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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 ** |
| There are a few things that I am compulsive about. Writing is one of those things, as some of you can attest. I shut my mouth, and my fingers begin typing words just like these. I had no idea it was time to blog. I had no topic. But then, I noticed what it took me to get from the idea of writing to actually posting these words, and I was amazed! When did so many distractions take over my life? Why? What am I going to do about it? Why? Not necessarily in order: WDC email-2 responses, 8 deletions. GMail: 72 inbox messages from "known" addresses. 12 action items. 352 spam messages. All had to be gone through, because some of them are actually NOT spam. Love the delete button--especially the "Delete Forever!" button. Ain't technology grand?? Game #1: CyberNations. (See below) 23 messages to read on forum. 8 Responses. IRC CHANNELS (Online chat) quiet. Play main game 14 minutes. Game #2: NationStates: Check main inbox. 4 messages, 4 responses. Check Forums. 8 issues dealt with. FACEBOOK! GAWD! 23 games in play. Checked 6 games for updates, progress. Played four. Nine wall posts, three new friends added (W/messages). When did THAT happen? One main game: Farmville. OMG! My crops are only at 94%. Hurry UP! I'm working on Mastery of Eggplant farmin' here! Why must it take so long?? Check neighbors, fertilize crops (poop on 11 farms, feed their chickens for one Golden Mystery Egg! Life isn't fair. HURRY UP! WDC. Blog. I've got a book to edit for someone else. I've got nine writing projects in process, three for publication this year. Reviews to (not, as it turns out) do. Write the damned Blog! On what? Don't worry about it, your fingers will create the words. Illinois this week, Doctor on Friday! Have to move to TN before I can even apply for the assistance I will lose by moving. Love the new little house. Can I afford to live here? CAN I afford NOT to live here, and remain in Illinois? Write the post! On what? What's on my mind? I have no idea, but your head is full of something. Believe it's words, and get them out through your fingers! HURRY UP! 95% I could GROW Eggplant in less time, already! Umm, why am I on the computer so long every day? What am I getting done on the dream? Is it still the same goal? Who am I? Why am I here? (Sorry, Admiral Stockdale, but it fits!) I went on the town today, and had lunch with a couple of really special friends--and Sara. If I am going out in this town, it is with Sara. I get lost trying to leave the driveway! We went to Dollar Tree (Everything $1). So why was the total more than $28? Methinks me smells a scam! But I NEED 'em! Then, went to Mo's and had a Beef Burrito bigger than my head that was so good, I thought about slappin' a stranger! If you haven't, GO! Take money with ya. OMG! How good was that Triple Lindy!! (That's a Beef Burrito, y'all! Go figger!) Do I gotta have chips?? These chips aren't bad! I'll have another. Finish up with a trip to the Ice Cream store, specifically designed by Satan himself just to frustrate all Diabetics on Planets near and far! Watched my friends eat Ice Cream, and got slapped for "stealin" sips of Sara's Diet Coke. My friends (yes, my FRIENDS!) enjoyed this, thinking it humerous! Me? Not so much. OW!) Rushed home to check on Sara's Dog, a temporary visitor and master of my Kitchen! He's fine, and very glad to see me. Goes by the name of BudBud, a Maltie-poo with big ambitions and personality-plus! Rush to computer. 93%? WHAT IS GOING ON?? HURRY UP! So, let's think about this for a minute. The promise was that my computer was a tool that I would use, somehow to glorify my Dad! Where is THAT on the list? Huh? New words on the next novel? Not yet. Cleaning up the contest stuff, announcing winners, and getting prizes, merit badges, and letters of Thanks out to the participants? Yes, today! Blog entry for the followers and friends of the journey? Yes. Are you going to tell them your fears today? Probably not, but they can probably guess most of them, anyway. Good news from PCP: PT/INR is nearly perfect. Change labwork to every 4 weeks! Yeah! I graduated to every 4 weeks. The dracs ain't gonna like it. Doesn't matter, they'll jus take more each time. Slow calming breaths. "A watched pot never boils!" So, how is it going with the Insulin? Diet? Beef Burrito, huh? Did you take your pills? What's your Blood Sugar? Insulin? Exercise and physical exertion can cause you to bottom out. Watch that. It happened once this week, and it wasn't pretty, remember? 95%! ...and all the shepherds, HURRY UP! My new life is taking shape in a way that I don't particularly like, but I do enjoy. I'm level 50, you know! (Pats self.) Does that glorify? I love poker. I play in several sites, for enjoyment--no money. I'm fairly good. Bejeweled Blitz is addicting! Mob Wars, Mafia Wars...aggression therapy. Look, it keeps me from going asunder on somebody, okay? Shoot 'em up, already! And, people send me love notes, telling me that they miss me on the internet. Are you KIDDING me? Where did I go? For a long time, I had no computer, and no internet. Now, I have both. It is like being chronically hungry. When you finally get the larder filled, you want everything. You can't decide what to eat--next. That's been me these past few months. I've tried to gain, or regain contact with so many people that I lost communication with for what was, to me at least, so very long. I have some folks that I must choose not to communicate with any further, for my own good (and, I do truly believe theirs, too) that makes me incredibly sad. There are new friends to begin relationships with through writing, and that makes me incredibly happy. Alone, my existence is becoming defined by my Mafia Wars level, or my Farmville crop status. When did that happen? There also comes a time when, reasonable or not, you get full again. You've tasted once again the food you so loved, and have so missed. At the ice cream store today, one of my new friends in Columbia met up with a work friend. Talking with her, introducing myself, I joked with her, telling her that she had Zebras on her shirt (as if she had no idea!) She looked down, saw them, and wondered when that happened? (AH! THE PLOT THINS!) I almost absent-mindedly wondered aloud if FARMVILLE would ever have Zebra. She immediately responded that she wondered that, too. She needed some new animals for her farm! OMG! Okay, this is just (to use one of Sara's favorite words) ridiculous! Enough! Is it so far past that I cannot remember who I am, and what I do; what I stand for? Can I, somehow, figure out who I am? I think I understand some of it. The computer coming back into my life suddenly filled the hours of waiting until the next dose. Distractions abounded from being ill, alone, and completely dependent upon others. I get that part. I wrote (and write) like a ferret on steroids for months, trying to get "caught up" on projects that were required to sit despondently while I somehow recovered my life. The computer was not, and is not now an addiction. 96%. Now, thanks to some very sacrificial lifework by a medical team that deserves a medal, there seems to be a moment of stability in my life. I have surgical considerations to make which could be "interesting". I am not a fan of Surgery, or of Surgeons, and I have no problem admitting that. For me, there IS no "standard" surgical outcomes. The Thyroid is again causing me to constantly cough, even when the cigarettes do not. That has to be looked at, and will be this Friday, in Illinois. There has been a notice that the Gall Bladder must be removed. The pain continues, and the only medicine I have for it is Vicodin, which does completely zero for the pain, but gets me "wired" instead of making me sleepy, as it does for 99% of the world. But, NO! I'm special! Day, after day, after bloody DAY! My home care worker caused herself an injury that will keep her away for up to 8 weeks. I have to use it, or lose it. I can't afford to lose it, so I must be in Illinois. The circle: do you see it? That is my life at the moment. Is it compulsion to "hide" from the illness and pain on the computer? Have the games become obsessions to distract me from a reality I wish not to acknowledge at the moment? What of the new people in my life? People? In MY life? Now, when did THAT happen? Where have I been during all this? I don't know. And, that's the problem. So many changes in such a short amount of time. Most of them are good ones, I think. I'm not getting well--that ain't in the cards. But, I am, somehow, getting better. It's a very scary world for me at the moment. I'm afraid to trust that I really AM getting better. That's usually when the other foot falls. The last time, I wound up having personal discussions with a doctor about bilateral amputation--to save my life! Call me cynical, but this "doing better" thing has a definite down side that I do not fear, yet do not enjoy thinking about. I have never been a pessimist in my life, yet experience has taught me that it is really important to treasure every single "good" day, hour or moment life affords. From life support to this? It's a journey! I'm angry with myself to have squandered so many hours of pure, mindless entertainment. I also know that these are the times that make good words possible. Maybe I'll even find some. Who know? I don't, and that's no problem at all. Dad does, and His paitent loving kindness is flexible enough to sustain even my "wasted" moments, because He knows my truest heart. He has entrusted me to this purpose, for His Glory. If some real-time "time off" from illness, dis-ease and stress are fruitful in the end, then all is well with my soul. The pills will come, and so will the insulin. The crops will grow with or without my impatient observation. The meals will sustain me for the moments when the words CAN come. I've got some important decisions to make. I must be still now and focus. The words will come as they are given, and I will write them. Hopefully, He will use them. That, too is an obsession, a compulsion. To be in the exact center of His Will for my life is still the one "no matter what" I have left. Even though, (and when) I sometimes act differently, there resides within me an absolute knowledge that Dad is close. The Valley is still in my vision. His love is still very real for me, and to me. The family and friends are still with me, somewhere, and somehow on this journey. They're games! (Sara's currently favorite Mantra.) No, they're not. They are a celebration of what I have been privileged to receive from a loving Father who, every once in a while will stretch forth His Hand of Mercy and declare: "Enough!" You know, one of the most powerful words I ever heard talked about those times when Dad laughs. He does, you know. He loves playing with His Kids in their gardens, even when they are no more than pixels. Words. He's always been a fan of words, you know. It should surprise no one that He still uses them to bring His children closer to Him--even in the Forum of an online game. There is a prayer thread there, you know. How crazy is that? But, in a game created to simulate global war, there is a prayer "thread" that is one of the busiest in the game. "Where can I go that You are not, O Lord?" David asked the question long before the internet. It makes me understand a little more about my Dad's obsessions, and compulsions too. He just won't stop His relentless pursuit of the relationships He desires to have with those who love Him. Those who call Him God, or Heavenly Father--or even Dad. If we are so amazed at the possibilities of the world wide web, why then should we not understand that it is not we alone who created or provide it? Oh, Dad. I love you, too. Give me Your words, Dad. Bring my heart to the center of Your heart, and feed me the words You would have your Kids read, know, and understand. Help me to understand that there is no place, no moment where You are not. And, just for me, Dad, help me to remain always, In Your Tender Care. Your Kid, Budroe |
| It is very difficult, if not impossible to "re-invent" yourself. The soaring victories, and the searing sorrows are all a part of who it is that we actually are. It is the learning of these things that add to our knowledge and wisdom. Chronological superiority does actually have an upside, if we are willing to accept them. The older I get, the more inflexible and conservative in thought. I take things harder. Little things can make me morose for days. Try as I might, there are times when I just simply must recognize that I am a patient. It is to patients that I wish to speak today. It has to do with new beginnings. We have them often. New pills, new therapies, new obstacles and/or challenges to overcome simply because we are travellers on this particular journey. New pains assail us in the quiet times of the "0430's" of life, along with our deepest thoughts, fears, and celebrations. Pain and sleeplessness are constant companions on this journey. Sometimes it is a friend with a pain that we try to allieve with a kind word, a touch, a smile, or just in BEING in their presence. But, friend, there are times in the day, or even full days, that we do not HAVE to be a patient. We can contribute, and be productive (depending on how you define it) in our lives. For some it is returning on a limited basis to the work we love. Producing income is a powerful elixir on this journey. It validates our personhood. For most of us, however, the idea of jobs to work is not a realistic goal. But there ARE ways you can be productive and contribute. I get disability, and am learning (albeit unwillingly) to live on a very limited, fixed income. That alone is a challenge to some of us. This Blog began as a desire to be productive, to contribute. I have never recieved one single dollar in compensation for my writing here. Yes, it is true that I have twice received gifts of money in the mail (unsolicited, I might hasten to add) because of posts I have written here. They came as a survival gift. Because of them, I survived. There are people who have read this Blog, and have offered (and I have accepted) their help in dire times of difficulty. More than three years without an income can bring you to desparate moments. I have a list of people that have made it possible to exist, not only as a patient, but as a person. Some of those people feel that they have done their part. They have, and I am grateful eternally to be here sharing these thoughts with you. But, what can YOU do, where you are, to contribute, to be productive? Some of you contribute to this very blog, and produce thoughts that are healing, hopeful, encouraging, or just showering this writer and those along on the journey with their love. That has results that are measurable, believe me. As I am writing this today, I am engaged in an experiment. The theory is simple. Is it possible to live alone, with assistance from care givers? This is a very big experiment, friend. If the answer is, as some have said, "NO!", then my days of independent living, no matter how longs it takes to accept and move onward, are over. Some believe that it IS possible, and even mandatory for my life to have quality. I am with them. It is extremely difficult for me. I am used to saying things like "I hurt!" and a powerful pain pill arrives within a moment to help the pain. Now, during this experiment, I must know the pill, know where it is, get it, take it, and record the whole thing. Eating is my responsibility. There is nobody with me to cook my preferences. In the silence of the early morning, I have cried from pure frustration. Things I should be able to do, I simply cannot do. The memory is trashed from the stroke. My energy to sit onine for hours gets expended in three minutes just taking out the trash. It's just so unfair. I am trying to keep every bit of independence I can. I give each one up only after a viscious fight. Unfortunately, the fight is one that is held only within myself. The external manifestations of the altercation are not nice, and completely obvious. I am unkind, mean, viscious, and entirely unsocial--especially to those who have made this experiment possible. I have a car available to me, yet I must face down a mountain of fear just to turn the key. How ridiculous is that? The point, for me, is that this is NOT ridiculous; it is my reality. Somehow, I must either overcome or submit to the fear, and lose significant independence. But, today, (Can you tell?) my muse showed up. I have been writing (creating) most of the day. It is really rare these days, but here it is. I choose to say "No!" to other things, and let my Muse have her way with my fingers. I have been working today on the dream. My wish is to create an online school for the Creative Arts. Today I began to make that dream a reality. TOSCA lives. The Online School of Creative Arts is my dream. If I can bring it to life in the way I wish, it will long survive anyone reading this post. The website is the collection point of no less than 27 complete websites that have been waiting for more than three years to be awakened from their dormant state--to make a dream into a known reality. I can contribute. I can be productive. Among the laundry list of those things I cannot do, here is one reality that I cannot overlook. Yes, it has required a patience that I would never have believed myself to have. No, it is nowhere near completed. It has, as of today, begun. I cannot tell you the exhilaration I feel inside because of this reality. Here sits the platform that TOSCA will become. The first thing I posted on the website is my answer to the question: "What's with the name, and why all the dashes?" I hope you will visit, and read it. I will admit to you (but it's a total secret, okay?) that I wrote it in crazy pain. I like it. It's true, and it expresses something that I have had to deal with of late. I am alive. I am under control. There are several important things in front of me. I'm taking Insulin now, and must honor the commitment to independently maintain my meds, shots, blood sugars, and meals that this new reality requires of me. Yesterday, I forgot the Insulin altogether. Epic fail! But, today, i did not. I have stuck myself three of the six times today will require. My meds are currentk, at this moment. At this moment, I am NOT a patient. I am a contributor, who is being productive within the reality of his illness. Yes, I am very ill, that is true. But, I am thinking, writing, and very much alive in this moment. If you believe this is about me, you could not be more mistaken. This is all about you. I tell you, with authority, that today you too can be a contributor, you can be productive, too. I know what my dream is. What's yours? Have you forgotten it? Is there one small thing you can do today, by yourself, to make today a good and productive day, just for you? Yes, we must be patients. The pain can be so limiting that just lying in a bed can be an insurmountable obstacle. Focus on your dream. Find one simple thing you can do to "touch" it today. Perhaps it is nothing more than simply remembering what it has been. (I hope it isn't to solo as a parachutist!) But, regardless of the dream, there is a way YOU can touch it, be contributing to a greater good, and feel productive today. We so often forget that, as we are ill, yet are we living. There are so many who can do nothing because of the illness they have except find the guts to make one more trip to the doctor's office. If your dream is to be a vital part of the lives of your grandchildren, for instance, remember that you can request they meet you on the way to, or in, the Doctor's office. Five minutes touching their hearts, and letting them give you the sum total of their love, can be the most productive thing you can do today. I just ask you to recall that your productivity has changed a life! That's just not so bad, is it? Remember to celebrate the victories, no matter how small or insignificant they might seem. As it is true of my dream, we have sometimes no idea he impact our dream become reality can have on countless lives that are people we will never meet this side of Heaven. Yet, there can be a victory for us in those moments. Claim them. Experience them fully. Make today a "good" day, regardless of what lies within it. Finding opportunities is one thing. Finding the willpower to have a moment to make them reality is an entirely different topic. You can do it, if you will but keep your eye on the dream. You have one. i've shared mine with you. I know that it will take literally hundreds of people I will probably never meet to make my dream a vital, vibrant reality. But, I've patiently held this dream for more than three years. Today, it began to live. There is just TONS of work to be done before it can see the world. Yeah, so? At least today, one thing was done. As a resultt of that one thing being done, the dream of an online school for the Creative Arts was born. I'm a patient. Have I just totally lost my mind? No. Today, I found it. I hope you will, too. I hope you will share with us the dream you are touching again. I refuse to focus on what I cannot do, when I cannot do it, or who is standing as an obstacle to the realization of my dream. I just have determined that, just for today, it will not be ME. That is enough, and there is something real to show that, for today, I contributed. I was productive. I am still a paiient, and the pain is incredible. But, there is also an overwhelming sense of accomplishment hidden within me that makes my soul leap for joy. From sad exile, my soul reached up and felt the sunlight of hope renewed. I haven't changed my diagnosis one bit. It's just a little difference, after all. But you and I know, and must always remember that the little difference can make all the difference in the world. In my world today, that difference is not obvious to anyone--but me. That is enough. That is sufficient. I can spend the remainder of my day celebrating my victory because I choose to. The pain, the pills, the procedures cannot steal that from me. Of all the things I have which could be tasken away in a heartbeat, my victory today is one which I alo9ne control. I choose to thank my Dad for the victory, and give it back to Him. I hope He will bless what He has given me for three years to protect. My choice. Your choice. I look forward to hearing about YOUR victory, even today. Yet, through it all, I choose to remain, In His Care, Budroe |
| My Gosh, I've forgotten how to have a vacation! It's amazing. I'm here, with no pending medical appointments, no legal appointments--nothing. That's a bit of a scary feeling. I have my daily medical requirements, and the legs to keep up, and the rest and naps to make. Other than that, I am seriously considering a move to Tennessee. Much of my time has been spent writing. It is my work, and my passion. But it is also a relaxation for me. I have a list that will last me the remainder of the year in my writing/editing folder. I have a children's book to edit, and more. I am re-writing "Salt Lake". I have three courses in various stages of preparation, and the accompanying books to go with them. Strangely, I feel no pressure for any other thing. For the first time in a very long time, the one thing missing is--stress. Sara is taking very good care of me, while her husband and his family vacation in Switzerland! She has become ill, and I have had the privilege of caring for her a bit. Giving back feels very good to me, and especially to my most special friend Sara. When we were in High School, we were infamous lovers that everyone believed would be married. That didn't work out, but in the time since we have reconnected, we have become best friends again. It is an amazing part of this journey. While many feel or have felt justified in trashing me and my name who called themselves my friend, Sara has gone through the jungle of that ugliness, and has been my true friend. It is funny to me that those same people would try so hard "with the best intentions" to advise her to steer clear of me. I have done that several times, in several different ways, myself. They want to call her, just to make sure for themselves that she is NOT me, as has been alleged by several of those "friends". They want to call her and tell her the "Real" story. She knows the real story from both sides. She investigated the entire question on her own prior to ever contacting me. Yet, here she is, my one true friend. Knowing all the good, the bad, and the in-between she has determined for herself that she really does know the me that I am, and have always been. That others have worked so very hard to break asunder our friendship is not only a testimony of Sara's fidelity to her friend, but it also clearly indicates the people doing it. All I can say is "Shame on You!". You have worked with great purpose to sheer away my life, my career, and my joy. You have told lies or believed the lies of others to the point of doing desperate acts against me purely for the purpose of "proving" the correctness of your positions. Yet, it has not been done. Some have wisely chosen simply to ignore the friendships of many years, and not become involved any further in the morass of indecency created for the sole purpose of destroying the life I have left to live. I would honestly tell you that I am sick of it, but that is of no consequence. I have lost friends that, given a chance to guess, I would never have believed would choose to believe the deliberate lies of others, who have done so for no reason other than to secure their own sense of freedom to do the nefarious things life has brought to them, in the name of greed, at the cost of lifestrong friendships with someone who never once hurt them. Those who have called me friend and believed these terrible lies have forced me to remove them from my list of living humans. These are your acts, of your volition. Interesting choice. My pain is so very great because it comes to me that you were never friends to begin with. My sadness is being abated, one tear at a time, by the one true friend that has known and validated my integrity from my early teen years to this day. That is not a rant on those who would call me friend. It is a tribute to the one who IS my friend. I am grateful for her, because among the countless ways she is providing care to me, she is slowly healing my soul. I pray there is time left to return, if I can, the favors she so selflessly bestows upon me. Her complete life, happy, simple and complete has been thrown into chaos simply because she knows me, and has chosen to care for me. I have accepted, against my better judgement to allow someone into my life--the one person I would never have had touched by the vitriol of others. I honestly tried to protect her from this devastating event, yet she refused to be protected. She didn't do this because of any reason other than her belief in me. Not as a lover, boyfriend, or anything else but as her friend. Now, I am considering a move that will, in all likelihood, be my last one. Ten hours of driving costs a whole lot of time, energy, and money. To do this twice per month is a significant cost. To do so voluntarily, without recompense, just to see and care for her friend is a statement that goes beyond her need. It is her wish. I have, I guess, two things to say. The first is that I can handle my own battles, thank you very much. I've had it up to the peak of my bald head with those who would have something negative to offer my life. To those who I once called friend, I do not. You have lost that privilege, and I wish nothing else to do with you. I have given you more than two years to do so much as write me a "Hello!", yet you consistently refuse to honor the friendship that meant so very much to me for so very long. You have made your choice. Now, I have made mine. I have done so because it is time, and not because someone/anyone has caused me to do so. May God Bless you richly, and bring you the peace and sense of self-justification you so badly need. I wish you only the very best life will come to offer you. I feel very sad, and forever will. You said I have betrayed you. The fact is, you betrayed me and our friendship. You are forgiven, and forgotten. Forever. The second thing I have to say is that I am on vacation. Many decisions must be soon made. Among them is the decision to move for the last time in my life. It's a big one. I'm taking my time, and trying to consider every possible part of it. Thank God that I have one true friend that will tell me the truth that I need to hear, and not the words they believe I would wish to hear. It makes my vacation much nicer, and it makes me want to live, just a bit. That's a good thing, because it directly affects my medical condition. It's lousy, and getting worse. I knew that would happen, and it is not a surprise to me. My friend is working extremely hard, even against me at times, to eliminate surprises from my existence. Sara is an amazing, talented, selfless and loving soul who only wants to give, and care for her friend as she loves and cares for the world. Justice involves mercy. She has offered me, without my deserving it, the mercy my "friends" could well have chosen. Goodness knows, you certainly recieved more than your share from me. Why the rant? Why now? Because it is time. I'm not cowering, and never have. You know where I live, and you know my phone number. Goodness knows, you know where I write. You have shattered my soul, my faith, my goodness, my career, and my life. I now claim them back. I have cried my last tear because of your betrayal. Live with what you have chosen. I don't matter, and never have. All I ever offered was the me I am. I offer nothing more now. But, not to you. Deal with what you have created. You have chosen very, very poorly. The days of suffering from your choice is over for me. What greater gift can one soul give to another? Thank you, Sara. Thank you to those WDC friends that have remained. I love you, too. I remain, as I always have, In His Care. Budroe |
| Sara and I returned to her home, just south of Nashville, Tennessee on Sunday of this week. This is a significant point, and an important point-of-reference for my story. (It matters.) Having had a couple of days of peaceful repose in West Frankfort, Illinois, Sara had to return home. Her husband was planning an extended trip to Europe--especially Switzerland on a family homage/mecca sort of thing. Despite the commercial, they do believe with some force this to be their native homeland. Sara had to return to administer her clinic. I am here to get some much needed vacation, see some medical professionals, and to "test-run" living in a home here. The plan is for two weeks away from my little apartment. There are many hurdles yet to conquer before such a possiblity would become reality for me. But, we thought just having the opportunity to experience the relative expanse of a real house could do me some good. We shall see. Needless to say, unless you have been comatose this week, there have been, umm, some weather 'round these parts. In this town, for instance, there were 17" of rain in less than 24 hours. The historical record was set for both the one-day, and two-day precipitation totals for Nashville and the surrounding area. The Cumberland and Duck Rivers are either still rising, or stable some 28' above flood stage. Roads were cut off, Interstates saw buildings floating down the middle lanes, and many thousands of families have been negatively impacted. At last known count, 18 people have been killed from the weather extremes. Power is out to many tens of thousands of homes. The Opryland Hotel has (or at least had) more than 6' of water gracing the floor of the grand Atrium--a true shame. Life is different here, because people have learned (some in a very real and cruel way) that Mother Nature always wins. The very idea that many thousands of people and their families are depending on BOTH the Tennesse Valley Authority (known best for building dams upside down), and the U. S. Army Corps of Engineers (Can YOU spell Katrina?) does not give me warm fuzzy feelings of happy comfort. We were not directly impacted by the weather. We never lost power, and we did not get wet. Sara's Clinic ceiling took a rather severe beating, but Clinic was held this evening and six needy people received medical care they needed that otherwise would not have been available. Here, that's huge. Shelters are in operation, but are expected to be winding down over the next few days. Food is being provided to several thousands who need it, and a place to sleep. Schools, employers, and most services are closed. Eyes scan the sky nervously at every moment. It is usually the same way. As a survivor of many floods, I can tell you that you do not soon get over such an event. I am not publicizing the fact that I "pushed" the weather in front of me as we proceeded to Sara's home. I cannot take responsibility for the fact that her husband's flights HAD to connect within minutes--and did. Nashville Airport was closed until the morning of his departure. A threatened tornado in a connecting city did not occur, and New York did not close down his flight to Europe. All his family members took different flights, and yet they all happily traveled to Switzerland together, on time, as planned. That alone is a bit excessively fortunate, even in the best of circumstances. I hope to have many wonderful photos to share soon. According to Sara, all goes well. I will "move" my vacation packing to the new house tomorrow. We shall see what we shall see. The Insulin seems to be doing the job as prescribed. My Blood Sugar has definitely slowed it's pendulum swing, and I am seeing much more acceptable readings. The medicines remain, and both diet and rest are being very closely monitored by you-know-whom. It may seem to be a small thing, but as we all know, it is the small things that make the biggest trouble, and the biggest difference in success. I am doing alright, but am worried about "Spooky" and "Boo", my goldfish at home. They are my pets, and my water-borne friends. Hey, you've got your dogs and/or cats; I've got Goldfish. Deal! More later. Happy May, everyone. May the birdies sing, the flowers bloom, the trees show their leaves, and the sunsets always be incredible for you. In the meantime, I remain In His Care, Budroe |
| Hello, Blogsters! I see it's been a while since I've been able to visit with you. That's an interesting part of this journey. As I have said many times, the first defense on this journey through the valley is flexibility. That is very true for me these past days. There are times when, on this journey, things just pile on. This has been, for me, one of those times. Sara has cared for me really hard these past weeks. She travels five-plus hours to get to me, works non-stop while she is here, then drives five-plus more hours to return home, where she picks up her life on the run to care for the unfortunates of her community in her faith-based free clinic. Does this tell you anything about Sara, and why she is so very important in my life? Hers is the only place of hope for many people, in a nine-county area in mid-southern Tennessee. Yet, she carves time away from her work, her family, and her life to come here to see to the needs of her friend. I love her, and you should, too. To jump to the short story, yesterday was my first day for self-injections of insulin. The technology available today astounds me. I have a "Qwik-Pen" that auto-loads the dosage for me. I take a combination of both quick-acting and longer acting Insulin twice a day (so far). The combination of the Insulin, plus the five drugs I take every day for my Diabetes is supposed to bring my blood sugar down below 200, a territory my blood sugar has not seen in several weeks. I have also been dealing with the pains of having Shingles. It's almost embarrassing to say that, and I can't tell you why. I can tell you that it is a particularly painful condition that requires a lot of pain medication to remove. It's kept me down. It is difficult for most people to understand that this whole new Insulin thing There is no doubt that I need to be on Insulin therapy, because my body needs the help. There is no discussion or argument that the primary condition is taking its own steps. There also is no doubt that, with the home care workers, doctors that accept my Medicaid insurance, and a pharmacy that knows my first name, I am very well cared for. I am pretty much home-bound, and my actiities are mostly limited to sitting. I walk when I can, and accept the reality that it may well take days to recover. I eat when I must, but rarely have an appetite. There come times on this jourrney when you must evaluate. I recall another life, active and vital. Contributions were profoud, and the rewards were plentiful. Once you begin Insulin therapy, your lie changes--again. Now meals and exercise, medications and rest on a regular basis, become a requirement, not an option. Careful meal planning is a must. Blood Sugars, meals, rest, repeat. Punctuated by injections that could grow to as many as six per day define your life. Everything is measured around your blood sugar, which can go off on a field day without your knowledge or permision, based upon what else is going on in your body. In mine, that's a lot. Add to that a "new" and significant pain that has yet to find greener pastures, and you have quite a potion. We "lose" violently. We give no voluntary issue to disease. Every time there is something we must accept, give up, or have done that wasn't, there is a sense of loss. To most people, especially in these times, taking Insulin is no big deal. But, taking insulin really IS a big deal, and we must not accept it lightly. That's true personally, and generally. Regardless of what the pharma companies, doctors, and public relations people for Lean Quizine or Weight Watchers tell you, Diabetes is a disease that is rampant in this country. It is a killer. Insulin changes the body forever. With any type of extended useage, the Pancreas just stops doing it's primary job. Potassium and Lasix help the heart, water retention, and kidney function. You realize, at some point, that your personhood has become redefined by the diseases you are fighting, the drugs you are taking, and all the things you cannot do anymore. Every "loss" is a failure. This is a big one. It is well-known, and well-documented that people live full and productive lives with Diabetes, on Insulin therapy. I have a friend who is a Type I Diabetic, and has been since the age of 12 years. He's now in his early twenties, and just got an Insulin pump that has given him a freedom in his life he has never--ever before known. Diabetes is, to a very large degree, a controllable disease. The important thing that must be addressed, however, is that Diabetes Type II is also, in many cases, a completely preventable disease! Almost 2/3 of the diagnosed cases could have been prevented. The technology today makes living with the disease much easier than it has ever been before. Medical outcomes are better, serious disease-related medical care is less prevalent. Limb amputations are significantly down, or long-delayed. Careful management of the disease can add long and productive years to a life. Diabetes is a killer. The disease is often not the cause of death, but it is ALWAYS a contributing factor. I know this to be true, from a proven medical standpoint. There is nothing my stubbornness will do to change that reality. Having to not merely give up some independence, which is a very difficult failure for anyone on this journey, but to accept an entirely different lifestyle to delay the damage the disease brings to your body is terribly difficult to accept, especially for those called upon this journey. It affects everyone concerned. Doctors and other medical professionals now have a new, and complex series of medical issues to deal with. Care-givers now must learn an entirely new therapy modality that is so important that the patient's life very well may depend upon it. This disease is almost entirely preventable! Obesity, sedentary lifestyle, poor nutrition choices, and fatigue can bring on this silent kiler! But, the thing I most want to tell you is that Diabetes is, for the greatest part, a voluntary disease that is completely opportunistic. If you present a body and lifestyle that makes it possible, Diabetes will find its way to a willing host. Weakened bodies, fighting all together other processes can also become a ready host for this disease. Combined with other processes, everything accelerates by an order of magnitude. The game changes, permanently. That is a realization that I have had to deal with these past couple of days. Now, I must accept the reality that, for the moment, Diabetes is winning. This is a very serious medical reality Yes, there are things I can do, and will do to the best of my ability. I will realize, six times per day, that the disease is onboard for the journey. At this moment, in this moment, that is a very difficult reality to accept. Added to the other things that I have had to accept, realizing that I must now live as a prisoner to this nefarious disease is no small comfort. The extra cheeseburgers, the mashed potatoes and french fries are really not worth this moment. Let me add something to the mix. I am a smoker of over forty-five years. I have and continue to attempt to stop smoking cigarettes. That, too is a failure. For those of you who are thinking those thoughts, stop it. Smokng is an addiction that is estimated to be twelve times more difficult to stop than Heroin. I was, most likely, addicted at birth. I came from two strong-smoking parents. That's not an excuse, it is an explanation. I was smoking at least one pack per day by the age of 8. There is no doubt that the genetic propensity towards smoking was in me from birth. To smoke is "hard wired" into my system. My job was to never smoke the first time. My parents and siblings thought it was "cute". My friends thought my smoking was "cool". Society accepted my smoking because it was "normal". It's what good Kentucky boys did. In High School, smoking got you into an entire society. It is in my nature to smoke. It is not in my nature to not smoke. I have seen every possible therapy, every plan, and every program for smoking cessation. Smoking has been attacked violently by the American Society within the past twenty years. If every single dollar spent on anti-smoking campaigns kept one eight year-old from taking the first puff of a cigarette, the money was well spent. Don't you dare believe smoking is a voluntary life-style choice. That is the biggest lie ever perpetrated on the people who smoke. There's nothing voluntary about it. It is a purposefully, maliciously created addiction which serves only those who manufacture the product. It is the largest, organized crime ever created. This truth has even been admitted by those who run the companies that manufacture the cigarettes we smoke. The addiction is purposeful, and predominant in the world for nothing more than the incredible profit the manufacturers receive from those they have purposely addictedl. And, they work very hard to make sure those who are addicted STAY addicted. Smoking is not voluntary, unless you have never smoked. If you haven't, don't. Those who don't just can't understand those of us who do. Truth be told, there is a lot about this addiction I do not understand, either. I know that I stop from time to time, but I will most likely never quit. That doesn't mean that I don't continue to try--every day of my life. I am not alone. Patches, pills, hypnotherapy, clinical and psychological therapy all are past friends. They have all come, gone, and come back again over the years. You may think it is nothing more than willingness and/or willpower. For a small percentage of smokers, that is true. But, for those of us who have instilled smoking into our momentary lives, there is no willpower involved, other than the will to NOT smoke one cigarette. We can smoke less, one cigarette at a time. I do that. Some days, I smoke less. Some days, when stress is hard upon me, I smoke more. That is my nature. Now, I must accept another, new nature as well. Blood clots, DVT's and tumors aside, I must now deal with the reality of self-injection. Staring down a needle is a difficult thing. It took me more than two hours to stick myself. It was easy and completely painless, physically. But, as the needle entered my tired body, the disease won. I will be better, for certain, emotionally, spritually and mentally. It will take time to adjust, to accept. I will. My life depends on it, and I covet my life. Every day is a gift. I am long past due, according to those who "know". Yeah? Well, we'll see about that. I'll be back in fighting form when the time it takes has been taken. I don't apologize for my humanity. I just sometimes really hate having to face it, embrace it. It is a huge deal to me. Sorry if that offends anyone. I just know that, right now, I don't know. I gotta check my blood sugar. I'll have a smoke, and think about it. I remain, for all I am, In His Care. Write Well! ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Bud Budroe Check out the Contest at "Invalid Item" Check out the Auction at "Invalid Item" Buy the new book! |
| I remember the day it was born. Today, it disappeared in a ton of dynamite. It housed a group of comrades the likes of which have seldom been seen before or since. In their domain, they ruled with an iron fist. But that fist was always ensconced within a velvet glove of friendship to all who entered there. Before and after conflict, they were always gentlemen of the first order--at least until not so long ago. They were led by a pure gentleman, whose mind for conflict was legend. I respected him greatly. I didn't like him much. I never met him, but I did hear him speak a few times. His quiet demeanor hid the heart of a lion. His piercing eyes left no doubt as to his purpose. I always have, and always will feel just a bit peeved by their self-determination as being "America's Team!" They have a new home now. I root against them every chance I get. I'll never begrudge them their storied history. They have earned it. They take their legacy with them into their new home. I'll still root for whoever they play. But, after 38 years, there will only be one Dallas Stadium. It was an electrifying change to the football landscape when it arrived. It did well, and did very well for the team owner. It also did very well for the people who built it, one ticket at a time, and for the fans who kept it alive, one beer at a time. It is, in many ways, a passing of Landry himself for me. It wouldn't surprise me if this land doesn't have a ghost walking around for a while, in a dapper hat. But, that's as it should be. Everybody always knew that, no matter whose name was on the deed, it was always Landry's Land. May the new stadium have such giants for its legacy. Somehow, though, I just don't think so. They don't happen to come around that often! In other news: They say there are times which define a person, a people, or a nation. But, nothing seems to test the mettle of a nation quite so much as the unexpected loss of a leader. It has been a very long time since a major chunk of an entire nation has been lost in peacetime. Such is the sad reality today for Poland. There are several seemingly strange parallels for this nation today. The President, members of his staff (including his wife) and Military were enroute to a memorial service to honor those lost in a massacre some seventy years ago in Russia. They died on Russian soil. It is an eerie reality. Nor is it common to live in a time when we get to stand witness to the birth of a new Democracy. Such is the case for me regarding the Democratic Poland. Born in the greatest birthpangs, I remember well her birth. To see the moment of greatest strain put upon a people in this way is one thing. To see an entire nation grieve simultaneously is another thing. Yes, we have done it. Several times, we as a nation have grieved the loss of a leader. How long has it been since we have had to suffer the loss of an entire leadership bloc? I have an affinity with these people. I keep them in my thoughts and prayers. In this defining moment, may their grief serve them well, and may they come away from this sadness with new resolve, new purpose, and new pride. May the God, to whom they have so often looked for mercy now provide them with an extra special dose of it in this time. And, finally: We lost a wonderful actress today. Dixie Carter passed away at her home from Endometrial Cancer. The wife of beloved actor Hal Holbrook for so many years, I came to love her best, as did so many, from the center of the world that was Sugarbaker's. Of course, it was not her only role, but it was the one which (rightly or not) defined her for us. I cannot tell you the moments of laughter she gave me. I most loved the way her character interacted with the character played by Delta Burke. They were so contrary, and mutually antagonistic--right up until someone ELSE went against them. Then? Well, just say it wasn't pretty. But, it was perfect. It was also perfectly real. I would have just loved to have been a script writer on that show. It would have been so easy! I wish my condolences for the entire family, and for the family of fans who experience, as I do, this as a very personal loss. Thank you, Dixie Carter, for the laughter that I can still feel, and will long remember. Yours was a very rare gift, and one very much appreciated. Can you just imagine the conversation Gabriel is going to have with her? Oh, my! If that thought doesn't make you laugh, you're dead. RIP. I am, and still remain, In His Care, Budroe |
| Welcome to the Blog that was! LOL You know, you'd think I really love this blog, wouldn't ya? Well, there are reasons, and there are excuses, but the final result is the same. No writing in a while. But there is a new development that is worthy of note, among the many that don't. If you are called to this journey, you might not believe it, but things can happen that just get in the way! As if daily living isn't enough of a challenge, you can get an obstacle (and that's really all it is) in your pathway that must, somehow be negotiated before the journey can continue. I got a couple of them this week. The first was a warning shot across the bow when my new doc ordered an updated A1C test. For you Diabetics out there, you know this test well. It is a blood test that indicates an average number over the previous 90 days. The number tells how well your Diabetes is being managed. The lower the number, the better. The scale stops at 10. That's usually reserved for those in diabetic coma, or near a diabetic-related death event, to hear the docs tell it. Mine was 9.0. I can only suppose you know the firestorm THAT created. I've lost a bit of weight, as well--without trying, I might add. I got hollered at by everyone from the doc to the janitor over that one. Now it seems I "have" to work on a strict diabetic diet. The insanity of that is that to be on a restricted (strict) diet would give me more food each day than I normally eat! It's metabolic, folks! I also have had some "new" pain, which has been quite bothersome. After a round of Vicodin didn't seem to help, and gas was ruled out, an ultrasound was ordered for my abdomen. Things turned out looking unchanged, with one exception. It seems I have some rather serious gallstones. GALLSTONES!! (How's that for an obstacle?) My Doc casually mentions it will require surgery, immediately! OOPS! There are some rather disturbing things for me when it comes to surgery--of anything! Blood clots, anesthesia, survival...man, when does it stop? It's like a seriously evil joke has been played on me. After discussions between Sara and the Docs, it seems I am off to see the Surgeon because not seeing one is no longer an issue. I visited a new Endocrinologist this past week, who seems to think that my FIVE diabetic drugs are no longer doing the job, and Insulin is in my short-term future. Once on it, coming off of Insulin is pretty much out of the picture for me. Yes, there are cases where patients do come off Insulin with changes in lifestyle, diet, excercise and rest. Not this puppy. Every battle is about, finally, independence. I'm forgetting more and more all the time, and require assistance more and more all the time. I am now to the point where I try to hide those things I know I have forgotten. This is a result of a stroke I had in 2006. Evidently, it was the only lasting problem, but it is getting worse. That makes for a pretty picture, doesn't it? Well, it's the picture it is. My job is not to paint it, but to embrace it. I'm trying, but mostly failing. Trying to be "normal" is past history. The new reality, as it perpetually changes, is a bit more frightening with every new change. And, it does change. Sleep is becoming much more of a requirement than luxury. Food is not my friend. I'm getting OCD about just about everything. Including updating this blog. It's not intentional. When I saw today how long it had been since my last update, I was stunned. I had no idea. Many distractions on a daily basis seem to have taken over my life. I'm going to try harder to be more legit with my writing, and especially my blog writing. We'll just have to see where this road leads, won't we? It's difficult. This is the place where my most private thoughts live. I want them here. They do not allow argument-until they have been written. At least I get them out before they come under the scrutiny of others. Stress is on the rise, and my body truly hates stress. It is not shy about letting me know it. But, I am blessed with caring people who try to make my moments good ones, a caring and dedicated medical team that tries very hard to stay ahead of the curve, and friends who I have shamefully ignored--again, not intentionally. My solution? A hot shower, and the creation of a beef roast that will bring tears of awe to your eyes! Carrots, and Onions, and potatoes with a crisp Apple salad. Let's see what the A1C has to say about THAT! In the meantime, I pray that I remain, In His Care, Budroe |
| It's been a quiet weekend for me here at Chateau de Budroe. Sara is here with me, and we shared Easter at home together. I tried to find a Friday evening service, but found none. I tried to find a Church service, but our little town pulled together for one mass Sunrise Service, which we missed. So, we had Worship here at home, thanks to the capable assistance of Dr. Charles Stanley. I will probably find out the results of my Ultra-Sound tomorrow or the next day. On Wednesday of this week, I will:  Meet my new Endocrinologist, Dr. Abed (Love that name!), and Say goodbye to Sara for a couple of weeks. (Depending on the results of the U/S, of course. We're both a bit nervous about this week, but are going forward to destiny. For those of you in the know, I had an A1C test this past week that came back rather high, at 9.0. That's not good. I'm sure Dr. Abed will have a word or several to say on that! I've lost some weight, but I'm not sure if it's more than 10 pounds, or just 10 pounds. It seems my scales is fickle that way. Other than that, my diet has been pretty good (I'd say). Lots of pain from what my PCP is calling Shingles, though. PERSONALLY, I think he's got that one wrong--but we'll see. Being on higher pain meds is not a great thing because it definitely limits my daily activities to this keyboard mostly. That can be a gift or a curse, depending on how you look at it. I get the stuff done, but I tend to play a lot of games and surf instead of writing/editing. On the other hand, it can create a raging case of "Cabin Fever" for us both. We're trying to deal with that, but it is hard. One of the challenges in a situation like this is that magical barrier between friend and caregiver. Even the strongest among us need some time away from the disease. Failing that, sometimes--even while giving care--you need a break from the patient. That's difficult, especially when you are a person who does not like being alone. That is both of us. Learning to know the signs of overload is an important task of the patient--especially when it's the primary caregiver you are talking about. Her options are to get a Hotel room, or go home. Two bad choices for us both. I feel for her, and understand her need to at least touch her own life, and her own way of living--even while here caring for me. It's a big deal for me to walk even a little bit. Outdoors represents an enemy (pain, uncertainty, etc.) for me that I have much difficulty dealing with. So, it is a balancing act. Unfortunately, entirely too much of the time the balance must necessarily be on my side. That's not fair to Sara, either as caregiver OR friend. I try, but fail. She forgives, and compresses. There are things along the journey that are really important to learn, and understand. I have learned them, and even understand them. But saying it, and living it are two entirely different things. I just plain don't like it. But that's the way things are right now. The only thing I can do is my best, especially at forgiving myself for causing such frustration. The one thing I can do, I do. I remain, In His Care, Budroe |
| I know that the computer, the internet, and all the possibilities which lie therein can become...addictive. Do you? The beginning and ending point of my computing day is right here on WDC. For several years now, WDC has been my refuge, my classroom, and my point of participation with the writing world. My friends here have loved, sustained, encouraged, and even challenged me. I'm very glad I chose this place to be the home of my writing efforts. I have been writing for a very long time. From my earliest journals to my most recent delving into the genre of mystery fiction, much of my life can be seen by the maturation and investigation of, and through, my writing. There is no doubt that my time here helps me learn the craft, expand my abilities and horizons. I love it here. But, where exactly IS here? I've got a major contest under way, three courses in-process of production, two novels in various stages of preparation for publication...and the list grows. I have activities in which I participate, and groups aplenty with which to participate. This, and several other blogs give me the impetus to create new words every day. Websites are high on my list of online activities, as well. Over the course of the last ten years, I have become a very busy person online. Is it a desire to contribute, produce, originate? Yes, and more. This is a lazy, hazy, near-rainy day. I am watching NCAA Men's basketball. I love college basketball, especially when my University of Kentucky Wildcats are in the tournament. They are. Today could be filled with upsets. My concentration is on television today, even as I type this. Online games take a good portion of my day. Facebook is a constant awareness in my life, and I tweet often. When did THAT happen? The question is, I guess, is about relevance vs. importance. The life I have been able to create these past four years is almost internet-centric. I am told by those who care for me that my internet/computer useage is very extreme--upwards of 20 hours per day, sometimes. I must be up and moving every 1/2 hour, and I must keep my legs up for at least 30 minutes four times/day. I do that. It is no problem when I must provide for my own existence (weekends) or find my own activities for entertainment. The question is, for me, whether or not this time is being used effectively. What could I be doing that would be more productive than being online? Here? Now? I cannot come up with a response. There is much I cannot do any more. I can still type. For the most part, I can still see, although my eyesight is suffering from constant keyboarding. Travel is pretty much gone out the window. I do live a solitary life, but that is largely because of my writing. I have friends that are "social", but not very interactive. Youth is at a minimum here, and that's not such a bad thing--unless you want to be in the business of living. My living must necessarily be limited to the distance I can walk. I can walk very little. So, my primary living activity is online. Quite the conundrum. It is my one true diversion from living life as a patient. I don't know how long that will be true for me, but then neither does anyone else with a belly button. So, for me, every day that I can contribute online is a productive day for me. There are some who would challenge that notion, or would wish to take away much of that time. I don't think they realize what it is they would be taking away. It's a choice I do not wish to have to make, because someone would lose--seriously lose no matter which side of the coin landed face up. No one is asking me to go "dark". Several are asking me to create what they consider to be a "reasonable" limit to my online activity, and the time I spend online. But, you see, for me that is limiting the time of the day when I am living; at least living life as I have come to know it. I don't know if it's just my stubborn hanging on to something that may not be of the value I believe it is, or if I am defending the life I have come to know and love. I live alone. Four hours a day are with a homehealth care worker. Two weekends per month are when Sara Budroesgirl comes up from her home in Tennessee (or I go there) to see to my medical, legal, and other life needs. So, you see, I am constantly re-adjusting my life to meet those other needs and/or requirements. I am told I am too set in my ways. I'm too old for my age. I see things differently. If I cannot live a day being a contributor, being productive as I define it, it is a day wasted. It has taken four + hours to create this entry. Does that matter? Is it productive? Or, have I merely eaten up four hours of an otherwise useless existence? Am I fooling myself, as others would indicate? Does it matter? To whom? To think that I could be offline for upwards of two weeks, at my determination, fills me with dread. That my online access would, for two weeks, be completely controlled by someone else gives me the same feeling of loss. It's one thing to be hospitalized, where no access is possible. But to be in a place where internet access is purposely withheld is a drastic thing to me. Because someone else thinks I should be offline "to be IN life" is something, after as much consideration as I can put to the idea, I simply do not wish to experience. That would not be good, as I define it. It's just one example of the changes I must make in order to accomodate someone else's definition of what my life should be, or be like. All it does to me is create exorbitant stress levels that make my medical status worse. So, on this lazy day in early spring, these are the things I ponder. At least I can smoke as I please, in comfort, and put my thoughts down on "paper" without asking someone else's permission. That I'm online "all the time" is not the negative for me that it is for others. It IS my life, as I choose it to be. That I feel that my online life is the productivity I can contribute, through the writing/editing of new words, creation of the premiere online learning opportunity for the creative arts, or even this blog entry. It's not a different world; it's just my world. It requires no transportation, no preparation of meals or meds, no tests and no significant pain. It doesn't argue or plead. It just accepts whatever I give to it. I love being cared for, liked, and yes, even loved. I love loving, caring and giving. I'm not so good at it as I once was, but I do try, every day. I just play under a different set of rules, and circumstances than others. This is the center of my daily life, my daily living, my daily world. It's not so much, as others may define it. It's a lot to me. The alternative is not one I am quite ready to relent to yet. Laying around, watching television is better? Not for me. Getting out, and shopping, and going to the movies is fine, right up until I have to realize it is above my ability physically, financially, or emotionally. Then, I feel beholden. I can't help it. I'm "of the Hill people", and it is not pride, it is honor. It's confusing, because there are so many things I would love to do, love to be able to do. I have given up nothing easily, nor voluntarily. But I have given up much. It is not choice, but necessity. How do I communicate that effectively, lovingly, to those who would wish it otherwise? A couple of years ago, I would have spent hours carefully explaining it all. Now, I just have an overwhelming urge to say "Deal with it!" That's not fair, and it would be hurtful. But must I relive all the moments of the crucial decisions again? Must I feel the loss all over again? Why? Isn't there some room for other people to simply catch up, or at least realize that I am here, and I hope they will just meet me here, where I am? I hope so, because for me, this is a very nice place to be, for the me that I am today. I don't think life could be as rich, and as nice if I were not here, being very busy living the life I can live, every day--even 20 hours of it. It's not that I matter, or am of any particular merit here or anywhere else. That's not what this is about. Here, I am alive, productive, and contributing. To what? That's not for me to say. But, I do believe it has been said: "The primary joy of life is acceptance, approval, the sense of appreciation and companionship of our human comrades. Many men do not understand that the need for fellowship is really as deep as the need for food, and so they go throughout life accepting many substitutes for genuine, warm, simple relatedness. The Don Jauns eternally seeking some new object of passion, the men and women desperately trying to lose themselves in drink, promiscuity, sensuality--in all of the excess of flesh and power--are, more often than we suspect, lonely children lost and naked in a world that has never woven a garment of love for them, and that alone has relentlessly driven them down the empty corridors of the years, desolate and alone. Penetrate behind the masks of men of ruthlessness and of retreat, fleeing from loneliness to loneliness. As individuals we require first of all the exchange of simple affection with other human beings. This is the secret of friendship and of marriage--which at its best is mutual encouragement and the assuaging of the wounds that life inflicts on all of us. When we are accepted, approved, needed by those who know all there is to know about us and like (or love) us anyway, we have the first inkling of the peace that transcends understanding. Dynamic psychology indicates today that in the very nature of man there is not only an unconquerable urge to receive love from others, an inability to live with serenity and joy when deprived of affection from our fellows. But what is more important, there is an inner necessity to give love and to bestow affection upon the outer world."1 There's a lot more in Liebman's words than I could ever say. But, while it doesn't say it all, it says enough to at least gain the beginning of understanding. I do. I hope you will, as well. In the meantime, I remain In His Care, Budroe Footnotes |
| You just wouldn't believe it. There are times that thoroughly confuse me. Today is one of those times. Spring has, as they say, sprung. Yet, today is a blustery, wintry, rainy day in my little town. Every bird I have seen has a questioning glare upon their faces. Robins are known for their inquisitive natures, but these guys seem...angry. Someone, or something, has played a dirty trick on them, they seem to say. I know the feelings. I'm kinda wondering, myself. Sara has been here for a few days. We have shared our fanatacism over UK basketball during the NCAA tournament. Confusion reigns. My bracket fell as did every other bracket in the country. Yeah, ok. Convince me you had Kansas losing! Or that St. Mary and/or Northern Iowa would win! (Actually, I did have St. Mary's winning, but that does not the first bit of good when the #1 seed in the tournament just disappears. Can you spell Cornell? Well, alrighty then! Do you begin to understand my confusion? Sara goea home tomorrow. That is always a confusiong time for us both. She does so very much for me, and I do so little for her. Her kindness and patience seem to have no end. I know this is false, but it is so difficult sometimes to remember the roles we are playing. I realize of late that I am very much a patient, and that just sends me into paroxisms of anger that I cannot control nor express. She takes the brunt of my frustrations. It comes near to verbal abuse at times. How's that for appreciating someone driving over 500 miles roundtrip, just because she wants to help? I have to have some medical stuff soon. My doctor seems to think the new, incredibly intense pain in my side is Shingles. I couldn't tell you what they are supposed to feel like. I can tell you what they DO feel like, and I will merely tell you that, in this particular case, avoidance is the best approach. This diagnosis is particularly scarey to me. It plays a dark role in a very sad part of my past life. Merely hearing it coming out of the mouth of my doctor while he's looking at me sends electronic firings through my soul. I'll be further evaluated on these and other things on March 31st. Again, we wait. This time, I have some killer drugs to help me with the pain while I wait. Now that I have them, I almost dare not use them. Confusion reigns. I feel like I'm not in control of myself these days. I mean that literally. I don't know where the rudder is at the moment, and the only result is hurting every one of the people who are trying to help me. I know that there are many of you who are, do, or have felt this. I have felt it before as well. But, the surprising reality is that this round is worse. I think we will get beyond it, but the continuing pressure makes everything just worse. I can't undo my angry words, or the pain they cause others. All I can do is apologize, try not to repeat the actions, even knowing it will happen again. Lexapro and Ativan are onboard. They have to be. I hate that. It's not all bad news, and I'm not always down. The contest is going well, and I am grateful to those who have volunteered their time, talent, and treasure to its success. We've got about 2/3 of the judges we need. I hope that those who are followers of this blog would consider entering the contest, too. We have so many talented writers who grace this journey, the idea of presenting a real contest to honor and award their work really pleases me. I would name a few of them, but there are entirely too many to consider. We have poetry in Epic or Poetic Prose forms; neither an easy or usual category for a contest on WDC. We have a category specifically designed to honor and feature the amazing graphic artists on our site. Fiction, non-fiction and personal essays are also being reviewed and evaluated in this contest by some of the very best members our site has to offer. One secret of the contest that you can only find in this little blog? We also have some professional publishers, editors, and Artists as Judges. What might that lead to? There is plenty of reward available in this contest, for those willing to do the work. I hope you will do as the members of "Reviewing Reviewers ~ ON HIATUS" [E] are doing: passing the word around WDC as fast as you can to everyone you know! This is a really good contest! I would love to think it is a significant contest to our purposes here. Head on over to the contest:
I'm editing, writing, and publishing these days. New words, as is usually the case, happen here first. The hours spent keeping track of all the projects are promising a productive spring for things at Chateau de Budroe. I hope Sara will have an uneventful, safe, and happy trip back to her home. I hope the time between visits will be good for her, and for me. She so deserves so very much. It seems I cannot easily return her kindness. I used to be a nice person. I wonder where that person went. I hope the contest goes well. It's worthy of the very best the writers on our site have to offer. I hope the weather untangles itself, and we can have a springtime like I am so very used to. I hope the birdies get their song back. Someone once said that hope is for suckers. Maybe so. But, hope in my heart keeps me In His Care, Budroe |
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