Been debating whether to listen to Queen sing Who Wants To Live Forever or Time by Pink Floyd.
Still processing the events of the recent path, reviewing all of my blood work from my time in the joint and thinking about how it all went down.
Thinking about how many years ago I used Only by grace does luck beat death as part of something else I wrote and whether it is applicable here or not.
Can look back at Queen’s tune and confirm that Highlander is just a movie and that even if it were real I am not Conor McLeod, Ramirez or anyone that is fighting for the Quickening.
But I can say that when my father was dying from pancreatic cancer I challenged death. I told the Grim Reaper that if he left Dad alone I would fight him at any time and any place.
I promised to beat his bony ass and that I would fight any angel and come out the other side. If it makes you feel good you can call that silly, foolish, juvenile or a coping mechanism.
Doesn’t matter to me, we do as we do and that is how it goes.
If you are lost and trying to catch up you can read Death Didn’t Seem Painful or A Four Day Hospital Adventure.
What Does It Mean?
When it gets late I start to replay the moment when I recognized the bleeding was far too heavy and the feelings that came along with it.
Find myself thinking about conversations with my children and my saying to do your best to not panic during challenging times because panic never leads to smart decisions.
Replaying the moments again I ask myself if I followed my own advice or if in my head I have tried to convince myself otherwise.
I go looking for something I wrote long ago that I think will provide useful insight but I don’t find it though I come across something else that resonates with me and use it instead.
Stumbled onto and into a couple of things I didn’t expect and now am involved with more complexity than I had wanted.
Feels a little like someone gave me a car that doesn’t run, some parts and tools with instructions to figure out how to make it work.
There was a moment of panic, followed by a deep breath and a systematic approach to breaking into bite size pieces.
The words make me smile because they reaffirm my recollection of the events of the night. I can still see the flashes of my father from that night intermixed with other memories of him.
The superstitious part of me wonders if the old adage to be careful what you ask for is true because things could have gone the other way, I could have died.
That is not hyperbole, that is what two different docs have said to me post event. Gets me thinking if maybe the Angel Of Death took my challenge seriously but didn’t choose to engage in a fair fight.
Gets me thinking if maybe the old Malach HaMavet chose to do me dirty because the truth is when I challenged him I was full of rage and was as expression goes Deadly serious.
I was prepared to engage in single combat be it bare knuckled, with swords or any other weapon.
Because you are never ready to say goodbye to your parents and I never doubted that dad would do anything to protect us so I could do no less.
So I sit here at the dining room table looking at the marks four days of IVs left in both of my arms and PDFs of EOBs from my insurance provider.
I sit here thinking about how the thing I most want to do is go to the gym and how the docs have said I have to cool it for a while because it might be dangerous to my health.
“Josh, your H&H numbers are too low. You’ll get back there, but you need to give yourself time to recover.”
I nod my head and remind myself that earlier today I felt tired after walking around the Fall Festival in my town for a while. I felt tired after doing something that under normal circumstances wouldn’t have fazed me.
But after a short nap, plenty of fluids and some decent eating I feel my strength. I feel like I can hit the gym and do whatever I want so it frustrates me to restrain myself. Frustrates me because it feels counter intuitive not to exercise.
And because the gym is part of how I process things. I go throw around some iron, do some cardio and somewhere in the middle or afterwards I get clarity on the things that I find challenging.
Somewhere between that adrenaline rush and exhaustion the answers click for me and now I have to wait.
It reminds me of Grandpa Wilner teaching me that holding a roll of quarters when you throw a punch packs an additional wallop.
Reminds me that if that angel comes back again I am going to kick him in the balls, punch him in the throat and then yank with all my might upon his wings, see if I can’t rip one off of him. Dude is supernatural so I am sure he’ll heal quickly but I owe him.
Tick-Tock, Tick-Tock
The docs say there is no reason I shouldn’t expect to make a full recovery which fits nicely with my own expectations.
I have plans for the future and though I expect to have decades to fulfill them I feel the clock ticking. I have gotten a reminder of my mortality and that drives me not to waste time on things that don’t fill my heart and soul.
That drives me to pay attention to the docs even though it is galling to wait to get back to things but I don’t have time to slow down my recovery.
And I don’t have time to wait to do some things because life touched my shoulder and reminded me that sometimes things happen.
I am still figuring this all out, but I am going to get there. It is only a week since the paramedics hauled me off and less than that since I was discharged from the hospital.
But it feels like a lifetime ago and since I can’t hit the gym I’ll keep hitting the keyboard until I sort this in a way that works for me.
I’ll get there, getting closer every day but damn if I am not a little impatient. I have things to do.
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