Category Archives: Fishing

My Hobbies Are Cheaper Than Therapy (Mostly)

05 Thursday Mar 2026

Posted by in Amateur Radio, Cancer, Depression, Fishing, Kayaking, Leukemia, Life, Nature, Uncategorized, Woodworking

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Let’s talk about hobbies.

Hobbies can serve many purposes. AI summarizes them as follows:

  • Provide relaxation and stress relief from daily pressures
  • Foster creativity and self-expression through various activities
  • Enhance skills and knowledge in specific areas of interest
  • Promote social connections and friendships with like-minded individuals
  • Improve mental health and overall well-being through enjoyable pursuits
  • Offer a sense of accomplishment and personal fulfillment

I’ll have to agree with most of these, but a couple stand out more than others for me. The ones that stand out the most are relaxation, creativity, self-expression, and mental health. Most importantly, mental health.

I’ll be the first to admit, and my wife would be the first to agree, that I have way too many hobbies. A short list would include fishing (of course), reading, woodworking, Amateur Radio, camping, and cooking. If I’m being completely honest, the list is probably a little longer than that, but I’ll stop there before my wife reads this and starts counting.

I’m not someone who enjoys just sitting around the house. I have to be doing something. I love the outdoors and enjoy most anything that takes me outside, whether it’s camping or traveling somewhere just for the day. Sitting still for too long makes me feel like something must be broken… or worse, that someone is about to hand me a chore.

I’ve always been good with my hands, and I enjoy making things out of wood or repairing things that need fixing. When I was a kid, I used to get into trouble because I was always taking things apart just to see how they worked. The only problem was that I wasn’t always successful at putting them back together. Apparently, parents don’t appreciate curiosity when it involves their appliances.

On rainy days, I like to curl up with a good book that allows my mind to travel to places I may never be able to visit. Reading also helps take my mind off the stresses of the day.

I know without a shadow of a doubt that people are reading this who have far greater health concerns than I do. But regardless of your health, you may have had a bad day at work, an argument with your spouse, or just received a bill you know you can’t pay. Each of us faces stress in our lives that can be difficult to deal with.

Because of that, each of us needs to find some sort of escape—a place where we can go, even if it’s only for a short time, to gather our thoughts. Sometimes, that time allows us to find a way to deal with the situation at hand. Other times, it helps us realize we need to talk with someone who can help us sort things out.

As an outsider, I can’t tell you what to do. I can only offer suggestions about what works for me.

When I find myself in a situation where I know I’m going to be stressed, I grab my Kindle and start reading. Before I knew it, my mind had drifted away from whatever was bothering me. For example, the wreck I had the other day has been stressing me out more than it probably should. There’s nothing I can do right now but wait for the police report to be submitted. Unfortunately, patience has never been one of my stronger qualities.

But when I picked up my Kindle and started reading, before long my mind was somewhere else entirely—and not thinking about insurance adjusters, body shops, or police reports.

I also have the unfortunate routine of visiting the doctor for lab work or appointments at least three times a month—sometimes more. This week alone, I had three appointments, and the month has just started. At this point, I’m starting to feel like the waiting room staff should just give me my own assigned chair.

Thankfully, I enjoy reading. Last year, I read 45 books, and quite a few of them were finished while waiting for a doctor to call my name. I also read quite a bit before going to bed. It helps me relax and takes away some of the stress from the day.

Another hobby I’ve written about before is fishing. Of course, I enjoy catching fish when I go, but honestly, that’s only part of it. What I enjoy most is the solitude. Being out there gives me time to think without distractions.

Sometimes I’ll paddle out to the middle of the river, set the paddle down, and just listen to the birds and the other sounds of nature. Every once in a while, a fish even cooperates and jumps on the hook just to make the trip look productive.

To me, that’s more relaxing than just about anything else I’ve found.

Most of the time, I come home from a fishing trip in a better mood—whether I catch anything or not. Of course, catching something does make the ride home a little sweeter. It also helps justify all the fishing gear I’ve somehow managed to accumulate over the years.

I guess what this post really boils down to is this:

Find your happy place.

Find a place where you can go—either physically or mentally—to relax and get away from it all. Only you will know where that place is.

Stress has a way of dragging us down, sometimes to a place where it becomes very difficult to climb back out. I’ve been there, and I know what it feels like.

Luckily, I was able to find my place and climb my way back before the stress got to a point where I couldn’t.

And that’s why hobbies matter more than most people realize.

A Car Accident, Too Many Phone Calls, and a Future Son-in-Law

04 Wednesday Mar 2026

Posted by in bariatric-surgery, Boy Scouts, diet, Family, Fishing, Kayaking, Life, Retirement, Twins, Uncategorized, Weight Loss, Woodworking

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Tomorrow is Thursday, and this week has gone from bad to worse.

My 4 a.m. alarm didn’t go off Tuesday morning, which meant I missed my Tuesday Bible study. That may not sound like a big deal to most people, but it is to me. I haven’t missed one since I started going nearly six months ago.

I woke up around 5 a.m. and immediately realized it was too late to rush around and try to make it on time. The real sign that I wasn’t rushing anywhere was that I didn’t even make coffee first thing. Anyone who knows me knows that’s a sure sign something is off.

After getting cleaned up and eating breakfast, I headed out to the shop and started working on some crafts with my laser. I’ve got a craft fair coming up, and every spare minute seems to be dedicated to getting items ready for it. My breakfast appointment wasn’t until 8 a.m., so I had some time to kill.

I met my friend Rick for breakfast, and of course, the first thing he asked was when we were going fishing. I told him “Soon,” but explained that I had some projects I needed to finish before the craft show. I could tell he wasn’t thrilled with that answer.

During breakfast, my phone kept ringing. No fewer than four people called wanting to talk about Scout-related matters. Even though I consider myself no longer involved in Scouts, apparently, the news hasn’t fully spread yet.

Once I got back home, I went right back to working on my crafts. Before long, the phone started ringing again. More Scout calls.

Running a laser in the shop requires attention. It’s essentially a controlled fire, and if you’re not careful, things can go wrong in a hurry. After trying to juggle phone calls and watch the laser at the same time, I finally decided it wasn’t worth the risk. I shut the laser down.

At 1 p.m., I had a dentist’s appointment.

I have a love-hate relationship with my dentist. I’ve been seeing him for over 30 years, and I trust him completely. But that doesn’t mean I enjoy what he does. I absolutely cannot stand the sound of a dental drill.

Thankfully, I haven’t had a cavity in years, but every now and then, he has to replace a filling that he put in decades ago. Yesterday was one of those days.

After leaving the dentist, things took a turn for the worse.

While merging into another lane, I was hit by a car. The driver had been turning left onto the roadway and collided with me. Before the police arrived, he admitted to me that it was his fault. But when the officers got there, his story had changed. Suddenly, he was telling them that I ran into him because I wasn’t paying attention.

There had been a witness who told me he saw the young man hit me. Unfortunately, by the time I tried to get his information, he had already left. Now I’ll have to wait five to seven business days to pick up the police report and see what it says.

Today was my bariatric appointment.

At one point, my lowest weight was 165 pounds. To be honest, I didn’t look very healthy at that weight. I had gotten too thin. People were quietly asking others if I had some sort of serious illness and wasn’t telling anyone.

My scale at home said 185 pounds this morning. I knew the doctor’s office scale would be a little heavier because of shoes and clothes. Sure enough, it read 191. Still, that’s lower than my last reading at the doctor’s office a year ago.

My doctor would like me to get down to about 175 pounds. He thinks that’s my ideal weight. Personally, I’m pretty comfortable where I am now, but I wouldn’t mind getting down to 175. I just don’t want to go much lower than that.

The next couple of days will be catch-up days.

I have projects cut out that still need sanding. Items that are sanded but need painting. And pieces that are painted but still need to be glued together and assembled.

But even with all the chaos this week, there has been a bright moment.

My wife and I had dinner with one of my daughter’s boyfriends. During dinner, he asked us for permission to ask my daughter to marry him.

It felt strange even writing that sentence.

I can hardly believe that soon I may have a married daughter and gain a son-in-law. He’s a good young man, and I truly believe he cares deeply about her. I know she feels the same way about him.

She had been worried that I might not give my permission. But I would never stand in the way of my daughter’s happiness.

That moment was a candle in what had otherwise been a pretty dark and stressful week.

Now I’m hoping the rest of the week goes by quietly and uneventfully.

After all the doctor’s appointments, the phone calls, and a car accident, I think I’ve earned a couple of calm days.

When the Calendar Attacks

02 Monday Mar 2026

Posted by in Diabetic, Disability, Fishing, Kayaking, Leukemia, Life, Nature, Uncategorized

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Photo by Yan Krukau on Pexels.com

Today has been one of those days. You know the kind. The kind where your calendar looks like it’s been attacked with a highlighter and your patience is hanging by a thread that was probably manufactured in the late 1800s.

The morning started with what should have been a routine lab appointment. Twelve hours of fasting. No coffee. No toast. No nothing. Just me and my growling stomach driving to the doctor’s office, already dreaming about bacon.

Only to be told the lab technician had a death in the family and I needed to drive to another location across town.

Forty-five minutes later, I finally gave blood. At that point I was pretty sure they could have just followed me around with a butterfly net and collected it from pure frustration.

I got home with just enough time to inhale what should have been breakfast but was technically lunch by then. If eating at warp speed becomes an Olympic sport, I’ll medal. I’m convinced my digestive system now files weekly complaints.

Meanwhile, I’d already been informed that I would be taking my wife to her doctor’s appointment later in the day—which meant I’d likely be late for my 5 p.m. meeting.

Now let me clarify something.

I volunteered to take her.

But my wife doesn’t drive. Well… she technically can. She just won’t drive on the interstate anymore. She avoids it like it’s under federal investigation. She will happily add thirty minutes to a trip just to stay on back roads. Riding with her feels like being chauffeured by a very nervous 16-year-old taking her first driver’s test.

I love her dearly. I also consider Uber a spiritual gift.

We arrived early for her 2 p.m. appointment, secretly hoping they might see her ahead of schedule. That optimism faded around 3 p.m. when she was finally called back. My meeting requires me to leave the house by 4 p.m.

At 3:45 she came out—with a nurse. I stood up, hopeful.

“Nope,” she said. “One more procedure.”

Of course.

She finally emerged again, apologizing because she knew I’d be late. It’s hard to be frustrated at someone who genuinely feels bad, especially when you know she can’t help it.

I dropped her off, drove to my meeting, and arrived thirty minutes late… only to discover the group had been deep in an off-topic rabbit trail discussion. For once in my life, being late worked in my favor.

The rest of the week doesn’t look much better. Meetings. Doctor appointments. Obligations stacked like cordwood. Meanwhile, I have a craft fair this Saturday and hardly any time to finish the projects I planned to sell. It’s looking more and more like I’ll be burning the midnight oil just to have something on the table besides a smile and a price tag.

And then there’s my fishing buddy.

I enjoy his friendship. I truly do. But I think I may be his primary source of entertainment. His wife works. He doesn’t drive outside of town. So most days he’s in his recliner watching television. Tuesday breakfasts are the highlight of his week unless we fish or wander around the tackle shop.

Now that the weather is warming up, the question has already started:

“So… when are we going fishing?”

I love fishing. I really do. But I’m not wired to sit in a recliner all day waiting for someone to rescue me from boredom. I’ve got crafts to make. Bible studies to attend. Appointments to keep. Responsibilities that don’t pause just because the fish are biting.

Having a medical condition that requires lab work or weekly-to-monthly doctor visits can be increasingly challenging. The physical part is one thing. The mental part is another. Sitting in waiting rooms gives your mind far too much freedom to wander into the land of “What will the doctor find this week?”

If I could offer one small suggestion to anyone walking that road, it would be this: bring a book. Or in my case, a Kindle. Reading helps me escape the mental spiral. It shifts my focus away from lab numbers and test results and places it somewhere far more peaceful. If you let it, the stress will take over. And some weeks—like this one—it tries really hard.

Truthfully, this post is simply me letting off a little steam. Sometimes writing it out is the healthiest thing I can do. It helps me process the frustration, the schedule overload, the internal pressure to be everywhere at once for everyone.

Some weeks feel balanced. Others feel like the walls are inching closer.

This is one of those weeks.

But I also know this: weeks like this pass. Meetings end. Appointments get checked off. Craft fairs come and go. Even fishing trips can wait.

For now, I’ll take a deep breath, set the alarm a little earlier, probably stay up a little later, and remind myself that hectic seasons don’t last forever.

And maybe next week… I’ll go fishing.

Before the Coal Took the Mountain

28 Saturday Feb 2026

Posted by in Diabetic, Family, Fishing, Life, Uncategorized

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The older my dad gets, the more stories seem to come out. It’s like he’s been carrying around a lifetime of memories, and every now and then he decides it’s time to unload another box. My visit this past Thursday was one of those visits where he started talking, and I realized I was hearing things I had never heard before.

Dad and his brothers and sisters grew up in a house my granddad built himself in the late 1800s. He cut the trees, milled the lumber, and built the place with his own hands. From what I remember, it had a long front porch, a kitchen with a wood stove, a den with a fireplace, and a couple of bedrooms. The outhouse sat about a hundred yards away, and the only water came from a hand pump mounted on the kitchen sink.

The house sat on top of a mountain — not exactly Everest, but high enough that you could look down over the little town below. My grandfather spent years clearing land out of the woods to make a small farm with chickens, pigs, and a few cows. Most of what they ate came from the garden or from the animals they raised. It was a hard life by today’s standards, but they made it work.

Electricity didn’t arrive until World War II, and even then, it came for an unusual reason. The government wanted to build a signal tower to help guide airplanes toward the Gulf. Dad said he used to lie awake at night listening to the aircraft passing overhead. Every time I visited the old homeplace growing up, I thought that tower was a fire tower. Turns out it had a much different purpose.

My grandparents were the only people for miles who had electricity, and even then, it was mostly used for lights. Fancy appliances were out of reach, so the wood stove and fireplace still did most of the work.

An example of what my dad’s house looked like. Sadly, there were no pictures of the original homeplace taken before a coal company came in and stripped the land for coal.

Winter was especially tough. With no insulation and only the stove and fireplace for heat, the bedrooms stayed bitterly cold. At night, the family would gather in the kitchen or den and sleep close to the warmth. It wasn’t a matter of comfort — it was a matter of getting through the night.

Dad and his siblings all attended a small schoolhouse that taught every grade. The school was a couple of miles away, and they walked there every day in all kinds of weather. Chores had to be finished before school, breakfast eaten, and everyone out the door on time — knowing there would be more chores waiting when they got home.

Dad’s Old School House after it was renovated and moved to Tannehill Historical State Park. Cane CreekSchool

The school building has since been moved to a state park. I remember seeing it years ago, sitting empty and slowly falling apart before someone finally decided it was worth saving as a piece of history.

My grandfather owned more than a hundred acres of land. Some of it was cleared for farming, but plenty remained woods for hunting and fishing. He even built a small pond where he raised catfish, bream, and a few bass. I can still remember being taken there as a kid to catch catfish.

There were always plenty of deer around, and Dad and his cousins would hunt whenever they could. Meat wasn’t something you saw every day on the dinner table, so venison was considered a special occasion.

Years later, the government came in and took over much of the property and stripped the land for coal. The mountain that my grandfather spent years clearing and farming was changed forever. The old homeplace doesn’t look anything like it once did. What was once woods, fields, and family history now bears the marks of heavy equipment and mining. It’s hard to imagine that the quiet little farm Dad grew up on once stood there.

Before he was drafted into the Army, Dad joined the Navy and served aboard an aircraft carrier. He spent most of his time between the Sea of Japan and San Diego. He doesn’t talk much about those years, but he learned electronics while serving and often worked on jet aircraft that needed repair or servicing.

The one Navy story he never gets tired of telling is how he hitchhiked all the way from San Diego to Birmingham just to see my mom before they were married. That’s a long trip even today — and I doubt many parents would approve of their daughter dating a man willing to cross the country with his thumb out.

My grandmother died when I was only four years old. Back then, they didn’t understand diabetes the way they do now. A foot injury led to an amputation, then another surgery when infection set in, and eventually, they couldn’t stop what they called “the poison” from spreading. I only have faint memories of her.

My grandfather lived into the late 1980s and died at the age of 82. Dad is now 86 and the last of his family still living — the baby of three sisters and two brothers.

Dad’s health is still fairly good. Mom lives with constant arthritis pain and severe scoliosis. She used to be nearly six feet tall; now she’s lucky to reach five feet. Time has a way of changing all of us, whether we want it to or not.

Dad has diabetes, like most of his brothers and sisters. That’s where I likely got it from, and it makes me worry a little about my kids. Some things travel through families whether we want them to or not.

I consider myself fortunate to still have both of my parents. At 62, many of the people I went to school with have already lost theirs. I’m one of the few who can still go sit in the living room and listen to stories from a man who grew up in a world that hardly exists anymore.

And the older he gets, the more those stories seem to matter.

Because one day, they won’t be told anymore.

Dutch Ovens, Daughters, and the Coming of Spring

22 Sunday Feb 2026

Posted by in Boy Scouts, Cancer, diet, Family, Fishing, Kayaking, Life, Nature, Photography, Retirement

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In just a few hours, spring will arrive… in 25 days. That may sound like I failed math, but when you’ve spent the winter cold to your bones, you start announcing spring like it’s breaking news.

I cannot wait for consistent 70-degree days. Since being diagnosed with anemia, anything under 75 degrees feels personal. I walk around my house in a zip-up hoodie while the thermostat is set at 72, which apparently is “comfortable” for everyone else. For me, 72 feels like I’m storing meat in a deep freezer. I’m convinced the power company, and I have a mutual understanding: I keep the heat reasonable, and they don’t require a second mortgage.

Spring means I can finally venture outside without dressing in layers like I’m summiting Mount Everest.

It means yard work — and believe me, there’s no shortage of it around here. I actually enjoy yard work. There’s something satisfying about looking at a freshly mowed lawn or trimmed bushes and thinking, “Yes, I did that.” Of course, by next week, it looks like I never touched it, but for those few hours, it’s glorious.

Spring also means camping. I love camping, especially in early spring and fall when the nights are cool enough to sleep well but not so cold that you question every life decision that led you to sleeping on the ground. There’s just something peaceful about waking up to cool air and the smell of coffee brewing outside.

But this summer will feel different.

With my scouting days behind me, camping won’t be automatic anymore. For 25 years, Scouts were built into my calendar. Camping trips, summer camps, weekend outings — it was just part of life. There’s been talk of some of us former leaders getting together for a trip, but so far it’s been more nostalgia than reservations. This will be the first summer in a quarter of a century without Scouts in it. That’s going to take some getting used to.

Of course, there’s always fishing.

I can’t go fishing enough. If I could, I’d go every day of the week. One of my favorite memories happened last year when I took one of my daughters out fishing. We had tried a couple of years before, but that trip ended with a fishing hook buried in my finger and a quick trip to the hospital. The wind shifted, the kayak jerked, and suddenly I was the one being reeled in.

My daughter still blames herself, but it wasn’t her fault. Sometimes the wind just has other plans.

Last year’s trip was redemption. She caught several bass — the first she had ever caught. I was so thankful I was there for it. There’s something special about being present for those moments. You don’t realize at the time how much they’ll mean later.

And speaking of later, she recently announced that she and her boyfriend will be getting engaged. That’s supposed to be a secret, so if you’re reading this, you didn’t hear it from me.

Life changes. Seasons change. Kids grow up. And apparently, future sons-in-law don’t fish. I’m hoping she and I will still carve out a day or two to hit the water together. Some traditions are worth holding onto.

Spring also means outdoor cooking — and that may be what I’m most excited about. Grilling on the BBQ, cooking in my Dutch ovens — I love it. My love for cooking really started when I got involved in Scouts with my son. One of the dads in the troop took the time to teach me the art of Dutch oven cooking. And yes, I call it an art. There’s something about managing coals, timing, and recipes that feels almost sacred.

I always made sure at least one meal a day on a camping trip was cooked in a Dutch oven. If someone said, “I don’t know what to cook,” I’d hand them my trusty Dutch oven cookbook and say, “Well, you’re about to find out.” Most of the time, they did just fine.

Now it’s just my wife and me at home. The only problem is that most Dutch oven recipes feed ten or more people. So unless we’re planning to eat the same meal the next two weeks, I’ve had to make some adjustments. Turns out, retirement requires learning how to cook for two instead of twenty.

But maybe that’s what this season is about — adjusting. Letting go of some routines while holding onto the things that matter. Finding new rhythms. Creating new traditions.

And counting down the days until it’s warm enough for me to take this hoodie off inside my own house.

Twenty-five days and counting.

The Day Febreze Became a Household MVP

17 Tuesday Feb 2026

Posted by in Fishing, Kayaking, Life, Nature, Retirement, Uncategorized, Weather

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Four a.m. came early this morning… but who am I kidding? Four a.m. always comes early. I’m convinced 4 a.m. wakes up feeling productive and personally offended that I don’t.

The only reason I willingly get up at that hour is Bible study. Otherwise, if you see me awake at 4 a.m., something has gone terribly wrong — like I heard a strange noise, or I fell asleep at 7 p.m. and woke up confused and slightly offended.

Like usual, I sat there drinking my coffee while reading my morning devotion. There’s something peaceful about that quiet time… mostly because nobody else is awake to ask me where anything is.

After that, I went over the material for Bible study so I wouldn’t show up sounding like I just crawled out of a cave. Which, honestly, is exactly what my brain feels like at 4 a.m.

Since retirement, there are only two things that get me out of bed early.
Number one: Bible study.
Number two: Fishing.

Fishing and I haven’t spent much time together this year. I’ve only been once since New Year’s. The weather has been acting like it has a personal problem with me. Too cold. Too rainy. Too windy.

This week, the temperature is perfect… but the wind is blowing 10–15 mph with gusts up to 25 mph. Fishing in a kayak in that wind is less “peaceful day on the water” and more “Lord, if You get me back to the boat ramp, I promise to behave better.”

After Bible study, I met my brother-in-law and one of my fishing buddies for breakfast. Naturally, we talked about fishing. Because if fishermen aren’t fishing, we’re talking about fishing… or buying fishing gear… or trying to explain to our wives why we need more fishing gear.

We talked about kayaks and my plan to buy another one once I can raise the money. I refuse to go into debt for a hobby. I like fishing… but not “eat ramen noodles for six months” fishing.

Around 10 a.m., as I was leaving the restaurant, my wife texted me:
“The water is off.”

Not just our water. About 70% of the city.

That’s not a “someone hit a pipe” situation. That’s a “somebody is having a really bad day at work” situation.

I still had errands to run, so a couple of hours later, I made it home. We had a little water pressure, but not much. I immediately filled the bathtub so we’d have water to flush toilets if this thing dragged on.

Let me just say — that was one of the smartest decisions I made all day.

I called the water company.
They said about six hours.

Six hours came and went… still no water.

I called again.
Same report.
Just a new six-hour timeline.

That’s when you know you’ve entered the “Well… this is my life now” phase.

I have to admit, I was slightly entertained reading Facebook comments. Some folks were VERY upset about not being able to flush toilets and how things were getting… aromatic.

When people start describing their house as aromatic, things have gone off the rails.

Ten hours later, the water finally came fully back on.

The whole thing reminded me of visiting my grandparents when I was younger. They didn’t have indoor plumbing. They had an outhouse. If you had to go, you grabbed your courage and made the trip outside to the little wooden shack out back.

And let me tell you… I can still remember that smell. That smell had layers. History. Personality.

Suddenly, our ten-hour water outage didn’t seem quite so bad.

When Life Schedules You Back-to-Back

12 Thursday Feb 2026

Posted by in Family, Fishing, Life, Photography, Uncategorized

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Today was one of those days where it felt like my full-time job was simply showing up somewhere else every few hours. Three appointments, three different parts of life, all packed into one long day.

I left the house around 9 a.m. for my first appointment at 10. I pulled in around 9:30 — early, I know — but I’ve always believed it’s better to be thirty minutes early than five minutes late. Plus, if something crazy happens, I’ve got buffer time. If nothing crazy happens, I get bonus time to sit in a waiting room and read my Kindle.

To my surprise, I was the only one in the waiting room, which rarely happens. I half expected someone to jump out and yell, “Just kidding, we’re running two hours behind!”

Then came the usual routine: three sticks before they finally got enough blood for testing. At this point, I think my veins hide when they see a needle coming. I’m pretty sure if they could talk, they’d be yelling, “Scatter! It’s Tuesday again!”

This visit was to my oncologist’s office to check my hemoglobin. It’s been running low for quite a while now. Normally, I go in once a month for a Procrit shot to help my body produce red blood cells and fight the anemia. Normal hemoglobin runs between about 12 and 15. Mine has been in the 6.5 to 8 range for a couple of years now — basically the bargain-bin section of hemoglobin numbers.

We tried iron infusions at first. They worked… briefly. Then it was right back to square one. When Procrit was first suggested, Medicare wouldn’t cover it. That meant $400 per shot, once a month. For that price, I feel like it should come with a steak dinner and a T-shirt.

Thankfully, Medicare eventually changed course and started covering it.

The good news today? No shot needed. My hemoglobin came in at 11.1. Still low, but close enough that the doctor decided to hold off and test again next month. I’ll take that as a small win. Around here, we celebrate small wins. Sometimes with coffee. (Which, apparently, is now under review.)

Next stop was my primary care office. I ended up seeing the nurse practitioner because my doctor was in a bad car accident several months back and is currently in rehab. His daughter, who is also a nurse practitioner, has been helping cover patients. We’re not sure whether my doctor will return to his practice. It’s a wait-and-see game for now.

Unfortunately, she can’t prescribe the narcotic meds I’m on, so I’ll have to go back next week to see another doctor just to get those refilled. Nothing like making a special trip just to prove you’re still the same person who needed the meds last week.

They were also supposed to retest my potassium levels today. That didn’t happen.

Instead, I got the lecture about my coffee habit and how high potassium can damage kidneys. Considering I’m already fighting to keep my kidney numbers where they need to be, I guess it’s time to start thinking about weaning myself off coffee.

Let me be clear: this may be the greatest personal challenge I have faced to date.

I don’t want to say coffee, and I are in a committed relationship… but we’ve definitely been exclusive for a long time.

My last appointment was with my financial adviser. He manages my retirement funds, and we meet yearly to review where everything is invested and how things are performing. Thankfully, things look solid. What he’s doing is working, and that’s a huge relief. I like the idea of continuing to eat and keep the lights on.

We also talked about future plans — mainly selling this house and moving somewhere safer. This neighborhood just isn’t what it was 35 years ago. That’s a whole story for another day, probably involving the phrase “kids these days.”

The bigger issue right now is the house itself. There’s a long list of repairs waiting for attention.

The deck my dad and I built over 25 years ago is starting to splinter and show its age. It probably needs to be torn down and replaced completely. Part of me hates that. The other part of me hates splinters more.

There’s visible wear around the chimney. The painters we hired five years ago did a poor job — but we went cheap, and sometimes you really do get what you pay for. Apparently, we paid for “looks good from across the street.”

Both bathroom vanities need replacing. The stairs need the carpet removed and the laminate installed. The roof needs shingle work before it decides to become an indoor water feature.

My adviser’s advice was simple: get several estimates, choose the contractor we trust most, then call, and they’ll cut the check. Easy… at least on paper.

Now comes the fun part — finding contractors.
I know of one.
Which means I am now officially accepting applications from the universe.

I was actually supposed to go fishing tomorrow, but it looks like it will be late afternoon before temperatures get comfortable enough for me to be outside for any length of time. So I decided to postpone it until spring decides to show up regularly instead of just teasing us for a few hours at a time.

The fish are safe for now… but their luck runs out the minute spring clocks in full time.

Some days are about big life moments.
Some days are about survival.
And some days are just about showing up, getting poked with needles, getting lectured about coffee, and trying to keep life moving forward one appointment at a time.

Today was one of those days.

And honestly?
I’m grateful I was able to make them all.

Even if I may have to say goodbye to coffee soon.
Please keep me in your thoughts during this difficult time.

Kayak, Quiet, and Keeping It Together; Out There, I Found Myself Again

11 Wednesday Feb 2026

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

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My fishing buddy texted me Monday night asking if we were still meeting for breakfast Tuesday morning—a morning ritual we started a few months back. For the second time in two weeks, I had to tell him no because of doctor appointments. I worry that he thinks I’m brushing him off, but honestly, that’s not the case at all.

We’re both at an age—and health status—where we really shouldn’t go fishing alone. He’s 72 and has had five strokes. Thankfully, his health has improved a great deal, and I’m not overly worried about the two of us being out in an area with no cell service for hours on end. I carry a Mini InReach, a satellite communicator that allows me to send and receive text messages via satellite if things go sideways and help is needed. It even has an SOS button. If either of us were to have a medical emergency, pressing that button would send our GPS coordinates to rescuers. It might take a few hours, but help would be on the way.

I’m 62, and if you’ve read any of my posts, you already know I have my own long list of health concerns. Having a partner with you in a place where two-way communication is sketchy isn’t just a good idea—it’s warranted.

But it comes at a cost.

Sometimes, I need to be alone. I enjoy getting out in my kayak, stopping for a while, and just absorbing the sounds of nature. It’s where I have one-on-one time with my God. Rick is always nearby, as he should be, but I no longer feel like I truly get that quiet space. If I slow down to let him get ahead, he stops too, probably just to make sure nothing’s wrong.

When I first started kayak fishing, I went alone. Rick didn’t have a kayak then. Back then, my world felt like it was closing in on me. My cancer numbers were out of control, my kidneys were failing, and dialysis felt like the only road left in front of me. I was depressed, scared, and felt more lost than I ever had in my life.

Being out in the middle of nowhere—surrounded by silence, by peace, by the kind of beauty only God could create—gave me something I couldn’t find anywhere else. It gave me room to breathe. It gave me space to think. It gave me a place where I could be honest about how scared I really was. Sometimes it didn’t fix anything… but sometimes it gave me just enough strength to get through one more day.

I needed that time alone. It wasn’t about fishing. It wasn’t about getting away from people. It was survival. It was the only place where I felt I could truly talk to God and not feel like I had to be strong for anyone else.

This isn’t meant to be a religious post. I don’t use this platform for politics, religion, or controversy. This is simply how I dealt with a situation that felt completely out of my control.

I hope each of us has a place we can go—a place of solitude, reflection, prayer, or even just quiet—where we can catch our breath when life feels too heavy.

And I want to ask something, not as a writer, not as someone posting on social media, but as someone who knows what it feels like to be overwhelmed:

How do you deal with depression?
When you feel like things are getting out of control, how do you hold on?
What helps you get through the days when everything feels heavier than it should?

Because the truth is… someone reading this right now might be barely holding on.
Someone might be smiling on the outside and falling apart on the inside.
Someone might just need to know they’re not the only one fighting that battle.

If you have something that helps you keep going, share it.
You might help someone more than you will ever know.

Spring Teasing in February

08 Sunday Feb 2026

Posted by in Fishing, Kayaking, Life, Nature, Photography, Uncategorized, Weather

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I want to go fishing so bad I can’t stand it.

The weather for this coming week is supposed to be pretty mild. Highs are projected to be in the upper 60s to low 70s, with lows settling into the mid-to-upper 40s and low 50s. It’s not exactly perfect fishing weather, but it’s definitely showing signs of promise — like spring is standing just around the corner, thinking about knocking.

Monday is shaping up to be the warmest day, with highs in the low 70s. Unfortunately, it’s a little too late to start loading up the kayak now, and my gear isn’t quite ready to roll anyway. Tuesday has a similar forecast, but I’ve got a couple of doctor appointments that I can’t exactly reschedule just because the fish might be biting.

Thursday is off the table too, thanks to a couple more appointments. Wednesday and Saturday are both calling for rain, which pretty much leaves Friday as the last real contender for the week.

Friday’s high is only projected to be in the mid-60s — not ideal for me — but honestly, it all comes down to the wind. Anything over about 10 miles per hour is a hard no for kayak fishing. So for now, I’ll just have to wait until later in the week to get a better handle on the wind forecast before I decide if Friday is a “go fishing” day or a “drink coffee and stare at the lake from a distance” day.

Either way, it’s nice to see temperatures starting to creep upward. Even if I don’t make it out this week, it’s a reminder that fishing season isn’t too far away.

February Is Confused… and Honestly, So Am I

05 Thursday Feb 2026

Posted by in Fishing, Kayaking, Life, Retirement, Uncategorized, Weather

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As I’ve posted before, the weather here has been anything but normal for February. Looking at next week’s forecast, it’s supposed to be in the high 60s to low 70s. That is absolutely nuts. Somewhere, winter is filing a missing person report.

Today, I got a call from one of my fishing buddies asking if I wanted to go fishing while it’s warm. Now that is the kind of phone call that usually results in me immediately looking for my tackle box, my lucky fishing hat, and trying to remember which truck door pocket I left sunflower seeds in.

Unfortunately, real life showed up and reminded me I have three appointments next week. Three. In February. During fishing weather. That just feels disrespectful.

But… if I can shuffle things around just right, there is a very real possibility of my wetting a hook or two. At minimum, I can at least drive by the water and stare at it longingly like a kid looking through a toy store window.

Honestly, if February is going to act like April, I feel like it’s my civic duty to at least attempt to catch a fish. I don’t make the rules. I just follow the weather.

And if you see me calling in “temporarily unavailable,” just know I’m conducting important seasonal research… from my kayak.