Today I worked hard. It was extremely hot today; 90 degrees, to be exact. We had quite a deluge of rain last week and my lawn had sprung to an unacceptable height. I finally whipped up the nerve to go and tackle it at around 1:30 this afternoon. Our home sits on nearly an acre of land and this is when I truly appreciate investing in a riding mower some years ago. I toiled for hours, it seemed. It was a good feeling, getting dirty and sweaty. I cut and I trimmed and I hedged and I raked and soon it was over. man, I wondered why I decided to live in a home with such a large yard.
As I was winding up from my labour, my wife had come home. She came to the back yard where I was working with a bottle of cold water in her hand. She told me some news she had just learned from a Facebook post. "Do you remember Stephanie"? Stephanie was a young woman in Louisville, Kentucky who worked at the YMCA after school program where David attended when my wife and I both worked for the VA hospital there. "She died in her sleep last night", she said suddenly and with disbelief. A few years ago when we lived in Kentucky Stephanie's oldest son, (he was about 15), fell into a coma while playing one day. She refused to let him die and had him placed in a facility where he could be looked after. She had such hopes that he would someday awaken. What a burden that must be on a mother's heart.
I froze for an instant; as if that would help me better understand what I had just heard. Suddenly the tiredness from working on my lawn dissipated. I had no more thoughts of things to complain about. In fact, I was happy to have had the strength to complete my tasks.
Stephanie was gone; leaving behind a young son, a husband and many friends and family.
After hearing this news I concluded that there was absolutely nothing bad about my personal day today. I realized that even in sadness I have life and even in sickness and pain I have breath. I have my loved ones to see, touch and speak to. The old adage which recants "Life is too short" is more true than we sometimes give it credit.
Love everyone.
I love you all,
Dennis
It's Friday night; Friday the 13th to be exact. I'm not accustomed to superstition so this date has never troubled me. David and I had an extremely productive day. I love driving my Dodge Challenger, as some of you know, so I am almost always willing to take a drive. Since David is out of school for the Summer, I make it a point to involve him in my daily goings-on. Tomorrow is Father's Day but I have nothing special planned. My wife keeps asking me what I want as a gift and what special activity do I wish to do. I can think of absolutely nothing. I am very blessed to actually be able to say, "I have everything I want".
I am aware of nearly every minute of my day. I focus in on the little things and I cherish them. Anything from time spent with my family to a text or Facebook message from one of my friends is usually what makes my day in a massive way.
I know health care at VA hospitals are in the news lately because of long and fictitious waiting list for Veterans. Being one of those Veterans I can attest that much of this is very true. About a week ago my back injury, (brought on by an injury during my Army career), flared up very badly; so much to the point that I could not attain a comfortable position standing or lying down. Long story short; I went to my provider at my clinic, provider wasn't in so I saw a nurses, nurse had my blood drawn, asked me a battery of questions, promised me that I'd be seen by another provider who was present, sent me to the waiting room, called me back in her office an hour later, and then told me to go get X-Rays at the main hospital. And all of that without anyone so much as laying a finger on me to examine me.
I went to the VA hospital the next morning to take the X-Rays. After being fumbled over in the X-Ray room by an intern who had much trouble operating the equipment, I was told to go home. "When will I know the results of my X-Ray", I asked. "Oh, we'll call you in about 3-4 weeks", the technician said. My wife was with me and she said, "We're going to the emergency room". After an hour more of waiting I finally saw a physician and complained to her that I have never been examined. She uttered some words in defense of the caretakers before me and, almost reluctantly, began to examine me.
I was given some Motrin and told to go home. They said it was only muscle spasms.
I thank God that I am still alive.
Dennis
