Merry Christmas

Merry Christmas WordPress-nation. I hope you had the kind of day yesterday that you wanted to. Hopefully the New Year brings you what you want and/or need.

Doug

The Real Me.

Anybody that knows me knows I’m sort of a motorcycle junkie. I loved to ride, all the time, even in the winter, as long as it was 35 degrees or more and not snowing, I’d go riding. If I couldn’t ride one, then I’d be wrenching on one, and if I couldn’t be wrenching on one, I’d just stand in my garage and look at them. My father in law recently said that most men snap their head to attention when a women walks by, but he noticed my head snapped when a bike rode by. Even after I was hit by a car and crashed one, I rode home from that accident, and when I got better I was right back to riding. If I had a spare minute, it would be used on a motorcycle. I was obsessive.

Then I got the illness, and the bottom fell out of my life. And of all the parts of me that fell through that hole, my motorcycling was one of them. Gone. In a flash. I could care less. I was so uninterested that for a while I didn’t even miss it or care that it was gone. I was losing all kinds of parts of me, and losing that just seemed like part of the game. So away it went. For almost two years.

In the beginning of being sick I tried to ride on occasion but I had so much anxiety that I was making myself a danger out on the road. Or I would get a certain amount of distance from home and not know how to get back. So I let go of riding. I put the bike away, and just left it sitting there collecting dust, webs, bugs, critters, whatever. I didn’t even care to look at it. Even planned to sell it a few times because my riding days were long gone, way behind me. Sell the bike, buy a goldfish, sit in the corner and drool all day. Seemed like a good plan.

Then I noticed some change. Some old parts of me seemed like they were trying to resurface, but I just let most of that be, thinking parts would come back when they were fully ready. But riding, I was beginning to miss. I was starting to care about it again. I still had the anxiety and fear, but a small part of me was starting to want to ride again. And that small part was where I tried to focus my thoughts.

Over the past week I’ve been thinking alot about before I was depressed. Before the anxiety and fear. When I was mostly fearless and would do or try just about anything. When going out into the world and doing stuff was as easy as breathing. Before the illness and loss of so many of my parts. I was remembering the real me.

And today out of the blue, I went out to the garage, started the bike for the first time in over a year, and went for a ride. It was a short ride, that turned into an hour ride. For an hour I felt like the real me. There was no anxiety or fear, there was no danger, there were no close calls.

I was riding, everywhere and I didn’t even notice the other traffic. I was in my riding zone. I was able to be me again. I don’t remember that last time I felt a good adrenaline shot but today I had one and it was every bit as good as it used to be.

Today I got part of my groove back. I got additional therapy. I get a daily reprieve now if I want. And this is all very good news and a very big deal.

Today I met an old friend, the real me. And I hope I get to see more of him.

(Trying to) stay ahead of the curve.

Last week I had a stress test done on my heart. Yesterday I learned there was an “abnormality” that would require further work by way of a Heart Cath procedure. (6 years ago I had a heart attack, and since then I’ve had 4 stents put in around my heart, so this is nothing new). This procedure will get me another stent, possibly two depending on what he finds once he “gets in there”. Normally I’m very anti hospital procedure; I hate being put to sleep and then worked on by strangers. Then when I wake up I’m all confused and disoriented as well as in some sort of pain. My first reaction is to get out of the damn bed to clear my head and get my bearings, and of course, they don’t let you do that right away, so the nurses and I usually butt heads for a while. I’m not a good surgical/procedure patient. I even warn the nurses of this before we start but they don’t seem to listen, or care. I’m also usually filled with anxiety and fear in the days, hours, minutes leading up to whatever procedure; just a bundle of nerves, you can’t even talk to me, as its likely I’ll just bite your head off and maybe eat it.

Anyway, this procedure is in three days now, and for the first time ever, there is no anxiety, no fear. In fact, I just want to get in and get it over with. Usually I look for reason to skip it, this time I want it done ASAP. I believe I owe this change in my attitude to my friend Tom. I wrote about him recently and his sudden passing away of a major heart attack/cardiac arrest. I survived my first heart attack, and unfortunately, he did not. His sudden passing has made me change my thoughts and actions about my own heart health. For example, staying up on testing and check ups, and letting the doctor work on me when he tells me he needs to. I’m giving up “knowing better” than my cardiologist. I’ll just do what he says when he says and hopefully me and my family will be better because of it. We’re already fighting a tough enough battle with my depression and anxiety, that the last thing we need is a major health issue that could potentially kill me.

My friend Tom taught me many things during the time we were friends, and in his passing he taught me one more final lesson. I figure since he had to give up his life, the best I can do in his memory is make the most of the lesson he left me with, to the best of my ability.

I hope wherever he is, he knows he’s still being my friend, still helping me….

The walking wounded.

A few days ago, was my 6 yr anniversary of my first heart attack. I was fortunate, I survived mine, (obviously) and many others do not get that chance. I’m aware of this, always aware of it. This fact was recently drilled into me with the recent passing of two close family members. Family members who were also friends; good friends. In spite of my “illness”, I managed to not have a complete breakdown during these two events, and the passing of both these people was very, very difficult for everybody, and just a couple months later, still painful for all involved.

The first one was my wife’s grandmother. She was “grandma” to a fairly large family, and acted like grandma to all of us. She was a good friend to me, and many others, she was what I called a “once in a lifetime” person; meaning you might me one person like her, and if you did you were very, very fortunate. She was grandma to most of the family, but one of the things that always struck me about her, was her ability to share a relationship with every person, that was different from her relationships with all the other people. This applied to family and friends. If you were family, she made you feel special. If you were friends she made you feel like family. As she treated EVERYBODY this way. Her and I had many conversations about many things, on more than just a polite, superficial level. This brings up another rarity about her; she actually listened to you when you talked with her. She didn’t just wait for her chance to speak, she didn’t talk down to you, and she wouldn’t make you feel like you were wrong or faulty for having a differing opinion or thought than her. She never complained openly about her various health issues, or anything else really. She always had a concern for others, always had kept her “tabs” on them. She was always happy, and in an upbeat mood. She was a pleasure to share a room with. Always. She was honest, and she was real. You always knew you were talking to her, and not some dressed up version of herself. She was all these things, and more, and she was just one person. My whole life I’ve never met anyone like her, and I’m certain I never will. She was a once in a lifetime person. If you think you have a person like this in your life, go be with them and talk with them. It’ll be good for both of you. Grandma was in the hospital wrestling with some health issues before loosing her battle and finally going “home”, and she did so with most of her family around her. I think of her everyday. She left too much impact on everybody she met, to ever really be forgotten. She was one against whom many others are measured, and we all miss her, every single day.

A few weeks later, we lost my wife’s uncle. Uncle Tom. He passed suddenly without warning and threw everybody into a shock that still lasts to this day. Again, another unique to the family individual, and another who left such a mark on people, he’ll not be forgotten either. He was my best friend, and we had alot in common. except for the great outdoors; he loved it, thrived in it, wanted to always be out in it being himself, and me, well I pretty much hate everything about the great outdoors. We used to joke about moving to the Dakotas. He could have his handmade cabin out in the sticks, and I’d stay in some nice hotel in the center of some populated nearby city. Uncle Tom was a “gentle giant”. Farily big physically and a bit imtimidating, but if you took the time to get to know him, you learn just how nice of a guy he was, and how easy going. You could count yourself fortunate to be close to him. He was another person who you didn’t hear complain. He didn’t get angry often, and even when frustrated he would keep it calm and under wraps. He was very even keel, and you knew with him also, that what you saw, was what you got. Honest and real. Ask him anything, and he’d be happy to share some thoughts on it. He was very smart, and also very funny. His humor was low key too, so if you weren’t paying attention, you’d likely miss the joke. He was very good working with wood, and a mechanic by trade. And no matter what work he was doing, he would work at “uncle Tom” speed, meaning he’d work at his own pace, and nobody or anything was going to change that. Uncle Tom speed was a constant too, it didn’t vary day to day. Just like the passing of grandma, he left a hole bigger than the person was.

The whole family is struggling with these losses, we are all the walking wounded. We’re mourning longer than they would have wanted us to do, but it’s very hard not to when you love people as much as these two were loved.

Not a day goes by for me. Two different types of pain and loss. Shocking and sad much the same.

I miss them both. Always will.