Why Are People Mad At Me?!?

I guess a lot of people (well maybe just one) who invested a heaping helping of time nursing me back to health are a bit peeved at me. Its understandable kinda. I mean I don't know what I looked like during the four months I was under the heal of sickness. When it first occurred back on December 29, 2008 I went from having a bad headache to having a bit of nausea the next morning to go with the headache. This quickly deteriorated during the day and lo and behold I was passed out in the shower by the afternoon. I crawled into bed and waited, not able to move, for the next five hours or so for Michelle to get home. Michelle came in hysterical and once she saw my condition it got even worse. A trip to the ER at Nyack Hospital via the ambulance (I was unable to walk) and a few hours suffering while blood work and spinal taps were done left us with simply the knowledge of an infection. No name, no diagnosis and no real medication save for vicadin which of course made me loopy and also caused sever hallucinations (only could stand to take it twice).

The sufferfest was on and an out-of-town "nurse" came up. Between Michelle and the other "nurse" I started to get better. The nurse departed and I went downhill. Way, way, way downhill and ended up back in the ER. Everyone knows this part. The Second ER trip ended up being a hospital stay for five days and lo and behold the second 'nurse" came back up the weekend after I got out.

The "nurse" would work the day shift while Michelle went to work. It must have been hellish to see me wasting away and being as grumpy as a badger. (Are badgers really grumpy?) I was generally sick for four months. One month without the proper medication and 3 on IV antibiotics which Michelle administered each night. I must have tested both nurses and all the "security guards" (Mom P., Michael, Aunt Maria) that came over in between the hospital and the return of the day nurse but I think everyone understood. I was suffering tremendously physically and mentally it was a hard, hard road.

If you have ever run a long distance and began to hit a wall many people will tell you that at times in your head you begin to make deals with God. "If I can finish...," or "If the pain goes away...," etc. I will do or say or go whatever. It works, believe me and sometimes yo can change your life from it. I made a few deals with God. 95% I think he/she has held up his/her end and I am about at a 90% clip of staying true to my promises. The most important being not taking each day for granted. I was  prisoner (not by design) in my own house from December into April. Now that I am free, I have to run. I have to be in the dirt and the mud and experience each day. I felt like I was going to die on many occasions and my fears were verified by a few doctors/people. Life is short. I keep saying this to myself as well as to my wife Michelle. It the most important lesson I learned. No day should be taken for granted. Life unfolds in seconds not years. I was fine one minute and on deaths door the next.

I say all that to say this. I'm sorry to everyone who is PO'd at me for running or working out or working on the infamous wall or the garden etc. Life is short. I may have 8 seconds or 80 years left. I'm not afraid of dying. I'm afraid of not living while I am here. By the way I'm going running again later today. ;)