Category: MS

Shit Happens

happens

A short post today as I got off to a late start this week and won’t have much time over the weekend to write.

I was talking with a friend yesterday and learned of an event that just occurred in their life that could have long term implications, most of which aren’t great, and it got me to thinking.

We get inundated by the marketing apparatus in this world that portray images of health, wealth, fun and carefree, easy lifestyles. Depictions of hardships, struggles and sadness are in the minority. After all, that stuff is a downer and doesn’t sell. It’s easy to get sucked into the delusion that we are either doing something wrong if our realities don’t match up with what these ads show us, or give us the impression that what they show us is attainable if we only tried harder.

If it were all that easy.

The truth is life isn’t that simple, and shit does happen. Some of us either need bigger shovels or use the one we have more than others, which isn’t fair, but life isn’t fair, and everyone needs hip boots. These issues can become potholes on life’s super freeway, and it’s how we deal with these events that define us.

Take me, for instance. I’m an optimist by nature, a glass-half-full kind of guy. I think  I have had it infinitely easier than most in my life. For instance, I have never had to deal with the loss of a child, a life-threatening illness, or had to struggle financially. I’ve always been well fed, had a roof over my house, a loving family and support system, had an excellent education and a successful career.

Having said that, it hasn’t been all peaches and cream. Not even close. MS is the most obvious because I write about it, and is near the top of my shit happens list, but it is not at the top of that list.  There have been a host of other situations and scenarios that I have had to deal with, and continue to deal with, that are not fun. Some of these events have put a tremendous emotional strain on my family. Their fallout remains, and probably always will.

I would have easily traded getting MS instead of having to endure certain events in my life, but we never get to make those choices.

Nobody escapes this world unscathed. Just because an individual or a family has appeared to be blessed with good luck and have never had to struggle, don’t buy it. All it means is they hide it better than others. Not everyone wants to talk about their personal travails, preferring to instead to share the good in their lives, but that doesn’t mean they don’t exist. Do any of you truly know anyone whose lives have been constant sunshine?

Experience has taught me that life is like being on a life raft in a vast ocean. Sometimes the seas are calm, or you have a fun ride on a wave that is pushing your forward into a good situation. Sometimes you are caught in an storm with relentless giant swales that come crashing down upon you, threatening to submerge you and everyone on board. All you can do is hang on for dear life, try not to drown, and hope the storm passes soon. With practice, maybe you learn how to navigate the swells better.

You also hope that the rogue waves, the monsters that come out of nowhere, catch you completely off guard and are the most dangerous and toughest to negotiate, rarely occur.

If you know someone who is going through a tough time, reach out to them. The simplest thing, like letting them know you are thinking about them and rooting for them can make all the difference in the world.

 

 

 

Mortality

mortality

My aunt suffered a stroke a little over a week ago, a bad one.  I didn’t get a chance to speak with her before Christmas. Strike that. I had every chance in the world, but did not make it a priority. I was busy, and rationalized (in hindsight, of course) that I’d call when things settled down after my trip to Florida. So I felt compelled to actually see her to say goodbye, tell her how much I love her, and thank her for being a wonderful Aunt.

I wasn’t looking forward to the trip because my cousin warned me about her condition. I knew she would be conscious and uncommunicative, but it was worse than that. I have no idea if she knew who was there or what was being said. She looked at me, but it was more like she looked through me, staring blankly into space. I just happened to be in her line of sight.

She showed the obvious signs of a stroke, kept picking at her blankets, the institutional garment she wore, mumbled constantly and looked much older than her 90 years. A  vibrant, engaging, funny and lovely woman was sadly reduced to this. Part of me felt like a voyeur, and all of me felt guilty for being there because I am sure she would not want people to see her in that condition.

Unless it is by our own hands, we never get to choose how we exit this life. Our final scene can often be so undignified, and that is was bothered me the most about seeing her that way. It would have been better if she was unconscious. She would have looked like she was resting comfortably, at peace, and more like the woman I knew and loved.

I drove away from that visit thinking about aging and our mortality. You’d have thought these musings would have occurred when my parents passed away within five months of one another in 2015, but that wasn’t the case.

Both had lived good, long and healthy lives. Dad was 96 and Mom 92. They were both mentally sharp as tacks through the end and both passed quickly. Dad had a massive stroke and was placed in hospice care. We kept a constant vigil around his bed for three full days. On the fourth day everyone who had taken turns watching over him spent the night at their houses, which is when he slipped away. I am sure it was because he never wanted people to fuss over him, so he waited until every was gone.

Mom had a cerebral hemorrhage and died within hours. She was living in an assisted living facility at the time, and K and her Mom had just spent the afternoon with her. She notified friends she was having dinner with that she felt funny and was seeing double, and they had someone escort her to the nurse when it happened. I’m told she slumped in her chair in front of the nurse, completely unconscious.

The assisted living facility called while I was out having dinner with Nidan. It didn’t sound ominous, but then a call from the ER doctor at the hospital she was taken to came, and that changed everything. We ended dinner immediately and I drove Nidan home, then rushed to the hospital, not really knowing what to expect. When I saw her in the emergency room, I instantly knew she was gone, even though she was still breathing. It was a shock and broke my heart, but after a spasm of heavy sobbing, I made some calls.

Unlike Dad,  she didn’t want to be alone when she slipped to the other side. It took a little over ninety minutes for K, Nidan, my brother and his wife, and a few others to gather in her room, and shortly after we were all there it looked like she might not be breathing. She wasn’t.

I was and still am grateful that my parents fears of a painful, lingering demise where they were an emotional and financial burden to their kids never materialized. I should be so lucky.

I grieved for the loss of my parents loss but was not devastated. After all, who wouldn’t sign up for the life they had and the way their lives ended?  But I was so busy with making funeral preparations for Dad, helping Mom move then watching after her in the interim, then handling her sudden and unexpected death, that the idea of aging and dying never occurred to me.

I think the reason it has now is because my Dad came from a large family of nine. I was really close to most of his brothers and sisters, having hung out at their houses as a kid in addition to summer vacations at the beach. Those times were so fun, carefree and innocent, and the memories are wonderful.

When my Aunt passes, which should be fairly soon considering she is on morphine and was placed at a hospice level of care, only one Aunt will remain. She is the baby of the family at 88, and is not in the greatest of health either. The end of the line is very near in terms of my Dad’s siblings. Once that occurs, the book will close on a significant chapter of my life, and my childhood will officially die with it.

I thought I felt that way in 2015, but the truth is I felt more like an orphan when my parents passed. It was weird knowing that the people who nurtured me, taught me, loved me unconditionally and shepherded me into successful adulthood were gone. The void was unimaginable, and the loss hurt. But I didn’t think about the stuff I am thinking about now, and think that’s because when my Aunts pass, the last remaining vestiges of those carefree years will be gone. I will become the adult for the generations to come, and one day, the roles will be reversed. I will be the one saying sayonara, and my nieces and nephews will be mourning me. Perhaps some of them will feel what I am feeling now.

I’m not fearful or morose, but have become introspective. How will my end of life scenario unfold, not only in terms of the how but the when? I’m turning 60 in a couple of months, which is not ancient by any means. But I have been on the downhill side of life expectancy for a while now, and have no idea how or if MS will hasten that fateful day or prolong the process. I certainly hope not because, perhaps not so ironically, I have the same fear my parents had about becoming an emotional and financial burden on my surviving family.

Mom and Dad were blessed with longevity, independence, and good physical/mental health. Is it too much ask that this not skip a generation? And while I’m at it, can the end be quick and painless, as it was for them? Hopefully the genes I’ve inherited will help make that happen.

I hope this hasn’t been too morbid, but don’t all of us think of these things at one time or another? I certainly plan on being around a while, and would love to able to celebrate my 100th birthday. I’m looking forward to my retirement years, playing with grandchildren and spoiling them rotten. I’m looking forward to an empty nest that I can enjoy with my lovely bride of thirty one years, and hope we can both thrive during the sunsets of our lives. We’ve earned that.

For now, however, another somber funeral is probably days away. The family will close ranks and all the cousins I grew up and hung out with as a kid will assemble with their families. Afterwards, we’ll laugh and rehash good memories, lament for the umpteenth time that it’s a shame we only get together for these types of occasions, and vow to change that. Who knows? Maybe this time it will actually happen.

Then we will return to our respective lives, and time will march on. The musings I’ve shared will also fade, but perhaps not completely vanish, and I don’t think that would be a bad thing. Maybe it will help me appreciate life more than being afflicted with MS has, and help me embrace every remaining day I have without sweating the small stuff I am still prone to do on occasion.

After all, I’m not a spring chicken anymore.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Final Hunt – Part 8

alien

Superman has tagged me for something different today, which is a good thing because I didn’t have a clue concerning a subject to write about. Instead, my mission is to  add to a story originally started by Teresa, the Haunted Wordsmith; it’s like a kind of blogging relay race apparently. This is the story so far……

Teresa’s Part:

Anne and Gladys waved as the men left for their hunt. When they were out of sight, they both laughed knowing full well that none would have the heart to really shoot anything. They liked a boy’s day out as much as they liked a girl’s day in.

“So,” Fred said as they passed the gate into his family’s hunting grounds. “What do you think the girls are up to today?”

Alec laughed. “Talking about us, what else?”

Sam nodded. “Yep.”

As they walked through the fields into the tree line, the dogs’ ears’ picked up. Boy whimpered and cowered close to Fred’s legs. Toby’s fur stood on edge as he stared into the woods and growled.

“Easy there,” Alec said, trying to calm him.

Sam kneeled and unzipped his gun as quietly as possible. Suddenly, both dogs were on alert as a …

Morpethroad wrote:

small, bespectacled man stepped through the bushes. The dogs were going berserk by now straining at their leashes. It was clear the dogs sensed a danger the men did not see.

The man walking towards them was squinting as he approached as he had the sun in his eyes.

“Good afternoon,” he said as he drew near, “your dogs won’t bite will they? I do have a fear of them.”

Sam stood with his gun in his hands unsure of what he was seeing and hearing. The place they were in was a piece of rugged bushland, no one lived there because it was the family’s hunting grounds and it was considered unsafe to even camp on the land for any reason at all.

Fred was trying his best to hold onto his dog, and Alec held firm on Toby’s collar. Once the small man came within a few feet of the hunting party, they could see…

Pensitivity101 continues:

he was holding something in a plastic bag.

Fred lost his grip and Boy lunged at the man who dropped the bag on the ground and threw his arms up to protect his face.

Fred was afraid they would have to shoot the dog but Boy wasn’t interested in the man at all, just the bag, which he snatched up and obediently brought back to his master.

The little man was shaking with fear as Sam reached out his hand to help him up.

“You realise you’re trespassing don’t you?” he said.

The man straightened his glasses and collected himself.

“I’m sorry about that, but we’d received a repor….”

“We? Who is we? And what are you doing here? You could have been shot!”

Fred had taken the bag out of Boy’s mouth and stared at the contents in disbelief.

“Guys? I think you need to look at this.”

Sadje’s contribution:

Sam and Alec stepped forward to take a look at what was in the bag. Fred’s hand, clutching the bag, was trembling. The bag contained a severed hand, the digits were shaped like a claw. But it was like no human hand they had ever seen. It was like it belonged to someone very big and skinny.

“Whe…, Ahm….Where did you find this?” Alec uttered the question through vocal cords which were refusing to cooperate. Sam and Fred were looking askance at the stranger. The whole situation had taken on a nightmarish quality.

The man, again made an attempt to introduce himself. “I am Bennett, from The Agency of Alien Detection, TAAD. We received the alien activity signals from this area and a party has been investigating the situation. This is part of the remains we were able to recover. Do you have any information regarding this?”

The three men stared at him with gapping mouth and glazed looks. Who in their right mind would believe this man. But the evidence was in their hands.

Sam took the bag from Fred and was going to examine it closely when…

Cheryl added:

…when the bag’s contents started moving. The claw-like severed hand was scratching at the plastic bag. Sam dropped it like a hot potato! The boys started to freak out and started to whimper. The spectacled man even stepped back. “Oh my,” Bennett stuttered, “I thought it was, uh, uh, dead!”

Sam kept his gun at the ready. There was no way this “thing” was going to hurt the boys. Bennett fumbled nervously in his pocket to retrieve what looked like a cell phone, but was actually a communicator to the rest of the landing crew. His face seemed to change shape a bit and he started to adjust his hair. Sam looked at the little man with more than just curiosity. Who was this guy, really?

This was Fandango’s contribution

“Do not touch that bag!” Bennett, who was no longer a small, bespectacled, unimposing man, shouted. He had suddenly grown taller. His skin took on a shiny, reddish tone and his hands took on the same claw-like shape of the severed hand in the bag. The three men stepped back and even the two dogs stopped barking and cowered.

“What are you?” Alec asked. “you definitely are not human.”

“No,” Bennett admitted, “I am not. My companion and I were sent here from our home planet to explore your planet. Our mission was peaceful. Our intent was merely to collect air and mineral samples. We intended no harm. But then we encountered a hostile group of creatures who jumped my companion. I’m ashamed to say that I ran for cover, while these creatures devoured my companion. All that was left of him was the hand that I put in the bag. But he is apparently beginning the regeneration process.”

“Creatures? What kind of creatures?” Sam asked.

“Similar to those,” Bennett said, pointing to the two dogs, “but larger and much more viscous.”

“Wolves,” Fred said.

Sam raised his rifle and aimed it at the alien. “Sam, what are you doing?” Alec shouted.

Suddenly…

Now over to me:

There was a noise overhead and both Alec and Sam turned sharply to try and identify it’s source; necks craning upwards they searched the sky but there was nothing other than a dense cloud bank.

“Looks like there’s a storm coming” said Alec “Perhaps it was thunder we heard”

He turned to look at Sam who had resumed his position; stock still with his gun aimed at Bennett’s head

“That wasn’t thunder, was it Mr Bennett?” Sam said quietly

“Sam! Please put down your gun, there’s no need for threats, Mr Bennett has explained that he has no beef with us, he’s just doing some research”

Alec was surprised at his friend’s behaviour especially as Boy and Toby were no longer agitated but laying peacefully at their feet. In his experience dogs were far better attuned to sense danger than any human.

“And you believe him do you?” Sam was absolutely rigid and he spoke from the corner of his mouth through clenched teeth as though in mortal terror or suppressed anger, Alec couldn’t be sure which.

“Yes I believe him Sam now put the gun down for God’s sake before some gets hurt”

Alec was becoming genuinely concerned, they were both hunters but he knew from long experience that Sam was not a violent man. He stepped forward to try to placate his friend and persuade him to drop his weapon.= but just then the sky darkened and………..

Superman’s (Billy Mac) contribution:

They were slammed to the ground by a sudden, swirling and violent thrust of downward pressure. The trees bent outwards in futile surrender as they were pelted by leaves and underbrush. The noise was deafening. The dogs, unable to stand, yelped as they crawled towards the outskirts of the clearing. Sam, having lost his tenuous grip on the shotgun, helplessly watched as it was flung beyond his sight. He found himself being tossed around on the forest floor as he tried to find something to hold onto. He cried out to Alec who was frantically hugging the base of a tree at least 20 feet away.

“Alec! What the ever loving f&*k is going on?!” He shouted. As the words left his mouth he knew that the cacophony around him had drowned him out.

Alec, instead of futilely trying to shout over the deafening noise waved his right arm, his left clinging to the tree base, caught Sam’s attention and frantically pointed upwards, jabbing at the forest ceiling.

Suddenly branches and debris began raining down upon them and both men cowered under the onslaught. Sam forced himself to look up. Squinting and covering his eyes with one hand he could see a large object slowly lowering itself into the clearing, effortlessly forcing aside the trees that dared block its descent.

The heat was overwhelming, Sam could only presume it was exhaust.

But from what?

He scrambled to escape the clearing. Alec, with a sudden burst of brevity let go of the tree and did a military crawl to join his friend. Once he reached Sam they locked arms and watched what they could only presume was Bennett’s ride home finish it’s descent.

My two cents:

Ending its descent before touching down, the craft hovered several feet above the ground. The cacophony of sound, which was deafening as the alien ship forced its way into the clearing, was gone. The woods was eerily silent, as if aware of a malignant presence that it did not want to disturb. The symphony of birds, insects, and the other creatures that inhabited the grounds had vanished. Even the sound of water cascading down the brooks and streams that crisscrossed their route could not be detected. If not for the sound of their heavy breathing, Sam and Alec might have thought they were struck deaf.

The air was calm and still, but somehow felt alive, pulsating with a vibration and energy that was palpable. Sam wiped what he thought was perspiration beading the side of his face, and was alarmed when he saw blood on his hands. Turning to his partner, his eyes widened as he witnessed blood seeping from Alec’s ears and nose. Gently elbowing his friend’s bicep to get his attention, Sam pointed to Alec’s face and then his own. As Alec rubbed the space between his nose and upper lip, Sam heard Alec moan “What the hell?”, but Alec’s lips did not move. Confused, Sam hoped this was a nightmare he would soon wake from when he heard Alec respond “This is no nightmare, Sam. Can you hear my thoughts? I sure as hell can hear yours.”

Sam nodded. He didn’t question their sudden telepathic capabilities, instinctively knowing the alien presence somehow enabled it. Perhaps it was best under the circumstances that they could communicate in this manner, and not draw attention to themselves by making noise with their voices.

“We have to get out of here,” Sam heard Alec think, pointing to Sam’s face. The drops of  blood from Sam’s ears and nose had developed into a trickle. Sam saw Alec grimace when he felt his own eyes suddenly tear, and knew it wasn’t tears emerging from his eyes.

The men resumed their military crawl to get as far away from this place as they could without being detected. Moving backwards in this fashion so they would not lose sight of what was in front of them, the air around them suddenly became heavy. Their bodies became immobile, seemingly tethered to the leaf covered terrain, as if an invisible lead blanket enveloped them.

“Christ!” Alec heard Sam think, and was about to reply when a sound that was similar to the opening of an enormous vault pierced the silence. As a sliver of blinding light emerged from the ship, Sam reflexively turned his eyes away from it, and saw leaves, wooden debris and a several mice, chipmunks and a handful of other small rodents get sucked towards the ship, as if caught in a vortex of gravity.

The men felt their bodies become caught in that vortex and become involuntarily drawn towards the ship. Fortunately two large oaks were in their path, and stopped their momentum. They shielded their eyes from the light that was no longer an emerging sliver, but a floodlight of sun-like intensity that enveloped the entire scene.

Bennett, who had transformed into his natural form, approached the ship and appeared to be communicating with something neither Sam or Alec could see. Their blood turned cold when Bennett raised his arm, turned his body and extended a long, bony finger from his claw-like hand and pointed in their direction.

“Oh shit!” both men thought in unison.

 

I pass the baton Susan @ Stories From The Edge of Blindness take it to from here. Susan, I know this may not be in your wheelhouse, but I’d love do see with what you can do with it.

This is what you need to do next:

1. Copy the story as you receive it.
2. Add to the story in some fashion.
3. Either tag another person to contribute to the story or finish the story yourself.
4. Please use FTS as a tag so Teresa can find it or link back to part 1.
5. Have Fun!

Revisiting My 2018 Resolutions

2018 resolutions

One of my last posts of 2017 was a declaration of resolutions for the upcoming new year. Now that 2018 is in the books, I thought it would be interesting to see what those resolutions were (there was only one that I remembered) and how I did. What I discovered was a mixed bag: some complete successes and utter failures. Here are the results:

Get my book published:  The book isn’t published, but it is in the process of being submitted to various publishers. This campaign started later in the year than I anticipated, but at least the word is out and folks are taking a look at it. Hopefully 2019 will be the year.

Break ground on a new house or be in the process of remodeling an existing one: If you follow this blog, you know that ground has been broken and the foundation is in. Unless something catastrophic occurs, we should be moved in by summer. We nailed this one!

Be ten pounds lighter: Um……not even close. I can say that I did get to that point at one time during the year, but got tired of the struggle of dieting and said the hell with it. My motivation now is to not count every single morsel I put in my mouth, and try not to exceed a certain weight. It has worked so far, but, in all honesty, I am not going to get near a scale until after Ground Hog’s Day.

My MS symptoms will remain confined to one limb: Put this one in the success column. I can’t say I had a lot to do with this. Maybe I can thank my neurologist, or chalk it up to sheer luck. Either way, I’m not complaining.

Post every week to this blog: I had reservations about this one, but I managed not only to accomplish this task, but posted more than once a week on a handful of occasions. There were a couple of times where I had writer’s block, and thought this might be the week I falter, but it never happened. Another success!

Finish the manuscript of Novel #2: Not only did I not finish it, I barely wrote anything at all. I did noodle around with it in the beginning of the year, but I was more focused on doing everything I needed to do on the social media front to help support the novel I did write, in addition to posting to this blog. Those are lame excuses, however, because if I want to do something and am motivated to do it, it gets done. I get a big, fat F on this one.

Drink less: I was never a heavy drinker, but listed this because it would help with my weight, and because I didn’t think it was good for my MS. I never consciously thought about it during the year, but did reduce my alcohol consumption. In all candor, I think part of the reason I was able to do this was because of my new MS medicine, which has suppressed the desire for alcohol. After all, why ruin a good buzz? I’m not sure if this is cheating, but I’ll call this one a success.

Use the word “fuck” less: Didn’t happen. Enough said. It’s such a versatile word, and rolls off the tongue so effortlessly. This one was probably doomed from the beginning.

Eat Better: I wasn’t eating all that badly to start. I thought I would eliminate a few fats from my diet, keeping my weight loss goal in mind, but that fell by the wayside when I said to hell with dieting. So I’m not eating “better”, but I’m not eating any worse either, so call this one is a wash.

Get more sleep: That didn’t come close to happening. Old habits are hard to break, I’m afraid. A definite failure.

So out of these ten resolutions, four were achieved in their totality, four were colossal failures, one was partial failure and one was a wash. I guess that’s par for the course.

 

Adieu 2018

2018

Another year had ended

And at this time of year

I find myself reflecting

On events both sad and dear

 

Not a lot transpired

A break from what is looming

Next year will be eventful

The journey may not be soothing

 

But what about this year?

We have all remained sane

Everyone is healthy

I’m not in any pain

 

There wasn’t a lot of grieving

Or gnashing of the teeth

Life’s seas were mostly calm

As was my myelin sheath

 

The one thing I have noticed

As I have become older

Something my parents cautioned

Each new year feels shorter

 

My peer group is shrinking

Dear ones are no longer

Obituaries announce their passing

The price of getting older

 

But enough of being maudlin

An emotion that can hurt

I cherish all my loved ones

And each day above the dirt

 

I hope your year was stellar

May the new year smile upon you

And fulfill your hopes and dreams

Instead of making you feel blue

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Bad Timing

stocks

Timing is everything in life, or so the saying goes. I’ve often wondered if good timing is a by-product of foresight and astute planning, or of it is all sheer dumb luck. The one thing I do know is that when it comes to real-estate matters, our timing has mostly sucked.

Whenever we have been in the market to buy, it’s typically been a sellers market. When we have been in the market to sell, it’s been a buyers market, either because of high interest rates or a glut of supply.

We thought this chapter of our real estate exploits with the house we are building would be different. After all, K is the general contractor and is in a position to manage costs. We carefully reviewed our assets and financing options, determined that we didn’t need to borrow much and, after we sold our current house, could possibly walk away with no mortgage at all.

We planned the order in which we would utilize the various funds available to us. Not wanting to paying interest on anything until we absolutely had to, we decided to use our assets first before tapping into the various loan options, and figured these would cover us until late winter/early spring. The plan was realistic, well thought out, and all the signs pointed to a smooth and uneventful process, with no speed bumps or u-turns.

But history is a hard thing to overcome, and our wishful thinking was flushed down the toilet when the stock market suffered its worst week since the financial crisis of 2008, and the talking heads announced we were in the process of experiencing the worst December since the Great Depression. All I could do is shake my head, roll my eyes, smile a sad smile, and wonder why I should be surprised.

This development is not a deal-breaker.  After all, what goes up must come down, and visa versa, so I know there will eventually be a rebound. In fact, the market gained over 1,000 points yesterday, the single biggest daily gain in its history. But the recovery is a drop in the bucket compared to was lost these last ten days, and what is unknown is whether this is a one-hit wonder or the beginning of an upward trend to normalcy. What is also unknown is whether the asset we were going to liquidate will regain most of the value it lost.

The financial storm clouds are still there. The government shutdown had a lot to do with this, and will persist long into January as long as our Idiot-In Chief continues to insist on that stupid wall. His sophomoric comments about firing the Fed’s chairman added gasoline to the fire, but that also seems to have died down a bit. Then there are his ongoing legal issues, that are only going to get worse, to consider.

I’m trying to be optimistic and hope that the correction will occur over a matter of weeks instead of months, but have the nagging suspicion the wall issue isn’t going to go away. The political climate in Washington will only get worse when the new House convenes and starts all of their investigations, which is sure to keep the markets in a state of uncertainty, which is never good. And if a smoking gun emerges from either their investigations or the Mueller report, watch out!

So it is back to the drawing board. Unless the plunge of the last two weeks corrects itself in a hurry, we will have to employ the borrowing options first, which will hopefully buy us the time the market needs to recover. Fortunately, K had to foresight to obtain a building loan for more than we thought we would need, and we have a lot of equity in our current house. But the idea was to emerge from this with little or no debt. If the current situation remains by Spring or, God forbid, gets worse, we’ll either have more debt or need to liquidate more assets than we wanted. Both of these scenarios suck beyond imagination, but the foundation is in, and stopping the project in its tracks while this all gets sorted out is not an option.

As this project got started, my biggest fear is we would run out of good weather before we could get under roof, which would delay the process by three to six months. I still don’t want to see this become a reality, but that may be the one thing that provides the necessary time for the markets to settle down. Wouldn’t it be ironic if this not only occurred, but turned out to be a godsend? Perhaps, but it isn’t something I am rooting for.

I’m going to stop driving myself crazy and not look at the numbers every day for the next week or two. Nidan and I are going to Florida for a few days after New Year’s and I’ll wait until our return before taking another peak at them. Hopefully I will be pleasantly surprised. Meanwhile, we can ride this out until the framing starts. Some big bills will start rolling in then, at which point we’ll have to commit to a financing plan of some kind.

What we naively believed was going to be smooth sailing, is turning out to be more of an emotional roller-coaster, but I should have known better. Our previous house-building experience had repeatedly demonstrated that nothing ever turns out the way one plans. So why should this be any different?

On a separate note, I’d like to wish everyone a happy, healthy and prosperous new year. I hope your 2019 is filled with brightness and hope, and that any troubles or pain you are currently experiencing last only as long as your New Year resolutions.

 

What’s Next?

ACA

A Federal judge in Texas ruled last week that the entirety of the Affordable Care Act was unconstitutional. This decision is obviously going to be appealed, to the conservative Fifth Circuit Court of Appeals, so it is a good bet that this decision will not be overturned. The fate of this law will therefore once again wind up in front of the Supreme Court, and with the Court’s two recent additions, it is anyone’s guess what the outcome will be.

It will take most of 2019 for this to shake out, but if I wasn’t fortunate enough have access to insurance through my large employer group, I would be extremely worried.

I don’t get it. Well, actually I do get it. Bitter partisan politics and their corresponding kill or be killed philosophies dictate agendas these days, regardless of the good or bad it does, let alone what it means to the political fortunes of the Democrats and Republicans in Washington. You’d think that with the thrashing Republicans received in the mid-terms elections, and the Trump Express, which most have enabled, seemingly coming off the rails, the last thing they want is to have this stink-bomb of a decision land in their lap. Do they really want to eliminate a law that, while flawed and in need of improvement, is generally supported by most citizens?

After all, how can you not like not being able to cover your kids until the age of 26, or of not having to worry about being denied coverage due to a pre-existing condition. Even the Republicans, if you take what many of their candidates said during their recent election campaigns at face value, support these two items and have promised to “fight” to maintain them. So what happens if the Supreme Court concurs with the Texas court, and these safety nets vanish?

I’d like to believe that a good faith effort will be made when the next Congress resumes to make improvements to the law that makes it palatable for everyone, and remove any and all legal obstacles that could make the Court support the Texas decision. I mean, do the Republicans really want to be tarred and feathered as the party that ripped health insurance coverage away from millions of people during the 2020 election cycle, when a large segment of the seats they hold in the Senate are up for re-election? Do they want to be know as the party that essentially said tough titty to countless American living with pre-existing conditions? Do they want to hand all three branches of the government to the Democrats on a silver platter? How dumb would that be?

On the other hand, I hope the Democrats don’t play politics with this either, and insist on items that are non-starters for their counterparts, expressly for the purpose of being able to blame them two years from now for the demise of the law and the subsequent misery inflicted upon millions who no longer have access to healthcare.

I’d be in deep shit if my eligibility, or the premium cost I would be required to pay, were predicated on having a pre-existing condition. I pay enough out of pocket as it is every year. Knowing the industry like I do, I wouldn’t be able to afford taking care of myself because I’d be bankrupt in a short period of time. That is how costly my treatments are, and I don’t qualify for any public assistance or free care. I’d probably have to stop all of my current medications and treatments, and hope for the best. I guess it would be one way of finding out whether any of what I am currently doing really helps, but I would much rather have that be a decision I make rather than having it forced upon me. Who wouldn’t?

So it is going to be a very interesting and nerve-wracking 2019. Hopefully the issue doesn’t get sidetracked with all the investigations into the current administration that are sure to start once the Democrats take control of the House.

Perhaps I put too much faith in the reasonableness of our elected representatives. I mean, if the majority of voters like the protection the current law has to offer, and you know that healthcare will be a hot-button topic in 2020, doesn’t it make sense to do something proactive instead of snipe at and blame the other side?

I’m not going to use this space to outline all the things in the Affordable Care Act that can be improved. I think most people would agree it isn’t perfect, needs to be fixed and that not having this law would create headaches for both sides. Having said that, this can go one of two ways, assuming of course the law is struck down.

The first scenario is one where the political rancor becomes more entrenched (if you can believe that) as the administration is relentlessly investigated, and perhaps subject to impeachment proceedings. The House and Senate devote their time and energy to attacking or defending the administration. Republicans feel persecuted, circle the wagons and don’t give an inch on anything. Meanwhile, Trump, like Nero, fiddles while Washington burns. Who knows what emerges from the ashes?

The other scenario is a more practical one. This issue is a political hot potato that nobody wants to wear the black hat for, and there is enough common ground for both sides to work together and create something better. Mitch McConnell would rather eat his young than to give the Democrats anything that can be perceived as a victory, but there is too much at stake and the political fallout is potentially devastating, so doing nothing doesn’t make sense. Everyone has a vested interest to make this work, so something rare occurs: hands reach across the aisle, neither side gets everything they want but get what they can live with for the betterment of all.

This makes perfect sense, but there doesn’t seem to be a lot of that going on these days. But still, the folks in Washington can’t be that dumb, can they?

The New Normal

Normal

2019 will mark the eleventh year I have been living with MS. After it rudely introduced itself,  first on a treadmill and then a few weeks later when I was outside mowing the lawn, the symptoms weren’t that cumbersome. It took a couple of years before it permanently changed the way I walked, and the progression has been slow but steady ever since.

Some years have been worse than others on the progression front, but the result has been the same: my physical abilities are worse on December 31st than they were on January 1st.  That isn’t unusual given the nature of my beast, but as I was cruising with the blimp the other night watching a video that chronicled the Red Sox magical 2018 season, a thought occurred to me that in retrospect was both surprising and sad.

I honestly can’t remember what it feels like not to have MS.

That doesn’t mean I don’t I remember the life I once had, the one with no physical restrictions. After all, I still have the pictures and video. That was a life where I didn’t think twice about undertaking any chore,  where I could to stay outdoors in the summer heat as long as I wanted, and where I could play eighteen holes of golf on any kind of course. Those days seem so carefree and foreign now.

So yes, I remember the events. What is forgotten, however, is what it actually felt like to walk unimpededly, without thinking about every step I take. I don’t remember what it felt like wondering if every change in my body is an indication of additional slippage into the rabbit hole of progressive MS. I don’t remember what it felt like to run, go on long walks, to ride a bike, to frolic on the beach, to take the stairs without measuring each step, or not having to worry about falling in public. I don’t remember what it was like not having to worry about where the nearest bathroom is for fear of peeing myself, or not requiring a urinal within arms reach every time I am in my car.

My new normal has eclipsed everything about my old self. The mindset where everything is assumed and taken for granted is dead. I don’t remember anything about what is was like to be whole and able bodied. I don’t remember what it was like not having to go to a hospital every month to have my blood filtered and replaced, or having toxins infused in the hope that my body will stop cannibalizing itself.

I don’t think I’m unique in that regard, but I consider this disability as the death of my former self. That might be hyperbole because I obviously still reside in the land of the living. I have the same emotions, many of the old concerns, and continue to plod forward and rebel against my reality any way I can. In some ways I am better off mentally because I no longer take anything for granted, appreciate the little things more, and therefore have a better perspective on life. But it is not an exaggeration to say that I am a fundamentally different person than I was eleven years ago, and that this version of me could feel like Nirvana compared to what my status might be another eleven years from now.

This is the part of living with a chronic illness/disability that nobody talks about or explains to you. When you learn about your new reality, it’s understood at a certain level that your life will change. If you accept and adapt to that change like I did, you adjust to a failing body with as much grace and stubbornness as can be mustered. You don’t give up or give in, but in that process you also don’t realize that your previous life will be relegated to the dustbin of your memory until the day comes, like it did for me earlier this week, when you realize you can’t remember what it felt like to be the person you once were.

An argument can be made that this is a part of the aging process, but I’m not willing to concede that because I’m not even sixty yet. I’m no spring chicken, but I’m not an old geezer either. This is not the mournful lament of a man in his seventies who is acknowledging the effects of an aging body for the first time. My epiphany was the product of this neurological condition that has consumed my life over the last decade, and it caught me completely off guard.

The fact that I can’t remember any of the stuff I mentioned burst my denial bubble, at least temporarily. Not being able to remember what it felt like to have two good legs is like not being able to remember what it felt like to fall in love the first time, to lose your virginity, or to hold your infant child for the first time.

I’ll get over it, because what’s the point of crying over spilled milk? But it really does suck.

 

A Foundation To Build From

Foundation 7.JPG

The last couple of months have been a whirlwind on the building front. Plans have been drafted, tweaked and re-drawn at the eleventh hour. Details regarding the layout and elevation of the house, which I will get to shortly, were in a constant state of flux, and had to be put to bed before we could break ground. The mad scramble to identify and retain contractors was a daily grind, one that still has a few loose ends, but the truth is I have had little involvement with that. K is the general contractor on this project, you see, so she’s been the one pulling her hair out. I’m living vicariously through her, and never would have had the desire, nerve or knowledge to attempt this.

Building during the winter (technically, it is still Autumn – it has only felt like winter) is a race against the clock. We took on this challenge for a variety of reasons, but the main reasons were control and to save money. Serving as your own subcontractor allows for that, as winter tends to be a slower time for tradesmen, and there is less competition for their services. The other reason for building in the winter is we want to be able to move during the spring, which is the optimum time to sell out current home.

So the first order of business was to retain a builder who was experienced with building the type of energy efficient house we want, and who wouldn’t get their nose bent out of shape if they weren’t responsible for the entire building process. Their task is to get the foundation in, frame the house, install the windows and finish the roof. K would take it from there. Once the structure is up, it won’t matter what the weather or temperatures are because the house will be enclosed and the subs would be shielded from the elements.

Our self imposed deadline, based on an assumption that the ground would not be completely frozen until then, was Christmas. Until recently, getting to the point where we could meet this deadline was like trying to nail Jello to a wall. All the last minute changes were bad enough, but K was like a dog with a bone and managed to pull everything together in early November. Unfortunately, Mother Nature wasn’t on the same page.

This has been a miserable Autumn, and the last few weeks have been especially terrible. While the folks in California would have given anything for a few drops of rain to stem the tide of the terrible wildfires, we were facing the opposite conundrum. Connecticut was in the midst of a stormy weather pattern that brought frequent rain, some of it torrential, and an early snowstorm. Not only that, the temperatures have been much colder than average, all of which have conspired to create numerous delays and postponements.

Talk about frustrating! It’s such a helpless feeling knowing that the clock is ticking, the amount of time in which to accomplish your goal was quickly eroding, and that all the time and effort spent in getting this out of the ground was in jeopardy of being derailed until Spring.

The last minute changes certainly didn’t help, but were an economic necessity. To make a long story short, we purchased adjoining lots, with the idea that when Nidan started working and eventually built up his savings, he’d have a lot to build his own place.  Our original plan was to have a separate apartment attached to the main house where he and my mother-in-law, who lives with us, would reside. When informed about the prevailing price per square foot for new home construction, and the fact that additional corners to any structure really jack up the construction price,  the math suggested that if we built a small house on the adjoining lot instead of an attached apartment, the cost would not be much greater. We therefore had blueprints for two houses drafted, and were ready to roll with that. After all, who wouldn’t want to empty the nest as early as possible?

Those plans unraveled once the quotes started coming in, and it became obvious that we would be way, way, WAY over budget, which was a shock based on what we thought we knew. The two house plan went up in smoke, so we had to scramble, and have the plans re-drawn (ka-ching!) that converted most of the basement of the original house into an apartment with a separate entrance.

This development changed the footprint of the entire house. In order to get the water and sewer lines into the downstairs living space, the house had to be raised several feet. This made the driveway, which was already a lot longer than we wanted so it would wrap around to the back of the structure where their entrance would be (ka-ching!), steeper than we would have liked. It also created a handful of other building complications that I won’t get into, but the bottom line is it delayed the entire process at least three to four weeks. Naturally, the weather nice during this unexpected delay, and would have provided a sustained period to get us out of the ground. It wasn’t until we were ready to rock and roll that the weather descended upon us like a ton of bricks.

When ground finally was broken, it was so saturated that extra material had to be utilized to prevent the heavy equipment from sinking (ka-ching!), and more drains were installed to help direct the water away from the building site (ka-ching!). The cherry on top occurred a couple of weeks ago where, after the hole was finally dug and ready for the foundation forms, over an inch of rain fell on already saturated grounds. This caused the earthen walls to collapse, which required the excavator to spend an extra day clearing the mud that sat where the foundation forms needed to be  set up (ka-ching!). The coup de grace was having to employ a truck that pumped the concrete from the mixer to the forms (ka-ching!)

Happily, all of that is past us. The footings were poured last week, and the foundation was poured on Monday. It appears we will be blessed with a ten day period of primarily dry weather, but this stretch will also be exceeding cold. What does that mean? It means the concrete needs to be kept warm, which requires an extra step or two in the process (ka-ching!).

The pictures that follow represent each step of the process to date, starting from the time we initially purchased the property.

BW6

tree2

Foundation 3.JPG

Foundation 2.JPG

Foundation 1.JPG

Foundation 5

Foundation 4

Foundation 6

This period of dry weather should provide enough time to get the floors poured before we reach the point of no return, so the pressure to get things moving isn’t as great as it was several weeks ago. Still, it will be a relief once the lumber and windows are ordered because that will mean the floor is poured, the construction can begin in earnest, and we are back on schedule.

Wouldn’t that be something?

The Art of Falling

fall down

Something rare occurred Thanksgiving morning. I was outside, trying to pry some carrots out of the suddenly frozen dirt of our garden, when it happened.

That section of the yard is slanted, and has always been a treacherous tract for me. Perhaps it was because the ground I was standing on was hard, lumpy, and I couldn’t get a good foothold when I felt my balance shift. Whatever the reason, my bad foot got caught as I was shuffling to my right, my ankle turned, and I was confronted with two choices: stand my ground and risk the full brunt of my weight collapsing on the ankle, which would have resulted a moderate sprain at minimum, or save myself from imminent injury, let gravity do its thing, and let myself fall to the ground. It really wasn’t much of a decision. I stopped resisting and let my body fall.

I wouldn’t say the fall hurt, although it was definitely not a soft landing, and the ground’s rock hard surface did scrape up my right shin a bit. But when my rolling body came to a stop, I reached for my cane, which I relinquished when I stooped over to break up the garden’s surface, clumsily got back onto my feet, and anxiously looked around to see if there were any witnesses. There were none, and I resumed my task. Ten minutes later I was back inside, free from the sub-freezing temps and whipping winds that made the wind chill feel like it was below zero.

The tumble was fairly benign, and the only souvenirs that remain from the episode is a dime-sized scab on my shin and a bruised ego.

Falling is not uncommon for people with MS, and I am no exception. I don’t fall often, averaging perhaps two or three times a year, but it was not always that way. As I rose from the ground and got back onto my feet that freezing Thanksgiving morning, I couldn’t help but reflect that the reason I usually don’t fall very often, or get injured when I do, is because of body awareness and mechanics.

In what seems like a lifetime ago, I joined our college’s Modern Dance Company at the beginning of my freshman year. I had never been involved in this kind of performance art before, but I liked dancing, and I thought it would achieve two important priorities: meeting girls and becoming more flexible. The first priority is self-explanatory, but I had planned on going out for the varsity baseball team later that spring, and I thought being more limber couldn’t hurt.

One thing that my four-year experience with the company taught me was general body awareness: specifically, how it moves, how it is positioned at all times, and where everything is centered. Our company’s director always used to implore that we “find our center” during the first half hour of each class as we stretched, and the lessons learned from those four years have been invaluable to me on the occasions where I do fall.

After the first few tumbles, which were a complete and unexpected surprise that left physical marks, I realized that I needed to become more aware of how my body was centered at all times, which in turn allowed me to apply those lessons. The results were twofold.  First, the number of  falls dramatically shrank, and when I did fall, I was able to protect myself from serious injury by positioning my body in such a way that I was able to cushion the blow of hitting the ground.

How does it work? I try to be aware of my center, and therefore my balance, whenever I am on my feet. Why? Because if I lose my center, the balance of my weight shifts, which makes my body lean in different directions. When the upper half of my body leans too far forwards, backwards, or to either side, my balance is shot I down I go like a sack of potatoes. Being aware of when I am reaching the point of no return has prevented more falls than I can count, but like last week, they do occasionally occur.

This is where the other part of body mechanic awareness comes in. Before I hit the ground, I try to turn my upper body sideways, exhale, relax the muscles and get into a quasi-fetal position, all within a split second. The goal here is to fall on my side, saving my teeth, facial bones and other joints in the process, in addition to not having the wind knocked out of me when I hit the ground. With the exception of one time many years ago, when I missed the last step on my back stoop with food containers in my hand, I’ve been pretty good at avoiding these kinds of disasters. The back stoop episode occurred during a cookout when my parents were around, and my mother, who had never seen me fall before, nearly freaked when I hit the ground. Nidan, who was maybe ten at the time, thought it was the funniest thing he ever saw, but that is a different story.  That particular crash was the only time I can remember where I wound up with impressive bruises and multiple road-burn type abrasions. It could have been much worse.

I’d rather not fall at all, obviously, but they are inevitable, and when they do occur I would much rather have the fleshier body parts absorb the impact. So far, I’ve managed to avoid anything catastrophic, and hope to keep it that way.

Having said that, all bets are off if you lose balance on the stairs. This has been and always will be my biggest fear, because a soft landing is impossible in that scenario, and it is vital that anyone with balance issues be aware of their body mechanics every time you step ono them, especially when you are going down the stairs. Otherwise, the results could be catastrophic.

This doomsday scenario almost happened to me last August, when I was going down the stairs in the grandstand section at Fenway Park. If you know Fenway, there are at least thirty concrete steps that begin at the top of the grandstands and proceed all the way down to the loge box area.  Instead of taking the longer route, where I would enter the seating area at the bottom of those steps and go up to my seats, I was lazy and decided to take the much shorter route to my seats. This meant I entered my section of the grandstand from the top of the steps and worked my way down to the seats, which were about fifteen steps down.  There are no rails to grab onto for support, and after a couple of steps, my knee locked, my body lurched forward and I felt myself careening forward. I remained upright, but had lost complete control for three or four steps, and understood that in a few seconds a bad scene would unfold.

I remember thinking that this was going to really hurt, that something was going to snap or break, that blood would spill, and I would be humiliated in front of hundreds of people. Fortunately, Zorro, my trusty cane, landed against one of the metal seat legs that was anchored in the concrete. This slowed the momentum to the point where I could grab the top of an empty seat. My hip dug into the corner of that seat with he full weight of my body behind it, which stung like hell, but it stopped the fall, and was infinitely better than hitting those concrete stairs and rolling down God knows how many steps.

My recommendation to those of you who are susceptible to falls is to stay in the moment and be generally aware of your center at all times, which is right around the navel area. If you can keep your weight and balance centered on that point, you won’t fall very often. And if you do, you will be more aware of what is occurring and hopefully be able to position your body so you don’t get hurt when you hit the ground. If you can manage this one time, it will become second nature, and it will go along way in preventing this (or worse):

cast

And please focus on each step whenever you are on the stairs, or avoid them altogether. One of the things I am most looking forward to in the new house is everything is going to be on one floor. That will be one less hazard to deal with.