Fall Risk-My CIDP Story

Excessively Moderate

noreply@blogger.com (Michael Williams) — Tue, 28 Feb 2012 16:25:00 +0000

This is Natasha when she was probably 6.
I have waited months to get this picture out of storage.

"Moderation in all things, including moderation."
Petronius

I have not been keeping up with my calorie counting. (~_~;) The good news is that I have not gained any weight. I have been using the Fatsecret calorie counting app on my phone to keep track of my daily intake. Everyday I commit to starting tomorrow.

I had complained of shortness of breath at my last follow-up, so my doctor ordered a cardiac workup. I got the results last week: My beat is fine, but there is a slight problem with the "relaxation" part. My doctor says it is nothing to worry about, cardiologists just like to say "Diastolic dysfunction." (actually, it is fun to say) I guess I am fine with getting up for the downstroke, but a little trouble getting down for the upstroke.

I think something may be wrong with me because the events of the last two years have not made me question the existence of God. I don't blame Him for my illness or for Natasha's death. I do give credit to God for my recovery, and should Natasha come back to life, I will consider doing the same there.

I have to ask, is where does God fit into my beliefs? He is clearly NOT the one of my childhood prayers, the one whose blessings I am grateful for, no matter how they appear. Nor is He the one of my adult prayers who will supernaturally protect me and my loved ones, while simultaneously making me a better Christian.

If my faith in God were based on His works in my life, does the fact that my daughter is dead trump my recovery? Is it time to put God and Jesus with Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny, more characters invented to explain the holidays?

I still consider myself to be a Christian, but I am learning that I don't really know what that means and also I am learning that God is not who or what I thought He or it was. I felt His presence when I was sickest through the doctors, nurses, and other professionals who tried to heal me and care for me when I couldn't./

When Natasha died, I didn't feel it; there was no around the clock care, no-one came into my room everyhour to see if I was sleeping or if I needed something. Yes, there were cards and calls, but it has been months since anyone sent a card and no-one ever asks me if I am sleeping alright.

Well, Alanon teaches me that our high powers will only give us what we need, when we need it and no extra and no sooner than that.

I have felt my spiritual life has been lagging alot. A friend recently told me that I am hiding my face from God. She could be right. To counter that, I have thrown myself into UMC life at Pitman Park: two Bible studies, a Tuesday morning Men's prayer meeting (when I am not sitting in a doctor's office), Wednesday night community suppers, plus church and a Sunday school class. I have also started a plan to read the Bible in a year.

I am someone that people could point at and say I am avoiding my grief by throwing myself into a religious life like some sort of self-flagellating (is that redundant?) fanatic. Maybe that is true, although I have always sought to follow the philosophy of moderation in all things, even the things that I am enthusiastic about.

Getting active in a local church has really boosted my moral. I feel, emotionally, better than I have in months. One thing I have learned is that I really don't know much about who God is. I am guilty of living life as a "fuzzy" Christian. Being such, I was certain that God is alright with my apathetic witness. I discovered that I was not fine with it because I wasn't being spiritually nourished.

I feel like this is not done, but I am going to publish it anyway because perhaps letting it go will help me later on.

Stressing

noreply@blogger.com (Michael Williams) — Mon, 06 Feb 2012 22:16:00 +0000

My stress test is tomorrow at 7:45. I kinda think that the end result will be my doctors telling me to eat better and exercise more. I still feel lazy if there is something I don't get done in a timely fashion. Leaving things half done never bothered me before I got sick, ask Adrienne.

I am curious to see if I have lost any weight. More on that later

Weighty Issues

noreply@blogger.com (Michael Williams) — Thu, 02 Feb 2012 18:12:00 +0000

Thanks to David for explaining it is called a Holter, after the person who invented it, not halter, like I thought.

Yesterday I ate 67% of my daily allotment of calories, if I was accurate in recording them. Basically, I ate whatever I wanted to eat, provided I was willing to record it. That extra step, the recording, really slows me down.

Further Updates

noreply@blogger.com (Michael Williams) — Wed, 01 Feb 2012 15:28:00 +0000

I dropped off the halter this morning, the n went home to take off the electrodes. Ouch! I told the young woman that was putting them on to shave me first and I guess she only half listened.

Oh well, half is better than none.

In other news, I now weigh 272 pounds, about 50 over a healthy weight, according to my doctor. In order to help lose the weight, I got a calorie counting app for my to help. I put in my present weight, then my ideal weight and pick a plan on how fast I want to lose the weight (I picked the most gradual), and the program does the rest. As long as I am honest with my phone about what I eat and don't go over the limit, I should be at my ideal weight in about half a year.

This is going to be hard because I really don't want to face my food addiction.

As of 10 am, I have eaten 24 % of my daily calories.

Confusion

noreply@blogger.com (Michael Williams) — Tue, 31 Jan 2012 13:59:00 +0000

This is one of those weeks where I have a health related appointment every day!

I complained about shortness of breathe at my checkup last week, so now I am getting a heart monitor thingy.

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Our visit from Mercedes

noreply@blogger.com (Michael Williams) — Wed, 25 Jan 2012 17:31:00 +0000

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Didn't see this one coming...

noreply@blogger.com (Michael Williams) — Tue, 24 Jan 2012 03:19:00 +0000

We joined a great, Methodist church yesterday. We have been going for quite a while and regularly attend the Wednesday night suppers. I am also going to check out a couple of Bible studies. I am really looking forward to that. I just need to find my Bible...

Once again, I had a crying fit during the service. We sang "Come Ye Sinners Poor and Needy," a favorite of Natasha. I remembered the sound her singing the chorus, "I will arise and go to Jesus, He will embrace me in His arms. In the arms of my dear Saviour, O, There are ten thousand charms." She would repeat the last line, slowing it down, weighting each with with it's unique presentation, her voice always going upward on "ten thousand charms." She sang it all the time when she was a child, at bedtime, on car trips, and she sang it to Mercedes.

"Whoever welcomes one of these little children in my name welcomes me; and whoever welcomes me does not welcome me but the one who sent me." Mark 9:37

Let God be God

noreply@blogger.com (Michael Williams) — Fri, 20 Jan 2012 19:46:00 +0000

Let God be God

I saw this in a book at the mall today, in the introduction to a book called Erasing Hell, which describes itself as a book about "embracing a God who isn't always easy to understand."

It cheered me up to be reminded that, oh, yeah, sometimes I have to struggle (to understand). That is what makes the rewards so sweet.

BTW, I am not endorsing this book, I have not read it and I don't know if I will.

He Leadeth Me

noreply@blogger.com (Michael Williams) — Wed, 18 Jan 2012 15:55:00 +0000

Sunday, January 8th, we had the pleasure of taking Natasha's daughter, my granddaughter, Mercedes to our new church in Statesboro. She was very well-behaved and joined in the service to the best of her ability. She stood when we stood and during the hymns, held hymnal open in front of her, just like the rest of us. Wow, what a cute kid.

Mercedes is not shy at all. At the Christmas Eve service, when the pastor was started to introduce a special visitor, she yelled, "Here I am!" This morning, she took great advantage of the pre-church fellowship to introduce herself to our pew mates. She greeted them forthrightly, looking right at them and saying her name, her age, and how much she weighs. And sometimes she added “and my Mommy is dead.”

The pastor declared that this the first real Sunday of 2012 because there were so few people in church last week (New Years Day). He a prayer of thanksgiving for the blessings we had been given in 2011 and remembering the "saints" that had passed. This reminded me that today would have been Natasha's 26th birthday.

We then prayed for 2012. I was thinking about where my mind was last year. I was grateful 2010 was over and I had high hopes for 2011. Ironically, 2010 is the good old days and 2011 was the year that everything went black.

2010 was a hard year, and I was exhausted at the end of it. But I had been able to turn to God for comfort. There scary times, but I felt Jesus was with me during them.

Ever since Natasha died in September that feeling has gone.

Recently I confessed these feelings to one of my oldest friends. I told her how puzzled I was by this. When I was sick, my faith gave me lots of comfort. Now there is nothing. It is worse than nothing, now I feel like crap. The colors really are not as bright as they used to be.

She told me that when I was ill, I had "turned my face to God." Now she sees me sitting alone in a room, my back to the wall, face buried in my arms, refusing to look up and see Jesus.

Our anthem song that morning was “He Leadeth me,” another favorite of mine.

He leadeth me, o blessed thought

o words with heavenly comfort frought!

What e'er I do, where e're I be

Still 'tis God's hand that leadth me

He leadeth me He leadeth me,

By his own hand, He leadeth me;

His faithful follower I would be,

For by His hand He leadeth me

Sometimes 'md scenes of deepest gloom,

Sometimes where Eden's bowers bloom,

By waters still, o'er troubled sea

still tis His hand that leaddeth me

Lord I would place my hand in Thine,

Nor ever murmur nor repine;

Content, whatever lot I see,

Since 'tis my God that leadeth me.

And when my task on earth is done,
When by Thy grace the vict'ry's won,

E'en death's cold wave I will not flee

Since God through Jordan leadrth me.

William b. Bradbury

I remember Mercedes standing on the pew, holding her hymnal proudly in front of her, singing her heart out this unknown song. I envy her willingness to be lead.

Pink lightning

noreply@blogger.com (Michael Williams) — Wed, 04 Jan 2012 21:20:00 +0000

In a flash of pink lightning and a loud shreik, a naked, jumping Mercedes appeared at the foot of my bed, yelling "I am here Nana!"

I am sad to say that a cold has laid me low the last couple of days. Colds never used to stop me before, slow me down, sure, but never stop me. It makes me angry, then scared and finally sad to once again experience life from bed.

Especially now that Merecedes is here. She is so funny and smart, too. The other night, while trying to put a puzzle together, she told me, "when you get frustrated, it is a good idea to take a break and do something else for a while,“ with a very straight face. I felt soothed and calmed down immediately.

Am I such a basket case that my 3 and a half year old granddaughter needs to take care of me?

I have the name and number of a therapist, now I am just trying to find the courage to call him. I have to do it soon though.I am tired of feeling like this all the time.

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New Year

noreply@blogger.com (Michael Williams) — Tue, 03 Jan 2012 14:11:00 +0000

Fall Risk is going on hiatus. Writing this blog is one of my favorite things to do, but I have a couple of time crunches that are interfering with my writing times. I am not sure if that is a bad thing because the holidays are very difficult for me and I tend to be a bit of a buzz kill.

We are stuck between housing right now; we have one house that we can't move into and one house that we have to vacate very soon. This little apartment is already crammed full of moving boxes, but no definite date when the bank will let us move into the new place. The present delay has to do with Bank of America LOSING some of the paperwork. I won't bore you with the details, most of which I don't understand myself.

And also, my grand daughter is visiting us now. She is a riot, but exhausting too. Here is a video of the little angel, asleep in the car on the way home from the beach we went to on New Years Day.

Anyway, I hope I can get back to writing soon, it is always helpful and sometimes fun also.

Merry Christmas

noreply@blogger.com (Michael Williams) — Sun, 25 Dec 2011 11:34:00 +0000

Merry Christmas to my readers. I wish you tons of joy today. Be bathed in unconditional love.

December 15, 2011

noreply@blogger.com (Michael Williams) — Fri, 16 Dec 2011 02:10:00 +0000

After Frannie lost her vision, whenever she woke up alone, she would bark once, kind of a "Hello?" bark. We would call to her in the other room and she would sniff her way through the house until she found us, then continue her nap at our feet.

November 30, 2011

noreply@blogger.com (Michael Williams) — Wed, 30 Nov 2011 18:24:00 +0000

I went to an Alan-non meeting last night on willingness, as is being willing to change. It was a great example of hearing what I needed to hear. I realized it was a vocabulary thing; I kept saying "I," as in "I can do it," or "I am fine." when I would be better off saying "Help me," "Forgive me," or "make me a better man."

I guess I am back to step one, realizing I am powerless.

Thanksgiving, 2011

noreply@blogger.com (Michael Williams) — Mon, 28 Nov 2011 00:09:00 +0000

Adrienne and I got back from Vermont this afternoon and I am really knocked out. I slept a lot while we were gone and I imagine the pattern will continue for the next couple of days. But if I had to name one thing I was thankful for, it would be Thanksgiving in Springfield, Vermont with some of our oldest and dearest friends. Andrea and Mark are the kind of people that define the phrase "good friend."

And we got to see Mercedes. what a treat that was.

A Simple test

noreply@blogger.com (Michael Williams) — Tue, 15 Nov 2011 00:29:00 +0000

I discoivered a great test to find out if I am being listened to; If the person speaking to me continues to talk after I have told them I agree with them, they have not been listening to me. I asked my new doctor for a percocet refill, he agreed. When I told him my last doctor had wrote a 90 day prescription, he freaked out and began to lecture me on why he refused to do that. I never asked for a 90 day supply, my old doctor gave it to me and being new to the community of prescription narcotics consumers, I thought nothing of it. I certainly don't have a problem with doing it monthly and I told this guy that, but he continued to lecture me about the inapropriateness of asking for a 90 day prescription.

And when all was said and done, he doubled my dosage. What a jack ass.

I've been sick for the last couple of weeks. It happened so slowly that I didn't notice it, but my symptoms started to come back. I began to notice it when started napping more often and longer every day. Then I began to get that weird, tingleing feeling in my legs, just like what I was feeling in March, 2010.

I usually try to make myself a see the glass as half full, but even though it was over three months since my last IVIG, I am disappointed. If I was able to go for six months without IVIG, I could continue backing off the steriods. Once free of them, my diabetes would go away and I probably could also lose the anti-depressants and mood disorder drugs. That would be six less pills a day I would have to take.

Then, I would start to get off the cellcept. Another four pills gone. Plus, I wouldn't break into a cold sweat every time I got a scratch or someone sneezed around me. And I could get tattoos again. There are two I really want-my fall risk bracelet from my stay at Jewish Hospital and Natasha's portrait.

I get frustratated with people who tell me that, hey, at I can walk again (and drive, and toilet myself, etc). Because I still don't feel like me anymore and I miss that. When I went one month, then two months without IVIG, I quit trying to reimagine my new self and started dreaming that I could be my old self.

That didn't work so well.

I feel guilty for indulging myself in wanting what I can't have instead of accepting what I do have. What if today is the last good I have for a while and i spend it sobbing about my rotten luck? Again, I start believing in my magical thinking; believing that I will be punished for my impertinacne. I guess I had forgotten that I have very liuttle control over this stuff.

Anyway, good news, we found a church that we really like anbd we are getting ready to buy a house. Unfortunately, buying house reminds me that Natasha will never see the inside of it and I just want to turn off the lights and go to bed.

The Wine of Forgetfulness

noreply@blogger.com (Michael Williams) — Thu, 20 Oct 2011 04:21:00 +0000

In Wong Kar Wai's odd martial arts film, Ashes of Time, a character finds a cask of wine that will make the drinker forget. As he consumes the wine, his memories fade away, until he suddenly gets up and rides away toward the dawn.

I can tell it will be a night without much sleep and no rest. A quick Google brought me to Proverbs 31:7,"let them drink and forget their poverty and remember their misery no more."

Time

noreply@blogger.com (Michael Williams) — Wed, 05 Oct 2011 18:11:00 +0000

Last night I dreamed about Natasha's funeral; it was dark and full of people I didn't know. They asked me difficult questions that I couldn't answer. The day before, at the gym, some song I had never heard before sent me stumbling and sobbing into the showers, crying that I missed her. Maybe because the tumult from last month is slowing down, these Natasha bumps (as in bumping up a topic in an Internet forum to keep it active) have been happening. With less to occupy it, my mind goes to her, sometimes unwillingly.

Time is one of my Higher Power's most used and subtle tools. Its progress is it is slow yet incontrovertible. It is important to choose carefully which paths I want to use, as it won't be until months, years, or even decades until the consequences are seen.

During my hospitalization, I found comfort by simply saying the words, "I am alright." Saying the words could make it happen. There were times when it was harder to do that than others; plenty of black, sleepless nights where I felt imprisoned in a Michael shaped cell. But stumbling through the black corridors of my head, eventually, I would find some nugget, some glimmer of light that I could latch onto. Sometimes, just saying, "I don't want to feel this way any more," or "Jesus, help me." would bring help. But even imagining the worst case scenarios left me some hope; it might not be the life I wanted, but I had confidence in my ability to adapt.

Now however, even the best case scenarios still leave me without a daughter. I can't imagine a time when I will ever be alright again. There will always be a sharp pain in my heart, an unbearable weight of despair on my shoulders and a vast, empty place inside my thoughts where she used to live.

A capella group, Vocomotion, sing one of my favorite songs

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21 Days

noreply@blogger.com (Michael Williams) — Fri, 23 Sep 2011 15:32:00 +0000

Three weeks ago today, I lost my angel. And even beyond her death, everything else is a crisis. If life is journey, then mine has veered so far off into a deep, uncharted and boundless wilderness that I will never find it again.

One of the things that sustained me when I was in the hospital last year was The Third Step Prayer. I told myself that even if I had doubts, as long as I sought God and to do His will, I would be alright. Not cured, not given vast wealth or any of the other things I was tempted to beg for, all I wanted was to do His will, then I would be alright.

I am not there yet, but the reminder that that place exists is helpful.

Angel Band

noreply@blogger.com (Michael Williams) — Thu, 08 Sep 2011 21:05:00 +0000

It has been a week since my daughter, Natasha, died. Adrienne, Alex and I arrived home in Georgia on Wednesday afternoon. After only a few weeks, this is our home now and Vermont is the alien country. I tremulously wandered around our condo, reacquainting myself to the familiar territory; I was the changed one.

When I read my notes from before the funeral, there is plenty of anger in them. I went to her funeral wanting to explode. I was seeking consolation by combustion.

Speaking for the family, her brother, Alex, eloquently eulogized her. Heather, Emily, Chelsea and Aleks, friends of Natasha, read short eulogies, each one a beautiful expression of the greatest emotion two people can share, love. In an attempt to make us feel the love she felt for Natasha, Aleks asked us to grab the hand of the person next to us, or hug them if we wanted. Suddenly, the air in the church went from stale and oppressive to cleaner, fresher, and even sweeter.

The anger is still there, but there is something new growing there. After the grave-side service, I looked at all the people that had come to say good-bye to her body and again felt that refreshing wind of love for Natasha. These men and women loved her dearly they came to this dismal, wet cemetery to say good-bye to her body, to tell her one last time that they still loved her.

That new feeling was peace, is blossoming and growing in my broken heart. In Natasha's short life, she had surrounded herself with a cadre of true friends to help her through her too short, tumultuous life. They were a living memorial to her, one of her greatest achievements.

Natasha's death was an obscenity. At the time in her life when she appeared to be turning herself around and starting to utilize that great potential she possessed to help herself and her daughter, Mercedes, she died a horrible death. It was hard to see, among the people coming to honor her life, some who had a part, however distant, in my daughter's death. I felt a very un-Christian like pleasure in the thought that if they didn't change their ways, the weeping would be for them next time. That thought quickly turned to compassion for their parents; they would be the ones tasked with surviving beyond their children.

The timeline of her death began as Vermont was buffeted by Irene. The intense neck and shoulder pain she was experiencing had been treated as muscle related by the local hospital-twice. On Wednesday, she posted on facebook that she called 911 and had the ambulance drive her to Fletcher-Allen Hospital, in Burlington. Shortly after being admitted, she was sent to the medical intensive care unit and placed on a respirator. In e-rays, her lungs so filled with fluid that they appeared totally white.When we spoke, long distance, to her nurse, she urged us to come to Vermont quickly.

A we struggled to get from Georgia to Vermont, Natasha's health declined; an abcess was found in her spine, causing a massive, systemic infection and caused of her acute respiratory distress.

By the time we arrived,early Thursday evening, she was in a medically induced coma and receiving IV antibiotics and medicine to keep her blood pressure up. She was 100% dependent on the respirator to breather. Adrienne and I struggled to get close to her around the monitors, machines and countess wires and tubes, the apparatuses that were helping her struggle to stay alive. She was in the bed, unconscious but panting, foam blocks elevating her feet. Her face and arms were hard, swollen and cold from the fluids they had been putting into her. She had the respirator's tubes in her mouth, held in place with tape. I wanted to touch her cheek and feel its smoothness under my palm.

The ICU doctor told us that they had finally stabilized her oxygen level and blood pressure, but that she was in too delicate a condition for do much else. Even though she had the advantage of being young and strong, he was obviously trying hard not to give us much encouragement. "She is very sick," he kept repeating.

During the night, as Adrienne stayed by her side, she developed a fever. In the morning, it was decided to take steps to close the absess, but she was too weak tolerate being moved to the lab for a MRI. The MICU staff struggled for over ninety minutes to resuscitate her, but the damage to her system from the infection was too great. She was dead by three.

It has been a week of anguish for me, trying to imagine my life without her. And I wondeer, did I cause her death? Was I a poor father to her? If I had been different, she might have been different, and perhaps lived to achieve the things she really wanted.

Tonight, at an Alanon meeting, I shared that I don't have to worry about her anymore, or thing aboutthe bad things; I can choose to hold onto the great things, because they remind me of her, my daughter, the greatest love of my life.

I believe in God. The God I worship is good; He does not do evil things. He was not responsible for Natasha's death; and I believe that there will be good to come from it, somehow. God did not "take" her from us, the events and circumstances of her life did.

Earlier this year, I visited Dad's grave for the first time since his death in 2007. I was ho;pi9ng to find something of him there, to tell him of my life and my recovery. I realized I felt awkward and stopped, he wasn't there, he had gone on to his eternal home. I want to believe that when Natasha woke in heaven, he was there to welcome her to her eternal home.

My latest sun is sinking fast, my race is nearly run
My strongest trials now are past, my triumph has begun
Oh, come Angel Band come and around me stand
Oh bear me away on your snow white wings to my immortal home
Oh bear me away on your snow white wings to my immortal home

Oh bear my longing heart to him who bled and died for me
Whose blood now cleanses from all sin and gives me victory
Oh, come Angel Band come and around me stand
Oh bear me away on your snow white wings to my immortal home
Oh bear me away on your snow white wings to my immortal home
Oh bear me away on your snow white wings to my immortal home

More lyrics: http://www.lyricsmode.com/lyrics/e/emmylou_harris/#share

Farther Along

noreply@blogger.com (Michael Williams) — Sun, 04 Sep 2011 20:38:00 +0000

I have come to dread the innocuous question, "How are you doing?" And I get asked that alot lately; to me it is a reminder that I am living every parent's nightmare. My daughter, Natasha, died of sepsis on Friday afternoon, and sometimes, despite my efforts not to do so, I blurt out, "I'm burying my daughter tomorrow."

This is my third, adult funeral of a close family member. Even after the death of my father, I have never felt so intense a pain. On the morning of his funeral, I heard these words and, for the first time since getting the news of his accident, I broke down:

When death has come and taken our loved ones
It leaves our home so lonely and drear
Then do we wonder why others prosper
Living so wicked year after year

Farther along we'll know all about it
Farther along we'll understand why
Cheer up my brother, live in the sunshine
We'll understand it all, by and by

I am getting ready to go to the funeral home for visitation. I am preoccupied with pulling together an outfit from my meager suitcase as my grand daughter plays She has started to process her own loss with a carefree joy that tells me, from her point of view, death means nothing.

Welcome to the Daily Grind

noreply@blogger.com (Michael Williams) — Mon, 29 Aug 2011 18:58:00 +0000

I decided it was time to officially end the mourning period for my beloved Kofenya in Oxford and sample the Statesboro alternative, called The Daily Grind. I had been here twice before, the first time I completely lost my nerve and backed out before anyone saw me; the second time I ordered a cup of coffee and muffin then, grudgingly sat at the counter, not quite convinced it was the right place for me.

I landed there today after I became convinced that I was going to damage one of my housemates(I won't say names, but it does involve pet urine on the carpet). It is located in what looks like was once someone's house and is part of several businesses on the corner of Zettertower and Savannah, about half a mile from downtown Statesboro.

It is a very cute place, smaller than Kofenya. There are a few tables and some comfortable chairs. There are no soul patch sporting, skinny jean wearing, ironic fedora toting guys or girls in thick, black plastic frames and matching leggings with dreadlocks in sight. In fact, most of the few people I see the crowd of gray haired, female retirees having a loud lunch together by the front door. There are no hole-y jeans, facial piercings, or faded t-shirts in sight. Everyone around me is clean, having the look of either coming from someplace or having someplace to go to.

In fact, I realize, I am by far the scruffiest looking one here.

After the luncheon ladies left, the place was nearly empty except for two guys wearing Christian-themed t-shirts who were consulting each other nearby. When next shift has arrived,hey milled about, talking and laughing with each other and the new customers as they came in.

I am jealous of the apparent ease with which they talk to each other; making each other laugh, calling everyone by first name, and complimenting each other on their outfits and hair styles.

In other news, I have been spending my Wednesday mornings participating in a conversation group with some of the advanced students from the Ogeechee Technical College English as a Second Language class. The group is fun and I look forward to it every week. I wish I could be more involved though. As it is, I walk in at the beginning and walk out at the end, no planning or preparation at all.

Tomorrow night, I will start training to be a volunteer for an adult literacy program I hope to be a part of.

Suddenly, my eyes have started to water, this means it is nap time for me. I was glad to have this time where I could do some writing.

Georgialand II

noreply@blogger.com (Michael Williams) — Tue, 02 Aug 2011 19:02:00 +0000

Things I have learned since we moved to Georgia land:

Never try to hurry. There is no advantage to it and on a day like today, no one else is in a hurry either.
Never leave anything I plan to touch in the car on a hot day.
It is honestly not the heat, it is the humidity. 91 degrees with 34% humidity is a breath of fresh air to any temperature and 100% humidity.
I need a hat.
The fastest way to end a conversation is to talk. A friend may be interested in what I have to say, but the average person I encounter is not.
The pancakes I order at IHOP might not be the pancakes I get.
Everyone in Statesboro is nice and friendly, but sometimes that niceness is only a thin veneer over hostility
Just because someone is willing to help doesn't mean they are willing to do any favors.

I found out that I am not well enough for Voc-Rehab. I was surprised that they were not interested in helping me find something I could do on a part-time basis. I guess that makes sense. So, I have been pounding pavement (so to speak), looking for volunteer opportunities.

At the library, the first question I was asked by the director of public programing was if I was court appointed or resume building. Evidently, there are too many of both for her. She sent me to meet the director of the literacy program that is run out of the library.

Afterwards, I stopped by to thank her. Without turning around and even before I knocked, she asked me how it went. What survival skills she must possess. Last week I saw her calmly shepherd a group of unruly children and their kids out of the adult section of the library. She never lost her composure in the face of the yelling, table slamming adolescents in charge. I hope I have her with me next time I get stuck behind enemy lives with just a Zippo, ten feet of fishing wire and a Swiss Army knife.

I was eating lunch in a downtown eatery when the pastor of a church we visited walked in and recognized me. When he found out I was looking for volunteer opportunities, he had his wife come over and tell me about some of the things the Statesboro Downtown Development needed. This was very exciting, doing things like photographing community events,helping upload content for the web page and possibly even writing things for the local paper, once I get to know more about Statesboro.

I just realized it was my first, solo encounter with someone who wasn't behind a counter or bringing me food. It felt really good and now I have another reason to return to his church.

Anniversaries

noreply@blogger.com (Michael Williams) — Fri, 29 Jul 2011 21:35:00 +0000

This was me, a year ago.

God is good.

noreply@blogger.com (Michael Williams) — Wed, 27 Jul 2011 19:57:00 +0000

I've given myself permission to spend today in bed, even though it looks great outside and the temperature is (relatively) cooler. Tomorrow is my first IVIg in 31 days. This is the longest I have gone between infusions so far.

I am not sure if that is why I feel so rotten (really tired, lots of pain, unsteady on my feet) or if there is another reason. When I had the flu last December, it took months for me to recover; it is plausible that my exhaustion might be left over from the move.

I feel guilty about wasting a beautiful day like today. But the idea of doing what I need to to do get out there is beyond my capabilities right now. Good thing Alex is here to drain the dogs.