Category: Distractions

Dis·trac·tion (noun) Cambridge Dictionary
/dəˈstrakSH(ə)n/

a.) The state of being very bored or annoyed
b.). Something that prevents someone from giving their full attention
to something else
c.) An activity you do for pleasure

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I’m Holding On and Waiting

I’m having a real tough time of it. Real tough. So bad I can’t hardly explain it. My body is directing the show, being bedridden for 20 days out of the last 45 days So sick all I can do is lie in bed, my mind not able to focus on even the smallest task. I turn on the TV for 24 hours to try to drown out the pain. Doesn’t work.

Thank god I have a woman who loves me deeply for some damn reason. She does nothing but care for me. And my two dogs, my only real friends. I know I’m lucky, and I fall more in love with her every day. Love has no boundaries right?

The only thing I manage to do is sit at the piano. Music never stops playing in my head, my own personal background music that only I can hear. Continuous, but no one else’s songs but my own. Something I’ve written and it’s stuck in my head. Sometimes I wish it would stop, but glad it never does.

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A Stone’s Throw Away

The other day I was out and about with the two Frenchies, taking advantage of some unseasonable weather. It’s the middle of October and we’re at 72 degrees with the sun beating down on you. Nothing better than some sun on old arthritic bones like mine.  

Some leaves are turning while others are just as confused as the rest of us living creatures.  Where’s the chilly winds and frost?  Global warming must be the cause.   I’m a firm believer that we have polluted the planet beyond its ability to correct the carbon emissions from 8 billion cars in constant motion.

Today we head out on our typical walk, where I simply follow along and let the two of them lead the way and set the direction we take.   Out the townhouse complex and its decision time.  Left for a block and a half walk until we’re forced to retrace our steps due to traffic.    Or right,  which takes us to the old Baptist church and the potential for walking through untold blocks of quiet residential streets.

So Blueman went left,  Lucifer went right,  and I’m stuck like a wishbone waiting to be split in two at Thanksgiving.   Blueman  won out due to his  brute strength versus his kid sister, and off we went with him in the lead.   I think he does this knowing full well going this direction results in too short of a journey to burn off some energy and we’ll go the other direction as well.  Smart little bugger.  

But as soon as we make the turn onto the sidewalk something catches my eye…

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“I know you have a DNR but…”

(Author’s note: To save you the trouble of looking it up, a DNR is a formal, notarized part of a living will. It stands for Do Not Resuscitate. In other words, when I die please leave me alone. But I’ll get to that story in a minute, you know me.)

This is a 3 part series. You can read part one here, or skip to part two here.

The third and final chapter on the trials and tribulations of being diagnosed with anxiety and panic attacks, when in fact a majority of the time it was simply heart problems. Not that A-fib (atrial fibrillation) is simple, it carries all sorts of complexities, and  in my case proved fatal. 

Why is putting this down on paper important? For one I will start to forget some of the details as I get older, like the sequence of events or dates and places. For another, at least in my opinion, it ties directly back to PTSD.  As well as my lousy coping skills compounded by a body that was pre-disposed for a multitude of ailments.   

My kidney, heart and MGUS issues were going to exist with or without the effects of PTSD, I think anyway, but each compounded the other. One plus one equals three in other words. The drinking especially, as alcohol at the levels I was consuming is so damaging to more than the liver. Did PTSD cause A-fib? No, but played a part in making it worse.  

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A Day In a Life

The fact is, one day has turned into a month almost, a month of being too sick to do anything besides take care of my two canine companions. I’m writing this out of guilt.

I feel bad for not posting lately. Since there are very few readers of this it may not matter. I shouldn’t have a guilt trip for not “doing my job.” I have to remind myself that this isn’t a job.

I also regret not doing the NY Times crossword, or finishing the piano piece I’ve been composing for the last 2 months. The melody has embedded itself in my mind, the loop plays continuously. and will do so until the day it’s complete and another takes its place. The keyboard remains untouched.


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A Stoke of Genius? Far From.

PART II of the never ending trilogy about my escapades in dealing with a bum ticker.   It does have a happy ending, trust me.

I hope you read the previous post before this one, as it will save me a lot of background information. 

Atrial fibrillation. A-fib for short and so much easier to say and type even. A condition of the heart that can be asymptomatic, actually is in most people, or you can exhibit symptoms like myself. It can be harmless, or can become a dangerous condition. You would have to know I would fall in the latter category.  

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The Last Fishing Trip

I lived with my grandparents off and on growing up, a matter of my father’s career and being relocated from base to base.  I looked at their house as my home, where I was the happiest, swallowed up by all the love.

There was an especially hectic time when my father had retired after 27 years of military service and couldn’t figure out what to do with the rest of his life. He was 46 at the time.

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Blogging 101:  SEO, AI and Google

I’ll summarize this whole post in case you’re rushed.  In bullets for easy reading:

  1. No AI never, ever.  I’m writing this for myself, so it doesn’t make sense if a computer spits out articles about me, does it?  I might cite a brief article, but will give credit where credit is due.
  2. I can’t write down to a 5th grade level.  They shouldn’t be reading this blog anyway.   That was a recommendation from the agency I didn’t go forward with.  Another thing to make Google happy I suppose.
  3. The tags are used if someone, or myself, wants to find similar posts or essays.   I’m not interested in key words to raise my ranking in search engines.  I am an audience of 1.  Don’t get me wrong, your comments, experiences and suggestions are always welcome!
  4. I will endeavor to keep commercial links off the site. But even some of the best sources, like Harvard Health offer subscriptions for various newsletters and such. 
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The Mole Hill becomes the Mountain

My life is difficult enough without me being my own worst enemy at times, where good intentions go horribly wrong.   This happens more often than I care to admit.  You know how one little thing can start snowballing into a bigger and bigger issue.  It happens to us all.  I’ve become a master of covering up my mistakes though! 

What makes it worse is my ability to lose control, which further compounds the issue at hand.  Common sense and deep breathing go out the window.

“What a friggin’ idiot.” For the next four days that thought played over and over in my head.  

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Where Do the Days Go?

Time is my enemy now, until I finally sleep the last sleep. I used to think it was the evil Trinity of chronic pain, depression and insomnia that was my nemesis.  These are adding to the frustration of course, and control my body and mind, but it is Time) that is working against me.  I am constantly fighting to get things done, while the clock is spinning wildly.

I don’t have enough time left to live for starters. My wife scoffs when I say this, but I figure I’m at about the 85% mark in my life. Meaning I’ve lived most of it, and if I manage to make it to 80 it will be either by sheer luck or stupidity. 

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Even the fish enjoyed the day

That may be stretching it a bit, that even the fish enjoyed the day.  If you were a fish and ate a tiny little bug that came with a hidden hook and attached to a fly line you might think your day really sucked, right?  But in this case, instead of being landed, scaled and gutted to become dinner,  you were landed, the barbless hook removed and you’re gently placed back in the lake to swim another day. 

It may not be enjoyable for the 3 minutes it takes to be caught and released, but a whole lot better than ending up on the grill that evening.

One of my favorite distractions is fly fishing, and somehow I stumbled upon this private club north of the city about an hour away.  A private lake stocked with rainbow and speckled trout, but far from shooting fish in a barrel so to speak. 

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