Merry Christmas from Arlington, TX. We were lucky to get here. It snowed 19 inches in Alexandria on Saturday, Dec. 18th and we were leaving for TX on Christmas day. We spent Xmas eve with Beth Morresay's family having lasagna for dinner. Had a good time talking to them and the Hamiltons. Xmas day was supposed to be icy, but the sleet held off until after we left VA. Then we arrive at DFW to find SNOW on the ground! We cannot get away from the white stuff. Fortunately the snow melted quickly.
Air travel has become incredibly tedious. The security is tenuous at best and the experience is not much different that riding a Greyhound bus at this point. I had a guy in front of me who tried to punch his way too over filled bag into the overhead bin. He finally managed to get it in after about 10 minutes of holding everyone up behind him. Then after we lifted off, he spent the rest of the flight with the top of his head on my chest; having reclined his seat as far back as possible. When I finally asked him if he could push forward a bit, he looked at me like I'd called him a selfish, pig headed Jack off. Maybe my thoughts were shown on my face.
Never the less we got here and are staying with Karen's parents.
Saturday, December 26, 2009
Sunday, October 4, 2009
Cellulitis for My 50th Birthday
July has always been a challenging month for me, but this July was more difficult than most. I turned 50 in July nd was not particularly glad about it. One of my worst fears is that I will deteriorate as I grow older and turning 50 only increased this fear.
Fifty seems like such a milestone, and with so many celebrities recently dying at that age (Micheal Jackson and Billy Mays), I figured that the countdown to eternity would really begin there. On July 1st I went outside to take out the trash (how boring is that?) and upon entering the house I immediately began shaking uncontrollably. My kid had just gotten over the flu, so I figured that I had caught it. I spent the next 2 days with a 105 temp and the night shaking until my teeth hurt.
Finally on the 3rd day I woke up to see a red band around my left ankle. I called every Dr. I knew and every one said that they didn't have any open appointments and to go to the emergency room. Finally around 6 pm the band had reached my knee and it felt like a serious burn.
I hobbled to the ER with the family around 8 pm and at at 2 am the next day was admitted to the hospital with cellulitus; an infection in my leg. I spent the next 10 days in the hospital while they tried to figure out which antibiotic would kill the bacteria. I wound up taking everything thay had to offer.
Needless to day this did not help my outlook on my 50th year of life. After another week of bed rest at home, I was able to return to work with a leg wrap and lots of Advil for the pain.
It's been 4 months since then and the leg is finally beginning to feel better. It will never look the same since my body treated the infection like a third degree burn (lots of fluid and skin damage), but I survived and now when I look at it I view it as a kind of war wound. Me against the elements. All I figure that I can do is keep fighting that war until eventually the elements win (as they always do), but I won't go down without a fight and lots of determination.
Fifty seems like such a milestone, and with so many celebrities recently dying at that age (Micheal Jackson and Billy Mays), I figured that the countdown to eternity would really begin there. On July 1st I went outside to take out the trash (how boring is that?) and upon entering the house I immediately began shaking uncontrollably. My kid had just gotten over the flu, so I figured that I had caught it. I spent the next 2 days with a 105 temp and the night shaking until my teeth hurt.
Finally on the 3rd day I woke up to see a red band around my left ankle. I called every Dr. I knew and every one said that they didn't have any open appointments and to go to the emergency room. Finally around 6 pm the band had reached my knee and it felt like a serious burn.
I hobbled to the ER with the family around 8 pm and at at 2 am the next day was admitted to the hospital with cellulitus; an infection in my leg. I spent the next 10 days in the hospital while they tried to figure out which antibiotic would kill the bacteria. I wound up taking everything thay had to offer.
Needless to day this did not help my outlook on my 50th year of life. After another week of bed rest at home, I was able to return to work with a leg wrap and lots of Advil for the pain.
It's been 4 months since then and the leg is finally beginning to feel better. It will never look the same since my body treated the infection like a third degree burn (lots of fluid and skin damage), but I survived and now when I look at it I view it as a kind of war wound. Me against the elements. All I figure that I can do is keep fighting that war until eventually the elements win (as they always do), but I won't go down without a fight and lots of determination.
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Diabetes Does Truely Suck
I've had diabetes for about 20 years now. As I get older it becomes harder to maintain any sort of control over my sugar levels. My twin brother has essentially lost his battle with the disease. He's had his legs amputated, had quadruple bypass surgery and is on dialysis. I'm constantly in fear of winding up in his situation. I don't know how I'd deal with so many challenges at the same time. I don't know how he does it.
The obvious question is, "why not lose weight, pay more attention to your diet, and keep that from happening?" Good question. One my Endocrinologists has asked for the last 20 years. If only it were that easy to answer. Part of the answer is that I love to eat.
Eating has been a respite from my fears my whole life. Now I'm to the point where I eat when I'm sad, when I'm bored, when I'm lonely, when I'm scared. Not enough to be morbidly obese, just enough to play havoc with my sugars. Recently I've begun binge eating late at night. I've tried all sort of activities to keep me distracted, but I always seem to end up sitting on the recliner with a bag of chips, or scoop of ice cream, or whatever is handy, in my lap.
When I was a kid, eating before going to sleep was natural (in my house anyway). I ALWAYS had a snack before bedtime. I've changed that habit for My Daughter (MD). She is not allowed to have a snack before bedtime. I'm hoping this habit ends with me in the family.
A few months ago I started to feel tingling in my fingers and toes. A trip to the Dr. verified what I already knew. My neuropathy has advanced into nerve damage. I already can't stand for long because my legs go numb. Now it hurts to close my hands.
I've always needed to be hit by a 2x4 before realizing that action needed to be taken. In my brother's case, it was the heart attack. I often wonder whether it's gonna take heart attack to change my lifestyle. At least then I can tell myself, "why are you eating at 12:30 am? You had a heart attack you idiot".
The obvious question is, "why not lose weight, pay more attention to your diet, and keep that from happening?" Good question. One my Endocrinologists has asked for the last 20 years. If only it were that easy to answer. Part of the answer is that I love to eat.
Eating has been a respite from my fears my whole life. Now I'm to the point where I eat when I'm sad, when I'm bored, when I'm lonely, when I'm scared. Not enough to be morbidly obese, just enough to play havoc with my sugars. Recently I've begun binge eating late at night. I've tried all sort of activities to keep me distracted, but I always seem to end up sitting on the recliner with a bag of chips, or scoop of ice cream, or whatever is handy, in my lap.
When I was a kid, eating before going to sleep was natural (in my house anyway). I ALWAYS had a snack before bedtime. I've changed that habit for My Daughter (MD). She is not allowed to have a snack before bedtime. I'm hoping this habit ends with me in the family.
A few months ago I started to feel tingling in my fingers and toes. A trip to the Dr. verified what I already knew. My neuropathy has advanced into nerve damage. I already can't stand for long because my legs go numb. Now it hurts to close my hands.
I've always needed to be hit by a 2x4 before realizing that action needed to be taken. In my brother's case, it was the heart attack. I often wonder whether it's gonna take heart attack to change my lifestyle. At least then I can tell myself, "why are you eating at 12:30 am? You had a heart attack you idiot".
Saturday, February 21, 2009
When did I get this old?
Last week a friend of mine remarked "you look pretty good for someone who's nearly half a century". At the time I laughed, but later I stared at the mirror and asked myself "what the hell happened to the last 25 years of my life?" When did become nearly 50 years old? I remember when I thought I'd be dead by now.
I'm not complaining; I have a great wife, smart kid, nice house, stable job, money in the bank, but I don't know how I got here. I came to DC 25 years ago full of drive and ambition. I looked around at all of the "old folks" around the office and thought, "God, what happened to these people! Where's their drive; their ambition?".
Now I see the younger employees looking at me the same way and calling my "sir". I'm not a "sir"! My Dad was a "sir"! It seems that the older I get, the more I understand how those colleagues felt. I better understand the daily grind of having to reevaluate goals and realize that life is much more reactive than proactive.
It seems that I haven't so much created what I am as become it. Good and bad. I didn't get that promotion I worked so hard for. That project I headed was scrapped due to lack of budget. I find myself in middle management with little room for upward mobility. I don't want to move because I really enjoy what I do for 9 hours a day. I've accepted the situation because it's still better than what I had growing up and much better than those who just lost their job to this hideous economy.
So what does all this whining mean? I'm not sure. I guess I've chosen stability (an extremely lacking environment growing up) over more money and position. In DC that's not the best choice, but like I said, I'm not from here.
I'm not complaining; I have a great wife, smart kid, nice house, stable job, money in the bank, but I don't know how I got here. I came to DC 25 years ago full of drive and ambition. I looked around at all of the "old folks" around the office and thought, "God, what happened to these people! Where's their drive; their ambition?".
Now I see the younger employees looking at me the same way and calling my "sir". I'm not a "sir"! My Dad was a "sir"! It seems that the older I get, the more I understand how those colleagues felt. I better understand the daily grind of having to reevaluate goals and realize that life is much more reactive than proactive.
It seems that I haven't so much created what I am as become it. Good and bad. I didn't get that promotion I worked so hard for. That project I headed was scrapped due to lack of budget. I find myself in middle management with little room for upward mobility. I don't want to move because I really enjoy what I do for 9 hours a day. I've accepted the situation because it's still better than what I had growing up and much better than those who just lost their job to this hideous economy.
So what does all this whining mean? I'm not sure. I guess I've chosen stability (an extremely lacking environment growing up) over more money and position. In DC that's not the best choice, but like I said, I'm not from here.
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