Category Archives: Leukemia

The 80/20 Decision

19 Wednesday Aug 2026

Posted by in Cancer, Leukemia, Life, Uncategorized

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I had an iron infusion today. Before I went to the treatment room, I was unexpectedly led to an exam room, where I waited for several minutes.

I was beginning to get a little concerned because I had another doctor’s appointment later in the afternoon, and I really didn’t want to be late. My normal infusions take approximately two hours, so I had a right to be concerned.

Eventually, my doctor stuck his head in the door and told me he needed to see me, but it would have to wait until after my infusion. He assured me that the information he had for me wasn’t bad.

Of course, there’s nothing quite like a doctor telling you, “It’s not bad,” and then walking away.

That statement may be reassuring to him, but my brain immediately responded with, “Well, if it’s not bad, why can’t you tell me now?”

My infusion itself went according to plan. They gave me Benadryl as a precautionary measure, and within a few minutes, I was sound asleep.

I always bring my Kindle with me so I can read while I’m getting my infusion.

I don’t know why.

I think I have brought that Kindle to every infusion I’ve had, and I’m pretty sure the most I’ve ever accomplished was getting past the title page.

At this point, the Kindle is basically just an expensive security blanket.

I should probably start bringing a pillow instead.

Once the infusion was finished, I finally got to meet with my oncologist.

Thankfully, the meeting wasn’t nearly as bad as I had imagined.

It was about that one marker that just can’t seem to behave itself. Apparently, there is a new drug available, and my doctor would like me to consider trying it. He gave me some literature to take home and asked me to let him know by next week whether I want to give it a try.

The biggest reason he wants me to consider it is the success rate. According to what he told me, about 80 percent of the people who take this drug can be free of the cancer within five years.

Eighty percent.

That’s pretty encouraging.

Then there’s the other 20 percent.

Those are the people who will have to remain on some type of medication for the rest of their lives.

And, knowing my luck, I’ll probably be sitting in the 20 percent section.

I can see it now.

“Congratulations! You have been selected for the premium medication package. Unfortunately, there is no prize.”

Of course, I’m joking…mostly.

There are also some potential side effects that I need to consider. Upon first inspection, there are concerns about pancreatitis, heart problems, and kidney problems.

Unfortunately, those aren’t exactly unfamiliar words to me. Most of these are things that I’m already dealing with or being constantly monitored for.

Apparently, my body likes to keep my doctors employed.

That’s probably one of the reasons I’m hesitant to make a quick decision.

My doctor gave me some literature to take home and read so I can make an informed decision.

I’ll probably need the “Cliff Notes” version to fully understand what I’m reading.

Medical literature has a way of taking something that could probably be explained in three sentences and turning it into twelve pages of words that require a medical degree, a dictionary, and possibly a translator.

I’m sure somewhere in those pages it will say something like, “This medication may cause some serious side effects.”

Then I’ll spend the next three hours wondering if a headache means I’m dying.

On the other hand, the possibility of eventually being free of the cancer is hard to ignore.

I’ve been dealing with this for years, so the thought of taking a different medication with the possibility of reaching that point is certainly appealing.

Now I have a week to read through the information, think about it, and probably drive myself crazy trying to decide what I should do.

I suppose that’s the downside of being given choices.

Sometimes it’s easier when someone else just tells you what to do.

For now, I’m going to read the literature, talk to my doctor if I have questions, and try not to let my imagination get the best of me.

After all, I’ve already spent two hours today worrying about news that turned out not to be bad.

I might as well give my brain a little time off before it starts worrying about the next thing.

And if anyone needs me, I’ll be over here reading my “Cliff Notes”…

assuming I can figure out what the Cliff Notes are saying.

One Positive Result

18 Tuesday Aug 2026

Posted by in Cancer, Leukemia, Life, Uncategorized

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I got an email yesterday from the place that did my recent oncology lab work.

I was at my mom and dad’s house celebrating my birthday when the email came in. Of course, I immediately noticed it and started debating whether or not I should open it.

Part of me thought, “If it’s good news, I’ll open it and share it with everyone.”

But if it was bad news?

Well, I probably wouldn’t want to open it while I was surrounded by family. I’d probably gather everyone together, tell them what was going on, and then go home.

That may sound a little dramatic, but when you’ve been dealing with cancer for more than a decade, you learn that opening a lab report can feel a lot like opening a Christmas present from someone who doesn’t particularly like you.

You just don’t know what’s inside.

After a little discussion with my wife, I decided to bite the bullet and open the email.

For months, my test results have come back negative.

I’ve learned not to get too excited when I see those negative results, though. As much as I would love to believe that things are going to stay that way forever, I know better.

Eventually, something is going to change.

And change it did.

Of the three markers they check, one of them came back positive for BCR-ABL1.

Now, before anybody starts panicking, it’s not the end of the world.

It’s something we’ve seen before, and hopefully, when I have my labs checked again in a few months, that number will come back down.

My oncologist called me today to go over the results. He explained that I need another iron infusion, which isn’t exactly surprising considering my iron levels have been giving me fits lately.

As for the elevated BCR-ABL1 marker, we’re not going to change anything right now.

We’ll wait and see what happens.

If it continues to stay high, then we may have to look at changing medications. But for now, it’s a matter of keeping an eye on it and letting the medication continue doing what it’s supposed to do.

And honestly, this isn’t the first time we’ve been here.

We’ve seen this movie before.

I just wish they would quit making sequels.

For now, I’m going to continue taking my medication, get the iron infusion, have my labs checked again in a few months, and hopefully get another email that says everything is back where it should be.

Until then, I’m going to try not to worry about something that hasn’t happened yet.

After all, I’ve learned over the years that when it comes to my lab results, there’s not much I can do about the numbers once the blood has left my arm.

I just have to wait for the next chapter.

And hopefully, the next chapter is a little less exciting than this one.

When the Climb Feels Steeper

01 Saturday Aug 2026

Posted by in bariatric-surgery, Cancer, Depression, Disability, Family, Fishing, Kayaking, Leukemia, Life, Uncategorized, Weight Loss

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There are days when I feel like I’m stuck in a rut. It seems like nothing I do matters anymore.

Lately, nothing really excites me. All I want to do is sit and do absolutely nothing. The television doesn’t interest me, so I turn it off. I tried reading, but after a sentence or two, I put the book back down.

I’m going through my daily routines simply because they’re expected of me, but I’m not getting much out of them.

If you’ve been following my journey for any length of time, you know I’ve dealt with some pretty serious health issues. Thankfully, since my gastric bypass surgery, my health has improved in several ways. But my CML is still there, and it’s something I’ll live with for the rest of my life.

I’ll be honest. It’s a constant battle not to end up in the frame of mind I’m in right now. I’m not at the point where I’d say I’m depressed, but I also can’t pretend it isn’t peeking around the corner.

I can’t tell you what triggers these episodes. They just seem to appear out of nowhere, and when they do, it usually takes me a couple of days to climb back out.

Is this just a “woe is me” moment? Maybe. I can’t completely rule that out. But even if it is, is it really so terrible that I have days like this every now and then?

I’ve been doing some yard work around the house—things that genuinely needed to be done—but my heart just wasn’t in it. I had the opportunity to go fishing on Friday, something I normally look forward to, but I made every excuse in the book not to go. Instead, I stayed home and worked in the yard.

This morning, I spent a few hours volunteering at church with some friends. While I was there, I genuinely enjoyed myself. We laughed, got some work done, and for a little while, everything felt normal.

On the drive home, I found myself thinking about all the things I wanted to do once I got back. That alone gave me hope. I thought maybe I was finally climbing out of this hole.

But as soon as I walked through the front door, that feeling disappeared. The heaviness came right back, and I honestly don’t know why.

Since getting home, I’ve done little more than sit in this recliner, not really wanting to do much of anything.

Maybe what I really need is a change of scenery. I need a break from doctor’s appointments every other day. I need to go somewhere where I don’t have to wonder what’s going to break next—or assume I’ll be the one expected to fix it.

On a brighter note, my wife’s car is finally back. That means I won’t have to chauffeur her to appointments anymore, and I can start making plans without first checking to see if she needs me somewhere else.

I’ll be okay. I’ve been through these seasons before. They come, and they go. Right now, the climb just feels a little steeper than usual.

Sometimes life is less about never falling into the hole and more about remembering that you’ve climbed out before. I’m trusting that, with God’s help, I’ll climb out again.

My Mouth Has Declared a Revolt

30 Thursday Jul 2026

Posted by in Amateur Radio, Cancer, Diabetic, Disability, Family, Fishing, Kayaking, Leukemia, Life

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I believe I’ve mentioned this a couple of times before, but I have a love/hate relationship with doctors. When it comes to dentists, though, it’s a little different—I absolutely despise dentistry. Don’t get me wrong, I love my dentist, but I hate everything about going to see him.

I know how important it is to take care of my teeth. I’ve also been told—although I’m not sure how much truth there is to it—that having CML can affect your dental health. Whether that’s the culprit or not, my teeth seem determined to keep my dentist in business.

About two weeks ago, I noticed what I thought was a missing filling. I already had an appointment scheduled to have my teeth cleaned, so I called the office to see if they could replace the filling during the same visit. When I got there, my dentist took one look and informed me that it wasn’t a missing filling at all—it was a broken tooth. That meant scheduling yet another appointment to get it fixed.

Then, last Friday, while I was out fishing with my daughter, I bit into a peanut butter cracker and heard that dreaded little crunch. Sure enough, I had managed to break another tooth. Because apparently my teeth have a flair for dramatic timing, this one was on the opposite side of my mouth… and my appointment to fix the first tooth was the following Tuesday.

On Monday morning, I called the dentist’s office to let them know I’d added another broken tooth to my collection. I figured if they were already going to be working in my mouth, they might as well fix both while they had me in the chair.

I’ve been going to the same dentist for more than forty years, so we’ve developed a pretty good rapport. Naturally, his first question was whether I’d been eating rocks again.

Before long, he had both sides of my jaw full of the magic juice that makes you feel like your face is sliding off your skull. He drilled both teeth and fitted them with temporary crowns.

About an hour after I got home, the numbness started to wear off. The right side of my mouth seemed perfectly fine, but the left side was a completely different story. I’m not sure why, but even two days later it’s still pretty sore.

Then this morning, while eating a bowl of Cheerios, I felt something strange. Sure enough, the temporary crown on my right side had come loose. It’s currently sitting on the table beside my recliner, patiently waiting for me to throw it in the trash.

I go back to the dentist on August 5th to have the permanent crowns installed, so I think I’m just going to wait. Knowing my luck, they’d put another temporary crown on, and I’d probably find a way to break that one too.

Have I mentioned lately just how much I despise going to the dentist?

At this point, I wouldn’t be surprised if my dentist sends me a Christmas card thanking me for helping put one of his kids through college.

Benadryl, Broken Noses, and a Busy Day

20 Monday Jul 2026

Posted by in Boy Scouts, Family, Leukemia, Life, Uncategorized

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Today started out busy, and judging by my calendar, it’s only the beginning.

I had two doctor appointments today—one at 10:00 a.m. and another at 3:00 p.m.

My first stop was my oncologist’s office for an iron infusion. They usually take about two hours, so I figured I’d have plenty of time to get home, eat lunch, and make it to my physical therapy appointment.

Well… that was the plan.

The infusion ended up lasting nearly three hours, which turned my carefully planned schedule into a race against the clock.

Before the infusion, they always draw blood to check my iron levels and determine if—and when—I’ll need another treatment. Then comes the fun part. They hook me up to a small IV bag of Benadryl.

They use Benadryl to offset any reaction I may have to the infusion.

I don’t know about everyone else, but Benadryl absolutely knocks me out. I’m talking “you could redecorate the room around me, and I’d never know it” kind of asleep.

I had brought my Kindle to pass the time, but after the Benadryl started flowing, I don’t remember making it past the second page.

A lady sitting next to me was receiving three bags of chemotherapy. I knew I’d been asleep for quite a while when I woke up, and she was already on her third bag.

When I finally came to, my iron infusion was almost finished. I did my best to stay awake long enough for the nurse to remove the IV. Truthfully, I could have happily curled up in that recliner and taken another nap, but I had places to be.

Downstairs, I stopped to pay for parking. An elderly lady ahead of me was having trouble with the payment machine. Her card wouldn’t work, and she didn’t have another card or any cash. I asked her to cancel the transaction, scan her ticket again, and I paid for her parking.

Four dollars wasn’t going to make me go broke.

My good deed for today.

She thanked me several times before heading on her way, and then I paid for my own parking.

My physical therapy appointment went well, although concentrating wasn’t exactly easy with all that Benadryl still floating through my system. I think my therapist took one look at me, decided I wasn’t going to set any personal records that afternoon, and let me go home about ten minutes early.

Tomorrow will be another busy day. I’ll have to miss my Tuesday morning Bible study because I’m taking my dad to the doctor to have his broken nose checked after his fall.

He’s already informed me that he has no intention of letting them reset it.

According to him, he broke it as a kid, it’s been crooked ever since, and he doesn’t see much point in making it straight now.

At 87 years old, I guess he’s decided that a crooked nose has become part of his identity. Who am I to argue with that?

The Kind of Person I Want to Be

19 Tuesday May 2026

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I had an oncologist appointment today. It didn’t last long. All that was scheduled was some bloodwork and a shot to help increase the production of my red blood cells.

The whole visit only lasted about thirty minutes.

As I was leaving the office, I found myself walking behind two elderly women. It looked to be a mother and daughter. The mother was using a cane and appeared to be having just as much trouble walking as I was.

I wasn’t in a hurry, so I stayed behind them as we made our way to the elevator. The three of us rode down to the first floor and then slowly walked down the corridor past the ER entrance and toward the parking deck payment kiosk.

The daughter scanned her parking ticket and tried to pay the $4 fee with four one-dollar bills.

The machine refused to take her money.

She tried several times, but the kiosk never gave her any option other than paying with a card.

By then, several more people had crowded into the small payment area. I could tell the daughter was becoming frustrated and embarrassed. She looked over at me and motioned for me to go ahead and pay for mine first.

After I paid for my parking, I turned to her and asked if she would hand me her ticket.

I scanned it and paid for their parking.

At first, both the mother and daughter looked confused and uncertain about what I was doing. But when I handed her the receipt, they realized what had happened. The expressions on their faces immediately changed to relief and gratitude. I think they were genuinely worried about how they were going to get out of the parking deck.

Truthfully, I was just going to quietly pay for it and leave without saying another word. But the daughter insisted on paying me back the four dollars.

And honestly, THIS is the person I usually am.

This is how I was raised.

I don’t care what color you are, what political party you belong to, whether you’re young or old, rich or poor — if I see someone struggling and I’m able to help, I’ll do what I can.

I follow a blogger on this platform whose husband and she are both living on Social Security. Between insurance costs and medications, they barely have enough left over for groceries. Recently, she asked if anyone could help.

I don’t get paid until later this week, but as soon as I do, I plan on sending them a little something.

Not because I have plenty.

Not because I’m trying to impress anyone.

But because I know what it feels like to need help.

I enjoy helping people. And to be honest, I especially love helping when people don’t even know where the help came from.

Sometimes the world feels angry, divided, and selfish.

But small acts of kindness still matter.

Maybe now more than ever.

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.

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.

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.