirrors on the ceiling? Funny question, right? Not really. Not for me. As much as I looked forward to the return of The Sting of the Scorpion I found life kicking me in the balls with bigger things to worry about. In the end, at the end of each day, I find myself in bed unable to fall asleep because of suffering from a very busy brain.

I lay there wondering when life became so complicated. I’ll start with me, mine is the easiest to explain I suppose. Somewhere around the first of the year I went to the doctor because I was suffering from pain in my back that home remedies like ibuprofen and ice could no longer relieve. I was unaware of any injury to my back and figured it was age+work+fatigue+ I’m not 20 anymore= my pain. A series of tests, studies, and exams revealed that my L4 and L3 are ruptured along with my L2 on it way to oblivion. However, it not due to injury, it’s due to some degenerative disease I cannot spell or pronounce along with some pretty severe arthritis. In English, a+b+c= a severe deflection in 3 different directions accompanying the continued pressure on many nerves. After many doctors, a couple pain management specialists, and even some injections, the only answer I am given is to have corrective surgery. And at this stage, there isn’t any fundage to take care of that lovely deductable. So, that shits on hold.

My now 21 year old daughter is attempting to have children at a zero success rate. We, her and I, have been to the fertility clinic on more than one occasion and it was discovered she suffers from PCOS accompanied by a super high testosterone level. So, now she is on a “plan” to bring everything into alignment so eventually she can get pregnant. The challenge has been to keep her emotions in check but this has ramped her anxiety up a billion fold.

So, somewhere around early last month my wife and I were enjoying a very relaxing and romantic bubble bath together until I found she had a weird bump near the limph node of her left breast. The bubble bath ended. This started a series of appointments, exams, and consultations. Allot of fucking time had to pass while being in the dark, not knowing that answers we we seeking, and I cannot even imagine what this is doing to my wife on the inside emotionally. But, now we have news, there are masses, however not concerning masses, and all tests will be repeated in November this year.

As y’all can see, the last few months have been a fucking roller coaster from hell and we aren’t getting off just yet I’m afraid. So, I lay in bed next to my wife at night, staring at her sleeping and staring at my bare ceiling wondering what I look like staring into the abyss trying to empty out my mind so I can get some sleep. It’s hard enough having my problems I can’t get corrected and a thousand times harder watching time click by with the ones I love while they wonder about their own personal unknowns. So, have patience with me as I find time, energy, and the right mood to keep coming back, it will happen, but I have to take into account this thing I call my life.

What Does This Button Do?

Note To Self: Just Breathe

The absolute worst time to have an anxiety panic attack is while you are sitting in a chair with a needle mere millimeters from the vein it is about to puncture. How do I know this? I know this from first hand experience this morning. But, before I get into that and what happened next, y’all might need to catch up a bit by reading “An Attack Of Aichmophobia” which was written by me on 19 December 2013 and can explain a little more why I was having blood drawn in the first place. The blood was to serve a two fold purpose, one to do my Hemoglobin A1C panel for diabetic medication prescription renewals and also to see if I had anything weird going on which might explain me really freaking out around needles. I know, made no sense to me either. Why stick someone with a needle that has been freaking out about being stuck with needles here lately. Needless to say, the blood could not be drawn as requested because I threatened to stick the needle where the sun don’t shine to the technician. I ended up back in my doctor’s office where I was introduced to Klonopin or at least the doctor thought he was introducing us for the first time. I’m real aware of this drug as it is one of the drugs my son takes to try to “control” episodes he has because of being bipolar. I have tried to use some humor in the last post because it has been my way of dealing with the fact that I’m pretty fucking scared at this point in my life. I mean, ask yourself, how can a diabetic get away from sharp objects?

Meanwhile, while sitting in the doctor’s chair, figiting and sweating like a whore in a Catholic confessional, the doctor went over my “symptoms” and any known allergies. By this point I’m agitated, I want to go home, I want to get the hell away from all of this to sort it out. The doctor offered me a small pill and a small sip of water in a very small paper cup. He said to take it so we could continue our conversation. So, I complied, I took the pill. Within a few minutes my mind was clearing up, my focus was coming back, and it seemed like I just might be coming back to my senses. A quick check of my pulse, my blood pressure, and a tiny flashlight in my eye revealed to the doctor that my anxiety attack has come to it’s conclusion. Wow, now that was impressive, it worked almost as well as the calming effects my wife’s cold hands have when she places them on my neck when comforting me. He went on to explain that what I had just taken was 2mg of Klonopin. Within a few minutes I was back in the lab chair with a needle in my arm drawing blood and I could really care less. The only thing I could think of is where is my pain, where is my fear, am I dead. I’m a very firm believer that fear and pain are two very basic elements that ensure our safety and remind us that we are indeed still alive. I felt neither but I did feel scared. I imagine how my son must feel, what must be going on inside his brain as he watches what happens around him. Does it have the same effect on him.

That is that. A short walk down the hallway to meet my wife in her office. After seeing she was in there alone I walked thru the door, closing it behind me, where I sat down in one of the chairs at the front of her desk, all I wanted to do is just breathe. She made no comments about what had happened. If I know her the way I think I know her then nothing will ever be said. She did mention that she would pick up my new prescription on her way home with all the instructions. I leaned in to give her a kiss, not saying a word, and I left. I got into my car and found myself going to work. I have spoken to her since because she called to check up on me. She tried to explain that from now on I will need to take this medication prior to testing and prior injecting until I feel it is all under control like it once was. Will it ever get back under control? Will it ever be the same again? Have I lost what I thought I had control of just days before? I have come to the point that I really have grown to dislike this whole diabetes thing. Seems everyone has a way to kick it’s ass. I wish I could find my way to kick diabetes square in the ass and right out the door. Is this the part when someone tells me that we reap what we sew? Unfortunately I can’t go back in time, nor do I want to either, tomorrow is another day, to be dealt with like any other day I suppose. I just need to remember to breathe.

An Attack Of Aichmophobia

An attack of aichmophobia is not something a diabetic ever wants to have. I have a real healthy fear and appreciation of needles because as much as I hate them I know I need them day to day. For those of y’all who didn’t already know that I’m diabetic then this will be a little peek into my personal life for you. Before this morning I have never suffered from any kind of needle anxiety since I first found out I was diabetic. In the beginning I told my wife she will just let me die in peace because I will NOT be jabbing needles into my body on purpose. Fuck needles! Now, I still feel the same way, but I also know that needles are that necessary evil bitch that must exist in my personal life. So, I was forced to suck up my dislikes for needles, grow a pair of nuts, and suck it up because this is the way it was going be. Fine. Whatever. Let’s rock this bitch.

This morning at o’ darkthirty I went to test my glucose level, something I do everyday, three times a day, and I was on the verge of blacking out. I had my very first anxiety attack ever in my life and this was not the fucking time for it to happen. It is not a good time when you are millimeters away from your fingertip with an extremely sharp object. First came the tunnel vision, then the instant cold sweat, the shakes, and then finally I felt myself blacking out so I just sat down on the kitchen floor so it wouldn’t be such a terrible impact to the floor. As I sat there, hunched over, looking at my lancet on the floor beside me, I realized that I needed to put some distance between me and it. But I couldn’t move, I was frozen, I was stuck with this extremely sharp object inches away from my skin. Fuck! Here we go again, it was a good thing I was already on the floor.

I guess it was a good thing that something hit the floor real hard and broke because it woke my daughter who came to see what it was. She, in turn, goes to get my wife after seeing that I was too coherent about my surroundings. I felt the coolness of my wife’s hands on the back of my neck, I could hear she was talking to me, but I don’t know what she was saying. After a few minutes I did understand it when she told my daughter to get her phone so she could call 911. I told her not to call, just bring me some water and I will be fine sitting there for a bit. After about 15 minutes everything seemed to go back to normal with the exception of the big headache I had. My wife and I talked about it while I was getting dressed as she explained to me that I still needed my shot. She has never, and I mean never when I say never, given me a shot before but says she will if I need her to. She collected my testing bag and tested my sugar to get my dosage right. I looked away after showing her where to inject me and she did it for me. In a way, for a reason unknown to me, I felt a bit embarrassed because I couldn’t do it for myself.

I have thought about this damn thing all day and still can’t figure out what happened. Yes, I hate fucking needles with absolute passion and will do almost anything to avoid being in their presence. However, I had kicked that little thing in the ass I thought. Maybe I fell off the wagon. Maybe my defenses were down because I have been working as many overtime hours as I have regular hours the last month. Maybe I was just tired. I will know the answer later tonight when it comes time to inject again. I just hope it is a different answer than this morning. I spoke with my doctor and he said that maybe it was a one time nerves type thing. He also said that if it continues that he will be forced to put me on anxiety medication. I don’t see that happening personally.

Gay Test

4/20

Routine Blood Tests Highlight Scary Secrets

Originally Posted 01 Febuary 2012

Recently, a few weeks ago I needed a refill on my blood pressure medication. I have been taking the same one for 8 years, it works so beautifully it is almost impossible to put it into words. Let us just say it works. Anyway, in order to re-new my prescription I needed to have blood work done to make sure it isn’t screwing up my kidneys. For the record, I haven’t had blood drawn since early 2008, so I was a bit overdue.How did it turn out? Good news, my liver is great. Bad news, I am being informed that my blood sugar levels are so high that I should be admitted to the hospital for treatment and observation. Um, yeah, that’s not happening. I am not a fan of hospitals at all, they are truly the one thing I fear most in life. Well, besides needles. So, I re-visited my doctor and he gave me the run down. It looks bad, real bad. I am having to make some severe lifestyle changes. The good news is that if I do what I am told, check my blood sugar 20 times a day, eat right, start excercising, take my shots twice a day, take my pills twice a day, that maybe, just maybe, I might get it under control in the next year and live to tell about it. I was given a 20% chance of success if I follow all the guidelines. 20%? Not great odds if you ask me. But, what do I know anyway.

I thought I knew plenty. I thought I would live my life my way and that was the way it was going to be. Fried foods, pasta every night, Mountain Dew all day right after a Amp for a swift kick in the ass first thing in the morning, rare red meat, no veggies, eat what I want, drink what I want, and smoke what I want and die after I was an old man. Oops. Gotcha. Now I have to maintain because there is no reversing the effects it has already taken on my body. I always could dismiss things by giving it another cause. Come to find out, they were the early warning signs of diabetes. Signs? What signs? Well, lets see. Like having to pee every couple of hours 24 hours a day. Thought it was the HCT in my blood pressure medication working overtime. HCT removes excess fluids from your body so you don’t get swollen joints, hands, and feet. Being run down all day even after having about 900 mg of caffeine in my body each day and not being wired. Having a sore that won’t heal after months of having it. Constant dry mouth even though I drink 2 to 3 gallons of water a day. Mood issues for no reason, come and go like a light switch. Constant numbness and tingling in my feet and hands all day and all night. Here I thought I was getting older. Here I thought my pains were from breaking most of the bones in my body more than once. But, I am no doctor. And, apparently WebMD is full of shit.

The actual shock is gone now, I think depression is here. It is not overwhelming, as one might think, because it has given me time to reflect on the past and give deep thought to my future. I don’t want to become a statistic, not yet. I will lick this thing we call diabetes, one way or another. As I read back over this passage I realized that other than my wife and kids no one else knows. I guess it is still that way because y’all only know me by a name and not personally. It did feel good to talk to myself while I wrote this entry because it has all been thoughts bouncing around in my head for the last couple of weeks. I suppose I will mention this all again in the future after I figure out where things are going and how I plan on getting there. Thanks for lending an ear and listening to my story.