The Inability to Mourn

I don't see dialysis as a hindrance. It's a normal part of life these days.
I don’t see dialysis as a hindrance. It’s a normal part of life these days.

The nurse took 4 alcohol pads and swabbed the catheter that was sticking out from my chest. She screwed in two long narrow plastic tubes into the catheter plugs, walked over to the machine and flipped it on.

I felt the blood draining out of my body, pumping through the dialyzer, and returning the blood back into me.

It was a surreal feeling to see your blood being cleaned of toxins and water. That was possible because my body was unable to do it anymore.

That was my introduction to living on dialysis.

May 7, 2016, marked the one year anniversary that I began kidney dialysis.

Normally, we don’t usually remember the exact day that we remember certain small moments, outside of major events.

I’m different. Dates are important to me. They are recorded history.

I haven’t ruminate about what has occurred over the past 12 months, and yet, it’s in the back of my mind every time when I ask myself, “Will I ever be normal again?” (Short answer: an emphatic “no.”)

Dialysis is a normal routine in my daily life now. But, those 7 days in the hospital going from worrying about a nagging flu to a life-threatening condition has become another part of my psyche:…

…survive.

All I have ever done is survive.

I survived my parents’ divorce, subsequent remarriages and divorces to other people. I also survived and live with diabetes, the threat of being blind, unemployment, and depression.

Living life, to me, is a bonus. Getting to that place requires a lot of trudging through mud.

Over the last 12 months, I have survived cramps so debilitating, I couldn’t walk, a fistula that didn’t work, and battling cognitive and speech troubles.

Beyonce once sung about being a “survivor”, but even she would have a hard time understanding how the term “survivor” is not to be taken lightly.

Those factors would cripple someone who has never endured such a predicament. Honestly, I never spent any time dwelling on any of it.

I was too busy adapting to what ever I had to deal with.

What I have not done is “mourn.” Mourning is part of the grief process. Shocked, denial, bargaining, mourning, and acceptance. I skipped the first four and took acceptance.  The other four never applied to me. I can’t be too shocked about something I’m not in denial of or try to bargain with.

The acceptance came on the morning of May 6, 2015. My nephrologist walked into my hospital room and announced that I will need to start kidney dialysis. She was bracing herself for my reaction.

I showed no emotion.

“Okay, what are the steps I need to take and when do we get started?”

She was shocked on how calmly I said it, sans emotion. Two hours later, I was in the operating room, having an incision on my right jugular and a small hole on the left side of my chest for the catheter to be fitted in. The catheter, 18 inches long, easily slid inside my chest like spelunkers searching for diamonds in a cave.

I hastily wrote a post on the night before starting dialysis. I should have put more thought into it, but it was my way in letting everyone know what was going on…and privately hoping that no one would worry too much about me.

The reality was…I was alone and scared. I didn’t want to leave this world without someone by my side.

On May 7th, one year ago, as I was lying in bed getting dialysis, I spent most of that afternoon comforting everyone who visited me,  and not allowing anyone to comfort me.

I didn’t want to make it about me. I wanted people to learn and understand what those like me were facing. There are 100,791 people waiting for a lifesaving kidney transplant. The median wait on a kidney transplant list is 3.6 years (facts courtesy of the National Kidney Foundation). Every 14 minutes, someone is added to the list, while 13 people die waiting for a kidney.

Numbers don’t lie.

Mississippi River, facing north.
Most of the time, I walk along the river to “mourn” and to mentally refocus on my “new” life.

I am struggling with mourning the loss of the “old” me. I haven’t mourn the losses that I have had personally.

I am mourning the loss of not being able to work, to be away from the things I was involved in, and being successful.

Most of my friends, over the past year, ended up with new or better jobs, went on great vacations, engaged or gotten married, or got to experience something. I celebrate those successes. I also empathize and mourn the losses my friends have had.

“Starting over” is a hell of task to take on, especially when you feel like you have been starting over from scratch several times in your life.

Starting a “new” life and burying the “old” one is what we hate to do…unless we are forced to. It is tough for me to be acclimated in a new city, finding people to interact with, and immerse yourself in a community.

But, this is what I face. It’s being adaptable in situations where you may not have control of…even if that means controlling your body.

I am going to try to “mourn”, whatever that entails. I’m not sure if I should cry, or let sadness cover me until it goes away. A good friend of mine once said about having bad days “embrace those bad days, it helps us appreciate and take advantage of our better days.”

39…Going on 40

Tired blog

I am tired.

Physically and at times mentally.

That is what dialysis will do…even to someone who’s not even 40 years old.

Dialysis takes a toll on your body and how you feel, regardless if you try to carry on with your life. Walking is difficult, doing small or big things can wear you out, and you just don’t feel like doing anything else but sleep.

And for this writer, being unable to do the things I was able to do is pure hell…and depressing.

For the last seven months, I have been absent from this blog. I don’t have it in me to regularly write when I want to do so.

The good thing is that I have accepted that I do not have to blog when something pops up because it’s not necessary to have an opinion about everything that goes on in this world…unless you are George Takei (Mr. Sulu), Andy Borowitz, Tyrese Gibson, or D.L. Hughley.

I needed to write this entry on the last day of 2015, not as a clichéd expression of the year that was, but as an avenue for me to express my gratitude to the people who sent “get well” cards to me, and to talk about the aspect of turning 40 on New Year’s Day.

It should be a milestone, but it doesn’t feel like it, given what I have endured since May: kidney failure, moving, adapting to changes.

There are far too many individuals who have sent me well wishes in September and October. I feel bad that I couldn’t write back to them in a timely manner, because my handwriting is sloppy and it takes time to have a thought and say something that is meaningful to them in an individual way. Being tired after being hooked to a machine and not having the strength to focus is rough.

To that, I say thank you. Thank you so much. Those notes mean a great deal because it made me stop deflecting what I needed to hear: people caring about others. We live in a crazy, wild, sad, angry, goofy, and amazing world. We tend to take our frustrations out on others, whether it was a bad day, something we heard ticked us off, or anything else that trips our trigger.

I have been hesitant to offer opinion on issues and topics that has been talked about in 2015. There is no need for me to talk or voice my opinion about everything. It’s too damn tiring to regurgitate.

Some things are not worth it, and if someone tells you otherwise, respect the advice, but don’t always take it to heart. If they want to talk about it, that’s their prerogative.

The point is that if someone cares enough to say “Hey, I am (we are) thinking about you”, it goes a long way.

At midnight tonight, I will reach a milestone. I’ll turn 40 on New Year’s Day. Honestly, I haven’t thought about being 40 since spring. Any ideas of having a 40th birthday party…out the window. Volunteering at an NYE event…forget it. Sitting at a restaurant watching bowl games and having brunch…not this year.

40th cake

In fact, I have dialysis on my birthday.  A 4:30 am wake up call. It would be best for me to stay up and soak in the early hours of the new year.

I haven’t openly talked about life on dialysis. It’s only because, as a guy, most males do not talk about things we are dealing with. It’s a natural response. We do not feel comfortable being vulnerable about what we feel, how we feel, and what we are scared of.

With that in mind, I have to talk about being 40 and what I have went through.

It was like my identity was taken away when my kidneys failed. I couldn’t live by myself anymore…so I had to move closer to family. Moving around and doing things in town became challenging and exhausting. I had to turn down many opportunities and select a few events to go, as a way to save energy.

My horoscope today, for what it’s worth, was spot on with this:

“Over the last year, you may have developed a thicker skin. You may have become more accustomed to criticism. You may have gotten used to disappointment. You may have learned to adapt to changes you weren’t quite thrilled with. This probably happened so gradually that you didn’t even realize you were developing a darker outlook on life.”

I may appear to be optimistic on the outside, but internally, I do have a darker outlook on my life. The opportunities and the chances I put aside in order to either get ahead or to get back in the workforce. The “what ifs”: marriage, family, career advancement, vacations, et cetera. I was always scuffling to stay above water. My head is still water…barely.

For me, being 40 does bring closure to a decade that was not the best.  My 30’s was the worst period in my life, outside of my parents’ divorce when I was in high school.

In your 30’s, you learn a lot about yourself. Are you marriage material? Can you excel at work? Can you handle a diaper? You slow down with the party animal phase, though you have enough energy to pull off a few more if the opportunity presents itself.

Burns and Benny
Jack Benny was “39” years old for 41 more years after turning 39. George Burns thought the punch line was funny.

None of those things happened for me. I was unemployed for most of the decade (7 of those years), so I was spending most of my time in “survival mode” to get by. As a result, I “didn’t have time” to go on a cool vacation, go on a couple of dates, and excel in a career that was a good fit for me.

Yeah…I’m bitter about my 30’s. I am not ashamed to say it.

“Living your life” was foreign to me.  Now, I have to live my life the best way I know how: with careful consideration.

There was a second part to the horoscope that is worth noting:

“In the weeks ahead though, you should discovered a new sense of longing for a happier outlook, and if you follow that path, you will have many reasons to be more optimistic.” 

I won’t say that I hope that is it would be better. I hope that I can make it a happier in the new year and a better start as I began my 4th decade on this planet. There will be plenty of unforeseen events (bad and good), life and people evolve, and you have to make of it the best way you can.

There are some things that I shouldn’t be hung up on (social media mobs and faux outrage), and stuff that I should be hung up about a lot more (two goofy and loud nieces, signing up for dating sites online).

It was a bad decade for me. I can’t sugar coat it because I’ve denied it for so long. (My counselor gets an assist for pointing that out.) I hope that in my 40’s I will get better, get on the kidney recipient list, find a career or job that I want for myself, and hopefully go on an overseas trip with a partner.

To my 30’s, you have taught me to learn how to survive and be resilient.

To my 40’s, I hope those lessons pay off, and be positive.

Happy New Year to all of you and may 2016 be a bountiful one.

 

“We Were Going to Get Here Anyway”

We have a hard time accepting and practicing this term.
We have a hard time accepting and practicing this term.

By definition, the word “patience” is the capacity to accept or tolerate delay, trouble, or suffering without getting angry or upset.

For most of my generation, patience means little. In my 30’s, I learned that not everything will happen when you demand it, and on your time.

The recent events over the past week has proven again on why “patience” can be irritating and beneficial.

Let’s start with the United States Supreme Court (SCOTUS) decision last Friday striking down the ruling that same-sex marriage are unconstitutional. I laugh when I see people react like fools on both sides of the issue: pastors setting themselves on fire, people changing their Facebook profile to show their picture in the colors of the rainbow, which is the universal symbol for the LGBT community.

I’m not surprised.  That’s why we’re humans. We behave in ways that I shake my head in disbelief.

Whatever happen to people like me who saw the news and said “I may agree (or disagree) with it, but I can live with it.”

I said this in 2013 in reference to NBA player Jason Collins: we will come to a point where no one cares about an individual’s sexual preference. The same can be applied to different forms of marriages.

I learn how to adapt, accept it, and go about my day. It’s time for it to happen.

We would going to get to this point anyway, whether we liked it or not.

But let the social media mob run roughshod on just about anything, and you want to quit Facebook to get away from the silliness.

When asked for my opinion of the ruling, I calmly said “That’s nice.”

“What do you mean, ‘That’s nice?!?’ Are you happy about it? What IS YOUR OPINION OF IT?!?!?!”

“I’m cool with it. If you expect me to jump up and down about it, you’re talking to the wrong guy.”

“You mean, you’re not surprised about this? How can you be so calm and passive about this?  This is a big deal!!”

“Why in the hell should I be? We were going to get here (with this news) anyway.”

That person wasn’t sure if I was a fire-breathing religious conservative or a bleeding-heart liberal.

It doesn’t matter if I like or reject the ruling. What is important is that I follow the rules, adhere to them, and live my life.

Sadly, for many people I know on Facebook, Twitter, or in real life, that’s not a good enough response from me. They wanted more of my “reaction” to the SCOTUS ruling.

Nice try. That’s my response and I’m sticking to it: calm, sensible, and practical.

I’ve long since stopped making a fuss about many topics, including same-sex issues. I had mentally “accepted” years ago that same-sex marriages should be legal. After all, interfaith marriages and interracial marriages happen everyday. And there are people, liberal or conservative, who are not fans of either of those types of marriages as well.

We were going to get here anyway.

Moderates, like me, witness historical events and we’re going to roll with it. For better or for worse. Democrats and Republicans lose their proverbial shit about anything that moves on Twitter.

If you let a political party dictate how you feel, I can’t help you there.

We’ve been down this societal road before: smoking, civil rights for minorities, and other events.

Nothing is going to be perfect. Never have…never will, so let’s stop with the Pollyanna narrative as it relates to Friday’s ruling. Same sex couples will divorce, bicker, and go through domestic violence  just like heterosexual couples.

Not all marriages are perfect. They take work and patience.

Which brings up the Dixie (Confederate) flag. Now, let me address the shootings in Charleston first. I think it is lazy of us to treat the shooting deaths of nine individuals in a historical African-American church as a secondary item, so we can spend most of our time debating about a flag. The very same flag that was a symbol that we ignored for so long, it’s pretty embarrassing and hypocritical.  The shootings and the flag are two vastly separate issues in my opinion. Let’s treat them as such with common sense.

It doesn’t erase the fact that a deranged person who had very dark and sinister racial attitudes walked into a church and opened fire.

Now, how many of us knew why the LGBT pride flag is a rainbow flag? You learn something new every day.
Now, how many of us knew why the LGBT pride flag is a rainbow flag? You learn something new every day.

Those who quickly brought up the flag moments after the shooting, clearly had an agenda to propagate: get rid of the flag, because it cause the shooter to kill innocent victims.

The flag didn’t cause that individual to kill people. He had his mind set on harming people because he chose to do so.

My take is this: the flag should not be used in a public setting (government buildings, post offices, et cetera). Yes, people are going to display it on their own personal terms. Much like those who will display the Nazi flag, any offensive materials (racist, sexist, juvenile, to name a few), and yes the LGBT flag, along with an Iowa Hawkeyes or ISU Cyclones flag.

We can’t completely eliminate its use. You can thank the 1st Amendment for that.

That’s the way it is. If you want to fly the LGBT flag, you have a right to do that. So does someone who wants to fly a Dixie flag…on their own property.

If anything, negative symbols should remind us of our history and the impact it has caused. This country has a history of great and very ugly moments. To wipe clean of the ugly, is to deny the fact that it happened.

We can’t change the past…but do we really learn from it?

The answer is no, because we hate to learn from history. History doesn’t “wow” us. It’s boring.

History is relevant to how we face moments like now: with clarity or with irrationality.  If we don’t learn from history, we’re screwed.

The Civil Rights bill got a lot people talking and taking sides 51 years ago this summer. What happened? People accepted it and moved on, whether they agreed with it or not.
The Civil Rights bill got a lot people talking and taking sides 51 years ago this summer. What happened? People accepted it and moved on, whether they agreed with it or not.

How did America react when President Lyndon Johnson signed the Civil Rights Act in 1964? There were some knuckleheads for sure on both sides, but overall, the majority of Americans knew that it was going to happen. When it did, we accepted it the best way we knew how and we moved on.

The same here with Friday’s ruling: we’ll accept it, like or hate it, but we move on.

The hashtag “love wins” has been used by everyone who is in favor of the ruling. But, I have to ask philosophically, why are we still so hateful towards (immigrants, homeless, handicapped, atheists, etc.) others? It’s pathetic.  “Love wins” when it’s for one group, and not all humans. Something is wrong with that. Doesn’t “love” incorporate everyone, including those you disagree with?

Hypocrisy…all of us are guilty of this.

Did #lovewins move the needle? Or do we still need to really work on that?
Did love really did “win”? We still have to work on that before we finally say that “love wins.”

Love only won the battle. It hasn’t won the war.

For every person who wag their scornful finger at the South for continuing to fly the Dixie flag, are they the same people who blindly ignore the various forms of de facto discrimination like housing, employment and institutional racism in the North?

How many minorities live in Beaverdale?

Why are residents who live downtown against having low-income residents living in their buildings? Are they afraid that these “poor people” are going to “trash” these high-end luxury condos? Low-income or restricted-income residents are not always the ones who trash homes and places, driving the property value down.

When we brag about how progressive we are in Des Moines, why does it feel that we continue to ignore and not include certain groups and neighborhoods?

Just when you think you know what SCOTUS will rule on...yeah, keep guessing.
Just when you think you know what SCOTUS will rule on…yeah, keep guessing.

Everyone’s happy that same-sex marriages are legal, and yet we can’t seem to get our shit together. People are ecstatic about same-sex marriages but we give the evil eye to interracial and interfaith marriages.

It has been an interesting week, but I’m not celebrating or booing about the news. I knew that, eventually, it would happen. It was only a matter of time and circumstances.

It was being patient. It can be irritating and yet beneficial.

We were going to get here anyway.

Five Things I’ve Learned So Far in Dialysis

I am approaching two months of dialysis very shortly and I want to write about what I have experienced so far.

Several things I have learned about myself in this “new normal”:

  • New co-working space (sort of): Outside of a coffeehouse and a library, I have found that a dialysis clinic is a good place to zone out and be with your own thoughts. After all, you’re not doing much for 3.5 hours, three times a week, but watch television, read a book, or have your nose in your phone. I’ve started to watch The Food Network a lot recently. Not that I’m hungry, but I’m interested to see how you cook food better and be creative.
  • Pass on the water: Drinking water or liquids is good. Too much of it can result in cramping during treatment. Your kidneys can only flush so much out of your system. The same goes with a dialysis machine.
  • Appetite: I don’t have much of an appetite anymore. I have also started to dislike certain foods that I ate regularly before. I get violently sick after nibbling on a Reese’s peanut butter cup or a Sunbelt granola bar.
  • Physical challenges: my balance is a little off, since I’m not carrying so much edema in my legs. It’s weird as hell seeing your legs go from the size of cannons to “normal”. Getting around takes a little more time. My vision has changed slightly. I’m so not ready to get new glasses. I just got new prescription sunglasses in February.
  • Speech and Brain: This is where I have the most trouble with. I didn’t know what septic shock was, until my physician mentioned it after I was released from the hospital in May. Since starting dialysis, I have been unable to form complete sentences, and stuttering and slurring certain words. As I read about the affects of septic shock, I can only conclude why I was stuttering: septic shock effects the entire body: major organs, brain, and limbs.

According to the Sepsis Alliance, nearly 1.4 million people survive sepsis, but they face life-long challenging changes. Sepsis have a high death rate, particularly with the elderly, young, or patients with weakened immune systems. Since I live with diabetes, I fall into the latter category.

In a 2010 article, Medpage Today reported that 59.3% of patients hospitalized with severe sepsis saw worse cognitive or physical function or both by their first post-sepsis assessment.

I knew my kidneys have failed, but no one was able to figure out why I am unable to talk smoothly. Septic shock leaves a mark, permanent or temporary, on your motor and cognitive skills. You feel like you are trying to get out of mud.

The brain, by nature, process what you see or hear, and then sends a message to the mouth to relay what we hear and see. As a life long mild stutter, it has become increasingly difficult to say what I am thinking or want to say.

It is frustrating to run into friends and people I know, and not know their names right away and recognize them, as well as carry a normal conversation without stammering constantly.

The inability to have a conversation with people have become a rather embarrassing predicament.

The cognitive and motor skills are the nerve centers to how we process and dispense information. When those skills are affected, or taken away, by a stroke for example, patients feel trapped inside their own bodies. We take talking as a simple task for which we blindly take for granted.

I will need intense speech therapy/rehab in order to relearn how to talk. I love to write, but not everyone wants to read your thoughts…they want to hear it.

My body is going through changes that, to be honest, frightens me. Have I been sick for so long that I didn’t realize that it was silently killing me?

Going through kidney dialysis, and the goal to get on the transplant list in the fall might be the easiest tasks to do.

It’s my mental and vocal capacities that I worry about. I need those in order to communicate.

Closing the Book on “Mad Men”

Sterling Headshot
“Remember, when God closes a door, he opens a dress.” God bless you, Roger Sterling. (PopSugar)

Tonight, it ends.

The story of a guy named Don Draper and the life surrounding an advertising agency in New York’s 1960’s. But, this story doesn’t begin with a script written by Matthew Weiner. It actually began, innocently enough, with a group performing in Des Moines one night. Critically acclaimed group “RJD2” performed at Vaudeville Mews. Popular for the tune “1976” and “Ghostwriter”, little did anyone, or even the group, would know that that another tune “A Beautiful Mine” would be selected by Weiner to be the opening theme to “Mad Men.”

Yes, Des Moines, you had a small part of television history, besides being the home of January Jones (Betty Draper Francis).

We tend to easily toss the banter of “greatest show ever” at anything we just watched (“The Sopranos” and “MAS*H” for examples), but there is something about television series that pulls us in like a black hole. But, there is validity to what The Sopranos and Mad Men mean to today’s television. It was unique, it had interesting characters that resembled the people we’re around these days.  I dare you to tell me you didn’t run across an Uncle Junior, Paulie Walnuts, or a Roger Sterling in your daily lives? Or wait, we wished we would run across people like that…

Remember when Peggy Olson in Season 1?  My how time have changed for Peggy. (Frank Ockenfels / AMC)
Remember when Peggy Olson in Season 1? My how time have changed for Peggy. (Frank Ockenfels / AMC)

Anyway, I have always been fascinated in how we watch television: how we view it, how we expect it to end and the reaction to it when it ends in the way that we did not anticipated it.

Do Colonel Henry Blake and Rosalind Shays come to mind?

As I wrote back in 2010 about the ending of The Sopranos, the idea that we want a perfect ending to a show is only wishful thinking. Shows should challenge our thinking and attitudes on what we think our perceptions are and to get us to view it a different way.

Larry Gelbart nailed it when how he described on MAS*H killing off Henry Blake. The viewers were upset that the writers would create such a killjoy in adding in Blake’s death, but the writers’ had another angle for viewers to understand: MASH wasn’t just a sitcom…it was a sitcom/drama about the reality of war.

So, as AMC closes the book on “Mad Men” this evening, don’t be surprised if the ending you expect isn’t the one you want.

Mind you, Weiner did work on The Sopranos. Anything can happen…just don’t expect it to live up to your own unrealistic expectations.

“Off Center”

“We have a chair ready for you.” 

Those six words rung in my head as I started outpatient dialysis this week.

The mere notion of kidney dialysis would make a millennial grimace with visceral pain, shrug it off and go “well, at least it isn’t me.”

Well, since this is about me, being on dialysis has been a strange experience , not just for the obvious reasons.

Dialysis, be definition, is a process for removing waste and excess water from the blood, and is used primarily as an artificial replacement for lost kidney function in people with kidney failure. I had always carried a lot of fluid or excess water in my legs. It was that way for a long time, to which I had taken diuretics to flush the water out. There is so much water in my legs, that when dialysis is used, my legs cramp up. It can be crippling and yet effective.

But that’s not the only thing that has effected me physically when it comes to dialysis.

As a life-long clutterer/stutterer, I have always prided myself with how I speak. Since I’ve started, my brain and motor skills has been so disjointed it scares me. The process of dialysis is to restore equilibrium and to purge the toxins and excess out of your blood stream. As a result of that, my “balance” is way off. On Saturday when visited me at the hospital, I couldn’t spit out one consistent sentence without hitting a block. The more I listened to myself during my conversations with others, the frustrated I got in how I couldn’t say words that would normally come out.

I don’t know how to explain it, but it is weird on how my speech can be out of sorts as I begin dialysis I wonder if anyone has had any strange occurrences or have felt “off-kilter” while starting or have been going through any type of dialysis, “clean-living” or any type of body purge?

Life Changes in a Hurry

Cliches comes in a dime a dozen. We toss it around like baseballs, peppering the infield. So forgive me if I move off a beaten path to utter this phrase: Life moves around you very fast, but when you get to spend quiet time alone, looking at what has happened, it is a whole new world, and when alone, will forever endure.

I think of this tonight, as I sit alone in a room, wondering where this new chapter of my life will take me.

One week ago on a Friday, a buddy and I went to see the Iowa Cubs play at Principal Park. On Saturday, I came down with the flu. On Tuesday, I went to the hospital to shake off the flu, on Thursday, I learned that my kidneys no longer can work by themselves.

Here I am, Thursday night, alone at Broadlawns Medical Center, with a temporary catheter in my right chest and right neck, looking about as unrepentant as a good looking man should be, the body odor…let’s not go there.

This is a new chapter for me. Do not feel sorry for that it happened…you’re wasting time feeling sorry when you can learn about it.

I knew my kidneys were falling. I knew since last fall that time was of essence. My body gave no damn to time. I don’t blame my body. It has lived with diabetes for 20 years, diabetic retinopathy for three years, the battle of the bulge for 35 years. The kidneys were going to check out…only that it was sooner rather than later.

Many of you are learning about this for first time. A few of you, no most of you are shocked. Consider the case of last week, when I told a friend at a restaurant that the news wasn’t good for me…and it wasn’t about the Clippers. It went in and out of his ears. So I selectively told a few folks, knowing I would respect them for not broadcasting the news across America like the Kardashians did something dumb for the umpteenth time.

I’m not a famous columnist or a blogger. If I was, I would kindly suggest reading Des Moines Register’s Daniel Finney if you want to read about perspectives and personal struggles. He’s damn good at that.

I have written about my life with diabetes in the past. This is another chapter that I have to endure. Only that I’m going to ask my friends and acquaintances here in town for a favor. One that I’ve never asked. Please stop by. Send well wishes, crack a joke. Anything to keep me busy until
my mom and my sister’s family arrive here from the Quad Cities.

Lonely people shouldn’t dwell alone on what they are about to face. Don’t feel sorry about what has happened…learn about it and grow from it.

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