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 remain

In 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.

ID: 1127753   (Rated: E) God's Way Group  For those wishing to build a stronger and closer relationship with Jesus. by Budroe is Blessed!

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 "God's Way Group" . 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*mae 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:

ID: 1693457   (Rated: ASR) Why I Call Him "Dad"  People have asked the question. Here is my answer. by Budroe is Blessed!

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 "God's Way Group Public Forum"  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

 

My little buddy is doing quite well, thank you very much. He still has all his component parts at the moment, with surgery looming in about two weeks. His Prednesone seems to be doing wonders for him. His rear legs are gaining strength (and so is W.T.) every day. He likes water, and loves Milk. He has graduated to a larger food dish, a larger litter box, and a larger carrier. Evidently, we put the other ones in the washer with hot water! Yeah, right!

I would say, conservatively, that W.T. Fields is now double his "presentation" weight. I don't know if his meds do for him what it does for humans, but I'm hoping that is the case. I know it can't be his FIVE times a day eating habits.

This little fella is also beginning to show his personality. He is very definitely a "people" cat, very personable, gentle, and friendly. He still has a distinct dislike for all canines. He has chosen for himself his favorite place in the house: my lap! Well, right after Sara's shoulder, but I digress. He is sleeping many hours, growing in strength and length. He is using his rear limbs more each day, and today did so without complaint. He is accommodating. He loves to lick anyone who will permit it. This evening, we both watched as W.T. MOVED his left front leg--from the shoulder. For us, it was miraculous. I don't believe it holds much promise yet, but we are watching closely for any signs of nerve repair/regeneration. He will get his shots, his neutering, and his claws (front) removed regardless of any other surgery.

He is also beginning to act "cat-lke". He is beginning to play with us, and I swear he, tonight, said "No!" to me. He knows where his food is, from anywhere in the house, and is surely willing to do what is necessary to get to it. (Physical Therapy) He is a wonderful, gorgeous young man who has brought chaos to a whole new level. He is settling down, and settling into our hearts. We hold out only the very best hopes for him, because that's how we are, and that's how he has affected us--especially me. W.T. is the first animal I have ever had who I could call MY pet. I just hope that doesn't boomerang on me any time soon!

I love my kitty. My kitty loves me. We are both, day by day,

In HIS Care.

Budroe