How do you define pain?
Our body feels pain to warn us of danger. But it also reminds us that we are alive. That we can still feel, that is why some of us seek it out. While others choose to numb it.
Solitude has always been my analgesic of choice.
But what if feeling nothing is the worst pain of all.
What if the sharing of pain connects us to others? And reminds us that none of us is alone. As long as we CAN feel.
We are alone!
Why would I say something like that? We have a family, we have partners, and we have friends. We have ex’s, etc. So, why would ANYONE be alone with any and/or of the above?
Today I had my first, and it will not be last, attack totally alone. No one was around to help me breathe. I had to find my rescue inhaler while trying to remain calm and not panic. What would you do if you are breathing okay, then all of sudden, you try to take a breath and NOTHING happens? What would you do? Panic? Not do anything and just say, “GOD is speaking, do I want to listen…this time?”
Then images of my daughter flashed thru my mind. What would her life be like without her father at such a young age? The only influence in her life would be her mother and her circle of “friends & family”. Something or someone “PUSHED” me. I had to breathe, just enough to take my medication inside my rescue inhaler. My chest was heavy, which is strange because it was empty. I found my inhaler, and tried and tried to breathe in. Finally, my lungs breathed in my inhaler. I was breathing again like nothing happened. Except, my chest ached afterword.
This incident illustrated to me how alone we all are, or at least me. There was no one here before, during or after the attack. The entire day passed without anyone calling me. I decided to stay home the entire day, just in case, the CF decided to rear its ugly face again. Besides the normal regular difficulty of breathing daily, everything was okay…today.
Those of us who are fortunate enough to have loved ones around us ALL THE TIME are very lucky. However, there are many of us whom must deal with being alone every day, such as I. This made me aware that I should make some regular contact schedule with a loved one, or at least my main caregiver. If not, the possibility of having THE ATTACK brings about the realization of the prospect of dying alone.
As the old saying goes, “What does not kill you makes you stronger.” This might be true for some, but what happened to me, does not make me stronger, it just illustrates to me how alone I really am. I could be as strong as Superman, but when an attack comes, it is not strength that will save me; it will be faith that everything will be okay that will save me. Once faith is gone, well, draw your own conclusions.
For this entry, I want to do something different. Today is my Mom’s birthday. I want to take a break from CF for today and write to her and tell her about her grand-daughter.
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Happy Birthday, Mom.
You would have been 73 today.
Mom, it has been a while since my last letter. Let me bring you up-to-date regarding your grand-daughter, daughter-in-law and me.
Your grand-daughter is A LOT like you in many ways. She has your height, your hair, your heart, but most of all she has a light around her that reminds me of you. She never gives up on anything. She is very, very persistent. Oh, and she is very bright…I wonder whom she gets that from? Also, she seems to like comic books! It is too early to know if she will like Star Trek! Her Grandpa Peter would be happy to know the answer to that.
I want you to know that she KNOWS who Grandma Nancy is…she is Daddy’s mommy. She saw your favorite picture of you and me; our first photo shoot, I pointed to you and said, “That is your Grandma Nancy”.
I miss you so much, Mom. I miss your positive outlook on everything. I miss talking to you. I am going thru some very tough times now. With my CF, John’s passing, the stress of not being able to work, etc. I know that you already know all that. I just need to hear that it is all going to work out.
I just wish you could be here to look into your Grand-Daughter’s eyes and tell her, how much you love her. She would most certainly reciprocate.
Happy Birthday. You are ALWAYS in my thoughts and prayers.
Love,
Andy
xoxo
Hello.
This post is long overdue. I have just now been able to clearly think about what I want to write. Sometimes it is hard to write what is in your heart when your heart is broken and full of sadness.
As I mentioned in my previous post, that in the coming months and posts I will introduce you to my wonderful support system. Family, friends, and friends who are family. Well, one of my biggest supporters, in LIFE, not just in crisis, passed away. He was my mentor, my light and in all the definitions; my father.
Before I get into who he is, let me tell you where I was in my life when he entered it.
The year was 1982. I was in everyone’s hell, High School. My brother and I just moved from on side of Atlanta to the other. We both were “fish out of water”. Our mother had MS (I will talk about at another time), our father was going thru a crisis of his own and could not send our mother the monies to support us. This, in turn, forced my mother to take a three (3) bedroom apartment with our Grandmother. My brother and I were sharing a bedroom and anything else we could. We leaned on each other. He to this day is my best friend. I now understand what our mother always told us, “One day, you two will only have each other.” I might not tell him this all the time; I love my Bro, I thank God and my parents for him. But I digress.
In the summer of 1982, I was offered a job. My second job, paying $3.50 an hour. I jumped at the chance to work in an office, behind a desk, on a computer terminal, entering data for survey research. Can you believe that? And, to top it off, my brother, could join me! We both worked at GSU, at the infamous Center for Public and Urban Research! At fifteen I was working on a mainframe, writing Fortran code, entering data and interpreting the statistical output.
My summer job became my “during school job”. How can I work and go to HS? DeKalb country had a program called VOT (Vocational Office Training). I could take regular HS classes from 8 am to 11 am. At 11 am I would go to VOT class. This class had two (2) parts. The first part was in school. This is where the school taught business. How to write a memo, how to communicate in the business world of 1980’s. The second part of the class was on-the-job. I could go to GSU daily, 1 pm to 6 pm. It changed my life. I now had a direction, purpose and most of all guidance.
By my Senior Year of HS, I was already accepted to GSU to attend school as a freshman. I continued my senior year like everyone else, but with a new sense of self. I felt like Leo in Titanic, “King of the World”. By my 17th birthday, I had enough money saved to buy my first car; 1968 Chevy Bel-Air. Classic today, the butt of jokes by my tormentors in HS. But who cared, I had a car. I could help my family out with shopping; take my Mom to doctor appointments, no more disgusting cabs for her. I would take my “ride” to work once a week. Mainly on paydays. Although I had a job, the car sucked gas. And at .89 cents a gallon for leaded gas, it added up!
All during this time, my mentor is advising me what to study. What classes I should take. And most importantly, shaping me into the person I someday would become.
Fast forward to senior prom. Yes, prom. The last big event for seniors. I was such a nerd, I just assumed no one would go with me. Turns out, someone wanted to go with me. Her name was Melissa. She told my honor’s English teacher to, shall we say, drop a few hints that someone was interested. To make a long story short, I asked her to the prom, and my grandmother was happy that I was interested in girls (a.k.a. not gay in her mind!).
Well, the preverbal bubble burst quick. The week before the prom was finals week. Although I was already accepted into college, I still had to graduate. I studied my HS ass off. I just finished my English final, when my chest started to hurt. I mean really, really hurt. Then a cold sweat came over me. I thought it was just stress of no sleep and a mild asthma attack. When the bell rang to head to my next period, my vision was 100% gone. I only saw white spots. I used the school wall to make it to my next period; home-room. During home-room, I excused myself to see one of my math teachers; Coach Redford. He and I had a wonderful teacher-student relationship. He pushed me daily in class to ensure I would not get lazy. I thank him for my early achievements in statistics and advanced math techniques. Remember 1980’s! He took one look at me and told me to go home! He said, and I quote, “Son, you look like shit! You either drive yourself home, or I am taking you. And you will owe me for gas!”. I was worried about my calculus final with Ms. Williams. Coach assured me, he would handle her. She was a little mad that I kept on going to coach for math assistance even though she was my teacher for that subject. Never mind, I kept messing up her curve!
Once I got home, my mother called my asthma doctor. He told her to take me directly to the ER at Piedmont hospital. I was fortunate that my grandmother was home to drive me. By the time I was admitted to the hospital, 12:30 pm I lost over 90% of my right lung. I had a pneumothorax (collapsed lung).
Talk about foreshadowing.
Well, while in the hospital my six (6) friends came to visit me, my mother, bro, my grandmother and my GSU boss. I was more worried about my job than anything else. It was secure. And once I am out of HS, a full-time job awaits!
I missed the prom with Melissa, but she brought food over when I was discharged from the hospital. She became my first girlfriend in college. But, like most HS relationships, someone outgrows the other. ‘Nuff said.
Well, I graduated HS, had a full-time job at The Center for Public and Urban Research and most importantly, have some of my best memories of my mentor being there.
One of my most prized pictures of us can be seen here, at one of the happiest days of my life; my wedding to my wonderful and lovely wife.
I dedicate this post to John Hutcheson. Who up until that fateful day when God wanted John with him, was my biggest supporter. He has had the biggest impact in my life. Like most children losing a parent, his passing is one of the biggest losses I have ever had in my life (second to my Mother and Father). To this day, his loss has left me so empty and numb that I still cannot believe he is gone. And the ironic aspect about his death, he died having the disease, that early on in my medical journey (which he took with me), I was diagnosed with. He even had the same inhaler. He told no one!
Another event during my life medical journey that totally blindsided me. I will always ask, why!
See you in my next post.
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