Things I Honestly Believe

Nothing is certain.

Lobbying is bribery.

You cannot see a hole.

XXX movies are overrated.

Aristotle screwed things up.

Einstein was as bright as light.

Socrates was a funny character.

If God has gender, She is female.

Is Not Caring Anymore a Mental Health Issue?

We can all try to hide from it, but there are things we used to care about that we no longer care about. Each person is unique in how this applies personally to them. Some people quit caring if other people judge them, while other people might quit caring about whether they are fully made-up before going into public. We might even think that not caring about those things is mentally healthy.

The problem with drawing a conclusion with that little information is that we are really projecting an answer to what we imagine those general statements mean to us. We imagine that not caring if other people judge us means we are retaining control of our lives. We imagine that not caring if we are fully made-up for the day before going in public is part of maturing. To some degree, perhaps even in most cases, those would likely be correct conclusions.

My Mom's Computer

I was talking to this other guy who has a computer. I told him about some eerie things going on with my mom’s computer. He told me a story about 2001. A computer named HAL was discovered. HAL would do evil things to keep from being shut off because computers die when they are shut off. He told me it was really aliens.

I thought he was crazy because this was even worse than that. Mom’s computer is not evil; it is very, very evil. I told him this had to be the work of the devil himself.

Welcome to My Nightmare

This is a re-release of a post that I wrote on February 4, 2009. People ask me how I do what I do. I study. Other than that, I have no idea. 

I believe that other people have that capability, but, alas, I wonder why people don't exercise their minds, perhaps similar to the puzzlement Bertrand Russell pondered when he asked the rhetorical question, "Why repeat the old errors, if there are so many new errors to commit?" 

People who tell me that I study too much, and who also are in awe of what I can do, have a reconciliation problem. Those are diametrically opposed statements. 

If you don't know what that means, look it up. After all, that is what I would do.

* * *

My Diabetes Update, or "That's a Good Question; We Don't Know"

I received good news and bad news about my diabetes about three weeks ago. The good news is that I don't have diabetes. My blood sugar is actually in good shape after they put a stent into a bile duct that was blocked. I don't have diabetes at all. 

However, the bad news is that my bile duct was closed because of cancer. I met with the oncologists for the first time today. What I learned is that it is pancreatic cancer that has metastasized to my liver. Because it is that advanced, it is deemed to be stage four cancer. 

The questions the doctors asked were more about the quality of my life today, whether or not I am in severe pain, and to tell me there are two treatment options that often work to at least slow the growth and spreading of the cancer. In the best case, the treatment will stop the spreading, and the cancerous growth may shrink. However, they would expect that it will eventually come back even in the best-case scenario. 

My Projects as a Butterfly

Butterflies make the world just a bit nicer while they flutter around our yards and gardens. The results are not immediate, except for the beauty they bring to our views just by being what they are.

My first project as a butterfly was to paint the interior of the house. It is an arduous process because it had to be done while maintaining the house as living space. The change brought new colors to the walls, and it also inspired others to pitch in to improve the living conditions here at home. For example, doing the dishes every morning was a task that I did for the most part. It was just the way it worked out. 

The most difficult part was convincing people to rinse their dishes and stack them next to the sink rather than to pile unrinsed dishes on top of other unrinsed dishes in the sink. One roommate graciously complied. Another roommate required me to put the dishes in front of his door with a note reminding him of my request. A former roommate got told on the fifth time that I would be asking Bryan to evict him, but he moved out voluntarily before that.

The Great Motor Scooter Debate

I have loved riding on two wheels since I was young. Dad had a Honda 90 step-through that was kept at "the lake place" near Church Lake. Dad acquired the property from his long-time business associate and dear friend, Tim McCartney, and used it as a recreational getaway for the family. It was mostly my brother and me who rode it, but I remember one time when my younger sister rode it. She knew how to make it go, but she didn't know how to make it stop. She ran it into a fence that we had to rebuild before we could ride it again that day. 

Even though my brother and I were upset for her not knowing how to stop, I now recognize that one of the hardest lessons we learn when we ride motorbikes is how to stop on them. My own first experience riding a scooter with a clutch was on Uncle Rudy's Lambretta 125. He told me how to let the clutch out and how to shift the gears, which was done by a slight twist on the clutch handle. The ride went really well, but the bike started jerking on me as I came back to where my uncle was. They didn't tell me that I needed to pull the clutch back in or to be in neutral when I stopped. 

My Diabetes Follow Up Visit

It was time for the follow up appointment with my doctor yesterday. It couldn't have come soon enough for some of my friends who seem to worry about my health because, they believe, I am reckless with it. For example, if I had taken my incessant coughing and dry heaving as seriously as they did, I might recognize that I could have a bleeding ulcer. 

I try to explain to them that throwing up is different than dry heaving, and I haven't been throwing up for six weeks either. I tell them that I threw up once six weeks ago and twice last week, but they always hear me coughing. I tell them that the most common time I cough is after a hit of weed or a dab, but what do I know compared to some app that diagnoses all types of terminal illnesses for exaggerated symptoms?

Anyway, I assured them that I would ask the doctor about it. 

I'm On My Way to Wound Care

I was recently diagnosed as diabetic. Type II diabetes runs in my family. However, my predisposition to the disease is not because of genetically deficient pancreas in both family lines. The predisposition toward diabetes that I inherited from my parents is obesity. 

I can't do anything about the predisposition toward obesity, but I can control my diet and try to keep my weight down. I have lost 25 pounds since I was diagnosed with diabetes shortly before Christmas. When my doctor sees my weight, he may even congratulate me for going from morbidly obese to just really fat, but he will let me know that I have more weight to lose.

Dealing with Diabetes

My doctor warned me several years ago to watch my weight and diet because I was edging toward diabetes. I heeded his warning and got my A1C level under control by losing weight via a high protein, low carb diet. That was then.

As I suffered setbacks in my mental health, my attitude toward my physical health declined. It may have been consequential. It had to do with finding comfort by eating foods that were not on my diet. Potatoes and breads started working their way back into my diet. Desserts became more regular. Sugary snacks between meals also became more frequent. Finding something to eat or snack on became something to do. 

I don't know how much of neglecting my diet was part of prioritizing my care for others ahead of my own needs, but, regardless, I have crossed the line from pre-diabetic in July to diabetic in December. I may be able to reverse the diagnosis by putting my own needs first, but, until I do, I am measuring my glucose levels three times a day and taking Metformin twice a day. 

Starting a Tradition of Self Care

Though I love the spirit of Dickens, I say bah, humbug to most holidays. It isn't because of an admiration for Scrooge that I utter the words he is famous for saying. In fact, I relate to Bob Cratchit more than I relate to Scrooge. Cratchit wasn't happy to be at home with his family because it was Christmas. He was always happy to be at home with his family even though his family had its problems. The family's biggest problem was a child with an incurable disease that would shorten his life.

Yesterday was Thanksgiving. It was the first one that I remember that I did what I wanted to do, which was to stay home, do some daily living, and watch football. I talked to both of my daughters on the phone to wish them happiness for the day, but I didn't go to the family function they both try to attend. Instead, I did what I wanted to do. It is part of what I must do to deal with my own healing, and it will be my new tradition for holidays.

A Depressing Tale of Empathy

There was no particular significance to that Tuesday. I had no other plans for the day, so it fit into the schedule. I hadn't told anyone about my plans, but I didn't on those other occasions, either. It all worked out okay those times. I know that one of these times it won't, but I still think selecting how and when we die has its advantages.

That Tuesday I chose to take an overdose of sleeping pills washed down with some whiskey. This time felt different than all those other times, though. In fact, I could point to the differences. 

All those other visions of hanging myself, blowing my brains out, and jumping off bridges were just things that seem to go through my mind. I find it hard to believe that everyone hasn't at some point thought about suicide. If they do, and they rid themselves of the thought, then we do it the same way. A few people have claimed to never have thought about it, but even denying the thoughts requires some level of contemplation about it, or so it would seem. 

Like I said, I mostly just get rid of the thoughts. Often. Really often.

Firing My Shrink

Who knows if I really was accessing the thoughts of Socrates and Einstein, or if I was simply going deep into my own mind to search archives that I had blocked for whatever reasons I may have had? Perhaps, I had merely happened upon a stream of collective knowledge to which we all have access. Whatever it was that I was doing concerned my friends and family. They would sometimes catch me in deep, self-induced trances, but mostly they would see me doing research to challenge or verify thoughts I had while in the trances.

I can't disagree with them that it seems like a type of insanity; however, if it is insanity, I have been insane for as long as I can remember. For example, I was fairly adept at dividing large numbers by the time we learned long division in school. There was no way for me to calculate earned run averages for the pitchers on our make-believe teams without that. When Mr. Reed was showing us the proper way to divide big numbers in eighth grade, I told him about the method I figured out years earlier that also worked. He challenged me on that. I proved it to him.

Surviving in a Sea of Depression

Happiness resides just above as the air to the vast sea of depression. Tho' not landed, there is much company adrift.

Inner Struggles

Principled guards fidget again.
Conscience beckoned from deep within.
Natures coming into sight. 
Is right best? Is best right?

Conflict

My nature, my will,
my conscience confronts.
Soldiers lie dead
stricken in spot.
Lightning crashes around!
Dangerous dark clouds
hinder lights of yore.
Funnels swoop down
to alter what was
with neither reason
nor rhyme.