June 1, 2020
As the world burns around us with rage boiling over and the coronavirus lurks, I cannot help but be reminded of the ancient curse: "May you live in interesting times." I didn't want to live in interesting times. In fact, this is NOT the twenty-first-century that I was expecting. No one expects what we are getting this year. I only hope and pray for good health, peace, and justice for all.
Please, may we learn from the despicable dumbness of Ms. Cooper vs. Mr. Cooper in Central Park. May we reform our policing to honor the life and needless deaths of Breonna Taylor and George Floyd. May we show compassion and kindness to one another. May we honor the noble words of our Constitution and allow, nay help, all enjoy the liberties enshrined therein.
If. If we can, then we can work on fighting disease, deprivation, and disaster. We can protect our fragile Earth. We can distribute our bounty more equitably. Conquest, war, famine, and plague need not destroy us. We can look each other in the eye and say, "Brother; Sister."
Why else are we here, folks?
Showing posts with label disease. Show all posts
Showing posts with label disease. Show all posts
Monday, June 1, 2020
Tuesday, March 17, 2020
EZ Thoughts in the Time of Contagion.
Death should have taken me sooner.
I find myself solidly within the cohort that is supposedly most at risk of death from a COVID-19 infection.
I am taking reasonable measures--suitable social distancing, hand washing, monitoring my body for symptoms--but I am NOT living in fear of the virus.
It may kill me. I won't say I don't care, but I will say I am not afraid of death. He and I have danced several rounds, already, over seventy years of life. I know he will take me in the end, but I feel that it will, at worst, be a draw. I am several hands ahead in the game of life and I'm not folding, yet.
I have faced death directly and obliquely.
Directly through dealing with cancer (twice) and heart problems (two kinds). Medical science has told me that neither of these ailments or threats is known to be related to my diet or habits. Still, my diet and habits have been mostly for my pleasure and comfort--not for the good of my long-term health. And, OH! How I have enjoyed the pleasures and comforts of life. My body has always been better to me that I've been to it.
Obliquely by being a motorcycle and auto enthusiast. I have ridden far and driven fast. When I first started these activities, we didn't even use helmets or seat belts as a defense against death himself. I have traveled broadly by air, sea, and land. I have eaten street food in Latin America and Asia. I have saunaed naked with strangers. At least twice, my training and experience have enabled me to extend the lives of others. I have stood on the plain and looked up into the eternities. I have stood near the cliff and looked into the infinite. I have been in foreign lands during times of war. I often complete travel with the phrase, "There. Cheated death again."
He will take me. But I am still here.
And I've been here. I've not built nations nor huge edifices. Unlike Cromwell, I have not drained any swamps. It is unlikely anyone will ever build a monument to me. Yet I will remain. The laughter and tears of friends and family will echo forever. The lessons I have watched my children learn live on in what my grandchildren are now learning. I have looked into the wondering eyes of a great-grandchild. Times may get hard. Times may get worse, but the wonder will remain.
For this life I have lived, I thank God or the Universe or whatever truly is the Great Power -- I believe there must be one. I think of him as the Great Scientist, a God who would not be complete without the Goddess next to him. I have been blessed by having my Goddess next to me for these many decades. I thank death, himself, for being so weak.
So when he takes me, he will do so over my laughter. To win, he should have taken me before I was three years old!
I find myself solidly within the cohort that is supposedly most at risk of death from a COVID-19 infection.
I am taking reasonable measures--suitable social distancing, hand washing, monitoring my body for symptoms--but I am NOT living in fear of the virus.
It may kill me. I won't say I don't care, but I will say I am not afraid of death. He and I have danced several rounds, already, over seventy years of life. I know he will take me in the end, but I feel that it will, at worst, be a draw. I am several hands ahead in the game of life and I'm not folding, yet.
I have faced death directly and obliquely.
Directly through dealing with cancer (twice) and heart problems (two kinds). Medical science has told me that neither of these ailments or threats is known to be related to my diet or habits. Still, my diet and habits have been mostly for my pleasure and comfort--not for the good of my long-term health. And, OH! How I have enjoyed the pleasures and comforts of life. My body has always been better to me that I've been to it.
Obliquely by being a motorcycle and auto enthusiast. I have ridden far and driven fast. When I first started these activities, we didn't even use helmets or seat belts as a defense against death himself. I have traveled broadly by air, sea, and land. I have eaten street food in Latin America and Asia. I have saunaed naked with strangers. At least twice, my training and experience have enabled me to extend the lives of others. I have stood on the plain and looked up into the eternities. I have stood near the cliff and looked into the infinite. I have been in foreign lands during times of war. I often complete travel with the phrase, "There. Cheated death again."
He will take me. But I am still here.
And I've been here. I've not built nations nor huge edifices. Unlike Cromwell, I have not drained any swamps. It is unlikely anyone will ever build a monument to me. Yet I will remain. The laughter and tears of friends and family will echo forever. The lessons I have watched my children learn live on in what my grandchildren are now learning. I have looked into the wondering eyes of a great-grandchild. Times may get hard. Times may get worse, but the wonder will remain.
For this life I have lived, I thank God or the Universe or whatever truly is the Great Power -- I believe there must be one. I think of him as the Great Scientist, a God who would not be complete without the Goddess next to him. I have been blessed by having my Goddess next to me for these many decades. I thank death, himself, for being so weak.
So when he takes me, he will do so over my laughter. To win, he should have taken me before I was three years old!
Friday, November 16, 2018
EZ to take for granted.
Each day, we likely take some very important things for granted. Like breathing, for instance. This morning during my self-guided yoga session I was spending a few moments just concentrating on my breathing. In. Out. In. Out. Repeat. Even with concentration, I realized that I was really taking each breath, and the next, for granted. But each breath is precious, vital, and tenuous.
Yesterday morning, at about two AM Mountain Time, my sister, Sarah Leane, stopped breathing. She had breathed her very last. She will be dearly missed. Sarah, at 86, was the eldest sibling and the last, save me, surviving. I had earlier lost my two brothers -- one at age 70 and one at 82. My parents, of course, have been gone for decades so as far as my immediate blood family goes I am now truly alone. I told a niece that I feel like an orphan.
In. Out. In. Out. Repeat.
Our oldest son, Vincent, a foster child yet one we love dearly, cannot take breathing for granted. He is suffering some sort of lung disorder whereby his lungs are only working at about 60% capacity. For months he's been unable to work, short of breath and quickly in cardiac distress with any normal exertion, and his family is having troubles due to the lack of income. Doctors have been ineffective. Through a broad battery of tests, including biopsies, they have not been able to definitively diagnose the disease. This week, he was admitted for an invasive process to open his chest and examine the lungs and get some additional tissue for tests. We are hoping for results by today, Friday, November 16, 2018. We were told it was a simple procedure and that he'd be out of hospital in a day or so. Not so. Three days in and he's coded twice and has now been moved to intensive care where they can use a positive pressure respirator to assist his breathing. Before this move (but after the procedure) he was unable to maintain sufficient oxygenation without supplemental O2. Then it got to where he wasn't getting enough oxygen even with supplemental under a C-PAP type oxygen mask. We are so praying for him and also hoping for a diagnosis that will allow the medics to help his body fix whatever is ailing him. Meanwhile, the VA has been essentially telling him that there is nothing wrong with him as if he were a malingerer. Nothing could be further from the truth.
In. Out. In. Out. Repeat.
Keep doing it, Vincent, we pray.
Our prayers received a, "Sorry, no." answer on December 4, 2018, when Vincent passed away. He left a wife, three young children, four adult children, and a granddaughter behind. Vincent passed while we were in Israel touring the Holy Land. Our last conversation with him was via Skype from our hotel in Jerusalem.
Yesterday morning, at about two AM Mountain Time, my sister, Sarah Leane, stopped breathing. She had breathed her very last. She will be dearly missed. Sarah, at 86, was the eldest sibling and the last, save me, surviving. I had earlier lost my two brothers -- one at age 70 and one at 82. My parents, of course, have been gone for decades so as far as my immediate blood family goes I am now truly alone. I told a niece that I feel like an orphan.
In. Out. In. Out. Repeat.
Our oldest son, Vincent, a foster child yet one we love dearly, cannot take breathing for granted. He is suffering some sort of lung disorder whereby his lungs are only working at about 60% capacity. For months he's been unable to work, short of breath and quickly in cardiac distress with any normal exertion, and his family is having troubles due to the lack of income. Doctors have been ineffective. Through a broad battery of tests, including biopsies, they have not been able to definitively diagnose the disease. This week, he was admitted for an invasive process to open his chest and examine the lungs and get some additional tissue for tests. We are hoping for results by today, Friday, November 16, 2018. We were told it was a simple procedure and that he'd be out of hospital in a day or so. Not so. Three days in and he's coded twice and has now been moved to intensive care where they can use a positive pressure respirator to assist his breathing. Before this move (but after the procedure) he was unable to maintain sufficient oxygenation without supplemental O2. Then it got to where he wasn't getting enough oxygen even with supplemental under a C-PAP type oxygen mask. We are so praying for him and also hoping for a diagnosis that will allow the medics to help his body fix whatever is ailing him. Meanwhile, the VA has been essentially telling him that there is nothing wrong with him as if he were a malingerer. Nothing could be further from the truth.
In. Out. In. Out. Repeat.
Keep doing it, Vincent, we pray.
Our prayers received a, "Sorry, no." answer on December 4, 2018, when Vincent passed away. He left a wife, three young children, four adult children, and a granddaughter behind. Vincent passed while we were in Israel touring the Holy Land. Our last conversation with him was via Skype from our hotel in Jerusalem.
Friday, November 27, 2015
The saga of an EZ life
For much of my life, I have felt as though my existence was charmed, and I often wondered why, even feeling, perhaps, a bit of survivor's guilt knowing that I had done nothing especially worthy of the gifts with which I had been blessed. I've not been notably good nor notably bad, either. In fact, I have noted that I'm not very good at being bad, but I am pretty bad at being good.
I lived a comfortable life - so many worked so much harder and not been so blessed.
I achieved a fair rank - so many served with so much more distinction and did not progress as far.
My health problems were always minor - so many took much better care of their health and yet suffered.
And it goes on this way in every aspect of life. I am, at age 65, married to my childhood (literally) sweetheart. We recently celebrated our 47th anniversary. We raised a relatively large family and have been blessed with healthy and honorable children and now grandchildren. We lost none to accident, violence, disease, drugs, or prison. Unfortunately, I know many parents who cannot say the same thing. We have a supportive community and many good friends.
I was born late in my parents' lives, so never knew my grandparents. My mother's father died when I was about 2 years old -- the others all gone long before that. I have lost my own parents, one sibling (who passed at about age 72), and now my wife has bid final farewells to both of her parents. This would seem to be just the normal course of life, events to be expected in any life.
The fall of 2015, though, seems to be different, with a variety of things coming to a head sort of all at once.
First, I'm having my first real health challenge (at least not of my own making) with a diagnosis of prostate cancer. I have earlier written about this.
My beloved wife has had a series of health challenges, but the most bothersome has been a condition called orthostatic hypotension. When she stands, her blood pressure drops and the body does not react to compensate. She has had several severe falls from blacking out. We've had every known medical test performed and cannot find the cause. Doctors say, "learn to live with it."
We are blessed that we have good health insurance to offset the costs -- many are not so blessed.
One week ago, my eldest brother called and he was very agitated, going on loudly about things that had him upset. Things that just could not be true. Now he is resident in a mental care facility as he's just lost touch with reality, apparently through dementia, and was judged to be a threat to himself and others. Just two weeks ago, this noble and robust warrior celebrated his 81st birthday.
During that same week, I received news that my eldest sister, born in 1932, has been diagnosed with uterine cancer.
Later that same night came the call summoning my wife to return to Idaho for her father's funeral.
The change to Social Security rules signed into effect by law in early November impacts our pending retirement plans as it effectively reduces our income for next year by over $7,000.00 due to the elimination of a program that we had planned on as an integral part of our retirement program. The program called "file and suspend," ends the day before I would have been eligible to enroll.
Having so many stressors all at once, I have to say, has been hard for me to deal with. There have been recent days that I have lost my temper needlessly and I have struck out at inanimate objects. There have been days I've not been able to concentrate, nor relax, nor work. There have been nights without sleep. So much all at once after such a long life of minimal trouble reminds me of a recurring nightmare that I had throughout my teen years: In my dream, after a lifetime of pushing a huge rounded boulder up a steep hill, just as I reached the apex of the summit, where the rock could with one more push, tumble freely over the other side, my sandal-shod foot slipped and I fell face down to be crushed by the boulder rolling back onto me. After my teen years, the dream left me with only very rare occasional replays.
At the time, I did not know of the myth of Sisyphus--the exact story of which I was dreaming. But I know the story now, and as I reach the entry to my "golden years" and retirement, after a lifetime of work, am I to be Sisyphus?
I lived a comfortable life - so many worked so much harder and not been so blessed.
I achieved a fair rank - so many served with so much more distinction and did not progress as far.
My health problems were always minor - so many took much better care of their health and yet suffered.
And it goes on this way in every aspect of life. I am, at age 65, married to my childhood (literally) sweetheart. We recently celebrated our 47th anniversary. We raised a relatively large family and have been blessed with healthy and honorable children and now grandchildren. We lost none to accident, violence, disease, drugs, or prison. Unfortunately, I know many parents who cannot say the same thing. We have a supportive community and many good friends.
I was born late in my parents' lives, so never knew my grandparents. My mother's father died when I was about 2 years old -- the others all gone long before that. I have lost my own parents, one sibling (who passed at about age 72), and now my wife has bid final farewells to both of her parents. This would seem to be just the normal course of life, events to be expected in any life.
The fall of 2015, though, seems to be different, with a variety of things coming to a head sort of all at once.
First, I'm having my first real health challenge (at least not of my own making) with a diagnosis of prostate cancer. I have earlier written about this.
My beloved wife has had a series of health challenges, but the most bothersome has been a condition called orthostatic hypotension. When she stands, her blood pressure drops and the body does not react to compensate. She has had several severe falls from blacking out. We've had every known medical test performed and cannot find the cause. Doctors say, "learn to live with it."
We are blessed that we have good health insurance to offset the costs -- many are not so blessed.
One week ago, my eldest brother called and he was very agitated, going on loudly about things that had him upset. Things that just could not be true. Now he is resident in a mental care facility as he's just lost touch with reality, apparently through dementia, and was judged to be a threat to himself and others. Just two weeks ago, this noble and robust warrior celebrated his 81st birthday.
During that same week, I received news that my eldest sister, born in 1932, has been diagnosed with uterine cancer.
Later that same night came the call summoning my wife to return to Idaho for her father's funeral.
The change to Social Security rules signed into effect by law in early November impacts our pending retirement plans as it effectively reduces our income for next year by over $7,000.00 due to the elimination of a program that we had planned on as an integral part of our retirement program. The program called "file and suspend," ends the day before I would have been eligible to enroll.
Having so many stressors all at once, I have to say, has been hard for me to deal with. There have been recent days that I have lost my temper needlessly and I have struck out at inanimate objects. There have been days I've not been able to concentrate, nor relax, nor work. There have been nights without sleep. So much all at once after such a long life of minimal trouble reminds me of a recurring nightmare that I had throughout my teen years: In my dream, after a lifetime of pushing a huge rounded boulder up a steep hill, just as I reached the apex of the summit, where the rock could with one more push, tumble freely over the other side, my sandal-shod foot slipped and I fell face down to be crushed by the boulder rolling back onto me. After my teen years, the dream left me with only very rare occasional replays.
At the time, I did not know of the myth of Sisyphus--the exact story of which I was dreaming. But I know the story now, and as I reach the entry to my "golden years" and retirement, after a lifetime of work, am I to be Sisyphus?
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