The Catfish Was Huge. My Fish? Participation Trophy Size.

14 Thursday May 2026

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I wasn’t expecting to make another post until the first of next week, but a few interesting things have transpired.

Yesterday, I went fishing with my fishing buddy Rick. The bite was extremely slow. So slow, in fact, that I honestly thought the day would end without me catching a single fish. I’ve seen funeral processions move faster than the fish were biting.

Rick decided to paddle straight to the first waterfall as soon as we launched. I stayed behind near the launch area and worked the lily pads for a while. After spending some time there without any luck, I finally decided to make my way toward the waterfall myself.

I wasn’t in any hurry, so along the way I stopped at several spots where I’d caught fish before. Nothing. Not even a courtesy nibble from a bluegill. At one point, I started wondering if the fish had all attended a secret meeting and agreed to ignore me personally.

When I finally reached the waterfall, I could see Rick already there, so I stayed along the banks to give him a little room. I was close enough to ask if he’d had any luck, and apparently he was having the same kind of miserable day I was.

Not long after I got there, I heard him paddling closer. Then I heard him call my name and say he had something to show me.

I asked if he’d caught something.

He sure had.

What he pulled out of the net surprised me. It was the biggest catfish I think I’ve ever seen in person. He asked me to weigh it since he didn’t have his scales with him. While he grabbed his phone for pictures, he handed me the fish.

That catfish weighed nearly 10 pounds.

Naturally, the only giant fish caught all day had to belong to Rick. If I had hooked that fish, people would still be hearing about it next Christmas.

Meanwhile, my luck still hadn’t changed much. I had several bites throughout the afternoon, but nothing would stay hooked. Eventually, I paddled back toward the launch area, slipped under the bridge, and fished one of the feeder creeks.

Right before it was time to head home, I finally caught one fish weighing about a pound and a half. By that point, I was so happy to catch something that I probably would’ve taken pictures with a goldfish cracker.

On the drive home, I decided to leave everything loaded in the truck and unload it the next morning.

That turned out to be a good decision.

While eating supper, I was informed that one of my daughters wants me to take her kayaking on Friday. I’m glad I didn’t unload everything. I did have to remove all the non-essential fishing gear because it won’t be needed this trip. I’ll still take my tackle box and rods because while my wife and daughter paddle around enjoying nature, I fully intend to conduct very important fishing research.

I really wasn’t planning on going back to the creek so soon. I was actually looking forward to spending some time working in my shop. But if my daughter wants to go kayaking, then I’m going kayaking. Those opportunities don’t last forever.

I haven’t told Rick I’m going back tomorrow. Otherwise, he’ll want to tag along. To me, this is more of a family outing, and I don’t want to be responsible for keeping up with my family and Rick, too.

Besides, Rick likes to stay all day. My daughter will probably be ready to head home after a few hours, especially if the weather gets hot or she runs out of snacks.

He may get a little upset that I didn’t invite him, but he’ll get over it.

And besides that… he already caught the big fish yesterday.

Screwed up Appointments, Making Sawdust, The Fish are Waiting, Meeting Boyfriends, 100 Miles of 1000 Bicycle Riders

12 Tuesday May 2026

Posted by in Amateur Radio, Arts and Crafts, Cancer, Family, Fishing, Kayaking, Life, Nature, Retirement, Uncategorized, Woodworking

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The title should say it all. It’s already been a busy week, and it’s just getting started. Read on if you want to know more.

My appointment with the dermatologist didn’t exactly go as planned.

Late Friday night, I received the automated reminder call about my surgery appointment at a completely different location. Naturally, that raised a few questions. So first thing Monday morning, I called the office to confirm everything.

The receptionist confidently informed me that my appointment was for a skin check and not surgery.

I questioned her ability to read the schedule correctly, only for her to double down and assure me that she was absolutely correct.

At that point, I had a feeling this was going to become one of those “well, this ought to be interesting” kind of days.

So, despite my suspicions, I drove the thirty minutes to the appointment. Once I got called back, I explained to the nurse that I thought there had been some kind of mistake. I told her I had previously rescheduled my surgery, and somehow the purpose of the visit had gotten mixed up.

She looked at my chart for about ten seconds before agreeing with me.

That was both satisfying and aggravating.

I told her that I had tried explaining that to the receptionist earlier, but apparently my medical degree from the University of Common Sense wasn’t enough to override the computer screen.

The nurse then informed me that if I wanted to reschedule surgery, I would have to speak with the surgery team.

That was the moment I realized surgery was definitely not happening that day.

Nothing brightens your morning quite like driving thirty minutes, burning expensive gas, and finding out you basically took a scenic tour of Alabama for no reason.

After I got home and cooled down a bit, I decided to spend some time in the workshop. I built another planter similar to the one I made for my mother. This one still needs a finish, but I’m thinking about just using shellac and letting the wood speak for itself.

Of course, now I’m already thinking about building a few more. Maybe some of the same size and a couple of larger ones, so I’ll have a little variety. I’ve also got plans for a few different planter designs I want to try.

That’s the problem with woodworking. One project turns into six more before the sawdust settles.

Tomorrow, however, is fishing day. 🐠 🎣

The kayak is loaded up and ready to go. I even modified my new measuring board by adding foam underneath it so it’ll float.

At least that’s the theory.

I also attached a cord to it because experience has taught me that “floating” and “recoverable” are two completely different things when something goes overboard in twelve feet of water.

The replacement part for my reel finally came in, so it’s fixed and ready to go, too. I’m looking forward to getting back on the water.

The rest of the week should be fairly uneventful… or at least I thought so until one of my daughters informed my wife and me that she wants us to meet her boyfriend.

That usually means things are getting serious.

For years, she was the daughter who always had a boyfriend, while my other daughter played the role of the “third wheel.” Now the tables have turned a bit since my other daughter seems to be heading toward engagement territory herself.

As a dad, it’s strange watching all this happen. One minute they’re asking for Happy Meals, and the next minute you’re evaluating boyfriends like you’re conducting job interviews.

And finally, Sunday is the annual Cheaha Challenge bicycle ride. Riders will be taking on routes exceeding 100 miles. I’ll be stationed at Rest Stop #2, handling communications via ham radio, coordinating assistance with bike repairs, and helping ensure riders can get back to the start line if necessary

There are already over 1,000 riders registered, so it’s going to be a long day. We’ll start around 7 a.m. and hopefully wrap up around 4 p.m.

Most years it’s fairly uneventful… but every now and then things can get exciting.

Let’s pray everyone stays safe and upright.

A Busy Mother’s Day Weekend

10 Sunday May 2026

Posted by in Arts and Crafts, Family, Fishing, Kayaking, Life, Uncategorized, Woodworking

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Happy Mother’s Day to all the moms out there!!

After completing the CERT program last Tuesday, we had our first drill at the local fire station. We spent the day going over everything we had learned during the past nine weeks. Overall, I think everyone did pretty well. However, one of our team members managed to get “electrocuted” during the simulation and had to be carried out along with the other cardboard victims.

Before anyone panics, it was all simulated. Nobody actually got electrocuted.

He was properly embarrassed, though, which is probably the best kind of lesson because I doubt he’ll make that same mistake again anytime soon. I’m not sure when our next drill will be, but hopefully it won’t be too far off. We learned a lot over those nine weeks, and at my age, if you don’t use it, you start forgetting where you put it.

I made it home with just enough daylight left to finish my mom’s Mother’s Day gift. Thankfully, most of the hard work had already been done. All I had left was to nail everything together and add the flowers. By the time I finished, though, I was more than ready to introduce myself to the recliner and heating pad for the rest of the evening.

The pain block seems to have helped a little. I think I may have overdone things yesterday and irritated my back again because I can definitely tell the difference between yesterday and today. Apparently, my back still believes I’m twenty years old right up until it sends me the bill the next morning.

Tomorrow morning, I’ll be heading in to have another spot of skin cancer removed. This one is on my right side. The last time was on my left arm, so apparently, my skin believes in equal opportunity. I’m hoping they can get it all in one visit, so I won’t have to keep going back week after week to have more cut off.

Other than that, tomorrow is my only appointment, aside from Bible study on Tuesday morning. Depending on how well my back feels, how the procedure goes, and whether the weather cooperates, I may try to sneak away and go fishing one day next week.

At this point, sitting in a boat holding a fishing pole sounds a whole lot better than sitting in another doctor’s office waiting room.

Needles, Nerves, and Alabama Weather

08 Friday May 2026

Posted by in Arts and Crafts, Fishing, Kayaking, Life, Photography, Retirement, Uncategorized, Weather, Woodworking

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I had a pain block in my back late this afternoon. I’ve had several pain blocks for my sciatic nerve over the years, and thankfully, they’ve worked pretty well. The doctor says it can take a day or two before you really notice the full effect, but I can already tell there’s a little improvement. At this point, I’ll take “little improvement” over “walking like a ninety-year-old penguin” any day.

I’m scheduled to go back in two weeks for another block, but apparently, Medicare has decided that anesthesia is now considered some sort of luxury item instead of a necessity. Evidently, according to someone sitting comfortably behind a desk somewhere, getting needles stuck in your spine should be considered “part of the experience.”

I’ve had sciatic nerve blocks without anesthesia before, and let me tell you, “uncomfortable” is not a strong enough word. I survived it, but I also briefly considered updating my will during the procedure. Now they want to do the back without anesthesia, too. I may discover just how brave I really am because paying $225 every visit might send me into cardiac arrest before the back pain does.

After the next pain block, the doctor wants me to have something called RFA — Radio Frequency Ablation. From what I understand, it basically involves burning the nerve endings so they stop sending pain signals. Nothing says modern medicine quite like, “Good news! We’re just going to burn part of your nerves.” I’m sure it’s perfectly safe, but the wording alone sounds like something dreamed up in a medieval torture chamber.

Apparently, though, it works well for a lot of people, so I’m trying to stay optimistic.

Of course, the moment Rick — my fishing buddy — heard I was feeling a little better, he immediately sent me a text asking if we were going fishing in the morning. That man can sense improved mobility from three counties away.

I told him no. I’m taking a day of rest and trying to finish up a couple of projects, including my mom’s Mother’s Day gift. Besides, every fish in Alabama deserves at least one day each week when they don’t have to worry about seeing my kayak floating toward them.

My Kindle still hasn’t shown up either. I’m holding off ordering another one until after Sunday, just in case some honest person found it and turns it in. I still can’t figure out how it vanished between church and home last Sunday. I’m beginning to think it either sprouted legs or was taken by the same mysterious force that steals socks out of dryers.

Thankfully, the severe storms they were predicting never really materialized around here. I’m grateful for that because storms make me extremely anxious — especially tornadic weather. I’ve never liked it, and honestly, I probably never will.

What amazes me is how some meteorologists start the “doom and gloom” forecasts ten days in advance, like they’re auditioning for an apocalypse movie. Every social media platform suddenly turns into nonstop radar screenshots, dramatic music, and phrases like “potentially catastrophic event.”

Meanwhile, the weather changes fifteen times before the storm even gets here.

Now, the meteorologist I normally watch is different. He’s a straight shooter. He doesn’t try to scare everybody half to death just to rack up clicks and views online. Some of these other weather folks act like they’ve been sitting backstage all year waiting for severe weather season so they can finally get more airtime than the sports department.

Normally, the sports guys get all the glory with football, basketball, baseball, and everything else. The weather guy usually gets about ten minutes to point at a cold front and tell us there’s a thirty percent chance of rain. But let a tornado watch pop up somewhere, and suddenly they’re on television for six straight hours living their best life.

Unfortunately, all those dramatic weather posts somehow flood my social media feeds whether I want to see them or not. And once I start seeing tornado predictions, my anxiety kicks into overdrive, and I’m ready to crawl into a hole somewhere until it all passes.

Maybe that hole needs Wi-Fi, though… especially if my Kindle never comes home.

Running on Faith, Coffee, and a Heating Pad

05 Tuesday May 2026

Posted by in Arts and Crafts, Family, Kayaking, Uncategorized, Weather, Woodworking

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Today started at 4:00 a.m.

Not because I wanted it to… but because apparently my life has decided that sleep is optional now.

I got up, got moving, and made my way across town for my 6:00 a.m. Bible study. There’s something about starting your day that early that makes you feel accomplished… and slightly confused about what day it actually is.

After that, I met up with my fishing buddy Rick for breakfast. Not long into it, my brother-in-law showed up—another fisherman, and to make things worse (or better, depending on how you look at it), he lives on the river.

So naturally, what was supposed to be a quick breakfast turned into a full-blown fishing summit.

We sat there long after the plates were cleared, swapping stories about recent trips and, of course, honoring the sacred tradition of talking about “the one that got away.” I’m convinced those fish get bigger every time we tell the story.

They started talking about the next fishing trip, and I had to sit that part out—for now. I’ve got a pain block scheduled this Thursday, and I’m hoping it gives me enough relief to get back out on the kayak soon. Because right now, the only thing I’m catching is back pain.

The afternoon was spent in the shop creating a respectable amount of sawdust, which is my way of saying I worked hard but also made a mess I’ll deal with later.

Then it was off to my CERT class this evening—our final one. For the past nine weeks, we’ve been learning how to respond in emergencies, and this Saturday is the big test and drill. Not just a written test either… we actually have to prove we’ve been paying attention.

No pressure.

Somewhere in the middle of all this, I’ve been working on a Mother’s Day gift for my mom. I had a bigger idea planned, but after looking at it… and looking at it again… and then criticizing it like only I can, I decided to pivot.

My wife says it looked fine.

I say it looked like a future “learning experience.”

So I scaled it down to something simpler, and honestly, it’s going a lot better. I’ve got most of it done—just some sanding and paint left. If all goes well, I should have it finished tomorrow.

Speaking of tomorrow… the weather has decided to add a little excitement back into the schedule. There’s a risk of severe storms, including tornadoes.

That’s something that always hits a little differently.

Back in 2011, our town was devastated by a tornado. Our home was spared, but many weren’t. Lives were lost, and that’s something you don’t forget. So yeah, when the meteorologists start using words like “rotation” and “severe,” my anxiety tends to show up right on time.

If everything goes according to plan, I’m hoping for a little reward at the end of this week. If the pain block works, I may try to get back out on the water on Friday. After the CERT drill on Saturday, I’ll handle any last-minute touch-ups on Mom’s gift—if needed.

It’s been a long day. The kind that starts early, ends late, and somehow still feels like there’s more to do.

But it’s also been a full day.

And I’ll take that—even if it comes with a 4:00 a.m. alarm clock and a recliner waiting on standby.

My Stuff Is Being Raptured (And I Wasn’t Invited)

04 Monday May 2026

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Years ago, back when I still trusted reality to behave itself, I checked out a book from the high school library that probably should’ve come with a warning label. I don’t remember the title, but I do remember the content—and some of it was just strange enough to stick with me all these years.

It talked about these bizarre “floating transporter” or black hole-type phenomena. Not the kind you see in science class, but the kind where you’re casually walking down the street one minute and—boom—you’re suddenly somewhere else entirely. Like from downtown New York City to Flagstaff, Arizona, without so much as a layover or a boarding pass.

One story in particular has lived rent-free in my brain ever since. A young man finishes his shower, grabs his towel, steps out… and instead of his bathroom floor, he’s standing in the middle of a cornfield a hundred miles away. Just like that. No explanation. No Uber receipt. Just corn.

At the time, I filed that away under “well, that’s weird, but okay” and went on with life.

Fast forward to today, and I’m starting to think that book might not have been fiction after all.

Because there is absolutely no logical explanation for what is currently happening in my life.

Let me present Exhibit A: my $300 Nikon Coolpix camera. Gone. Vanished. No note, no struggle, no sign of forced entry. It didn’t even have the decency to die dramatically—it just quietly slipped out of existence like it had better places to be.

And now… Exhibit B: my Kindle.

This one stings a little more because it’s not just a gadget. I’ve been using it daily—reading my devotionals, going through the ESV Bible, bringing it to Tuesday morning Bible study, even taking it with me to church on Sundays. It’s been part of my routine.

And here’s where things take a turn into Twilight Zone territory.

After church on Sunday, I did what I always do. I put my Kindle into my book bag. My wife was standing right there. She saw it happen. I have a witness. This is not speculation—this is documented behavior.

I put the bag in my truck. No stops. No detours. No shady back-alley Kindle deals.

We go to lunch. The bag stays locked in the back seat the entire time.

We get home. I grab the bag, head upstairs, unzip it, reach in…

No Kindle.

Gone.

Just… gone.

I called the church—nothing turned in. I tore apart my truck—nothing. My wife and I went through the house like we were being paid by the hour—nothing. I even had the entire maintenance staff at the church looking for it, which I’m sure made me look completely sane and rational.

Still nothing.

At this point, I’m left with only two possible explanations:

  1. I’ve somehow developed the ability to misplace objects at a level previously thought impossible by modern science.
  2. There is, in fact, a rogue black hole or interdimensional transporter following me around, casually snatching my belongings and dropping them into random cornfields across America.

Honestly, I’m leaning toward option two. It just makes more sense.

So here’s where you come in.

If you’re out walking—anywhere in the U.S. or even internationally—and you happen to come across a lonely Kindle sitting next to a plastic bag containing a Nikon camera (probably looking just as confused as you are), please take note of the location.

If you’re feeling generous, grab it.

I will gladly pay shipping to have it returned to its rightful, slightly bewildered owner.

Until then, I’ll be over here keeping a close eye on my wallet… and maybe avoiding cornfields altogether.

When Plans Change, and Priorities Don’t

02 Saturday May 2026

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There comes a time in your life when you realize things don’t always go according to plan. Life has a way of stepping in, throwing a wrench into your day, and reminding you that some things matter more than whatever you had written on your to-do list.

I’m not sure if I’m making myself clear, but let me try to explain.

Growing up, my parents were the kind of people who would drop everything to help their kids. It didn’t matter what they had going on, how they felt, or what time it was—if we needed them, they were there.

My dad worked evening and late shifts most of my childhood, so I didn’t see him much during the week. He spent most of his days sleeping so he could work through the night. But even then, if I needed him, he showed up. The same goes for my mom. Between the two of them, there was never a moment when I felt like I had to figure things out alone.

Well… now it’s my turn.

Today wasn’t exactly a great day for me physically. When I woke up at 5:30 this morning, my back pain was already making its presence known. I rolled over and went back to sleep, hoping for some relief. By 9:30, I had no choice but to get up—and it hurt. A lot.

I had taken a pain pill the night before, which is probably the only reason I slept that long. After getting dressed and making some coffee, I sat down to start my morning devotion. That’s when my dad called.

His brand-new HVAC unit wasn’t working. The thermostat was completely blank. No heat, no air—nothing.

On a pain scale, I was sitting at a solid 8. I seriously considered taking another pain pill after breakfast, but I knew that if I did, I wouldn’t be in any condition to drive. And at that moment, my dad needed help.

So I skipped the pill.

I scarfed down a bowl of cereal, grabbed what tools I thought I’d need, and headed out the door. I called my wife as I pulled onto the main road to let her know what was going on.

When I got there, the first thing I checked was the thermostat… and of course, it was working perfectly. Lit up, responsive, doing exactly what it was supposed to do. I switched it to cool—worked fine. Switched it to heat—no problem.

You can’t fix what isn’t broken… at least not right away.

After some troubleshooting, I narrowed it down to a possible issue with the condensate pump—one of the few things that could interrupt power to the low-voltage system.

Sure enough, the pump was full of buildup from years of use. I disconnected it and took it to the sink to clean it out.

That’s when things got interesting.

As I was reconnecting the wiring, one of the low-voltage wires brushed against the unit… and sparks flew.

If there wasn’t a problem before, there definitely was now.

I had officially upgraded the situation from “simple service call” to “well… that escalated quickly.”

Now the real fun began—finding that fuse.

There was a resettable fuse on the transformer, but it hadn’t tripped. Which meant one thing: somewhere inside that unit was a tiny little 3-amp fuse… hiding… laughing… probably calling its fuse friends to come watch.

And let me tell you, whoever designed that unit clearly never had to actually work on it.

This thing was tucked behind the control board in a spot that required either:

  1. Much smaller hands
  2. A double-jointed wrist
  3. Or a strong prayer life

I tried reaching it from one angle—nope. Another angle—still nope. At one point, I’m pretty sure I invented two brand-new yoga poses that will never make it into a class.

After what felt like an episode of “HVAC: Mission Impossible”, I finally laid eyes on it.

Victory… briefly.

Because of course… I didn’t have a spare.

Naturally.

So off I went to the auto parts store, where I got to buy an entire assortment pack of fuses—ranging from “barely useful” to “I may never need this in my lifetime”—just to get that one tiny 3-amp fuse.

But hey, if anyone within a 5-mile radius blows a fuse anytime soon, I’m officially their guy.

Before putting the new fuse in, I double-checked everything to make sure I hadn’t accidentally created a bigger problem (because at this point, that felt like a real possibility).

Once I was confident, I slid the fuse into place…

And just like that—it worked.

Like nothing had ever happened.

By this point, my back was absolutely screaming. There was no time for small talk or hanging around. I packed up my tools, said my goodbyes, and made my way back home—straight to my recliner.

I did what needed to be done.

I pushed through the pain because that’s exactly what my parents would have done for me.

Funny how life comes full circle like that.

Tomorrow’s Bible study has been canceled since everyone’s out of town, so I’ll be taking that as a sign to rest.

And hopefully… just hopefully… the phone stays quiet.

Built with Love (and a Little Bit of Crooked Math)

30 Thursday Apr 2026

Posted by in Arts and Crafts, Cancer, Disability, Family, Fishing, Kayaking, Leukemia, Life, Nature, Retirement, Uncategorized, Woodworking

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With Mother’s Day fast approaching, I decided it was time to push through the pain and make something for my mom. She loves plants—like, really loves plants—so I figured a couple of wooden planters would be the perfect gift. Plus, I’ve got a pile of scrap wood that’s been quietly judging me for months, including some cypress fencing material my wife has been not-so-subtly encouraging me to “do something with.”

So, around 9:30 this morning, I dragged all my equipment outside and got to work. By about 11:30, I had everything cut down to size and was feeling pretty good about life. That’s usually the exact moment things take a turn.

I started assembling the first planter and quickly realized something wasn’t right. The pieces weren’t lining up like the plans said they should. Now, the plans called for ¾-inch wood… and I’m working with ½-inch. Details, right? Apparently not. Turns out, those little fractions matter.

Still, I pressed on.

At this point, I’ve got one planter about 90% complete. It’s… let’s just say “custom shaped.” Not exactly square, which means putting the top boards on requires some math. And if you’ve followed me for any length of time, you already know—math and I are not on speaking terms. I’m pretty sure an angle finder is in my near future, the next time I wander into the store pretending I know what I’m doing.

After spending most of the day bending, lifting, and moving around, my back has officially filed a formal complaint. Sitting usually doesn’t bother me, but tonight I can’t seem to find a position that doesn’t make me question why I thought this was a good idea. The heating pad is doing its best, but the second I move, my back reminds me who’s really in charge. I took a pain pill earlier, but it’s apparently operating on its own schedule.

After looking at what I’ve completed on this planter, I’m not really happy with it. It’s one of those projects that looked a whole lot better in my head than it does sitting in front of me. So, there’s a good chance this one becomes a “keep it at the house” planter, and I’ll come up with something else for Mom.

I guess you could say this was my practice run… whether I planned it that way or not.

It all really depends on how I’m feeling after this upcoming pain block. If I can get a little relief and move around without feeling like my back is plotting against me, I may give it another shot and build something I’m actually proud to give her.

If not, well… Mom may be getting something a little less handmade and a little more store-bought this year—and honestly, she’ll probably love it just the same.

As for doctor updates, I’ve now got two appointments lined up—one with the orthopedic in mid-June and another with a pain specialist next Thursday. I’m hoping the pain specialist can help take the edge off until June gets here.

And yes, I’ll admit it… I probably shouldn’t have stayed out on that kayak as long as I did last Thursday. But I’ll still argue it was worth it. I needed that time on the water—maybe just not that much time.

Tomorrow looks like it’ll be a recliner day. I plan on catching up on my Bible study material for Tuesday morning. Theology isn’t exactly my strong suit, but I’m giving it my best shot—kind of like woodworking and math.

I also had a visit with my oncologist last week. My iron levels were low again, so they gave me a shot of Epoetin alfa to help boost my red blood cell production. They also ran my BCR-ABL1 test to check on my CML. The last several tests over the past six months have come back non-detectable, which is great news. I’m curious to see how this one turns out, though—it seems like those numbers like to keep me guessing. Should have results in a few days.

Other than that, things are pretty quiet around here. I’ll finish up that planter (eventually), survive the math, and hopefully have something worth showing for it.

I’ll check back in when I’ve got something else to write about… or when the second planter decides to humble me too.

It’s Not the End of the Road

27 Monday Apr 2026

Posted by in Cancer, Depression, Family, Fishing, Kayaking, Leukemia, Life, Uncategorized

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Just a quick post.

I have Chronic Myeloid Leukemia (CML). I was diagnosed back in 2014. I’m not going to lie—when I first heard those words, I thought my world had come to an end.

I was devastated.
I got depressed.
I was angry at everything and everyone.

I couldn’t even carry on a simple conversation without it turning into something it didn’t need to be. In short, I wasn’t exactly easy to live with.

The truth is, everything I felt is something a lot of people experience when they hear the word “cancer.” That flood of emotions hits hard. But what I’ve learned since then is this—there is always hope, no matter the diagnosis.

I follow several CML groups online, and I try to help people who are just starting this journey and struggling to process it all.

Last night, I came across a post from a young woman who had just been diagnosed with CML. She was going through the same emotions I went through—fear, anger, and the overwhelming feeling that her life was over. She had just gotten married and was planning to start a family, but now she was ready to give up on that dream. Her husband, loving her the way he does, was willing to give that up, too.

That hit me.

So I reached out to her privately.

I told her what I wish someone had made crystal clear to me in the beginning: things have changed. Years ago, this diagnosis looked very different. Today, it’s not the same story.

There are medications now that can control this disease. It may not be something that just disappears, but it’s something many people live with—and live well with.

I also told her I understood exactly what she was feeling, because I had been there—the anger, the depression, the uncertainty. And I let her know she didn’t have to go through it alone.

And I told her about this blog—about my life after diagnosis, the ups and downs, the fishing trips, the everyday moments. I wanted her to see that there is still a life to live after hearing those words.

Honestly, I didn’t expect a response.

But she wrote back.

And after several messages, I could tell something had shifted. Knowing that someone else had been walking this road since 2014—and is still here—gave her a different perspective. It even made her reconsider the idea that her future, including having a family, might not be over after all.

That right there is why I share my story.

CML is not a death sentence. It’s a bump in the road. A big one sometimes—but not a roadblock.

My numbers still go up and down like a rollercoaster. Some months are good, some aren’t. But it’s been that way long enough that it doesn’t shake me like it used to.

Life goes on.

And that’s exactly what I told her—live your life. Keep your appointments. Take your medication. Listen to your doctor.

But don’t stop living.

Because this diagnosis doesn’t mean the end of your story.

Heating Pad Chronicles

26 Sunday Apr 2026

Posted by in Arts and Crafts, Family, Life, Retirement, Uncategorized, Woodworking

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I’m officially down.

This morning at church, it was all I could do just to sit there and make it through the service. I’m pretty sure I shifted positions more than a kid in a hard wooden pew for the first time. But I made it.

After church, I managed to go to lunch with my girls, which was worth pushing through the discomfort. My son was out of town, so I didn’t get to see him today, which was a little disappointing—but I’ll catch him next time.

After that, it was straight home.

Pain pill. Recliner. Heating pad on high.

(Shocking, I know.)

I did finally hear back from my doctor yesterday, and she gave me the rundown on my back. Turns out, there’s some pretty serious stuff going on in there. Not exactly the kind of “surprise” you’re hoping for. She’s referred me to an orthopedic doctor to talk about pain management injections and figure out what the next steps look like.

Here’s the ironic part—it’s in the same office as my Charcot doctor. At this point, I’m thinking about just asking if they offer a rewards program. Maybe after a certain number of visits, you get a free coffee or something.

Of course, scheduling the appointment isn’t as simple as picking up the phone like a normal human being. Nope. Everything has to be done online now. I had to fill out all my information just so they can call me… to set up an appointment.

So basically, I did all the work… just to wait.

Sometimes technology doesn’t make things easier—it just makes them take longer in a more complicated way. I’d much rather just call, talk to a real person, and get it handled in five minutes instead of playing this back-and-forth waiting game.

As for tomorrow, those plans are officially cancelled. I was supposed to head to the shop and do some woodworking to get ready for my next show, but there’s no way that’s happening. Right now, the only thing I’m building is a deeper relationship with this recliner.

I’m hoping I can at least make it through Tuesday.

I’ve got Bible study in the morning, an appointment with my oncologist in the afternoon, and my last CERT class that night—which includes a written test. Then Saturday is the big drill where we’re supposed to be tested on everything we’ve learned over the past eight weeks… including the physical stuff.

So yeah… no pressure.

At this point, I’m just hoping to feel human again by then.

Until I can get back on my feet, I’ll probably spend some time looking up new woodworking plans. If I can’t build anything right now, I might as well plan what I’m going to build when I can.

Other than Tuesday, it looks like me and this recliner are going to be spending a lot of quality time together until I hear from the orthopedic doctor.

Not exactly how I planned my week…

But for now, this is where I’m at.