Tag Archives: adventure

More Than Just Fishing

30 Saturday May 2026

Posted by in Family, Fishing, Kayaking, Life, Nature, Weather

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I had the pleasure of spending a few hours fishing with one of my daughters yesterday.

The weather was less than ideal. The sky stayed mostly overcast, and we even had a brief rain shower pass through. Fortunately, it wasn’t enough to soak us, so we stayed on the water and kept fishing.

Like any fishing trip, you always hope for one of those days when the fish are biting, and everyone catches plenty. Unfortunately, this wasn’t one of those trips. I managed to catch two fish, and my daughter didn’t catch any.

I felt bad for her. It certainly wasn’t from a lack of effort. She tried hard all day, but the fish simply weren’t interested in what she was offering.

The day before our trip, I had contacted a friend who fishes that creek regularly. He gave me several suggestions on what the fish had been hitting lately. Wanting to improve our chances, I made a special trip to the tackle shop and spent what felt like a small fortune on plastic lures.

Wouldn’t you know it, the fish I caught were on an old plastic worm that had been sitting in my tackle box for who knows how long. Not one fish showed any interest in the new lures.

My daughter is still fairly new to fishing, so I’ve been letting her use one of my older rod-and-reel combinations with a Zebco 33 attached. If you’re a fisherman, you probably already know where I’m going with this. It’s pretty hard to create a bird’s nest with a Zebco 33. She used that same setup last year and caught three bass with it.

Later in the day, I asked if she’d like to try one of my spinning reels. I had four rods with me, three of them equipped with spinning reels. Within minutes, she was casting that spinning reel like she’d been using one for years. I think I may already know what I’ll be getting her for her next birthday.

At one point, I reminded her that fishing isn’t always about catching fish. It’s about being outdoors, enjoying God’s creation, and spending time with the people you care about. In this case, it was about a father getting to spend time with one of his daughters.

She’s a young adult, and I’m sure she understands that. Still, I know the trip would have been even better for both of us if she had managed to catch a few fish.

The reality is that her life is about to change. She’s getting close to becoming engaged, and before long, she’ll have a family of her own to think about. I don’t know what the future holds or how much time she’ll have available to spend fishing with her dad.

I hope she’ll still find the time.

As I get older, I’m learning that some of life’s most valuable moments aren’t measured by success, accomplishments, or even the fish we catch. They’re measured by the people sitting beside us while we’re trying.

Yesterday, I only caught two fish.

But I spent several hours with my daughter.

When I look back on the day years from now, I doubt I’ll remember much about the fish. I’ll remember who was in the small kayak next to me.

The Sunday Before Memorial Day

24 Sunday May 2026

Posted by in Family, Life, Photography, Twins, Uncategorized, Weather

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For the past couple of years, my son has taken it upon himself to grill steaks, hamburgers, and hot dogs for lunch after church on the Sunday before Memorial Day. Today was no exception—except for one small flaw. It rained the entire time.

That meant no standing over the grill, no smell of charcoal drifting through the yard, and no pretending we were all professional pitmasters for the afternoon. Instead, he improvised. The hamburger patties were fried indoors, the hot dogs were broiled, and even the corn on the cob ended up under the broiler.

No matter. He still did a good job.

My wife made brownies and cut up the watermelon she had brought. My daughters made a special dip that disappeared almost as quickly as it hit the table. There was food everywhere, and thankfully, there was more than enough for everyone.

My son invited his girlfriend over, and one of my daughters brought her boyfriend. My other daughter’s boyfriend had a prior church commitment and couldn’t make it this time.

This gathering was also the first time we had been back to my son’s house since the water leak. The contractors did an excellent job rebuilding the damaged walls and replacing the flooring. Honestly, it looked like nothing had ever happened—which is exactly what you hope for after a project like that.

It was also the first time my son had met my other daughter’s boyfriend. As a father, you quietly watch those moments. You wonder how everybody will get along, whether the conversations will flow naturally, and if things might feel awkward.

But everything seemed easy and comfortable. Everybody laughed. Conversations bounced around the room. People drifted from the kitchen to the living room and back again. It simply felt like family.

At one point, I caught myself sitting quietly and just listening.

I admired how much my family has changed in what feels like such a short amount of time. One minute, there were no boyfriends or girlfriends around the table. Now, one relationship is likely headed toward engagement, and another is already hinting in the same direction.

Life changes slowly enough that you hardly notice it day by day. Then suddenly, during an ordinary rainy Sunday lunch before Memorial Day, it hits you all at once.

The kids aren’t kids anymore. Families grow. New people find their place at the table. Traditions continue, even when the weather doesn’t cooperate.

And honestly, I wouldn’t have changed a thing about the day.

Common Sense; It Should Come Standard

16 Saturday May 2026

Posted by in Family, Life, Photography, Uncategorized

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I lost my temper with a stranger today. I’m not proud of it. In fact, I’m pretty ashamed that I let myself get that worked up. I guess part of the problem was that I expected a little common sense from a fellow human being. Apparently, that was asking too much.

Normally, I would’ve filled up my truck right after church, but since I won’t be attending tomorrow due to another commitment, I decided to get fuel while my wife and I were already out meeting our two daughters and their boyfriends for lunch.

The gas station in question was the fuel center at Sam’s Club. Around here, they usually have the cheapest gas prices, which also means they usually have lines long enough to qualify as a minor traffic event.

I noticed the two end pumps had shorter lines, so I eased into one of them. The setup beside a concrete median meant once you got in line, you were committed unless you could somehow back out.

There were three vehicles ahead of me: a small car, a pickup truck behind her, and directly in front of me, an SUV.

At some point, both the SUV driver and I noticed the pickup driver put the nozzle back on the pump. Naturally, we assumed he was finished fueling and simply waiting for the lady in front of him to leave so he could pull out.

Wrong.

The lady left, and instead of driving away, the pickup driver pulled forward to the next pump and started over. That’s when we realized something wasn’t right.

Turns out, the pump he had been using was out of order.

Now the SUV in front of me was stuck trying to get fuel from a dead pump, and I was trapped behind it. I tried easing backward, but another vehicle had already pulled in behind me.

This is where the story takes a turn.

I looked behind me and saw a woman sitting in her car. No one was behind her. All she needed to do was back up a few feet so I could get out.

I got out of my truck and motioned for her to reverse.

Nothing.

I waved bigger.

Still nothing.

I even yelled directions while making motions large enough to guide aircraft onto a runway.

Nothing.

At this point, I honestly couldn’t tell if she wasn’t paying attention or if she simply had no earthly idea what my “wild arm flailing” meant. I’ll admit, I was getting irritated fast.

Finally, I got back in my truck and started inching backward anyway. That’s when she honked at me.

That was the exact moment my temper left the building.

I climbed out, walked to her window, and very firmly — and not exactly politely — informed her that I had been trying for the last ten minutes to get her to back up because the pump was broken.

Her response?

“You didn’t tell me to back up.”

Apparently, years of directing traffic with hand gestures have failed me. Either that, or she had never encountered the universal sign for “please move your vehicle before I lose my religion.”

She eventually backed up… though not nearly enough. I somehow managed to squeeze my truck out and circle around to another line.

As I was doing this, a young guy in the next lane who had witnessed the entire circus was laughing so hard I thought he might need oxygen.

His exact words were:

“Your hand gestures were plain enough for a chimpanzee to understand. I guess you can’t fix stupid.”

Now, before anyone nominates me for “Christian of the Year,” let me say this: I know I was wrong for losing my temper. I absolutely was.

But I will also say this — while my mouth got ahead of my better judgment, there were several things my brain suggested that thankfully never made it out loud.

So maybe there’s growth there.

The whole thing could’ve ended much worse than it did. I may have shown my rear end a little, but eventually she understood the message I was trying to convey:

Put the phone down and pay attention to what’s going on around you.

Because if she had been paying attention in the first place, she would’ve noticed the broken pump… and the growing collection of trapped vehicles trying desperately to escape fuel-line purgatory.

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

14 Thursday May 2026

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

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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

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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.

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

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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.