Step 1. Check

I’d like to be the Aston Martin DB9 in a world of Mustang GT’s. I’d prefer the Tacoma TRD to the F350 Heavy Duty. I don’t want to out grunt the mundane by being oversized, hyper loud to  announce my presence with brute force.  It’s the precise curves, and subtle stance backed up by finesse that I would prefer.

It is the kind word and thoughtful act that I long to be a routine in daily conversation.  There is already enough rudeness, posturing and negativity.  I would rather be helpful than hurtful, grace filled than hate bearing, accepting than rejecting.

And yet,

And yet,

I find myself far more easily brought to anger, far more frequently expressing a harshness and sharpness that is the antithesis of what I want to bear. My tongue is quick to release a venom that can cannot be retracked.

And while I hope I’m being dramatic for effect above, I have to stop and wonder how closely the truth resides.  I will shamefully admit that my emotions often have their way, with snide comments only halfway under my breath, and that I want to retort every “positive” message that is part of the scrolling diatribe of social media even while being a welcome respite from the monotony of the polarized farthest “left” and most distant “right.”

I watched a truly beautiful video extolling the effects of “letting go” of bad relationships, distant failures, and any other manner of damaging situations.  It was sincere, well filmed and poignant. My only thought was to reply with “huh, I wish I had heard that before” in the most snarky, script, tone, text color, and emojis I could muster.  The message is spot on.  It’s truthful and accurate.  The message has a wealth of science to support the benefit.  It’s SIMPLE.  JUST.LET.GO…   Simple.

I have a major problem with this message.  My problem is that is only a fraction of the answer. The true problem is that this simple solution is NOT EASY.  Let’s start a mind game.  Play along.

Think of your problem; the thing you need to let go of.  Now, queue the hit song from Frozen and sing along. Now at the top of your voice….   “let it go” ,  Let it GOOOOO,  LLLLEEEETTT   ITTT  GOOOOOO.. Let is go.  Disney will be proud of their marketing of that song, and now realizes you should have been in the chorus.  You feel better and your problem is gone.  Right?  Uh, yeah, that didn’t work for me either.  And you can see how easily I’ve slipped into my snarky true colors.

The solution to your problem is not in knowing that you need to let go. That would be like an alcoholic knowing that they should stop drinking.  That’s just the simple observation. The obvious answer.  The solution is in figuring out HOW to let go.  AA has found a 12 step process in letting go of Alcohol with great success, and even that system is not 100% effective. The observation is SIMPLE.  The act of learning to let go is HARD. Very hard in some cases.  Ask a smoker how easy it was to quit, even if the solution to their breathing issues was as simple as quitting smoking.  Simple is not easy.

How do you learn to let go of past failures, past hurts, current destructive relationships, financial struggles and, in my case, Chronic Illness?  How?  How, when we know going in that it is not easy.

How to your release the tension? How to you concentrate on something else?  Have you tried to escape?  Do you take the Mustang GT and do a very high speed, screaming engine, burning tires drive through tree lined country roads with no room for driver error?  Do you grab that F350 attached to the biggest travel trailer you can find and head for the furthest scenic destination?  Maybe slip into that DB-9 crank up the perfect car audio and cruise the smoothest highway you can find.  Maybe hop into the Taco and find some sand along an empty shore.

Since I’ve tried methods very similar to the first two, in my mind I’ll opt for the latter two while sitting on the couch.  I’ll ponder why I can’t seem to recognize the beauty all around me.  I’ll try to focus on all the reasons that I should be grateful.  The present isn’t at all so very terrible.  And maybe, just maybe, with a loving partner, a few amazing friends, luck and prayer I’ll find a way, I’ll find the “how” to simple notion of just letting go.  And in so doing, thoughtfulness and kindness will again reign my actions.  The 12 steps, I’m told, starts with recognition of the need to change.  Let this be that moment.

Step 1.  Check!

Are you ready to take a step.  Sounds simple, but we all know it's going to be tough.

Please join me.

I Appreciate You

First, before anything else. I need to say this: Deb, I can't imagine going through this story without you.  I love you

We just finished up our Thanksgiving Holiday, and I hope and pray that yours was a wonderful time spent with family and friends.  I hope you took a minute to think about the goodness and blessings in your life.  And I hope that anything you’re concerned about, worried about and torn up over didn’t consume your joy on that day.

The Holiday season is upon us.  We are moving swiftly towards Christmas and New Year’s Eve.  It’s the season of being joyful for that which we have and those whom we love.  The countless holiday movies are available thanks to Hallmark.  The scripts are all quite predictable.  The overlooked, or the overworked main character kindles, or rekindles, a romance that is at once both improbable and fully expected.  We know it, and yet we can’t help but get sucked in to the story anyway.  My theory is that we all want to see the happy ending. We can’t help but long to see love conquering all obstacles.  It’s like a  Christmas miracle in every story.

This is the time of year when many of us reflect on the year, looking back on the successes, challenges, our losses and blessings.  I too am reflecting.  Thinking of a time long ago when I received a life changing call from a hospital in Richmond telling me it was time to come down soonest for my transplant.  Unlike other calls, this one just felt like it was going to be ‘the one.’  And so it was.  It’s also been just over 2 years now that I’ve been living sans colon.  I considered these as two scenes in my own personal miracle story.  I bet there are miracles in your story as well.  I believe we all have miracles in our lives, whether we recognize them or not.  This coming Tuesday the 27th will mark 13 years post transplant.  It’s not been without some turmoil, and there have been a number of challenges with my health in these intervening years.  That’s not what I want to talk about or dwell on though.

I sometimes wonder just how many people I have met along the timeline of my story.  From chance encounters where it was just a minute or two of interaction, to those that are more like acts unto themselves with long duration.  Some of you reading this  I’ve know for years and years.  I want you to know that no matter the duration of the conversation I’ve had with you, you’ve made a difference in my life.  This spans across every area of my life whether if be family, personal or professional.  It doesn’t matter if you have known me well, or just were a passing acquaintance.  I just want to take the time to say Thank You.  Thank you for your time. Thank you for your prayers.  Thank you for your encouragement, your kind word(s) or warm smile.  Thank you for just being present.  Thank you for providing comfort to me and Deb during the storms of life.

Life is hard. You have made it, (and continue to make it) better, especially, and critically, in times when I’m not feeling my best.  I have a colleague and friend that fairly often closes his phone conversations with a short sentence.  “I appreciate you.”  I’m going to borrow that because it really struck me. It’s one thing to hear ‘thank you.’ But the first time I heard that from him it just felt different.  It felt stronger, more authentic and real.

Please hear me when I say;

I appreciate you.

Peace and blessings,

Brian F>

12 Hour Shift

I recently had the pleasure, good fortune, need to go the ER, or more properly the Emergency Department of my local county hospital.  Pro-tip: It turns out that Mondays are the worst days to be in need of an ER, as the staff knows it’s the day following the weekend.  It’s the day that all the sick people find their doctors are not able to help them all. So without fail the ER is swapped on Mondays.  The scene unfolded as I walked in at 6:30 PM and I quickly realized there were nearly no seats available, including outside of the main lobby.  Nearly as quickly, I noticed lots of kids, and several puke buckets.  I knew this was going to be a long night.

The typical check-in followed and it’s where I found a moderate piece of armament to protect myself- a face mask.  Even with that I became mentally uncomfortable with all the signs of ‘stomach flu’ around me.  Deb stayed in the lobby while I escaped into the heat of the evening waiting to be called to Triage. Triage came fairly quickly and I explained that my doctor instructed me to come since my blood counts were quite low and I needed to get a transfusion.  It was there that I learned there were 3 people ahead of me.  One was ‘coding’ and two others were at the same severity level as I.  Back to the outdoors to wait for a room, which actually didn’t take terribly long, maybe just half an hour or so.

The Physician’s Assistant (PA), really my doc for the night, came in promptly.  She also as quickly indicated that I would be admitted to receive my blood and be observed overnight.  Our bit of lively discussion hinged on my past experience where if that has to happen then I’ll be arguing with the Pharmacy.  The local hospital doesn’t carry all of my meds, so I bring them with me, yet the Pharmacy tries to mandate that I relinquish control over my property.  Nope, not going to happen.  Then they will come up to the room take one of each type of pill with them, and verify the identity by looking at a catalog of know brands/generics to rule whether I’m being honest and not trying to sneak in my own opioid or something.  Once all that is settled, the Hospitalist (the doc that manages your care while in the hospital) will find my case perplexing (cause I’m just that way 😉) and find a reason to keep me for another day or two.  I conceded that I knew there were other people in the waiting room needing to be seen, but I sure would rather get the blood and be released.  Ultimately, I ended up staying in the ER.

There’s a lot that happens on a shift in the ER and while I hope you never have to experience it, what the staff goes through each day or night is astonishing.  If you just follow my experience you will get a small taste of what it might be like.  You might have even more respect for those in the profession.

The first nurse Sydney tried for a likely vein, and as I feared, it proved tricky because it “rolls” and then finally it “blew.”  In other words, it ruptured and was not useful.  Many of the veins in my arms are that way.  My guess is that they have been abused to much over the years of IV meds, but who really knows.  There are those of us with funky veins.  She brought in another nurse.  This one was trained in ultrasound guided venipuncture.  As you guessed, the ultrasound shows the nurse the veins which are a little deeper and allows the catheter to be seen while entering the vein.  Kind of cool, not that I was watching during the procedure.  She got it, and it worked, though the end of it landed right at the bend in my elbow.  A little uncomfortable if you bend your arm, and also stops the flow of the IV if you bend as well.  Honestly, at this point I’m relieved that it was just two sticks to get this going.  It might be a good night after all!

What I did not mention until now, is that while we had waited to be called in to Triage and waiting outside, there was an older-middle aged woman that exited the hospital and was incredibly distraught. It did not take long to assume the person who had coded was lost.  A gentlemen approached her from the parking lot and she yelled out “he’s gone!” to which the reply was “bull crap”. Another woman rejoined quickly with “He can’t be, he can’t!.”  Cries of he’s gone melted into an embrace of the three grieving souls.  Left stunned into silence, Deb and I waited, and continued to bear mute witness to the shock and turmoil of their pain.

Now in our room, I noticed over time a repeating scene.  People came past and entered the room next door.  It was the one an officer remained near. The teary eyes and slumped posture with red and watery eyes said it all.  And eventually I put it together that the gentleman that passed was in the room next to mine.  It was a lot to take in, and it felt very numbing to me.

Enter the sound of screeching brakes, metaphorically at least.

We had to move out of the room because my room had heart monitoring capability.  Another patient needed that care, while I did not.  We went just around the corner and stopped.  My new room was H14, which means "hallway near room 14.”  It was here that we remained for the next six hours or so.   Now, not only was I in a hallway, it was probably the busiest section of the ER.  It was the hallway that led to the imaging suite.  Other gurneys inched (literally) past me quite often. It’s sad to see the faces as they go by.  Some look hopeful, others very distant, and yet others that are simply closed.

You can’t help but overhear someone when they are 3 feet away, even if you don’t want to.  Room 14 had a young lady accompanied by whom I assume were her parents and brother.  The mom and doctor stepped out of the room and it became clear that the doctor was either going to have her admitted to the hospital for her own safety, or the mom could convince the daughter to admit herself. There were several times when the family came in the hall to discuss options.  This all normal in ERs. It’s not just our local hospital that struggles with space and privacy. It happens everywhere.

 It was also here that the nurse approached with a request.  The doctor wanted to rule out internal bleeding as a cause of my low blood counts so a “stool” sample was needed.  She had her little cup ready.  I mentioned a lack of privacy above, so in this particular point in time, the family of room 14 was in the hallway having a chat a mere 3 feet away or so.  I’ve lost my modesty in hospitals a long time ago, so I was agreeable to give what was required.  Deb asked for a blanket to make a handheld screen and the nurse urged room 14 to “move along, please.”  Thinking about it now, I’m sure the only reason we did this in the hall was due to me not having a colon, and instead I have a convenient (for this purpose anyway) pouch to dispense the needed effluent.  I warned her that while I could probably do this without much, if any mess, I can not control the release of some odor! To which she replied, “This is the ER, there are all kinds of sights and smells, it’s fine.”  Okay then.  Mission accomplished without much fuss at all.  Hope to never have to do that again.

O+  yum!

The first unit of blood finally arrived and was started there in the H14. It was all fine.  Room 14 had opted to be admitted to a facility in DC, so we were hopeful that we’d be placed in there.  Only, no that didn’t happen.  Another young lady with a mask on was walked in.  Again, being close by, I could understand that she needed some procedure on her lower spine.  I don’t know if it was to grab some bone marrow, or get an epidural.  Everyone that walked in there was getting a mask and gloves.  I’m an immunosuppressed patient since receiving my liver transplant so many years ago, so seeing a case that needs special care like that worries me.  I asked my doctor if I should be so close to room 14! It was scary- at least to me.  Another doc came by on his way into the room.  He was fully gowned and wore gloves and a hair covering.  He said he needed a clean space for a procedure and was not worried about germs harming me.  Phew!  A few minutes later though we were moved into room 28.

Now most rooms are single, private rooms.  Not room 28.  Room 28 is a double that has a screen separating the halves.  It turns out that a middle-aged woman was on the other side.  Again, you just can’t help hearing everything, and this one was really a strange case.  She complained about belly pain, that the morphine wasn’t completely controlling.  She mentioned that her stomach is “usually flat” but not now.  She claimed she couldn’t pee, but was thirsty, and asked for a Coca-Cola!  Her request, much to my surprise was granted!  She would moan and groan in pain and often asked for more pain management.  You could hear the doctor ask about her other chronic pain and her home prescription of Percoset. After the doc leaves, the woman has someone on the phone and bitching wildly about how rude the doctor was and how she insinuated that she was only seeking drugs. This pattern was on constant repeat for at least the next 5 hours that we shared the room.  She was also told that they didn’t have her requested pain med as “it wasn’t in stock.”  I’m sure it was a request for an opioid.  She had been examined via CT Scan earlier in the night and the docs still didn’t understand what was going on.  Another doctor came in, and she whined to him about how rude the other doc was.  While he listened politely, he only confirmed to her that the other doctor asked appropriate questions.  Then he offered to get her an MRI which would require them to wake up a crew at somewhere around 330 am.  She wanted to try the bathroom again, and this time I happened to see her come back to the room.  She was skinny except for a very distended abdomen.  I would have said she was a skinny and pregnant woman, which was clearly not the case.  That’s how large her abdomen was though!

It was about 230 when my 1^st unit finished infusing.  I expected to have the second one started in 30 minutes.  However, there was another monkey wrench to be thrown. Deb could see there was something wrong when the nurse went to order the second unit.  There was some confusion with the blood bank.  After half an hour or so, she came back with a small vial in her hands. “And what are we doing with that, might I ask”, said with a smile.  The blood bank wants another H&H (hemoglobin and hematocrit) level.  I’ve never heard of this being done before, and I’ve had more than my share of transfusions.  The nurse hadn’t heard of it before and neither had my PA, but the “lab” wouldn’t let the doctor override the policy without having the pathologist (Lab manager?) concur and at 300 am it was just easier to comply.  Another hour goes by before I’m frustrated enough to call the nurse and ask what the heck is going on.  A nurse covering for mine, comes in and tries to explain that everything takes long in the lab “even a glucose reading takes and hour.”  My reply, “it takes my clinic all of about 3 minutes to run an H&H.”  “Well let me go ask you nurse.”  A minute later she comes back and says, “we’ll be getting you 2^nd unit in just a few minutes.”  It’s not the nurses fault really.  It’s so readily apparent that they are almost always over worked.

So I eventually got the blood which takes about 2.5 hours to infuse.  Approaching 630 am, and the nurse that got my IV started says “we should have put you in scrubs, you’ve worked a whole 12 hour shift with us.”  Yep.

I had started this essay, and held off, pondering if it was worth sharing for several days now.  My conclusion is that, yes, it is.  For a few reasons.

First, this is just a sample of one shift of one day.  Can you imagine being on staff at the ER where this is an everyday occurrence.  You have people that are hurt and scared which leads them (and me) to be unkind at times, and ready to snap in frustration.  How would you prepare for day knowing that was at least a part of the deal?

How would you handle the possibility that today there we be a ‘code’ that isn’t able to be pulled back to health?  How would you deal with the sorrow and pain left in the wake time after time, while still being calm and pleasant, without becoming callous and numb to it all as well?

I hope and pray that you haven’t needed to be the ER for any length of time.  I hope you haven’t had to experience putting your dignity and modesty on the shelf so you could be properly diagnosed or treated. Know, however, that it happens everyday to an unfortunate few.

Lastly, remember that each day is precious.  Life can be taken in a heartbeat.  There may be no warning at all, so today might be the day to say “I love you” to you friends and families. The day to day grind can wear us out and our time can be spent without much strategy. Take an hour, a minute or just a moment to look around and take in the beauty that is unnoticed around us.  It’s there if you look.  The trees, plants, flowers, birds.  You love those dog and cat videos for good reason.  Seek the joy of a lunch with friends, a vase of flowers for your other half, the hug of you child (no matter the age.)

 Love you all,

Brian

Earth(ling) Day

I took the opportunity to take my camera out for a long overdue spin this past Earth Day.  Mother Nature cooperated with a beautiful day, mild with a nice breeze, making for a great gathering in Leonardtown Maryland to celebrate.  There wasn't much time left to take in the sights as I got there fairly late in the afternoon.  The climb up the short hill from the Warf where I parked was enough exercise for this body as well.  My energy was rewarded with sights of blooming spring flowers including what I believe to be creeping Phlox.  (correct me if I'm wrong here.)
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Leonardtown is an old little town dating back to the 1600's and is the county seat.  It still has some old charm and a small square that hosts a number of events through out the year. There were a variety of booths and activities set up around the square with all traffic detoured around the venue. The scene was a col`lection of small pop-up awnings really with any number of different organizations providing information and making appeals.  There were folks representing the St. Mary's Watershed Association, a Wild Bird Store, Beekeepers, solar panel installers and something about electric cars.

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There was plenty of information to take in, and additional crafts especially for the young.  There was an option to build a low cost bird house, and there was a herpetologist talking about all the reptiles he had with him.  A hawk, the particular species name escapes me, was on display apparently being rescued with a bad wing.

It's often the people that capture my attention in these gatherings.  Some are really hard to miss, since they are dancing in the streets with a belly dancer meets winged fairy kind of outfit.  They twirled and glided around to the music played over the PA.  It was really fun to watch and since there was a good breeze by this time, the wings had a mind of their own.  One lady was enveloped in the cloth as the wind wrapped it around her head!  To her great credit she continued on, and after it was clear it wouldn't come undone, she quickly pulled it out from around her and had the biggest smile ever taking it completely in stride.  I'm not sure what their dance troupe was called but again it was entertaining.

Two more to close this out.

This Golden decided enough was enough, and staged a sit-in!

And lastly, you never know when Superman is going to photobomb your shot of a fox, well mounted stuffed fox anyway.



That's life in the small town world of Leonardtown.  You should check it out next year.


Till next time,

Cheers,
Brian

Season's Greetings

December has arrived, the Christmas tree is up and lit, though further adornment will wait for now.  The lights on the eaves of the house are hung, the wreathes are up and a new laser based moving light show showers the front façade.  The lawn remains pleasantly green and complements the scene fairly well, only a fresh snow would be better.  That will need to wait for a much colder front to displace the 50 degree afternoons still hanging on in southern Maryland.  There are a few touches left for the outdoor display.  The polar bears, a mama and cub, are not yet done hibernating from their summer slumber.  Rather ironic when you think about when the bears would actually retreat to a cozy den.  The rack hung from the garage ceiling could only be home to a facsimile of a true bear. Beyond that only a couple fake Christmas trees, small ones, remain to be placed as sentinels on either side of the front door.  It’s a lovely landscape once illuminated.

You would think it easy to sink into the season based on these surroundings and those so similar all around the community.  The hustle and bustle has begun in earnest, though perhaps not as easy to see as when shopping required a trip to the local stores and malls.  The prevalence of shopping electronically from the warm comfort of your couch or desk makes it a bit harder to notice.  I suppose if you closely observed the package delivery services you would know that the full-on shopping blitz is well underway.  The Holiday parties are scheduled, tickets bought, and Secret Santa gifts purchased. There are even a few desks at work that have lights and ornaments hung around them.  Clearly the season is here, yet as clearly, the sentiment has not fully seeped into my soul.

A young girl, a daughter of a friend, put it so well the other day when we were talking.  She’s not a big fan of Christmas. Her comment to my question on why was simply stated; It’s so cliché. You could put other words on it as easily.  Commercial. Fabricated. Forced. That’s not the full story of course, but it’s the chapter most easily seen.  Ads run to encourage your spending on just the right present, probably expensive, to convey the depth of your feelings, your love, for the recipient.  Stores have been peddling Christmas for over a month already, perhaps longer.  This season is what gets many stores into the black for the year.  Black Friday, Cyber Monday are but two more notable days of the shopping spree.  Everyday from before Thanksgiving through Christmas eve is a good shopping day.  In our short discussion, it was noted that the same six or so Christmas songs play repeatedly.  This doesn’t seem to be too much of an exaggeration.  The Hallmark Channel has been playing a constant chorus of feel good  holiday movies along with the classics.  It does feel a bit cliché doesn’t it?  At least on the surface.

Maybe that’s okay.  Okay, provided we dig a little deeper and ask a few questions.  Why are we drawn to the barrage of Christmas movies that are nearly always predictable?  The good guys come out on top, the underdog is cheered along the road to making the upset win against all reasonable expectations.  The unlikely heroes become the norm in this season.  Love overcomes all the odds, the distance and time to complete the storybook romance and live happily ever after.  All so cliché.   But why are we drawn to this?  Why do we listen to these songs, watch the predictable film, and make purchases that overwhelm our finances? Why?  You know the answer.  It’s right there, isn’t it?

We want to dream.  We want this season that life really does have the underdog come out on top, that love wins no matter the odds.  We want real life to mirror what seems so natural in this holiday season.  We can’t help but desire a happy, healthy family and to make fond memories, follow traditions, and sit by the fire making smores. Who wouldn’t want love to concur all despite all that is thrown in its way?  We long for it, we yearn for it, and for this short season we want to believe it.

No matter your tradition, religion or background, it seems that this season causes us all to slow down enough to think about what we hold dear, what is important.  The themes of love, family, friendships and peace all abound.  It’s easy to get lost in the cliché, the trite, the ads and shopping, but let’s search a little deeper.  I wonder how we could take this season and our attitudes and get them to last a little longer.  I’m not talking about the shopping and the ‘same six songs’, but the search for the good and to applaud it. Can we continue to be generous throughout the year?  Can we search inward to understand what we truly want, things like time with friends and family, shared meals and polite conversation, adventure?  What stops us?

I’m stuck here, thinking about that last question.  What stop us?  What stops me?  What stops me from spending time with family and friends in a slow, deliberate and intentional way?  The answers that come to mind are not going to be shared here in black and white.  In some respects they’re too personal, and they are too telling.  Too telling of what truly prevents me, prevents us, from interacting the way we at least try to do during the holidays.  I imagine that my answers are not that different from yours, so as you think about it, I suspect you also will conclude the answers are hard to swallow.

I hope and pray that we all overcome our answers to that question. I hope we all come to the conclusion that those current answers are insufficient, they cannot stand, they must fall.  Those excuses need to be quenched, that darkness needs to be overcome with a light, with love.

The world needs it.  The world need us to change the patterns and ruts we are stuck in.  Put another way, we truly need each other.

I hope to let this season of generosity, of lights, and of love seep into this hardened soul, soften it and make it pliable and sensitive to the plight of those around me.  My prayer is that it seeps deep and resides within in a long lasting and durable way, and that compassion and generosity become the norm for us all.

I wish you all love, health and prosperity, through this season and the years to come.

Brian

105,120 Hours.

105,120 Hours.

How many of you are reaching for your phone to run the calculator and see what other unit of time might equate to a bit over 105 thousand hours?  It turns out that it’s another way to view 12 years time.  Twelve years might be a short period of time if you’re an anthropologist interested in what happened thousands of years, not thousands of hours, ago.  Twelve years might be an eternity if you’ve just turned two years old.  Yet twelve years is what has passed since my liver transplant took place back in the year 2005.  One hundred five thousand, one hundred twenty hours have expired since I took receipt of that precious gift provided by a wonderful man and his grieving family.

I usually try to take it all 1440 minutes at a time, or said in another way, day by day.  That’s most likely 57,600 seconds of time spent awake each day.  The different perspectives of time, in years, days, minutes and seconds bring a new vision to the depth and breath of the gift and the use thereof.  How many more experiences I have had the pleasure to be a part of, how many have my donor’s family missed.  It makes me wonder, ponder and yes be beyond grateful.  Yet too, perhaps a time or two to be guilty.

Has my use of those periods of time, both considered short and long depending on the particular day and way to consider them, been purposeful and meaningful?  Like everyone, I have to honestly say, “sometimes.”  There have been periods of time when it’s very clear I’m living on a second chance, and yet there are times when I forget about the sacrifice.  It’s not for a lack of gratitude, but rather out of acceptance and being caught up in the day to day.  I wonder if that’s not the way it ought to be?  There would seem to be little point to living with doubt and timidity, and yet when living in the moment your thoughts are one the experience of the immediate present not of how it is that you are able to be there.

Then there are days like today.  Those days of reflection and remembrance of the difficulties and struggles to some degree but more of the life lived.  It’s interesting too, that the liver story is not yet done, as even this past year had a good deal of working through things.  Even now we’re adjusting meds to try to obtain the right combination. However, it’s the times with family and friends, holidays, scenic drives, motorcycle rides, movies, meetings, concerts, trips, good food and so much more that come to mind telling a story of the blessings received.

I’m reminded today, as I hope you are as well, that the new day is not promised.  Life is unpredictable and maybe even more precious for that very fact, so each day’s 1440 minutes should be treasured. We each have a unique story. Isn’t there, though, a bigger story that we share collectively.  A greater story of being intertwined with each other.  I’m glad to have shared and merged my chapters and become a part of the tome written as a community.  I don’t know what I’d be, or where I’d be without Deborah, my family, church family, friends, colleagues and so many heath care professionals.

Here’s to you all, and to another 8,760 minutes until we recall it all again.  Have a good year everyone.  Love you all.

Peace,

Brian

Sans Colon

Today mark the 1 year anniversary of my colectomy surgery.  Where did the time go!  It doesn’t seem possible that it’s been a year sans colon.  It’s been quite the year.

You may recall my liver numbers went crazy for a while, starting right after the colon was out.  The two were only tangentially related.  My best bet is that while there may have been a narrowed opening from my liver to the intestine, there is (was) also an issue with how absorption without the colon effected my medicines.  We’re still tweaking the meds now in fact.

Since the liver issue was mostly resolved my overall health has been really good! Of course as I type this I’ve come down with the first cold of the season.  ☹  I did just get my blood counts checked yesterday and I still don’t need my usual medication.  The amazing thing is that I haven’t needed my medication to fight anemia since July!!!  That’s a new record!

I’m still adjusting to life with my new plastic plumbing and it’s not a life for the faint of heart.  There have been three very unpalatable, messy, nasty experiences where things went awry very quickly. If you could write the right script it might make a very dark comedy.  But as they say “shit happens”, and sometimes shit happens at all the wrong times and places.  You know,  like while at a doctors office, or getting up from a couch, or yes, even while driving down the highway!!!  Don’t panic, just don’t use your gross fingers to hold the wheel.  All those year of driving with the palm of your hand, and/or knees to keep a straight line are really paying off now!!!  😊 Yet if you look at all of this together, in 365 days I really only had 3 that were awful.  That means that 99% of time things are pretty darn good! The truth is also that 2 of those 3 issues were user error situations.  So, really, I could expect that on 1 day in three years should be “a mess.” 

I don’t like to brag, but my stoma (the little piece of intestine that protrudes out of your abdomen) is pretty big, around a good inch and a half long!  Most doctors say “It’s prolapsed” when they see it, meaning that it was not intended to be that big and it moved unintentionally outward.  Wrong.  My doc wanted a big stoma for one very good reason.  It’s easier to have a good seal around it and minimizes the chances of bad things (see above) from happening.  Some folks deal with leakage issues routinely.  I’m really lucky and things could be a lot worse!

The downside of having a large stoma is that it’s harder to hide.  Most people probably don’t notice it much.  I mean, who goes around looking at your waist?  None the less, it does bother me from time to time. Well, it might be fair to say it bothers me frequently, but hey everyone has something that tends to bother them, and overall I’m better off now. I don’t dwell on it, just take a deep breath and move on.

Thank you all for the support and love over the year. It's a comfort knowing how many are lifting you up, praying and offering encouragement.

With all that said, I think it’s time to embrace the latest “new normal” and celebrate the success of the surgery and the past year of improved health.  It just might be time to throw a party!  What do you all think?