tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-914074962616877142024-03-13T10:16:40.641-04:00Joey K's Place general randomization's from the flask! :::Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04414561988993487725noreply@blogger.comBlogger1395125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-91407496261687714.post-52634269132625349612019-02-19T08:39:00.002-05:002019-02-19T08:39:42.335-05:00my blogging is pretty much donewith google and its thing and me not interested and with out my muse singing my story this is my last post.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04414561988993487725noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-91407496261687714.post-37186143453274413802019-01-10T08:47:00.002-05:002019-01-10T08:47:59.877-05:00stories about things you might not knowi work at a large bakery as a chemist where we tested every ingredient that went into the bread and other things.<br />
It was one of the other things that gave me pause to respect.<br />
They frozen bread and at some appoint time in the future they would do an organoleptic test on it (taste test)<br />
there was this orange cinnamon raisin bread that we got to try after being frozen for 20 years (not a typo)<br />
it was wonderful<br />
who knew bread lasts so long frozen!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04414561988993487725noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-91407496261687714.post-16410658582687341502018-12-29T14:00:00.001-05:002018-12-29T14:00:26.777-05:00The music seems to be mutedNot much going on,<br />
very little in the similes and metaphors,<br />
but the weather is warm and i feel peaceful.<br />
Missing Christmas music,<br />
i know i am strange.<br />
Waiting for the new year<br />
Have a happy one everyone!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04414561988993487725noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-91407496261687714.post-9826009133080236762018-12-03T15:30:00.001-05:002018-12-03T15:30:23.371-05:00off and onwhile my mood seems to jump around a bit,<br />
the colors of autumn always lift me up.<br />
They are not the same as New England,<br />
but beautiful never the less,<br />
reds, yellows and oranges and then the muted colors of each<br />
make this spectacular!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04414561988993487725noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-91407496261687714.post-27367670338753644012018-11-19T15:34:00.000-05:002018-11-19T15:34:04.123-05:00yesterdayit was a difficult one,<br />
but i came out of it before and hour or so.<br />
Today is better by far<br />
and that is the way it goesAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04414561988993487725noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-91407496261687714.post-44918232985073919092018-11-18T15:12:00.000-05:002018-11-18T15:12:33.217-05:00still strugglingthe good news is that my tumor is not coming back.<br />
the good news is i am in good health,<br />
but sometimes my attitude sucks,<br />
feeling down and not wanting to be here any more.<br />
No not at the farm, but on this earth.<br />
do not fear,<br />
i will not cause my demise, but there are times i wish i was gone.<br />
it comes suddenly with other emotions and so i struggle.<br />
i do not give up,<br />
but this is what it feels like.<br />
I am still not "okay".<br />
Every death reported in the news makes me jealous,<br />
but i do not want a slow death, i want it quick, mostly for my self, but also for those near me.<br />
THe is a dark post cause i am in the middle of one of these episodes.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04414561988993487725noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-91407496261687714.post-11208772655085016342018-10-18T10:04:00.000-04:002018-10-18T10:04:02.292-04:00sometimessuch a word,<br />
sometimes i post here,<br />
sometimes i just read.<br />
Sometimes i am down,<br />
other times, i am not.<br />
It is good not to be able to escape myself,<br />
it means i am growing.<br />
The cool to colder weather is here,<br />
i never like it.<br />
sometimes the sun shines,<br />
i love that!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04414561988993487725noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-91407496261687714.post-59933327555122539822018-09-21T08:36:00.001-04:002018-09-21T08:36:43.946-04:00the ups and downsi still struggle,<br />
but my attitude is better.<br />
the fight is still tough,<br />
but i still fight.<br />
Brain operations have long lasting effects,<br />
but they seem to be stabilizing.<br />
I have good days and bad days,<br />
there are more good days.<br />
that is my storyAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04414561988993487725noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-91407496261687714.post-4359084766967369022018-08-10T08:36:00.002-04:002018-08-10T08:36:49.010-04:00anniversaries 2 things,<br />
one last year,<br />
the other 10 years past.<br />
They shook me more than i expected,<br />
THE operation (the one that messed with my brain)<br />
and moving to Virginia.<br />
I am well with them both...<br />
now, but<br />
they caused much trouble for awhile,<br />
for they were unsettling.<br />
Honestly, i became very depressed<br />
and it took some time<br />
and some medication to get through.<br />
I am on the other side now and so can be thankful.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04414561988993487725noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-91407496261687714.post-53532444159843844042018-07-09T16:15:00.002-04:002018-07-09T16:15:26.620-04:00Fear and Recovery<br />
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="OLE_LINK1"></a><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>Fear
and recovery</b></span></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Reflections
on surviving a Brain Tumor</b></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">He stood there, tall and
thin with wire glasses that looked dark against his pale skin. He
was the "best" neurosurgeon in the area and in his white
doctor's coat, he exuded confidence. He had a MRI scan in his hands
and he looked down, as if studying what he had already study many
times, for the first time. I did not see a neurosurgeon, nor even a
doctor, rather I saw a judge and in his coat was not white nor a
coat, it was a dark robe. In his hands was the verdict he was
prepared to hand down, for some infraction I did not commit.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">He looked down at the
scan, looked up, and spoke; "It is a tumor, it is against your
brain stem and it has to come out." I stood stunned as if I had
just been sentenced to the executioner's guillotine. He must have
seen the blood drain from my face for he looked down at the picture
in his hand again and looked up; "Yes, it has to come out. The
sooner the better. I am away next week, but we will schedule for the
following week. I have to be here after the operation."</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Fear, deep, gripping fear
rose up inside of me and all I could do was nod my head, yes. Was
there some one outside waiting for me? I could not remember.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">The doctor interrupted my
train of thought and said; "I need to get one more MRI, just to
make sure I get all of the...". He pronounced some word that
was gibberish to me, I assumed it was the name for the type of tumor
and he continued; "The doctor who did the MRI thinks it is...".
Again, a meaningless, unpronounceable word, which sounded exactly
like the first world, but he continued; "but I think he is
wrong." </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Then I asked him about the
headaches, the ones that brought me to his office in the first place.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Again my mind retreated,
thinking of those headaches that had been happening in a haphazard
manner for many years. They always seemed to be related to some
sinus issue and they always seemed to dissipate after a course of
antibiotics. The last series occurred when I was been over my
girlfriend of some three months house. She wanted us to fix dinner
together and enjoy an evening and so we prepared </span><em><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="background: #ffffff;">Ceviche</span></span></span></em><span style="font-size: large;">
together and after cleaning up, sat on the couch and were preparing
to kiss. I do not know if we our lips ever touched for I was slammed
with the twisting ache above my left eye in the temple.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">She asked repeatedly what
was wrong, calling my name; "My Joseph" she would say
repeatedly, but I could not talk, the pain was too great. Slowly, as
the pain subsided, she took my hand and began gently kissing my
forehead when a second wave of agony swept through my temple. I
think I cried out and I think I heard her call my name again. Slowly
it passed. I could not tell until the intense, withering pain had
passed, but she was shaken with her typical calm facial expression,
gone, replaced with a twisted grimace, which I interpreted as
concern. She kept her distance, as if she was the cause of these
attacks, but kept telling me I needed to see a doctor right away. I
was insisting that it was nothing more than a sinus problem, but
promised to make an appointment.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">That appointment was with
my primary doctor, someone who I trusted and respected. We could
talk on a technical level and he accepted my observations when
diagnosing me. I had told him, that sinus thing is happening again,
but he did not give me the normal, "Yes, this is your sinuses
again", rather he was concerned, ordering a cat scan the same
day. My doctor and the radiologist reviewing the CAT scan saw
something and immediately referred me to the neurosurgeon, who was
still talking as my mind raced through this progression of memories.
It was that MRI scheduled for the next day after briefly looking at
the CAT scan, he was referencing.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I returned to listening
and the neurosurgeon continued, explaining; "The tumor is small,
but is completely blocking the fourth ventricle to your brain and is
beginning to block the third and fifth as well." I thought;
"what the hell is a ventricle in the brain?" I had heard
of ventricles in the heart, but not the brain, but these were
thoughts, I did not speak out my questions. He continued; "While
there are no nerves where you where getting the headaches and there
is nothing to cause them at that spot, the restrictions in those
ventricles by the...". Again that damn word referencing the
tumor, that I could not fathom, was used. "Probably caused an
effect that was referenced to that area in your temple", he
continued. I had no more questions and he had no more information to
give me except to tell me the operation would be scheduled after he
came back from vacation.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">He ushered me to the door
and asked the nurse to get all the information they would need to
schedule the operation at the hospital. My "self" was
hunkered down now some where deep inside of me. Like a turtle
retreating into its shell, I was hiding from myself.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I gave the information
mechanically to the nurse and headed home. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I do not remember the time
of day the appointment was, was it morning? Or was it afternoon?
Did I return to work or head home? Was it on a Friday? Or did I go
to work the next day? I know I went to work before the operation,
for when I spoke to my boss and my best friend, I asked them not to
tell anyone else what was happening. I fully expected to die, but
felt nothing.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I do not know when I spoke
to the people who I had come up to this part of the world some thirty
years previously. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">We had come up pursuing a
Spiritual life, a calling with our roots in an Episcopal church in
Houston, Texas. The church of the Redeemer was considered a
"renewed, charismatic" church, with the core of the people
attending living in Christian community, a form of extended family.
We lived with the same commitment to each other. I grew up an only
child, without any blood brothers or sisters, not did I have any
nearby cousins. Now this group of compassionate people became my
brothers and sisters, my family. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">We moved together to the
northeast, after another Episcopal church called, seeking help. This
did not work out and we started visiting other churches from other
denominations. After a few years, we found ourselves working again
through the Episcopal Church in one of the poorer areas Stamford.
Here at this 19th century building, we lived, and served, and
laughed, and cried together, sharing everything as the Community at
St Luke's chapel in the south end of Stamford.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">At the end of seven years,
we left that ministry, but we continued to share our lives together
and work with the less fortunate. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I think I spoke with Marie
first. Marie was my counselor and the wife of our pastor and had a
heart that was as big as the moon. She listened and then asked how I
was doing. When my response was a tepid "okay." She
exploded.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">We had been through
something like this many years before, not with me, but with some one
else who was part of us when we were at St Luke's chapel. Penny had
been part of us, working and living within the community when she was
diagnosed with leukemia. She under went the various treatments of
the time and the doctors said her prognosis was good. Penny would
always tell everyone she was okay and then she died, suddenly and
without a real cause. The doctors told us there was no reason,
except that she had given up. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Marie was fearful I was
doing the same.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">We talked, we prayed, but
I could not come out of what ever was holding on to me. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Marie heard of a "psychic
fair" that would happen over the weekend and asked if I wanted
to go. I numbly replied sure, why not. It was not what I believed
in, it was not what she believed in, but I had shut down so much,
Marie was desperate and I did not care. This was a "new age"
kind of gathering, with crystals, incense, and what not, held in a
posh hotel with a group of people selling their spiritual abilities.
I was not uncomfortable, for I felt nothing, except some deep,
growing blackness. I chose a lady, who professed a belief in God and
this was the first time she had been with this group. There were
candles and cards and I explained the upcoming situation, again with
no emotion. As she prepared with cards and other things, she looked
at me strangely and told me I was blocking her. I resisted, not
wanting to share that blackness I felt. She continued and persisted
until I finally blurted out those things so deeply buried within my
heart. I was afraid of dying. All the emotions that I held back
came rushing forth, for I had named my fear. While the physic
reassured me I was not going to die, I barely responded knowing I had
allowed myself to face and express what was inside. This was
important.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I had a bit less than two
weeks to prepare myself and there was a lot to do.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Our pastor, Franklin, was
not in town at the time, but immediately thought of my mother, who
was not living near me.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I did not want to tell my
mother anything, but Franklin thought of a plan, that I needed to
execute, to get my mom up from where she lived and then I would tell
her.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">The plan would give me
something to do, instead of waiting for the darkness I feared. My
mom was in her eighties, but could still travel well. She had moved
back to the town she grew up in after my dad passed and was close to
relatives she enjoyed as a child. I contacted one to help me bring
her to Stamford. This cousin of my mom concocted some story of a
trip she needed to take and asked if my mom would come along. My
mother never refused an opportunity to travel, especially to see me
and immediately accepted the offer. My mom's cousin flew with her to
the nearby airport, handed my mom to me and flew immediately back to
her own home, her work done. This left me to do the hard explaining
of all that was to transpire.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">The operation would occur
in a few days and I spent that time being with my mom and all those
who were closest to me.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">The day came and on
admission, I had to sign a paper to release the doctor of any
consequences of the operation, including death. There was my fear,
in black and white, while I was not over my fear of death, I had made
my mind up that this operation was going to happen no matter what I
had to face. I could not imagine...</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">They administered the
anesthesia, having me count backwards from some number, that I do not
remember, then things became strange for I "awoke", for I
have no other name for it and the doctors were still performing the
operation. I did not see in the normal sense and then there was the
somewhat exasperated and frantic voice of the neurosurgeon; "He's
not breathing people!" </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Then I was in a different
place, a place without time, a place of peace beyond all my
understanding of peace. There was no pain and I felt safe, like I
had never experienced. It felt that I was in this place forever, but
I returned.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I awoke, with pain and
panic, for there was something in my throat and I felt it was choking
me. I pulled a long tube, a tube providing oxygen to my lungs, out
of my mouth and began to cough to clear my lungs. A doctor began
talking to me as if I was able to make clear, logical decisions She
told me not to cough. I just had surgery and it would be bad for me,
she said. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I continued to cough for
my addled brain could not respond to this doctor's request, and then
I was out again. This time there was only the darkness of sleep. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Then there were bright
lights, the recovery room with my mom and my family around me. My
sight was confused and I could not tell what I was seeing, but I felt
love and peace from them. My girlfriend was not there. I slipped
back into a more normal sleep. When I woke again, it was dark with
strange lights around, and I heard two doctors arguing with each
other over something one of them had done with a patient, I slept
again. Nothing was clear to me. Nurses and doctors poke and prodded
me with needles. They gave me pills and I choked. The burning in my
throat was unbearable and it was hard to tell anyone, anything for I
was fairly delirious and very little made sense. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">The pain and confusion
made me long for that peaceful place that I found myself during the
operation. Many have told me there are many possible reasons for
these experiences, chemicals created by the body, the mind creating a
safe place for itself, but no one really know sand I found solace in
my Spiritual perception. I believed, true or not, that this was
heaven. Over the years since, I have met many people who have had
similar experiences, with the same feelings and I accept it in a
Spiritual concept, but I had returned to the pain.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I remembered the
neurosurgeon's words before the operation, trying to prepare me for
what was to come. He said there would be nausea, I experienced none.
He said that I might have double vision for a short time; seven
years later, it is one thing I still deal with. He said I would be
out of the hospital in a few days and back to work in a few weeks. I
was in the hospital for almost two months and did not return to work
for 9 months and then only part time. The neurosurgeon came to
visit, informing me the operation had been a success, he got the
entire tumor, that the biopsy proved his diagnosis was correct and
then literally patted himself on the back and said I should have
nothing to worry about for the future. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">His glib manner was
nauseas to me. I no longer trusted him.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">My primary doctor was
there often and within a week (or was it two), he and the
neurosurgeon had me transferred to the rehabilitation section of the
hospital. My doctor felt it would be safer for me to recover in a
rehab section. My room was private, for I had acquired MRSA,
possibly during the operation.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">What ever the operation
did to me, it was severe; I had trouble sitting up, so forget about
standing. At this time, I could not walk and my vision was at best,
strange. Two images distinct that would not come together. My brain
could not make much sense of any thing. The nurses eventually put a
patch on one eye, switching it with the other eye every day. I was
considered a high risk of falling, so someone was to be with me any
time I needed to get up. I had no privacy, not for the shower, not
for the bathroom. I had been a modest person, but I did not care
now.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I struggled with what was
happening, I did not comprehend it.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I had a decision to make;
I could wallow in despair, which was a very easy path or I could
decide to enter the struggle and do what ever it took to get better.
I choose the latter path and so my long journey of recovery began.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Patterns began to occur;
an early wake up for normal vital signs and blood draws, breakfast,
then to physical therapy, helping me to learn to sit up, stand and
walk. Lunch would be served, and then I would take a nap, for I was
always tired. There was more physical therapy and then my girlfriend
would bring my mom in the mid afternoon. Dinner was not pleasant,
for I had trouble swallowing and my mom was always worried. My
brothers and sisters would come daily after work and other visitors,
neighbors and coworkers would visit occasionally. I slept early and
then the pattern would repeat. It seemed that I did not have much
time alone, yet what I did have, allowed me to think and analyze, I
did not brood. I did not like what I was dealing with, but thought
of two quotes. The first from The Buddha declaring; "in this
world there is suffering." I saw and felt the truth in this,
but needed more. There was much comfort in the second statement
where Jesus tells his disciples "in this world there would be
trouble". The next portion was most important, for then he
said; "be of good cheer, for I have overcome the world."
This reinforced my mind and heart and I set my mind to do whatever I
could to recover. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I would think often of my
experience during the operation, what others would call a near death
experience. This brought me peace, but it took time for me to share,
it was too precious to me. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">While my vision and body
felt broken, my mind was clearing and I felt everything differently.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">While I felt I perceived
things that could not be explained and I was certain I no longer
afraid of death.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">One day, as my family was
visiting, I spoke out suddenly, telling them that my cat, of some 18
years, was dead. They all turned to each other, bemused, for the cat
had died, but they had promised not to tell me so it would not
distract me from healing. They admitted it to me, but I turned away
from the heart pain it caused and continued with my recovery.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">It was a daily decision to
continue the struggle for recovery, but I was steadfast and did not
waver. In the process, I felt I was learning many things, life
lessons with patience being foremost. I did what ever the doctors,
nurses and therapist asked, or at least attempted them.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Therapist came to help me
with my speech and swallowing. Others worked on my balance, first to
sit up, then to stand and then to walk. As I went through the
routine with one particular therapist, I remember crying out that I
felt that I had no center. She reassured me and started working to
help me find that center.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">The best part of the day
is when people would visit and it was an ordeal for each one, because
everyone had to "suit up" to visit me, putting on gowns,
masks and gloves. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">My mom was brought in the
afternoon by my girlfriend and brought home by my family. My mom
would stroke my swollen head, as only a mother could. I felt hideous
in my appearance, like some alien creature out of a Star Trek TV
show. My brain worked find though, remembering a scientific number I
learned in school, but never used. To reduce the swelling, I was
given steroids. This did not reduce the swelling, but did mess up my
blood sugar, to the point I needed insulin to control it. I began to
lose weight, which was a good thing, since I was overweight, but that
ended decreasing my blood pressure significantly. I was on
medication to control high blood pressure and my loss of weight sent
the readings plummeting. I had to have my primary physician to get
the nurses to reduce that med.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I had vivid dreams, most
were beautiful and descriptive of things Spiritual and these
encouraged me. I shared those dreams and now felt I could share my
experience in the operating room. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">There were dreams of
lights; thin tendrils connected each of us. There was darkness
trying to break those tendrils, but it could not. I embraced those
who were my Spiritual family more closely in my heart and I invited
my girlfriend to be part of that. My girlfriend stopped coming after
that.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I was hurt, I did not know
how deeply I was hurt until much later on, for I decided there was no
time for emotional things, all my effort was toward recovery. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I made other arrangements
for my mom to visit me. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Some years later, after my
mom had passed, I saw my this lady again. The meeting was by chance
and unexpected. She was cordial, but I was cold. As I walked away,
I recognized I was holding on to the bitterness of that moment. I
then sought to clear my heart and after doing that, hoped to
encounter her once again, not to become boyfriend-girlfriend, but
just to reconcile as two human beings. I did not want to hold that
grudge. It was still more years before I ran into her again and I
did not see her with the eyes of bitterness anymore. We reconciled
as two people and promised to keep in touch, which we have.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">The weeks in the hospital,
turned into a month, I discovered that the hospital had laptop
computers one could use, and I put a request in immediately. I had
never used a laptop and I was surprised that I learned quickly, even
only using one eye. I was even more surprised that I remembered all
my convoluted passwords and other's birthdays. Most importantly, I
reopened my blog and posted my recovery progress daily.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Typing was a chore, but I
had decided this was a recovery exercise. I wrote in a manner that
was not always straight forward, using many allegories, and
metaphors, and similes. What I wrote enunciated both the struggle
and the hope I had.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Slowly, I improved and was
able to walk with mechanical assistance (a walker in the hospital and
a cane after). </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">It was coming on two
months being in the hospital. The swelling in the back of my head
was still there, the double vision was still there and my swallowing
problem was still there. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I wanted out and began to
try to hide the swallowing issue, for I had been told that if that
did not improve, I could not go home. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I had two clear MRSA
tests. The hospital wanted a third, but I wanted out, so my doctors
released me and after almost two months I was finally home.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">There was therapy at home,
helping me to regain my balance and to walk better. The therapist at
the hospital gave me a simple wooden cane to use and it kept me from
falling many times. I still use it.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">There was still the issue
of the swollen head and the neurosurgeon proposed implanting a shunt
to help remove the excess fluid. I had heard of those devices and
agreed to it just before Halloween. It was day surgery and
immediately removed the excess fluid. I had hoped it would improve
the double vision, it did not. I began to prepare for a somewhat
normal life and felt it was time for my mom to go home. I could only
see easy going from here. She was old, and as much as she wanted to
help me, I felt it was I who needed to help her. She insisted that
she stay for my birthday, a bit over a week away and then she left. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">In my blog, I began
writing about headaches, fortunately, I do not remember this. I
"blogged" less, but always wrote about the headaches. I
cannot recall much of this, for while the excess fluid around my head
was gone, the shunt was still working, draining more cerebral spinal
fluid. I was unaware of this, but slowly my ability to think was
becoming severely reduced. The strange scientific number that I used
as a touchstone to prove my mind was still working, not only could I
not remember, but could not remember why it was important. I was
beginning to lose my ability to perform even the simple task of
making my bed after a nights sleep. My housemates were always
helping me. I do not know how I functioned at all, but I think I was
operating on my heart, not my mental capacity. It was during this
time, I took a long walk by myself to buy a gift card for an upcoming
birthday. On the return trip, I collapsed on the pavement in front
of a gas station.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">There are strange pieces
of memory, but nothing complete. I do not remember falling, but was
told I just folded up onto the sidewalk. I remember a woman's
scream, the flashing lights of a fire rescue truck and a paramedic's
gentle hands lifting me onto a gurney for the trip to the hospital.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">This time in the hospital
was full of partial memories, nurses cleaning me, my primary doctor
visiting me, a neurologist I had known when helping someone else
years ago. I am told there were many tests, but remember none of
them. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">My family and the friends
who visited were horrified. My speech was slurred, my manner slow as
someone who had severe brain damage. It took numerous tests before
the neurosurgeon came and from a MRI, saw that my brain was concave
from too little cerebral spinal fluid. He shut of the shunt and I
awoke, cognoscente of my surroundings again.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I was shaken by the entire
event, for I have no other word to describe it. I had lost the last
thing that I relied on, bringing me to the realization that our
entire existence on this earth is very, very fragile.
</span><span style="color: red;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>_____________stopped</b></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I lost more than just my
ability to reason, now I found my memory was highly affected by this
last incident, yet my attitude improved. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I wrote in my blog:</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="background: #dddd99;">After
months of struggle, where I have called the various things I have
been going through any thing from a siege to things best left
unprinted on a page and wondering if it will ever end, I have decided
to call it my adventure. The reason is something the surgeon said to
me as he was discharging me from the hospital. "We both are
learning a lot from this one." Now I love knowledge, but I like
learning new things as well. And any one who is willing to learn
when situations do not turn out the way everyone else in creation
expects them to, is a person I want on my side. And boy have I
learned a lot, from how other people deal with their own
disabilities, to the things I thought were my strong points, and how
quickly they could be removed.</span></span></span></span><span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I lost any respect, any
confidence I had still had for the neurosurgeon, for after I had
woken from the simple procedure, he said, "I guess we both have
a lot to learn from this." </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">My family, all the members
of our community, were shaken by all of this, but none more so than
Marie, who asked me never to go out alone again. I agreed. While my
family was shaken by this, I was confused, for I had no idea of what
had occurred and more so, the missing memories, which amounted to
several years before the operation, were simply gone and I was now
confused about times and dates. I had trouble comprehending all of
this, for it was not a simple, linear erasure of time. Earlier
memories seemed sharper, but were not reliable.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I could not remember my
passwords, the ones I remembered so well after the operation. People
would come up to me and begin talking to me and I did not know who
they were. This caused some of them much distress, for it was if
they were never in my life. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">All of this confusion
caused me to beg the question, "why", a lot. This was not
a woe is me nor "why did this happen to me", rather it was
me trying to make sense of everything and how could I make the best
of it. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I struggled with each
issue, memory, swallowing, coughing, balance, vision and then there
was pain. The pain was not acute, but rather a constant, dull pain
that would not leave. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">This meant I had to find
new doctors or each issue. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">To make sense of my memory
issues. I went to the neurologist I remembered from the hospital and
her test did not reveal any new problems, but ordered MRIs with each
visit. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">None of this helped me
understand what I was experiencing. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">For my vision and double
vision, I went to a head trauma/vision specialist in another city.
She recognized there was hope, for most people lose sight in one of
their eyes in similar situations. She was encouraged that this had
not happened and exchanged my "pirates" patch for temporary
plastic "Fresnel" inserts for regular glasses to bring the
two images I was seeing, together. They were temporary, for she
believed my vision would improve. The Fresnel inserts brought the
images together, which gave me tremendous relief, but what I saw was
a bit cloudy.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;">For
the swallowing and coughing issues I went to a </span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background: #ffffff;">gastroenterologist
who performed an</span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;">
endoscopy revealing a significant scar and that the esophagus muscle
was not working. I had to learn when to eat and what to eat and over
these seven years, slowly, it improved a small amount.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">There were eye and balance
exercises, and physical therapy, but I still fell, a lot.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">The emotional component of
this was intense, I would be angry with myself when I could not do
things I used to do easily.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I would try to place
things on tables and miss the table. I would walk into doors and
doorframes, things on the floor and just anything near the path I was
taking. I complained to the neurosurgeon in one of the follow-up
visits and he asked me why I was unhappy; many people who had the
same problem had not survived the operation. I had survived, so what
was I complaining about.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I sought help from a
therapist I respected, who told me I was dealing with loss, as if
someone close had passed. There was a normal process to go through
and she showed me where I was in the process. This helped and I
began to have some peace.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">With my cognitive
processes of thought and reason somewhat restored, I sought and
received clearance to go back to work and with much trepidation I
started part-time.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I found that all the
routine, simple things I used to do so easily, were now difficult. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I had scoffed at the
"vocational" rehab the hospital had tried to give me and
the difficulty I was having, proved me correct. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">My mind worked best in the
early morning and was cloudy and confused by afternoon. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I adjusted my schedule.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I remembered the technical
procedures, which surprised me, but one could say that after
performing the same job for over 30 years, it was habit. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I was not able to work a
full day for over a year and a half and that happened only after my
diplopia had stabilized and I was given regular "prism"
glasses. Even with the help of the clear prism glasses, it took all
my strength to perform my job and a few years later, when I had the
age to retire, I did so.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">The constant exhaustion
brought me to a place of despondency for I felt useless. On a trip
to the area where my pastor now lived, he heard me say, "I
can't", often, called out my lethargy and challenged me to try.
This awoke a fire inside and brought me out of the dark place that I
had been.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I would love to say that
everything continued without mishap, until I fully recovered, but
this is an adventure and adventures are full of ups and downs,
missteps, mishaps and misdirection and my adventure of recovery is
not an exception.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">A cloud of fear lingers
still around my thoughts, a fear of going to that place of shadow
where my mind was of no use, but never more do I have a fear of
death. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">As I wobble on my feet,
like an old man, when I stumble and fall; or not fall, or when my
eyes become strained and the glasses no longer correct my vision and
all I see is double, my heart becomes troubled and I waver on the
path that is my adventure. It is at these times, and there are
many, those closest to me, those of my community who are my family,
help me back onto my feet to continue.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Yet the memory that was
lost is still gone and I observe other cognitive issues, which cause
distress to those closest to me. Testing by my neurologist have
shown no cause and a final visit to the neurosurgeon led him to tell
me he had no answers for me.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">My life has changed,
whether I accept it or not and I found new avenues of expression
after leaving the job that meant so much to me.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">My road to recovery
continues, for it is not finished. </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">There is not an end, but
something new each day, encompassing the rest of my life.</span></div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04414561988993487725noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-91407496261687714.post-14346533361920372312018-07-09T16:11:00.001-04:002018-07-09T16:11:56.276-04:00sand castlesi love them,<br />
but perhaps not why you think...<br />
they are temporary,washed by the waves of tomorrow's tide.<br />
this is our life,<br />
no matter how immortal we wish to be.<br />
That is the story of my life,<br />
i may live forever,<br />
but my foot prints will be washed away,<br />
in tomorrow's tide.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04414561988993487725noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-91407496261687714.post-7311298397850972272018-04-30T15:53:00.000-04:002018-04-30T15:53:04.612-04:00i have been wondering when or if i post againbut spring is here and the cold of winter with it bleakness is gone<br />
it makes me happy.<br />
i doubt if i have followers any more, but who knows.<br />
i write for me and i still struggle.<br />
A dark night of the soul?<br />
Perhaps.<br />
A lesson to change?<br />
yes.<br />
slowly ripping away the scabs of the past,<br />
it hurts, but the flesh under neath is clean.<br />
My lessons?<br />
loving my self,<br />
getting rid of fear<br />
and learning to trust God.<br />
Yes i am one of those who believe,<br />
but do not think life is rosy because of it,<br />
but there is change needed and i will have it.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04414561988993487725noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-91407496261687714.post-26887857576953554062017-12-14T09:27:00.002-05:002017-12-14T09:27:45.653-05:00just being on the computer is more difficulti do not write much any more,<br />
it feels like a waste of time.<br />
I am facing reality and this does not seem like it is.<br />
growth,<br />
emotional or spiritual always has a price<br />
and i am growing now.<br />
i was in a bad place when i first came down,<br />
thinking of this as a place to die,<br />
not to live.<br />
The depression which surrounded me from the time of the operation,<br />
hounded me.<br />
Fantasy which i lived in from youth,<br />
encompassed me.<br />
It has taken time to recover,<br />
from both.<br />
AM i okay?<br />
mostly, but i am still growing.<br />
This is to let you know i am here<br />
and where i am supposed to be,<br />
though my adjustments are slow in comingAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04414561988993487725noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-91407496261687714.post-23422013896524717972017-11-19T07:30:00.001-05:002017-11-19T07:30:44.895-05:00tangerineseight year old tree - bearing fruit indoors<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaJ9TNSLbFP3RGLYPhihteYRzMBW6L-yogS06Qeqvv0FkeBGwc4F4U3AcBjwCqcB6XLD7KGVf2CxGr_WWmASxCVaop6so58uog-OxuWmQH7fPJvvIRecr6MB8QGsTGlfhqhN7xJ57KFVGs/s1600/tangerines.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="720" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaJ9TNSLbFP3RGLYPhihteYRzMBW6L-yogS06Qeqvv0FkeBGwc4F4U3AcBjwCqcB6XLD7KGVf2CxGr_WWmASxCVaop6so58uog-OxuWmQH7fPJvvIRecr6MB8QGsTGlfhqhN7xJ57KFVGs/s320/tangerines.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04414561988993487725noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-91407496261687714.post-76860919828558378512017-11-02T16:02:00.000-04:002017-11-02T16:02:00.417-04:00it is hard<div class="MsoNormal">
This transition has
been harder than I thought…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
going from urban to rural and</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
with a few issues on the side,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
it has been though.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I do not see the light at the end of the tunnel yet,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
but it is coming with a lot of work to be done.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
and that is the big thing,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
this is not simple,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
it is a slow process</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
and requires work and
energy.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Do not be fooled,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
it is good I am
here, but</div>
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">it is work.</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04414561988993487725noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-91407496261687714.post-4802510621467996032017-10-11T17:01:00.002-04:002017-10-11T17:01:54.220-04:00who am I now?<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Familiar and comfortable </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
with circuits and code;</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
especially in the absolutes of zeros and ones.<br />
I find myself in unfamiliar
surroundings, </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
green fields of soy and cotton.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Coops of dove </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
and pigeons,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
ducks and chickens</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
and goats.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
All so unfamiliar</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
and not so comfortable.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The gardens are wonderful,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am at home with them, </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
but such a large area,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
how do I start?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I no longer am who I was…</div>
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">I am glad</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04414561988993487725noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-91407496261687714.post-11845051338416943572017-10-06T07:36:00.002-04:002017-10-06T07:36:20.790-04:00the child<div class="MsoNormal">
the child, </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
rests in his mother's
bosom,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
safe secure.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Not so such a place for a man,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
tho we may wish to return.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Do I dare say it,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
the comfort is
contagious,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
we want more</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
and not to leave,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
but to grow
up,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
is to leave the comfortable
place.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My new life is not
comfortable</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
and so I am growing up</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
and this is a
good thing.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04414561988993487725noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-91407496261687714.post-11442638329409198742017-09-27T07:11:00.001-04:002017-09-27T07:11:21.635-04:00good newsso the adventure does not begin again,<br />
the second MRI,<br />
shows no tumor,<br />
only things that should be monitored,<br />
but are of no significant concern!<br />
WHEW!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04414561988993487725noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-91407496261687714.post-28739654034883236222017-09-01T08:17:00.000-04:002017-09-01T08:17:28.467-04:00and so the adventure begins againwell,<br />
MAYBE.<br />
the new "thing" they have seen,<br />
must be reconcilled and compared with the old,<br />
then they can tell me is i go on the merry go round,<br />
or not.<br />
i have been through this before,<br />
but it is different,<br />
there is no urgency,<br />
if it is,<br />
they have found it very early<br />
and it leaves me with options.<br />
i am at peace, whatever is coming,<br />
no, i have JOY.<br />
if it is my end,<br />
i am happy,<br />
if it is not, i have much to do<br />
and i am happy.<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04414561988993487725noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-91407496261687714.post-71845601321785772912017-08-31T08:30:00.001-04:002017-08-31T08:30:54.040-04:00pins and needleswaiting to see the doctor today<br />
having explain his radiology speak<br />
and his interpretation of it.<br />
i read a lot,<br />
know a lot,<br />
it doesn't help,<br />
i now need his explanations.<br />
no more to be saidAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04414561988993487725noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-91407496261687714.post-15044337000539334642017-08-29T09:18:00.003-04:002017-08-29T09:18:50.322-04:00it has been awhile, bu not as long as i thoughtsince i blogged,<br />
situations have arisen;<br />
blackouts,<br />
greyouts<br />
and falls.<br />
tests now show something amiss<br />
and i need the comfort of blogging.<br />
A new mass has appeared<br />
and there will be more discussion Thursday,<br />
then i will understand,<br />
but for now,<br />
i am a bit shaken.<br />
Prayers are asked,<br />
thank youAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04414561988993487725noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-91407496261687714.post-87332514906025229432017-08-06T18:52:00.000-04:002017-08-06T18:52:04.040-04:00i wonder if i cani am in Virginia - permanently.<br />
It is a place i have wanted to be for many, many years,<br />
but it has not been without pitfalls.<br />
2 or 3 blackouts<br />
and i will not go into what happened,<br />
yet i am seeking help for medical people.<br />
Enough said...<br />
i know there are those closest to me,<br />
who will read<br />
and then talk to me.<br />
Sometimes, in a very caring way,<br />
i am challenged...<br />
it is beautiful here<br />
and in a sense i am in a sort of heaven,<br />
yet the work to get it to that point<br />
and keep it,<br />
is tremendous.<br />
I have not done it all yet,<br />
but now there is time<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04414561988993487725noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-91407496261687714.post-70785919439071178042017-06-29T16:42:00.000-04:002017-06-29T16:42:06.857-04:00although i will be away from St Andrew's, I have been promised theseAnother of Father Gage's sermons<br />
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Water and A
Rose<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Matt. 10:40-42<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">7/2/17<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"> You
and I make sacrifices every day, for our children, spouse, parents, etc. It is
important that we see those sacrifices in the context of Christ’s sacrifice for
us, and that we ask Him to bless and sanctify those sacrifices. It is also
important to find our lives by losing them, to obtain by giving away. That
means stretching, reaching out, and trying new things in the name of Christ
Jesus. We sometimes call those actions “intentional random acts of kindness.”
The seeming triteness of the phrase should not mask the profundity and
seriousness behind it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"> At
the end of the passage in <i>Matthew </i>in
which Jesus speaks of the conflicts that we have as a result of our faith and
of following Him, and as a result of taking up our crosses, we have today’s
lectionary passage, which is mercifully short. “Whoever welcomes you welcomes
me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me. Whoever welcomes a prophet
in the name of a prophet will receive a prophet’s reward; and whoever welcomes
a righteous person in the name of a righteous person will receive the reward of
the righteous; and whoever gives a cup of cold water to one of these little
ones in the name of a disciple - truly I tell you, none of these will lose
their reward.” (Matt. 10:40-42)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"> Jesus
is using the ripple effect metaphor, or we might say the DNA metaphor. There is
a connectedness to things. Jesus plays upon that observation in life. He is claiming
His Sonship as one sent from God. To honor Jesus is to honor God, just as
honoring a prophet places one within the circle of a prophet. The reward which
one receives is that of being part of the circle of believers who follow a
prophet and who acknowledge a revelation from God. To give water to those who
thirst is an act of compassion and mercy (charity) and places one within the
circle of the merciful and hence in the embrace of God’s mercy. Behind this
passage there are the connotations of Jesus as a prophet and water as the
revelation and spirit for which everyone thirsts, who thirsts for mercy and
righteousness.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"> You
and I are asked to place ourselves in the paths of the disciples and to seek to
proclaim the Gospel in our lives and through our affiliation with the Church,
the body of Christ. That, of course, is what we do when we come here on Sundays
and participate in the liturgy and in the Eucharist. Life necessitates forms
and structures, schools and traditions. Creeds are important, doctrine is important
and denominational distinctions are important. We have to work with mores and
folkways. But things are not always clear. Throughout history there have been
schisms within the Church, rivalries and wars. Within the United States there
have been times of religious intolerance (Roger Williams had to flee the
Puritans and go to Rhode Island and be a Baptist). The Roman Catholics founded
Maryland and Georgia as places where they could practice their faith. Right now
the Anglican Communion is having dialogue and discussion. The break-away
conservatives protest. One side claims the TRUTH and the other side “sees
through a glass but darkly.” Oddly enough those doctrinal conundrums, problems,
serve as metaphors for how difficult it is often to know what to do and what is
the right thing. Often it is the smallest act, the simple instinctive act of
compassion and charity that is a vehicle for the Holy Spirit to act and to care
for one. Often it is not the strategic plans and mission statements, but how we
treat one another in the name of Christ (we used to call it “charity”) that
brings us closer to our reward of
“living in Him and He in us.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">` Now I
am going to tell you one of my favorite stories. It is a favorite not because
it builds me up, but because it brought such a feeling of humility that it
practically bowelled me over. For twenty years I made daily calls at Stamford
Hospital. Now I go intermittently. I have looked at the various questions that
confront medical ethics and at the policies and procedures for counseling and
helping those who are sick or injured. Each case is so complex that it is
daunting even to try to deal with it. Sometimes I just sit and cry. Other times
I act on instinct and pray that my faith and the Holy Spirit will help, because
I am really “an earthen vessel.” But, in the last analysis, so are we all. As
we act and sacrifice and live out our faith we have to reach out in trust for
the hidden hand of God and pray that we not cause harm but do the right thing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">Here is the story: <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"> She was black, and I was white. She was a woman, and I was a man. She was twenty-five and I was
sixty-five. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">I was stopped by the head
nurse. “Would you please go in and see the young woman in the next room? She is
a recovering drug addict, was pregnant, and has just lost her baby.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">I thought, “Good Lord,
deliver me.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"> The
young woman’s gaze met mine as I entered the room. Her eyes were filled with
anger. Not apprehension, just plain rage. I introduced my self as a priest from
a local parish. After a moment or so, I told her that I was very sorry about
her loss. I sat with her for a few minutes, while she glared at me. Words
failed me. What could I possibly say?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"> She
was poor, and I was well off.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"> She
was an addict, and I was not.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"> She
worked the streets, and I had a nice office.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"> She
was uneducated, and I had three university degrees.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"> She
was at the bottom of the social order, and I was way up.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"> She
was marginalized, and I represented “the system.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"> She
was “girl,” and I was “the man.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"> She
had lost her baby, and I had two healthy adult sons. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"> The
gulf between us was huge. I realized that in spite of my education, training,
and experience, there was nothing I could say.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"> The
hostility in her eyes was unrelenting. Finally she rolled over and faced the
wall. I left. That afternoon, evening,
night and the next morning I thought and prayed about that young woman. I knew
I must stop in and see her when I made my rounds, but I hadn’t a clue as what
to do or say. The next day on
impulse, as I entered Stamford Hospital, I went into the gift shop and made a
purchase. Then I walked up to the young woman’s room, knocked and entered. She
looked up. There was less anger now but a lot of apprehension. I walked over to
her and said, “Here. This is for you.” She reached out, and I handed her one,
long stemmed red rose. She nodded and I left. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"> One
week later, through the chaplain’s office, I received a letter. There was one
sentence. It simply said, “No one ever gave me a flower before.” Jesus said,
“And whosoever gives to one of these little ones even a cup of cold water
because he is a disciple, truly, I say to you, he shall not lose his reward.”
(Matt.10:42 RSV). I wondered, “Does a rose count?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"> Bear
your cross. Sacrifice. Be diligent. Tithe. But also try a random act of intentional
kindness. It just might be in God’s eyes a cup of water. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">–Amen- Fr. Gage<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04414561988993487725noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-91407496261687714.post-37708505713211336462017-06-10T19:38:00.000-04:002017-06-10T19:38:02.340-04:00rewriting the end of the storyNot long ago,<br />
i thought i would not live to see 60 years old...<br />
i am 62 now,<br />
but the reasons were because of how poorly,<br />
i felt in the recovery phase of my operation.<br />
that lasted 7 years.<br />
i felt poor physically.<br />
i felt poor mentally<br />
and i had given up,<br />
but there was still a spark,<br />
somewhere deep inside,<br />
that would not give up.<br />
Some time in that process,<br />
i began attending a very stogy, old episcopal church,<br />
anglo catholic in tradition<br />
and service,<br />
with a priest who did not fit the conventional "norms".<br />
Healing services after service<br />
and on Wednesdays.<br />
There were no lightning bolts,<br />
but a slow gradual process.<br />
I slowly felt better<br />
and i will blame or credit,<br />
God working through all of that "musty" tradition.<br />
I am glad.<br />
It is wonderful.<br />
No i can not see straight.<br />
i still wobl=le as i walk,<br />
so that i must use a cane.<br />
the 2 plus years that were taken from my memory are still gone<br />
and i get reminders now and again,<br />
but my attitude has changed<br />
and i feel better.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04414561988993487725noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-91407496261687714.post-85845888659501112222017-06-02T17:53:00.001-04:002017-06-02T17:53:39.357-04:00It was many years agoI woke from a dream.<br />
The dream was vivid and real.<br />
I was an older man,<br />
with a straw floppy hat,<br />
working in my garden...<br />
i was at the place i was moving.<br />
I was working as if there was nothing wrong,<br />
yet, there was something wrong with the world.<br />
I did not know from the dream what it was,<br />
but as i crouched,<br />
working the garden,<br />
a person,<br />
who happened to be my best friend at the time,<br />
approached me.<br />
She had walked from where i now live,<br />
to where i will live in a few weeks.<br />
She was alone<br />
and asked for help,<br />
which i was all to glad to give.<br />
It was a good dream,<br />
a strong dream,<br />
for i still remember its vividness.<br />
It is in my mind again,<br />
freash,<br />
as if i had it last night,<br />
but it was many, many years ago.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04414561988993487725noreply@blogger.com0