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 |   My journey through (and beyond) the valley with Cancer as my companion. |
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Dear Friend: This is not a Blog about writing! (I already have one of those.) This is a blog about a journey I am taking with illness. I have recently been diagnosed with Cancer. My goal is honest therapy as I progress through, and beyond this new reality in my life. I hope that, somewhere along the way you will find some words that will help you too. While this is, in fact, an interactive Blog, I hope that you will scroll slowly down this page. For you see, the front of this Blog IS my journey. The entries are conversations that are held along the journey.Yes, there is a lot on it--before actually getting to the Blog entries. But, I hope that by the objects and words which appear before the Blog itself, you might come to understand just a little bit about me, and my journey, and some truly amazing friends who have agreed to journey with me. I hope that you, too, will choose to accompany me on my walk--through the Valley. I invite you to join me, and discover the wondrous truths, meet some truly amazing people, and share those "memorable" moments this journey will undoubtedly present. Come along, won't you? In His Care, ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Would you like to help me help others? I found this amazing organization, and I am proud to be a sponsor. I hope you will check it out. It's called The Network For Good.  ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** "RISUS OMNIA - INCRUMENTUS PER DEDECUS - SAPIENTIA PER DAMNUM" ("Every thing is funny - Growth through humiliation - Wisdom through loss") ~Leunig~ The hilltop hour would not be half so wonderful if there were no dark valleys to traverse. ~Helen Keller~ "If you do not tell the truth about yourself you cannot tell it about other people." ~Virginia Woolf~ ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** "There is strength in truth." ~The Barton Family Crest~ ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** “Character cannot be developed in ease and quiet. Only through experience of trial and suffering can the soul be strengthened, vision cleared, ambition inspired, and success achieved.” — Helen Keller, American social activist, public speaker and author (1880-1968) I have moved the list of my thanks for those who have helped to make this little Blog so very special. I hope that you will take a moment to read the list, growing every day, and let these fellow travellers along this journey know that you appreciate the contributions they make to our walk together.
** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** "Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything." James 1:2-4 ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Please feel free to click on the Blog Rings icon below to be transported to some of the very best of the Best Bloggers around WDC. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** If you are new to WDC, or to our Blogging community, I highly recommend the monthly edition of "The Blogville News". Feel free to click below, and let Scarlett   know that a Blogger sent ya!Hey! We've started a Christian's Blog Ring on WDC. Click on the logo, and join us! ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Budroe
 Ring LeaderI have three publications at the moment. Here is a link to purchase my latest one. Buy a great read, and help a fellow writer out, Okay?  ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
| Strange Fact: My first name, in Chinese, is 莫林 pronounced mò lín. Let it bless your heart! That's Mandarin, btw. In yesterday's post, I spoke of the journey through the valley from October, 2006 through June 21, 2008. It was an honest appraisal of my emotional and mental, not to mention physical state, tempered with my awareness that these are my opinions only. Others may have other, or different opinions. They are welcome here in comments. If you wish to argue them, get your own blog! June 22, 2008 was a difficult day for me. All the garbage, still new and very much alive in my world, was past the point of my caring. I got an email that evening from someone claiming to be Sara, my friend and girlfriend from 1974. It was a shocking email. We had not communicated since then. As I said before, my mental state was not much in the mood for having to explain other people's ignorance or evil intentions. I was talked out on the subject, but had never written about it. (I later would, once. It cost me some dear WDC friends. But, I felt like I had the right to present my side of things--they disagreed. "Dredging up the past...", etc. I just wasn't in the mood at the time. I had spent over 35 years protecting a friendship that necessarily went into hibernation, and I sure didn't want it revisited in this compost heap! I responded with a statement only one person on earth would know. I would learn later that when she read that statement, she nearly beat a friend with her into the local emergency room with excitement! It would be several months, with many attempts on her part, but Sara and I finally met almost one year later. It took me that long to allow her to see me, where I lived, and how I had "developed" over the nearly four decades since our last meeting. She and her husband came to visit me in West Frankfort. We spent a weekend together, getting caught up. She came prepared. It seems she had "researched" me, once she had used the right information in her Goggle search. She had found the ugliness here. She had spoken and emailed some of the principle players. She knew my medical situation, having read every word of this Blog. She told me that she was most afraid that, when she got to the last entry, I would be dead. While many were mad that I wasn't, she seemed rather happy about the reality. Over the next months, she visited regularly. She helped me with paperwork, medical appointments, homecare workers (Hi!@Jerri, my homecare worker in West "Hotdog"), and ran interference on many difficult issues. It was Sara who heard me stop breathing from a room away, and got me into sleep studies that resulted in a hospitalization and a BiPap machine. Because of damaged lungs, they had to get a special machine just for me because the pressure required to do the job was so much higher than normal. I have it today, and will forever. Sara brought solutions, and an indomitable spirit to the task of being my friend. Suddenly, things that I took for granted, things that I was thankful for (Do dented cans really hurt you to eat?) were under her gunsights. She relentlessly removed danger, and started replacing things with better things. She visited doctors, made exam and lab appointments, then drove five hours to my house to ride me to them. In the process, a friendship dormant became alive again. It was in a different form, and it did not have some of the parts of the past. But, there were some pretty amazing new things, too. Sara's heart, just as gentle and fragile as ever, had been severely bruised and broken. It turns out, her mother (one of my favorite humans--ever) and I had died on the same day. I came back, while her Mother moved to Heaven. Personally, I do think it should have been the other way around. Jane was one of the finest people I have ever known, and it doesn't take looking too far to see why her only child has been my one true friend for so very long. We shared tears and sadnesses, medical complaints, grudges, angers, and fears over many hours, days, and weeks. But, we also shared plans. That's something I just wasn't used to. Nor was I adequately prepared for this part of the journey. speaking of things future seemed a very bad and evil trick to me. How dare I even consider a tomorrow? My sole focus, for years had been to "Survive Until Dawn!" Now, we are talking weeks, and months, and years down the road. A foreign language, spoken in a foreign land was what it was to me. I couldn't hope. Everybody said so. Anybody with an M.D. behind their name told me so. Sara either (I still do not know to this day) was not going to believe it, or she was not going to accept it. That wasn't the plan SHE had. Over the course of time from then, until today, Sara has very lovingly, patiently, slowly (well, kinda, as long as it's on HER schedule!) helped me look through the mirror a bit. Where my computer represented my "productivity", Sara's coming into my life, and the loves and lives of her family and friends as well, has caused me to dare turn around, and look ahead a bit. I'm still not looking around any corners, up any hills, or through any obstacles. But, slowly I am beginning to believe that I could. I used to all the time. Her statement is that she is not going to stop until the me she knows is inside is "Me!" again. That's a hugely tall order, given all that has to transpire to make that happen. But, Sara is my friend. She is my HCA (Healthcare Advocate). She is my very special friend who just plain old isn't going anywhere. I'd like to tell you something else about Sara, too. She lives in Middle Tennessee (Columbia, just South of Nashville). In the nine counties surrounding hers, there is NO healthcare or medical attention available for the uninsured or underinsured of this state. NONE! She works as the Administrator of a Faith-Based, 501 (c)3 Medical Clinic (Hope Clinic of Middle Tennessee) and she, along with several volunteer doctors, nurses and pharmacists, provide basic healthcare and medical needs to several THOUSAND "volunteers" who would have no medical care whatsoever were it not for the Hope Clinic. They work by word of mouth only. On "Clinic nights", they work until the last patient is seen and cared for. From Nashville to the Alabama State line they come. It's amazing to watch her work. She is an angel, surrounded by Angels. Her patients love her. Her Doctors admire and respect her. Her volunteer workers all love her. She's "just" Sara! I'm so very proud of her. Her life has meaning, purpose, significance. She is an animal lover (as W.T. will attest!) and owns three dogs and 1/2 cat. Her husband is a supervising Lab Tech at Baptist Hospital in Nashville, working the night shift for more than 20 years, driving 90 minutes each way. Sara does not generally appreciate people picking on her friends. It really doesn't matter that they are not. The appearance is quite sufficient to bring out the protective beast in her. Believe me, a beast it is, too. With Sara, what you see is what you get. Just be able to take what you get! She is gentle of spirit, kind of heart, longsuffering in her own pain and illness, and is a mindless, raging Bulldog in defense of a friend. She always has been. She swears it's the double Irish in her. It could be, but she's so totally blonde!! Oi! I do not yet believe. Sara has never done anything but believe. I'm terribly gruff and a complete curmudgeon. Yet, I have come to understand again that there is life in today. That alone has made such a tremendous difference in my general demeanor. I dare not treat her too gently, lest she weaken her resolve to help me. I think she truly enjoys the fight! She surely does enjoy fighting on my behalf, and no victim is exempt. Doctors, nurses, systems, programs, friends...they all must pass muster with Sara or be dealt with! Dispatched is more like it. Her faith is strong, and her Spirit is invincible. She is a Christian of the first order, living out her faith one patient, one friend at a time. I have claimed nearly 100% of her time, talent and treasure these past years. Ten hour drives with her medical conditions, every two weeks, has been taking a toll on her. From visiting me once every two weeks, Sara began making the trip every week to ten days as my medical condition worsened. It got really stupid, really fast. So, we just "flipped" it. I came here. I go home usually about once per month for medical appointments (Medicaid is Illinois only. Tennessee does not have Medicaid!) and do regular business. I see my friends, visit my docs, let Drac poke me a few times, get so I can glow in the dark, and be home for a minute. Then, it's right back here. It's a different environment. I feel like an invalid more severely, yet less often here. I have my days. W.T. seems to know when to be a playful little Kitty, and when to be very close to the "Daddy-One". Lord, what a lover-kitty he is. And, I do love him so. He is a companion who understands the difficult life, I think. Yet, he is always available to hold, or pet, or just talk to. W.T. has quite his own vocabulary, which changes depending on to whom he is speaking. (W.T. just does NOT speak WITH someone. He speaks, you listen and then respond.) My first EVER pet that I can call my own. A cat, of all things. And, Sara is the "Mommy-One!" of this family. Caring for him has helped me remember the value of life again. I hate admitting that I lost sight of it. I did. I still do sometimes. I get so weary. Yet, now I have someone, and something to fight for. As I said in the very first entry I wrote to this blog, the outcome may be certain, but have no doubt there WILL be a battle. I'm not to battle strength again yet. Heck, I just fell last night and broke my finger, scraped both an arm and a leg (great going there, Diabetic, Coumadin Boy!). Lots of pain there, too. But, today, I am not the patient. I am Bud (or Buddy, if you are one very special friend). I sort of remember how that used to go, that song that I once was. I hven't thought of it in a very long time. Others tried to kill it, take it away, and force it into silence. One person refuses to allow it, and is very gently, ever-surely, spooning little bites of it into my soul. Things are currently very different. Not medically, by any means. But, in a very real way, things are different. Better, in their own way. I don't feel quite so alone, and I have a Kitten to care for, and care with. We take care of Sara. She tries to take care of us. Here, she is Budroesgirl . If you want to do me a kindness, stop by her port and say "Hello!" I try to thank her all the time, but I'm still really lousy at it. It's so hard to smile through clenched teeth, after all. She used to come here to see me. HA! There's nothing MORE over than those days. Oh, and she's deathly allergic to cats! Go figger!On this journey, it is really important to never lose site of the path. But, for those of us called on this journey, it is also terribly important that we, from time to time, look around, and behind us. That's where our victories are. When we look up, that's where our strength, hope, and purpose are. When we look ahead, it is never whithout a quite thought of the potential of death just ahead. They tell us we will. Like we didn't know it, or something. Beloved, we're all going to make this trip. It's so simple, even a belly button kid can do it. You don't have to do anything at all! But, as my dear friend Max Lucado says: "You can tell a lot about a person by the way they leave us." It's not the dying that is difficult--for anyone. It is the leaving. That can be terribly difficult, especially when, along the way, you remember the value of a true friend. Having been one all of my life, it's really kind of nice to have one for a change. How do you stop loving a friend? How do you leave a friend? How do you just stop BEING a friend? A friend is someone who knows all there is to know, good and bad, about you--and loves you anyway. As someone who once professed friendship with me said: "Your friend will make the bully stop hitting you." "Your good friend will hurt the bully until he stops hurting you." "Your best friend will say nothing of it to you, but you will read the strange story of how the bully's body parts were found in different area codes.". I used to be a good "Best Friend". I've forgotten how to be a friend of any type, for a while now. I'm honestly afraid to BE a friend. I'm willing to risk vulnerability, but it seems like all those I love enough to call my friend just wind up leaving me. Then, there is Sara. There just ain't no "leaving" in her. She knows all the good things, and all the bad things too that there is to know about me. She took me to dinner tonight, with her husband. She came over here today to see "her" (HA!) cat. She worked all day in a hot building, for patients who cannot pay their way to "Thank you!" Wednesday, we will spend the day together in Nashville, at Vanderbilt University Medical Center while a mutual friend undergoes some rather serious brain surgery. It's her nature. It's my honor, just to be near enough to make her angry at me. She'll never know why. She doesn't have to. It's none of her business! Yeah, right. YOU tell her that! I got bruises already! With Sara, and W.T., things are looking a little different in my world. Not a lot, and not near fast enough to suit. But, things just might be looking up. I'm not taking any long term debt...yet. I can't see Christmas...yet. Not even Halloween. But, now Labor Day! Well, that's something else again! Thanks for the chat. It helped. I hope you will keep us all in your thoughts, and your prayers. In the meantime, stay In His Care, Budroe |
| For years now, my life has been centered around being a terminally ill patient. For those of you called upon this journey, those words will ring in a very special way for you. They do for me, too. They have, since October 28th, 2006 defined me. Because of the love and care of friends now gone from this journey, I was able to stay in my "little house" in Clarksville, Indiana for much longer than I could possibly afford, dragging a dear friend and landlady nearly to the brink herself caring for me financially. My supposed "best friend" cared for me dearly, taking me to appointments, feeding me, giving me money for necessities from his own limited funds, and generally being my friend. I was a good friend to him, too. A dear friend, and my Senior Editor at the time, worked tirelessly with me on "Notre Dame", bringing it up to professional publishing standards amidst non-stop argument, derision, and general ungratefulness on my part. I was every bit the "artiste" during those days. I had been told, on November 9th, 2006 that I was "done!" I had 18 months at the outside to get my affairs in order, and shut down my life. In September, 2007, I could no longer care for myself in any category. A person I considered my friend offered me a place to stay, and his friend wanted to help me on my journey through the valley. I, having no available options, agreed to this arrangement rather than be institutionalized--my ownly visible alternative. That turned into a fiasco, because the reasons I was brought there (to Southern Illinois from Southern Indiana) were not the reasons I had been given. I was expected to "earn my keep" in a criminal enterprise--which I refused to do. This decision landed me on the curb, where I bounced into a homeless shelter. As it turned out, that Homeless Shelter was the one and only place where Dad could help me, and He did, in some amazing ways. I got public housing (my current residence of record), financial support from the Township and the incredible generosity of one very special lady who was a believer. Slowly, I felt my life re-forming under my feet. November, 2007 also saw a total and brutal attack on my professional and personal life which very nearly killed me. While it did destroy my writing career, and while it did cost me some long-held life-strong friendships, the lies were eventually exposed. The bell cannot be unrung, and my life today is much less happy than it might be, specifically because of the war waged against me and those I care for. It was a successful campaign at the time. The damage done, the players moved on, friends left the journey, and my reputation was forever scarred. I felt then, in those dark days, that my life was surely over. What difference did it make? After all, I was much closer to the prognosis date of my death. Why not just pack it in, sit down, and die like a good boy? The Disability hearings were just beginning--again. But, because of one Social Security Case Manager, something "right" finally happened. The final result was a determination of disability. I was now officially permanently disabled. What a victory THAT is. An appeal to rescind my Disability date back to the original onset date of October 28th, 2006 was filed, and is still pending to this day. I hope to have a positive result this coming Wednesday. I hope you will pray for me to accept God's Will in that determination, whatever that may be. During all of this, I was a patient. Drugs, Wheel chairs and walkers, appointments with yet another Doctor who knew nothing about my medical condition, only to be told my care was "too complicated" for them to handle. Wow, really? I fought for every small victory, from a meal to eat, to someone to help me clean a 400 square foot apartment. I just couldn't do it by myself. My Doctor referred me to Public Aid for Insurance, and for a homecare worker to help me cook and clean, and keep to a meds schedule. It was a very difficult defeat for me, because I am, and always have been an independent sort. It took months, but in May of 2008, I had a care worker that did, some money to help with my drug purchases and food stamps, along with Public Aid and MedicAid for the Doctors. It wasn't great, but I had finally become entrenched in "the system". I was so alone, and so depressed at this situation in my life, I really didn't want to live. I just wanted it to end. The pain was a constant friend and companion, and I could only see around me the things I didn't have, and the things I couldn't do. I had spent as much time as possible being "productive" online, when I had internet access. This alone kept me going, with prayer that was non-stop for God to stay close to me as the journey continued. I had done as instructed, with quite a bit of unsolicited help from "friends". I had shut down my life. I, the patient, was at the largesse of a system that seemed absolutely content to wait me out. It looked as if they might, finally, win. In June, 2008, I got an email from a high school friend (a former girlfriend, acutally) who stated she had been looking for me non-stop for more than 35 years--Sara. I was scared, angry, and not much feeling like entertaining a new friendship in my life. There wasn't time, I had nothing to offer, and was a pauper "on the dole". She, of all people, had never seen me in such a condition, and the thought of her visiting me filled me with dread. I actually stalled her visit for months, hoping she would just forget about it. That was not to be the case, however. She did visit in June, 2008. My life took a serious turn during that visit. She brought "stuff". We talked, but I kept most of myself from her for a very long time. A nurse, only a cursory inspection of my medical records gave her news she did not want to hear--or believe. In only a few weeks, she did understand my condition, and my circumstance. What she did with it is something difficult to write about, even today. So, I'll write about it tomorrow. This one is long enough. But, for those of you called to be on this journey, I hope that my writing my thoughts and feelings have not been a drag on your happiness, or a total "buzz-kill" for your weekend. This is a "catch-up" post that comes from a friend's frank and personal discussion of her life of late, and a review of the "Thanks and Thanksgiving" page that is an integral part of this Blog. That page is a constant reminder that, in spite of all the things I have honestly written here today, life--even on this journey, is not all grief, sadness and pain. There's plenty of good to be noticed, and I haven't lately. So, while I work to update that page, I thought I would try to catch up some on this one, as well. Tomorrow, I'll write about what has happened since my life began again, on June 22nd, 2008. Until next we meet, I remain faithfully, In His Care. Budroe |
| It's been a while since it has happened, but happen it has. For the first time, however, there is something new: I was not alone on this journey. Sara and I left Columbia, Tennessee at 0430 yesterday morning to attend two medical appointments, do some housekeeping chores, and visit friends in Southern Illinois. At the first appointment, I was compelled to remember that, for persons on Public Aid (MedicAid), receiving eyeglasses routinely takes upwards of three (3) MONTHS, once the spectacles are ordered. Now, if you pay or have insurance, that time somehow gets dramatically cut to "about one week"! Yes, I'm grateful to have them. Yes, I have a pair to work with until these arrive. Do these truths also mean that I cannot comment or even wonder out loud about the inconsistencies of the program, or of the process? I think not. I have been told to "Be grateful, feel lucky, and shut up!" about such inconsistencies as these. I would tell you that this "advice" came from someone who has never been "in the system". Nor have they had to endure the multiplicity of difficulties to achieve even the simplest of tasks as we who ARE "in the system" are required to endure. I was treated kindly Friendly folks, and a very patient Doctor of Optometry dilated my pupils and prescribed my spectacles. Sounds about normal, right? It took two 500 mile round trips, in the course of two weeks. Why? Because "the system" will not allow both a dilation and prescription to be done in the same visit, that's why. Why not? Because the payment is less if two procedures are done than if one procedure is done on each of two days at least one week apart. I'm told that, even with two visits, the amount paid to the provider is less than the basic cost of providing the services--by a lot! Currently, it doesn't matter how much is billed to the State. They are bankrupt, and are not paying monies owed for such services anyway, so the net result is that I am only adding to the burden of the state (as if further proof were required). The State, and the provider each have an important role to play in this dilemma. If I were not "in the system", none of this would apply to me. So, I have an important role to play as well. I'm permanently disabled, you see. If I had the common sense not to have a disabling illness, good medical insurance, and a well-paying job--it wouldn't apply to me. Yep, that's what I've been told. So, we have "compound visits", combining every possible appointment and other need into each trip. This trip involved five different stops in two days. How efficient can I get, in order to stand a chance with a system that never understood the meaning of the word. The second major appointment was with a Surgeon, to discuss a Colonoscopy and Gall Bladder surgery. We were treated coldly, rudely, and as if we had not bathed in some weeks. I had been told that I must bring a list of medicines I am currently taking (done), a list of all surgeries I've ever had (done), a photo ID (done) and an Insurance Card. When I told them which insurance I had, there was a sudden "cold snap" which blew in over the phone. It continued into, through, and beyond our visit to the Surgeon. Seven and one-half minutes "face" time with the Surgeon, with well over five of those minutes repeating the information I had brought, and his Nurse had entered into a laptop (which she took with her, and the Doctor did not have access to during the visit). I laid on an exam table, to hear: "Has anyone talked to you about these very large veins on your stomach? This would indicate either Portal Hypertension or Psyrrohis of the Liver, either of which, along with your medical condition, make it impossible for me to do surgery on you at all, and no one else will, either. You are just too big a surgical risk! The closest place to go is St. Louis. Nobody here will do it for you, especially with your insurance." He didn't know I took Coumadin (9mg / day). He didn't know about DVT's or Saddle Emboli, or blood clots by the hundreds. These are all serious implications, along with COPD, Emphysema, and a Greenfield filter--for a Surgeon. Somehow, he did happen to remember my insurance. I did sign four different papers regarding my awareness that this guy was a member of an investment group, which happened to own the building the railroading I was taking was located in. He wanted me to know that. He wanted me to know some other things, too. I got it, Doc. Like I said as you, having never so much as shaken my hand when offered it, "Sorry I wasted your time." Every time I see a new Doc, I get a new diagnosis. Portal Hypertension? Serious stuff, especially on top of Primary Pulmonary Hypertension. Psyrrohsis of the Liver? Pretty danged unlikely, unless you are talking about non-alcoholic types. Possible, but overwhelmingly unlikely. Any port in a storm, Doc. I had happen to fail to inform this guy that I did, for several years, teach Nursing for Uncle Sam, but I don't think it would have mattered in the least. Efficiency is one thing. The bum's rush is quite another. Thanks, Doc. Your professionalism and compassion is--underwhelming. Sara felt so sorry for me. She was "stunned" by this particular performance. Umm, Yeah. She's a Nurse, too. Who administers a Clinic five days a week. You know, where Doctors work. Every week. For free. No investment group here. She was as humiliated as I was. And, THAT made me angry. Most competent professionals in the medical field who can spell the word Colonoscopy or Cholesystectomy would also tell you that these particular procedures are generally NOT elective, especially in patients with my dianoses and current symptoms. My Doctor was so convincing, he had me believing I actually NEEDED a consult with this freak of medical nature. He could possibly be a competent Surgeon. A Physician he is not, this rube. I would suspect he just doesn't care much for people. It's not unheard of, but it is more rare today than it was at one time. (Sorry, EH, but you know as well as I do that I am not talking about all, and certainly not you.) More people than ever may be getting the opportunity to get the medical care they need, but that does NOT mean that the medical community providing it has to like it. They don't, and they are getting a heck of a lot more obvious about it. Unfortunately, they are showing their disapproval to the wrong contingent: the patient. I didn't do it, Doc. I got sick. For your performance yesterday, you should be summarily horse-whipped until your morale decidedly improves! (Did I say that??) Back to square one--again. 29 days before I am "allowed" to see my Primary Care Physician. Then, another consult--or not. Pain? Yeah, suck it up and deal with it, Bud. As for Sara, she's on a misson. So far, information shows in excess of $3,500, and upwards towards $5,000 for the Head/Neck and abdominal CT's or MRI's or Ultra-Sounds required for a definitive diagnosis. We aren't talking about the Colonoscopy--at all! Impossible. So, we wait and swallow pills one volley at a time. Yes, its frustrating in ways I cannot begin to explain. Humiliation and rage for the treatment of my friend, who paid for the gas to drive over 250 miles for such treatment! Look, Dad didn't say things would be easy, or easier! He just promised they would be worth it. I believe Him. I just happen to be one of His kids who really would love to give this moron a very strong Left Foot of Fellowship! Sorry, Dad. Thanks. I love YOU, too!  Even angry, I remainIn His Care, Budroe |
I recently became responsible for a group here on WDC. It has grown dramatically since I sent the first letter. I am aware that "second chances" with groups here have a very small, and limited success rate. In the past few weeks, the group has experienced the largest growth spurt since the group began. That is a good thing, I think. It's kind of a surprise to me, actually. It is the first visilble response I've had since becoming responsible for the group. Additionally, the members who are coming cover the gamut of our community members.
New members are reviewing, creating new graphics, offering programs ideas, and working together to re-define the purpose, mission, and scope of the group. This is a pleasant experience. The talent, treasure and time has been dormant in the group for some time. It is nice to see, and a little troubling to me so far as my leadership skills. Answering the question: "What is this group about?" has an easy answer, really. We are a Christianity-based faith group community of believers interested in sharing together our faith, and the living out of our lives, with a special emphasis of doing it all God's Way. Good stuff. I sent a member letter Sunday, the first of regular Sunday evening updates to the group. In the next 24 hours, I got two self-deletions. Given the group rate of 119 members at the moment, that's a pretty good rate. Right? I was troubled and saddened by the two members who did self-delete. Long term leadership on the site. Good friends. No comment given. No reason. Just--gone. Disheartening to a team of one, I took it personally. As my voice has been, since taking the group, the only voice, I cannot help but somehow wonder if the reason these amazing site members self-deleted was personal. I've spent some time with that, and come to some conclusions. I didn't set this deal up. A friend wanted despertely for the group to continue. Sending messages out to more than 100 members, several times, got no responses, no one coming forward. That should have said something. I love the group, and have truly appreciated having it in my WDC world. I wanted it to continue. I offered. She accepted. That's the whole story. People alwyas have the right to make their choices without interaction with anyone else--even those who will be affected by the decisions they make. It's not about whether or not comments should be required to self-delete. Not at all. I do think it would be a good thing, though, to at least honestly address the reason for the decision. I and the group could use the feedback. We are already reviewing with a volunteer reviewing team. The group is working, and growing. Members are beginning to remember the group, and it's actions. I do so appreciate that. There are those I'd love to publicly thank, but the rules of our group forbid it. We are not out to preach to the membership of WDC so much as we are about supporting and encouraging the writing of our fellow "Christ-followers" as we fellowship together, sharing, learning and growing our lives and experiences God's Way. Still, those fiirst two self-deletes have me itching in my brain. I suppose they always will. Until next we meet, I remain faithfully, In His Care. Budroe |
| Oh, how I wish I could give a complete update on all the goings-on in my WDC life, much less my life! Thank you all so very much for remembering my little friend, W.T. Fields. I am very happy to tell you that he is doing very well, indeed! He was tested, and found to be completely disease-free! That was a major hurdle, as if the tests had been positive, he would have had to move to Heaven. The requirements of caring for him are so great as it is, that we felt these challenges would be more than he could bear. He had his tail removed via laser surgery, and has a bobbed tail now. It's so cute! (He ain't so happy about it at the moment, but he will be soon!) He also has his front paw (the good one) de-clawed. The danger of continuing infection made this a necessity for W.T. and this is his primary complaint at the moment. He got to stay in the kitty hospital overnight, where he was lovingly cared for. He now recouperates at a dear friend's home, while Sara and I travel today to Illinois for my medical needs. W.T. is in fine shape! We will wait approximately three months for the major surgery of amputating his left front leg at the shoulder. The Vet advises to wait until he is approximately 10 months old for the neutering procedure. At such a young age, there is a very real danger of urinary problems and complications to do the work now. So, for a time, we will have a happy little kitten with a bum flipper! He is quickly becoming the joy of my life. I pray for him, and ask you to do the same. Send those good thoughts W.T.'s way, won't you? He surely is worthy, and is fighting still for his life. His pelvis seems to be healing nicely, by the way. This little guy is living up to his name with a vengeance! I am so proud of him, and Sara--who can't stop the mothering instinct to help herself!  We are, together, giving him all the love he can handle and more! With your help, I know W.T. Fields will be just fine! I will try to get some photos posted soon. You can find some pics of him on FaceBook, where he is quickly becoming a star! I will be back, probably online Saturday, to continue the amazing work that is taking place with "Invalid Item" . I hope you will visit and, like so many WDC friends this past two weeks, choose to join us. The group is experiencing it's greatest growth since its inception, and I am so very grateful for that. More when I can. I hope you are safe, well, and happy. Drop a line and let me know, okay? I love you all, and thank my Dad for all the blessings He, and you, bring me daily, moment-by-moment. Don't worry, gang, we'll get there! A very special thanks to a very special friend, Iva Lilly Durham  for all she has done, and is doing these days. I hope you will drop her a line, check her port, and show her some merit badge-wearing, AwardIcon showing love! She's such a special gift! SummerLyn Guthrie , I'm counting on you to "cover" this trip. It's going to take all we've got to make it a good one. I hate being a patient!!Yet, and through it all, I do remain, as always, in the hope that you, too will be, In His Care. Budroe |
| It is becoming more and more difficult to remember that this little guy is barely two months old! He (W. T. Fields, for the uninitiated) has surely taken up huge spots in our hearts. "Ours" because he has shared 'parents' (okay, Staff!) between Sara and I. She's the loving, cuddling (MILK FEEDING--GRRRR!) Mommie-one. I am the strict, disciplinary, physical therapy making, independence producing Daddy-one. My cat. My house. My rules. You buyin' that malarchy? HA! He absolutely LOVES to play! As you cat-heroes out there know, that can be good--and bad. In this little guy's case, any play is just incredibly good for him, and for us. We've become a family, like it or don't. Tonight, the mean old, grizzled, bearded Daddy-one has taken away his food bowl. It's been about five hours. The cat's looking at my leg like it's lunch! He's very hungry, and ver vocal about it. In fact, he has sneezed twice tonight, and the sound he produced was just precious. He was very polite about the ordeal, but it quite obviously hurt him to do it. Tomorrow morning, W.T. Fields will again become patient "kitty" (his official name at the Vet's office. Everybody recognizes his name, though. Weird! He begins a long journey that will take months to get through. At 0800 (8:00 AM CST), W.T. will enter surgery to have his tail removed, and his "good" paw de-clawed. He will be thoroughly tested for Feline AIDS/Leukemia, as well. If negative, and we are sincerely praying the tests will be negative, we will bring W.T. home to nurse him back to health. He has spent this time learning of his home, and his "place". We call it a kitchen. Yeah, whatevah! His carrier is his safe place now, his bowls and litter box are in the corner, and W.T has learned how to get to anthing there from any other room in the house. He is hopping quite effectively, if painfully, on his front paws. He is completely ambulatory, and has scouted out the digs. He even found a stray sock under my bed, but I digress! Three months from now, if all goes well, W.T. will have his front-left leg removed, and the healing will begin again. This is a truly major obstacle for us all, but we are satisfied it is the most compassionate thing to do for him. It will have to be done, and sooner is preferable to later in this case. He is no longer on Pedia-Pred, which is fantastic news to W.T. He is patient, and takes his medicines well. He doesn't care for the taste of this medicine, however. At least we have learned how to tell if W.T. doesn't like something! He's as gentle taking his meds as Sara or I are in the giving of them, forgiving us instantly by carefully licking our arms (until that yucky taste is out of his mouth, that is! He ain't foolin' ME!) and letting us know that we are forgiven for this indecency upon his personage. Sara is nervous, because he is going to hurt for a bit. She loves him so very much. {She knocks me outa th' way getting TO him, that {x}flea-rid{/x}little baby kitty. She chose to stay home tonight, because she doesn't want him to see her crying and nervous. Oi! You can surely figure out how I know THAT! I've prayed with W.T. today. I've prayed for him. His young, small life has been so terribly stricken, he has surely suffered his share. Yet, he bears his pain well. He is completely forgiving when we make a mistake, or accidentally hurt him in a place we don't know hurts. Sara and I agree that Dad brought him to us for a very special reason. He is a very special, people loving soul, and he has already given back in full measure for the love he has known from us, and our friends, and facebook, and.....:) He's a STAR! Would you say a prayer for our little one, too? We would surely appreciate it, and W.T. would know you did. Cats know these things. I think they have a special line to Heaven--at least this little one does, and that's for sure. We go to Illinois on Wednesday, for two days of MY medical appointments. W.T. will be re-couping for a couple of days at the home of a caring, loving friend who volunteered for the task. (She has two cats, a dog, and two Ferrets, and an 8 ear old child who loves to play with W.T. We'll be back here on Saturday, so we can see W.T., and Sara can attend her son's Birthday celebration. These are all concerns for us, which we must face in short order. Especially Sara, who has two boys to care for at the moment, on top of some rather significant health issues of her own. So please, remember us in your thoughts and prayers. In the meantime, it's twelve hours until my boy can eat. Purina just ain't ready for THAT assault. We do all remain, In His Care, Budroe Until next we meet, I remain faithfully, In His Care. Budroe |
| "Why do you call God "Dad"?" I've been asked this question a lot recently. I don't do it for the reaction. I don't do it to disrespect, or blaspheme God. (Many have told me it is offensive to them.) I finally got to the point where I needed to compose the answer to the question. Today, I have. I hope you will read it, and review it, and let me know what you think about it. You can find it here:
Until next we meet, I remain faithfully, In His Care. Budroe |
| For the record, it has been a while since I offered a substantive update on things close to Chateau de Budroe. Fortunately, there isn't a whole lot to report. W. T. Fields is doing quite well, thank you very much. His medicines (Prednesone for his dead leg, and an antibiotic for his dying tail, et al) are being well-tolerated, and he is eating more on the Pedia-Pred than some famous show business folk you may know or remember! He has basically doubled in every dimension, which is the best sign of all. Puss pockets have developed around his tail (sorry to be gross about it) which we empty daily. Amazingly, W.T. seems rather unaffected by all this. He has not been hungry, wet, or without love since coming to us. He is being appropriately spoiled, as a North American Short-tailhaired tabby could possibly be, with just a bit more just to make sure. He has become a very happy, playful, and personality-filled people lover. Nothing pleases him more than to be in our arms, or playing with us on the floor. W.T. is a sleeper as is his Dad, and has nicely accommodated my rather weird schedule--but not without significant comment upon my rising. I like to think he has missed my loving attention. And yes, I'm stickin' to it! There is much discussion, opinion-offering, and debate-baiting going on right now regarding the amputation of his dead front left leg. Although it remains dead, he has used it upon the most rare occasion as ballast for his hopping nature. He does fly around "his" house now, having been slowly acclimatized to the surroundings as he accepts each room as his own. He has a home he knows, and the bowls and litter box are in "his" kitchen. I have no idea how I'll cook henceforth, but it seems not to be a difficult proposition for W.T. I guess that's my problem. The delivery charges are becoming absorbitant! Tuesday holds for us the promise of surgery. At the least, he will officially lose his tail, de-clawing in front, lab tests to eliminate the possibility of either Feline AIDS or Leukemia. We will have him de-wormed. The neutering will probably wait until the next surgery, when his leg will go away. He has already gotten used to the three-legged approach to things, the leg is a bother to him. He keeps trying to clean it, to make it feel something, just as we continue to feed him his Pedia-Pred for the same reason. In the meantime, we have learned that W.T. enjoys the hunt, and especially the catch! Ribbon across the floor is against his, it would seem, pleasure and he does all he can to stop it's progress at all costs. Rolled up aluminum foil seems to bother his peace mightily, as well. He attacks in in the truest cat-fashion, even if he can only use three legs to do so. He is bringing us much joy and happiness. For me, W.T. provides plenty of reason for movement, and I'm not sure who loves his being held in my arms more. We'll wait for that verdict. Sara loves him completely, as every mommy should. He has somehow imprinted her as his mommy-cat, and tries to get her to provide all those things the mommy-cat should do. It's been that way since day #1, and W.T. also knows who I am. It's a joy to have such a loving, caring pet in our midst. Of course, Sara has now discovered many more needs that must be met every day at my house. Funny, I see much less of her than the durned cat does!! What's with that? Oi! There is peace and serenity here, and W.T. is a real center of our lives these days. He has met, and befriended many humans, yet still wishes only to destrooy all other animals; especially four-legged ones that bark. I mean, serious anti-social behaviors make themselves known at such times as these. Stranger people? No problem. Children? No problem. Dogs? fahhgedaboudit! We are not quite certain yet that W.T.'s life with his several serious wounds and other impediments is viable. But, even with a broken rear pelvis, a dead front leg, and so many scars you'd think him a military hero, W. T. continues living up to his name. "Want To" really wants to live. Now, it seems he wants to live with me! That's kind of nice. It's the first pet that has ever been truly mine. I'm learning how to be a pet owner, and W. T. is learning how to be my special pet. Sara is showing patience for him. Well, that's half the battle, anyway. As for me, I am in the moving process. There is only one more trip required to bring the remaining possessions from Southern Illinois to Mid-South Tennessee. That will, in all likelihood, happen in August. I have a battery of doctor's visits planned for Southern Illinois next week. That's a ten-hour turn around drive, over two or three (depending on how we feel) days. Then, the next trip will be in a U Haul. Sara continues to recover, and provide the needed medical care as we try to move benefits as well. That's going to be one heck of a challenge, as we are already finding out. But, we will do what we can, and let the rest go. In the meantime, the God's Way Group is getting new members, new activities are beginning, and we even have been selected to recieve a percentage of an auction! That's just so cool! We will hopefully begin some affiliated reviewing in the near future, and new activities and new adventures await. Feel free to visit our public forum at "Invalid Item" and let us know you are here. Until next we meet, I remain faithfully, In His Care. Budroe |
| I read this UPI article today. At first, I laughed--a lot. Then, I began reflecting on my own hometown. I came away with an appreciation for this small town that was not there at first. I come from a small town deep within the eve-loving Appalachian Mountains of Southeastern Kentucky. I am not, nor have I ever been ashamed, or embarassed because of where I come from. I'm really proud of it, in a sometimes inappropriate level, I fear. Yes, it is absolutely true; there is a Hazard, Kentucky! 140 miles SE of Lexington, in Perry County, the town was named as an All-American City in 1974 (I think!), and for good reason. I've lived in small towns, and in large cities. Life in each is vastly different, yet it is not the location that matters. It is the quality of the character of the resident that makes all the difference. I have found living in each to have very unique requirements that, if dealt with, can bring an increase to the quality of life for the resident. Of course, some places are not for some folks to be living in, no matter the benefits. We from the small tend to herd to the large--at least for a time. We from the huge love the 24/7 access to those things made available to us. Small town folk sometimes long for the pure adrenalin of the metroplex, becrying our mundane, pedantic lives. And, you can surely find large city folks who would trade all they own to live in some small, quiet, Rockwellian burg where life begins and ends with the sunshine. Life has much to offer. It doesn't matter where you live, but rather where your heart lives. Military people (and especially military families) tend to become quite accustomed to moving on a regular basis, with or without all their family members along on the journey. Many, many quiet rural families reside in a happy existence never travelling further than the county line--in a lifetime! So! When I read this article from the United Press International, highlighting a community in England's quiet countryside because of a (I sware!) Snail race, I went through the gamut of emotions. This is a story of international importance? A Snail race? Was the huge news benefit to the planet the fact that the winner travelled a herculean distance of 13 inches to win? I know. You think I'm kidding you, don't you? Check it out here. I'll wait. Let it bless your hearts. Every person, like every zipcode, is known for something. It's a reality we just cannot escape in this life. The pride these villagers take in their claim to fame is both embraceable and humbling. Good is. My hometown is like that, too. So is the ultra-small town I just moved from. There has always been, in my life, a quiet assurance passed down from my ancestors that helped me know, especially in the more trying times of my life, that I was of "good stock", and that because of that, I would "make it". Many tired, waiting for the bloom to blossom. Some let a few bugs steer them away. But, the good folks of Congham have it right, I think. God is where your heart allows Him to be. Sometimes, that can be difficult to accept when what we feel like we most need is the presence of God. "I just can't find Him!" It isn't God who is lost. He doesn't prefer large over small. Life doesn't work more to the advantage of the "Gots" than the "Nots", either. Poverty has nothing to do with money. Poverty has to do with spiritual deprivation. Poverty of the soul is a tragedy, no matter where it lives. Snails, and the community who loves them, can really teach us a lot. I guess the question really is: "Where do YOU live?" I've had to look at that question in some very serious fashion of late. It wasn't entirely voluntary, either. I guess that's why, when I read this story today, I laughed--at first. It seems my kitty ("W. T.") can smell my thought-sweat. He lays down when he does, and seems to know that I will, in fact, be back at some point. I came away thinking that the good folks of congham, England are just pretty cool. So are their snails. I want to remember them, and the truths that are really news worthy. I hope you will, too. Until next we meet, I remain faithfully, In His Care. Budroe |
| The following came to me through my inbox today. I have no idea who the original authors were, but I hereby give THEM credit for their work. I had nothing to do with it. No, REALLY! I didn't! I hope it will bring a smile, or a groan to your heart as you continue on the journey. Those who jump off a bridge in Paris are in Seine. A backward poet writes inverse. A man's home is his castle, in a manor of speaking. A man needs a mistress just to break the monogamy. A hangover is the wrath of grapes. Reading while sunbathing makes you well red. A bicycle can't stand on its own because it is two tired. Time flies like an arrow. Fruit flies like a banana. A chicken crossing the road is poultry in motion. If you don't pay your exorcist, you get repossessed. When a clock is hungry, it goes back four seconds. The man who fell into an upholstery machine is fully recovered. He often broke into song because he couldn't find the key. A boiled egg in the morning is hard to beat. He had a photographic memory that was never developed. God gives us joy--not necessarily an appropriate sense of humor. Finding fault in others is easy, especially when they make it so obvious! Yet, PUNishment is not necessary here. Smile, and remain always,In His Care, Budroe |
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