When it all goes down

I ponder in the dark how fate shapes the fleshy clay of my life.
A blind idiot potter molds me on a spinning wheel with delight.
Mocking logic's symmetry, I always thought the potter was me.

I am Will's Sense of Righteous Indignation

I must confess I had lived many years without any medical care. Being uninsured had me thinking that medicine was something that others had access to. Care and treatment seemed to be a luxury afforded to the rest of humanity but not to me. I lived an unexamined life, whistling past the graveyard, and deep in denial. I was one of those people they call the working uninsured. Living on borrowed time as I danced on the edge of disaster.

Then something happened that was a life changing moment. I was on my day off from work, busy preparing for the beginning of my work week. I had just finished dinner when I discovered that I needed to make a quick run to the convenience store 2 blocks away from my home. It was a cold night at the end of February, The sky was clear but the moon had yet not risen. The day had been warm and sunny, a day filled with the promise of spring. The warmth had melted the ice that covered a parking lot chose to I cut across to save time. I did not see the patch of black ice that waited for me. A silent trap, hidden in the shadows.

In a second I was no longer hurrying to the store. It was like a giant hand had reached out and slammed me like a rag doll on the unyielding ice skinned asphalt. Time slowed as I fell, and I could hear that sharp snap, and feel the pain as my humerus snapped like a dry twig. The nausea and the blurring of the senses from shock rushed up on me like a cold wave. It drove home to me the knowledge that I was in serious trouble. I tried to sit up, I could not move. I was on the ice and could not get enough traction to push myself up. My strength was gone, and my left arm was so much dead meat anchoring me to the spot. I lay on my back and breathed deep. My survival instincts took over. That primal part of me rose up, I wanted to live so yelled out with all my might for help.

I am not sure how long I laid there, it could be mere minutes, it could be longer. What I do remember was seeing a shadow cross me, I looked in that direction and saw a police officer. He asked if I needed help, I almost cried, not tears of pain, but the joyful tears of the rescued. By then I was numb from shock and starting to experience the effects of exposure. My speech was slurred but I made it clear that I was unable to get up and yes, please get me help. He called in for an ambulance and I waited.

As I laid there someone who identified himself as a doctor, but never presented anything to establish his claim walked up and stated that I must be drunk and I merely had a dislocated shoulder. I am not sure who he was, all I know is his diagnosis could have not been more wrong. At the time I did not know how this misdiagnosis would effect my ability to get the treatment I needed when healing.

The ambulance appeared and they lifted me onto the gurney. The pain woke up and it became apparent that I definitely needed to be in the emergency room. The next 6 hours were a blur as I phased in and out of the consciousness. I finally got a call through to family to come help me, and my employer. to call off. I was finally put into the first of several casts and released. The next days I was in the office of an orthopedic specialist, being put through the medical torture chamber.

Fast forward a few weeks. I was still in a temporary cast. They could not locate the clam shell mini cast that would be my exoskeleton for the duration of my treatment until a radiologist found one that would fit me. I was forced to wait for it because they would not order a new one without insurance. I had to forgo surgery that would speed up the healing process, in spite of this I recovered, slowly, and with some loss of mobility, but the bone segments grew and fused. During this time it was my own initiative that meant the most to my recovery.

Due to the length of recovery I lost my job. The doctor would not release me for full duty. Even after the cast came off I was faced with self managed home physical rehabilitation I was in limbo. I could not draw unemployment because of the injury, I could not file a claim on the owner of the parking lot I fell on. My savings were dwindling, and the medical bills kept rolling in. I was forced to seek charity, a bitter pill to swallow. While at the trustee's office I saw a form for the Healthy Indiana Plan. I applied and I was accepted so I now had insurance for the first time in decades.

Once I got insurance I still thought a checkup was not needed. I felt fine, life was good, and I was leading a charmed life. The reason I scheduled a physical was to have my unused benefits added to my policy when it was renewed. I was in for a reality check in more ways than one. Before my diagnosis I had not paid any attention to the issue of medical care, let alone becoming my own advocate when it involved dealing with medical care providers.

I hate to say it but I have found that the only way to get things done about medical issues it to be the squeakiest wheel on the machine. Too many doctors take it for granted that you know as much as they do about esoteric medical matters. Most pharmacies assume you and the doctor know all the answers and will duly dodge any initiative to go the extra mile. Insurance companies try to make you shut up and be a cash cow as cheaply as possible so they can profit from all the confusion and suffering.

It has been quite a journey, I am no longer a naive babe in the woods. I know that If I am going to thrive I have to become my own champion in my battle with my condition. We can ill afford to be a passive recipient of what the system will give us. We must be brave, bold and speak loudly to our needs. There is strength in numbers, and if we all rise up and not surrender to despair and apathy we can improve our lot in life. We can fight the good fight and win or lose we can be make a difference. The world faces an epidemic of diabetes. We need to be active in the quest to heal ourselves and those who come into our world without any idea of what they face. What am I going to do about it? What are you going to do about it? What can we all do together to solve this crisis? Does it make you as angry as it does me? I am listening and have that blind hope that some way, some how we will find the answers.

It is time to step off my soapbox and take a personal few baby steps. I will keep you all in my hopes and dreams. Till we meet again, live your life with passion, live it with joy, and wonder. Be good to yourself, and do something good for others. We are all in this together.

Will

Memories, Guilt and Salvation

Unbidden Memories

The mind is a strange and mysterious thing. Full of doors that open when we least expect it. One of those doors opened, flooding me with memories of my mother. She was my first direct encounter with the complications that can befall a person with diabetes. Her life and death have been a major influence on my motivation to control the condition she passed to me that did not manifest its self until late in my life.

I remember how my mother stubbornly cut her own toenail, and in the process cut herself. She hid it from all of the family until it was too late. We only discovered it when we were forced to take action and hurry her to the hospital. We saved her life, but she ended up losing her leg to just below her knee.

She suffered from depression, and guilt all her life. Diabetes made her condition become much worse. There was a nagging thought in my mind that she did not ask for help because she wanted to punish herself for things that happened to her during an abusive childhood. It seemed that she saw her diabetes as a death sentence for the crime of not being able to defend herself all those years ago. Toxic shame can poison your life if you allow it to. And in her case it was fatal.

I was the person who became the primary care giver in the last months of her life. We spent that time talking, working through things left unsaid for so many years. We both knew this was the last chance to share time together. I found ways to prepare her favorite foods in a healthier version. I did what I could to make her life easier, healthier and more enjoyable. I had her blood glucose levels stable, her numbers were as close to what a normal healthy non-diabetic person's would be.

In the end it was blood poisoning from the dialysis that claimed her life. She had a "do not resuscitate" order on file and there was nothing we could do to extend her life. To me it was a bitter pill to swallow. I nearly choked to death on it. I had the curse of the firstborn. We were brought up to be the strong fixer of problems, perfect and all knowing. Frustration and grief led to profound guilt. I was Prometheus bound to the rock of guilt while a great eagle ate my liver every day only to have it grow back to be eaten again the next.

Generational guilt can be a hard thing to break. It expresses it's self in every member of the family touched by it. It is like a chain wrapped around your family tree. It took me a long time to see how it held me and break free. My way to freedom was through Bradshaw's work on co-dependence and family dynamics. Suing for peace with myself was not easy. Nothing that is fundamentally life changing ever is. We pick our battles and seek the place where we can find strength to build a better life on the ashes of the past.

We either learn from the past or are forced to relive it. Her tragedy and loss was not in vain. It has made me more aware and proactive in managing my diabetes. For that I am eternally grateful and will cherish the memories of the good times. And I remember the bad times too, so I may avoid making the same mistakes again. I think she would feel proud and be at peace knowing that after all her suffering some good came from it.

I am Will's Childhood Memories

I have been on a mission of outreach to uncover others who share my condition. Part of my journey has been looking back in my life to see the seeds of my need to act on my mission. I look deep and remember those in my family who have traveled the same path I am on now. Emotions well up and I can feel that fullness around my eyes. Tears are waiting to overflow the dam of my stoic self control. I would not want to escape them It is what makes me human. Healing rain that flows in abundance, they help wash my spirit clean. In our quest for meaning we look back and find moments of foreshadowing. Clues that we find anew in the future. Hidden, unbidden they reveal their presence when we least expect it. a message in a bottle we sent off to speak to our future self. A gift from the past for when we need it the most. This one of those moments.

My thoughts of my uncle Leo came to me the other day and has popped up often since then. He was a gentleman in both senses of the word. A loving husband to my aunt Zella. He possessed a easygoing wit and charm, and a kindness that surpassed that of his loving wife. His passion was making life special for all he touched. Their home was always open to all our family. many happy times we all spent together in celebration of life and family. As a boy I loved to visit them. Their home held many exotic treasures that fascinated me and made me want to see far-flung places. He was my favorite uncle, mentor and friend I felt some shame that I did not know till lately how much I love and miss him. He was not related to me by blood, but he was truly family to me.

He was a pharmacist by trade. And on special Saturdays he would take me to where he worked and sit with me at the soda fountain counter. We would both order a soda, chocolate for him, strawberry for me. We would talk of many things. People came in and recognized him. They would speak with us, I could see that he had touched them as well. He was more than their pharmacist in their eyes, he was their caring friend. I can taste those sodas now and they still taste as sweet. As sweet as my memories of those times when we were together.

One night in the late 1950's when I was sleeping over at their house. He quietly sat down next to me. I could see that something was troubling him. I saw tears in his eyes as he confessed to me that he had been to the doctor and found out he had diabetes. He spoke of how his life would change. I could see the fear, the hope, the slow acceptance of what at the time was thought of as a sentence to slow death. Of things he would have to give up to live. He apologized and told me that he would have to just have a seltzer water when we went for our Saturday afternoon visit to the pharmacy. I took his hand and told him I understood, "You are still my uncle Leo to me". I saw him live with his condition with a quiet dignity. He was still the man I knew, but I could see his inner struggle to live his life on his own terms and not let his secret condition triumph over him.

So today I want to dedicate this post to him. And pay some of the debt I owe to this kind gentle man who means so much to me. He was my uncle, my friend, my teacher and fellow traveler. His passing made the world a poorer place.I dedicate my life to help pay forward in the currency of compassion and good deeds. It is my legacy. It is my history. It is the path I choose, now and in the future. What a world we can make if we all bend a knee to help those who have fallen stand tall. Maybe I'm a dreamer. But it is a dream worth having. I would rather dream than be awake in an uncaring world bereft of human dignity and compassion.

Confessions of an Aging Diabetic

Every day I remember when I was first diagnosed with diabetes. I can still feel the shock of the cold pronouncement that my doctor gave me. The news he gave me was no real surprise. I had seen the symptoms but hoped against hope. I had been living with my head in the sand refusing to acknowledge what my body had been shouting to me loud and clear. There it is again, that lost feeling I had while being told the news which would forever alter my life. "You have diabetes. Here is a meter and this is how you load it. Would you like to see our mental health care councilor to talk through your feelings? Good I will see you in a couple of weeks." He turned and rushed off leaving me speechless and feeling like I had been hooked up on a blind date just so he could ditch me and move on to another case on his log. I moved through the rest of that day like an automaton with someone else working the strings. I followed the instructions as meager as they were while trying to figure out what to ask, what to do, what did this all mean to me. Eventually the numbness faded and it was replaced with another emotion I can still feel the anger I felt when I realized I had not been given any of the tools I needed to deal with this new challenge.

I was tried to cope with that sense of loss. A feeling like I had attended a funeral of a close friend who I would mourn came over me. I grieved for the me who died that day and thought on how that death would change me. I made a laundry list of all the things I had to leave behind. Those favorite foods, the spontaneous carefree days all gone. Everything I thought I knew was dust in the wind and events blew them away. At first it chafed me and I had a profound hunger that continuously gnawed inside my belly. I never thought I would feel full again. This was not just hunger for mere food but for my old life back. Though the rumbling in my belly could not be denied.Without the input of a dietitian I had been over zealous in my attempt to reduce my intake and had been too focused on losing weight at a rate that was not safe.

Time rolls on and I am now a new man. Gone are the cravings. I have discovered ways to nibble what I choose. Eating small manageable portions that make me feel pampered and content. Moderation in all things always rings in my head. Everything is permissible unless it is damaging to your body or spirit. I dance lightly on the razor's edge juggling with wild abandon. Set free from ignorance I am no longer afraid of cutting my legs off because of an unexpected fall from grace. Fear is an ugly form of slavery and I long to be free.

I am glad that I came to my condition late in life. I am not sure how a younger and less wise me would have reacted to the news. I was one of those willful brash and arrogant young men who saw the suffering of others as proof of their weakness. My pride was legion and my compassion sorely wanting. I walked in twilight when I should have sought out the brightness all around me unseen.

I was living with a chronic case of youthful deception. Blindly thinking that I was invulnerable and brimming with insufferable ignorant certitude. Eventually I was inoculated against this cancer of the soul by a life changing injury. It was my turn to cry out against what I saw as a hostile uncaring world intent on my degradation and eventual destruction. My world crumbled around me. I was faced with the unvarnished fact that my body had failed me. The knowledge shook me to my core. Pain gripped me and I was reborn. My cries were my second birth pangs. It was my wake up call and the first step into becoming truly human. It has been quite a trip, but I would not change a thing. Humility is a hard lesson to learn, but without being humbled I would not be the man I am today.

My world keeps changing, and with it my life has become richer. I gained a sense of concern for the well-being of those around me. It has more weight in my mind than concerns for my personal survival. When my mother was dying I offered myself to take her place because her life meant more to me than my own. When my prayers went unanswered. There was a question that hung in the air insoluble in logic. I had to think hard about what was the reason I was still here on Earth. Maybe some day I will know the answer, or perhaps I will never know. I will keep on finding more questions to ask and someday either I or those who follow me will pick them up and solve the mystery.

In my later years I know I am who I am. I am just a man living life on my own terms. I am much more than a set of statistics and medical conditions. Diabetes is just another place I travel through on this long and strange journey. I am not the road I walk on, but a traveler navigating along it to reach my goal. I may take a detour, I may have to pull out a map to see where I took a wrong turn. I may travel a path rarely taken by others. If I find an oasis of joy I will linger there for a while and feed my spirit and drink deeply. But I know I will get to where I need to be at the time I need to be there. Life is a wonderous journey best taken at a slow pace so we can savor each step. No longer am I in a great hurry to cross the finish line. Understanding has taught me this race is won by those who finish last.

So I sing a song of joy for you loud and without shame. I say a prayer for all of us to see us through our days. May our journey be long and full of wonder and a sense of awe for all the profound secrets revealed to us along the way. Meaning found in a smile, a word, in the warmth of a kiss. Lessons found in s water smoothed rock on a beach, the shimmer of the northern lights, or the sounds of the night chorus from the wetlands on a summer night. A kaleidoscope of imagery and sensations that speaks to our heart if we are calm and our inner voices do not drown them out.

We were meant to make this journey it is a gift given to us and a duty to take it. Though at times we think our life is hard and the path is rocky. We have an infinite inner strength to endure it all if we have faith and the serenity to face it unafraid. The human spirit can work miracles. In the darkest moments it can shine out so bright. I will follow the light that others glow with and l will meet you all somewhere down the line. When we all gather together in the light of grace we will laugh and share ideas on what this life was all about.

I know I may have said some of this all before and if I have said it once I have said it a million times I hate when I repeat myself. But grant me the indulgence an old geezer is due for my ramblings.

Till we meet again, live your life with passion, live it with joy, and wonder. Try to be good to yourself, and do something good for others. Always remember you are never alone as long as friends are near.