Tag Archives: Doctor

The Best-Laid Plans

12 Friday Jun 2026

Posted by in Disability, Life, Pets, Photography, Retirement, Uncategorized

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It’s after midnight as I write this, and I just finished my fourth cup of coffee. Yes, I know. But it’s been a very stressful day, and in my opinion, I deserve my one and only vice. Some people turn to alcohol. Some turn to recreational drugs. Me? I turn to coffee.

It really started last night when I fell asleep in my recliner and didn’t wake up until nearly 1:30 this morning. Not long afterward, I was awakened by my four-legged “daughter,” who apparently believes that 4 a.m. is the perfect time to start her day. She wanted food, snacks, and water—in that order.

I eventually managed to fall back asleep and didn’t wake up until around 7:30 a.m. That’s late for me since I’m usually up by 5:30 a.m., whether I want to be or not.

I knew I had a doctor’s appointment at 1:30 p.m., and I wanted to get some yard work done before I had to leave. My plan was to change the filament on my 3D printer and start a print job that would take most of the day. After fighting with it for more than an hour, however, I concluded that I had ordered the wrong filament.

Just as I was getting ready to head upstairs and put on my shoes for yard work, I heard water dripping into the garage from above.

I immediately called upstairs to my wife to turn off anything that was using water. She couldn’t hear me, so I ended up opening the garage door and yelling up the stairwell.

The dripping stopped.

After cleaning up some of the water, I made enough room to get a closer look at where the pipes came through the floor. At first glance, it appeared the water wasn’t coming from a pipe leak at all. It seemed to be leaking from around the pipe and coming from somewhere upstairs.

I ran upstairs to check the washing machine. Everything was dry.

Back downstairs.

After studying the direction of the pipes for a moment, I finally realized the leak wasn’t under the laundry room. It was under our bathroom, farther down the hall.

Back upstairs.

I checked under the sink. Dry.

Back downstairs.

At this point, I instructed my wife to start turning on faucets and flushing toilets while I stood downstairs watching for signs of water.

She turned on the faucets.

Nothing.

Then she flushed the toilet.

That’s when I heard, “The water’s not going down!”

A few seconds later came, “It’s about to overflow!”

BINGO!

The toilet had clogged and overflowed. Water was escaping around the base of the toilet and finding its way downstairs through the floor.

I quickly made my way upstairs and managed to get the toilet unclogged before things got much worse.

A couple of quick notes. When I said I was “running” upstairs and downstairs, that was really just a figure of speech. With my foot the way it is, I can’t run anywhere. A more accurate description would be that I was quickly limping from one floor to the other.

By the time we got everything cleaned up, it was time to leave for my doctor’s appointment on the other side of town. The yard work never happened, the 3D printer never got started, and my carefully planned day was officially shot. Apparently, the toilet had other ideas.

The ablation went as planned. I’m sore, which is expected. From what I’ve been told, tomorrow will probably be worse before it gets better. Even so, I can already tell a slight difference in the way I sit and stand.

They say it can take up to three weeks to experience the full effects of the procedure. I’ve been dealing with this pain for more than three months now, so I suppose another three weeks isn’t going to make much difference.

Still, after today, I think I’ve earned that fourth cup of coffee.

A Busy Week in the Medical World

09 Tuesday Jun 2026

Posted by in Cancer, University of Alabama

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I’ve got a couple of appointments this week. The first is with my orthopedic doctor tomorrow afternoon. I’m not exactly sure what we’re going to discuss, but whatever he has to say, I’ll be listening carefully.

I’ve already seen the X-rays and MRI images. To be honest, I’m not entirely sure what I’m looking at, but it doesn’t look good to me.

I also have an appointment with my pain management doctor on Thursday. I’m scheduled to undergo an RFA, or Radiofrequency Ablation. That’s the procedure where they go in and burn the nerve endings that are believed to be causing the pain.

I’m not sure how this procedure will fit into the overall treatment plan with my orthopedic doctor, but I suppose I’ll find out soon enough. We’ll see what happens.

A Father’s Heart Isn’t Always Easy to Explain

31 Sunday May 2026

Posted by in Family, Fishing, Kayaking, Life, Twins, Uncategorized

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I’m fortunate that I don’t have any doctor’s appointments this week. That doesn’t mean I’m completely free from medical matters, though. I still need to drive across town to one of my labs to pick up a copy of the results from my latest MRI, so I can take them to an orthopedic doctor next week and have him take a look at my back.

Earlier this afternoon, I received a text inviting me to go fishing tomorrow. Under normal circumstances, I probably would have jumped at the opportunity, but I had already made plans to pick up my medical records. I politely declined and told him I’d try to make it another time.

The good news is that I had already told my wife I wanted to go fishing at least a couple of times this week. I mentioned that to my daughter today, and while she has commitments every morning, she does have one afternoon available. The plan now is to spend an afternoon fishing with her and then head back out the next morning on my own. One advantage is that I’ll be able to leave all my fishing gear in the truck overnight and won’t have to unload everything until the following day.

Saturday will be spent giving my truck a thorough cleaning. I don’t want my parents riding across town in a dirty truck when we take them out to dinner that evening.

As of right now, my parents have no idea why they’ve been invited to a nice Italian restaurant. To the best of my knowledge, the daughter who’s getting engaged is still somewhat in the dark as well. She believes it’s all going to happen on the 13th. The ring won’t be a surprise—they picked that out together—but walking into a restaurant filled with family and friends who have gathered to celebrate with her afterward certainly will be.

I’m very happy for my daughter, but if I’m being honest, I’m a little scared for her too. Marriage is a life-changing step, and like every parent, I wonder if she’s ready.

She left the nest several years ago when she and her sister moved into an apartment together. At the time, it felt like a major milestone. This feels different. More permanent. More final.

I’m having a hard time putting my feelings into words. There’s joy because I’m proud of the woman she has become. There’s excitement because a new chapter of her life is about to begin. But there’s also a touch of sadness because another chapter is closing.

Maybe that’s just part of being a parent. We spend years teaching our children to become independent adults, and then one day they do exactly that. We celebrate their success while quietly realizing that they no longer need us in quite the same way they once did.

I suppose that’s what I’m feeling tonight—a mixture of happiness, pride, excitement, and just a little bit of melancholy. It’s not a bad feeling. It’s simply the realization that life keeps moving forward, whether we’re ready for it or not.

Needles, Nerves, and Alabama Weather

08 Friday May 2026

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Running on Faith, Coffee, and a Heating Pad

05 Tuesday May 2026

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

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Today started at 4:00 a.m.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No pressure.

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

My wife says it looked fine.

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

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

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

That’s something that always hits a little differently.

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

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

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

But it’s also been a full day.

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

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.

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.

An Expensive Day on the Water (and the Ones That Got Away)

25 Saturday Apr 2026

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

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{Eidited:) This post was supposed to go out last night (Friday), but I had fallen asleep in my recliner while editing. I woke up at 3:30 this morning and decided it was time for me to go to bed.

I’ve been “offline” for several days now, and honestly, I think life has finally caught up with me.

Between attending both of my Bible study groups, keeping up with my Tuesday night training sessions, trying to stay on top of my craft work, and dealing with ongoing back pain, it’s been a lot. Probably more than I should’ve been trying to juggle all at once.

To make matters worse, I’ve been trying all week to get in touch with my doctor’s office. I’ve left several messages with his nurse and haven’t heard anything back. I know they’re in a tough spot—my doctor passed away, and his daughter is doing her best to keep the practice going—but at some point, I’d just like to know what my MRI results are and what the next steps look like.

This back pain? It’s not subtle.

If I sit with a heating pad or lie down, I’m fine. But standing, walking very far, or trying to get up out of a chair without armrests feels like I’m auditioning for a role in a slow-motion action movie… except there’s no action. Just pain.

Now, what I’m about to say might make you question my judgment. That’s okay—I’ve been questioning it myself.

Most of you know I have an early Bible study on Tuesday mornings. After that, I usually meet up with my fishing buddy for breakfast, and like clockwork, the conversation turns to one thing: When are we going fishing?

We both love it. Probably more than we should.

We’re also not exactly the healthiest guys around. He’s got heart trouble, and I’ve got my own collection of “maybe don’t do that alone” conditions. So, logically speaking, kayaking on a river by yourself probably shouldn’t make the list of good decisions.

But here’s the thing…

Before he ever got a kayak, I used to go fishing alone all the time and never thought twice about it. No worries. No hesitation. Just me, the water, and whatever fish were willing to cooperate—which, let’s be honest, wasn’t many.

After we started fishing together, though, I began to realize maybe going alone wasn’t the smartest idea. These days, I do carry a satellite tracking device that keeps up with me and lets me send messages, which sounds impressive until you realize it doesn’t paddle the kayak for you if something goes wrong.

There’s also something I hate to admit: I actually enjoy fishing alone.

There’s a peace to it. No talking. No coordinating. No “what spot do you want to try next?” It’s just quiet… and the occasional sound of me getting frustrated.

But I know if I go without him, it bothers him. Which makes it feel like I shouldn’t.

Well, this week gave me an opportunity.

He had a doctor’s appointment on Thursday, and I didn’t have anything planned. Wednesday and Friday were already booked, so Thursday became the perfect window.

And I took it.

I went fishing alone.

Now let me tell you… It was peaceful. It was quiet. It was relaxing.

It was also expensive.

Not “grabbed breakfast on the way” is expensive. I’m talking, watch your money sink into the river while you sit there helplessly, expensive.

First to go was my measuring board—about a $40 piece of equipment that decided it no longer wanted to live on this earth. One small slip, and it vanished into about 10 feet of murky water like it had been training for this moment its entire life.

I barely had time to process that loss before my brand-new fishing reel—yes, the one I had just received the day before and proudly put on my rod—decided to malfunction.

So there I am, sitting in a kayak, performing what I can only describe as back-alley surgery on a fishing reel, when suddenly the drag knob pops off.

Time slowed down.

It slipped out of my hands…
bounced once on the side of the kayak…
and with perfect aim… dropped straight into the water.

Gone.

Just like that.

I sat there for a second, staring into the water, thinking, “Did that really just happen?” Followed immediately by, “That was expensive.”

At that point, I hadn’t caught a single fish. Not even a bite.

To say I was discouraged would be an understatement. I seriously considered paddling back to the launch and calling it quits. In my mind, catching a fish had become less about enjoyment and more about trying to justify the expense of being out there.

So I stayed.

And eventually, I started catching fish.

I officially brought four bass to the boat. It took from about 6:30 in the morning until 3:45 in the afternoon—but who’s counting? (Me. I was definitely counting.)

Now, unofficially… that number should be higher.

I had several fish on the line that apparently took one look at the kayak and decided, “Yeah, I’m not doing this today.”

One by one, they shook loose like they had somewhere better to be. No goodbye. No apology. Just gone.

Honestly, my total would be a whole lot higher if I could count the ones that “got away.” But as every fisherman knows, those are always the biggest ones anyway. If you ask me tomorrow, I’m pretty sure at least two of them will have been record-breakers.

By the end of the day, I was worn out, a little sore, and slightly poorer than when I started.

Was it worth it?

Financially? Not even close.

Physically? My back has been filing complaints ever since.

But somehow… I still had a good time.

I’ve already ordered a new measuring board, and it should be here before my next trip. The reel? Well, we’ll just say I learned some valuable lessons about fixing things over open water.

I’m not entirely sure there’s a clear moral to this story.

Maybe it’s that sometimes things don’t go your way. Sometimes they go really wrong. And sometimes they cost you more than you planned.

But even then, you can still find a way to enjoy the day.

Or maybe the lesson is this:

If you’re going to lose expensive equipment… at least catch a few fish to make yourself feel better about it.

And maybe—just maybe—next time I’ll tie everything down.

…or bring my buddy so he can watch it happen.

Grace Through the Chaos

08 Wednesday Apr 2026

Posted by in Family, Life, Uncategorized

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Currently, I’m in my recliner—coffee in hand, heating pad doing its best to negotiate peace with my back. And as I sit here, I can honestly say this past weekend is one I wouldn’t care to repeat anytime soon.

The emotional rollercoaster alone was enough to wear me out.

A few months ago, my doctor of 40 years was involved in a near-fatal car accident. For four decades, this man has been more than just a doctor—he’s been a steady presence in my life. The kind of doctor who knows you, not just your chart.

Since the accident, his daughter—a nurse practitioner—has been stepping in and taking care of his patients. The last I heard, he was in rehab and making progress. There was hope. Even with the complications from his pancreas injury, things seemed to be heading in the right direction.

Then Easter weekend came.

We had family over and made a conscious decision to set aside the plumbing chaos and focus on what Easter is really about. For a little while, everything felt normal again. Laughing, eating, spending time together—it was a much-needed pause.

But Monday morning had other plans.

Like I usually do, I started my day with a devotion and then sat down to scroll through Facebook. That’s when everything shifted.

Right there on the screen was the news—my doctor of 40 years had passed away due to complications from his pancreas.

Just like that… he was gone.

It’s hard to explain the weight of that kind of loss. It’s not just losing a doctor—it’s losing someone who has walked alongside you through so many seasons of life. Someone you trusted without question.

And in the middle of processing that, reality didn’t pause.

I had been waiting on MRI results from the previous week, and now I’m left wondering how—or when—I’ll even receive them. It’s a strange feeling… needing answers, but suddenly not knowing where they’ll come from.

Then there’s my son’s situation.

After all the speculation and stress, we finally got to the root of the plumbing issue. It turns out the culprit was a mixing valve in the guest bathroom shower. It had been leaking hot water for quite some time, and the damage… well, let’s just say it didn’t hold back.

Walls will have to be removed.
Flooring in the living room—gone.
Parts of the kitchen tile are also coming out.

It’s one of those situations where the problem hides quietly until it decides to introduce itself in a big way.

The repair itself was handled today, and the water mitigation crew has already started their work—cutting into walls, setting up fans and dehumidifiers, and beginning the long process of drying everything out.

Now comes the part nobody enjoys—dealing with the insurance company.

So far, they’ve been less than eager to step up. If it were up to them, I’m pretty sure they’d prefer to pretend the whole thing never happened. Thankfully, the mitigation team has experience dealing with this kind of pushback and has assured us they’ll fight to make sure the necessary repairs are covered.

We’ll see how that plays out.

But if there’s any silver lining in all of this, it’s this:

At least we didn’t have to tear up the living room slab chasing a mystery leak.
He’ll end up with a new wood floor.
And he has people in place who know how to handle the construction—and the insurance headaches that come with it.

Sometimes, that’s about as good as it gets.

This weekend was a reminder of how quickly things can change. One moment you’re celebrating with family, and the next you’re dealing with loss, uncertainty, and unexpected challenges.

But through it all, one thing remains the same—faith, family, and the strength to take the next step forward… even when you’d rather just stay in the recliner a little longer.

And for now, that’s exactly where I’ll be.

Coffee in hand. Heating pad on.
Taking it one moment at a time.

From Toughing It Out to Tapping Out by 10:30 AM

28 Saturday Mar 2026

Posted by in Life, Twins, Uncategorized, Woodworking

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I’ve always considered myself pretty good at dealing with pain. Not superhero-level or anything, but enough to where I can usually just shrug it off and keep going.

My wife, on the other hand… well, let’s just say pain and her are not exactly best friends.

Now, before I get myself in trouble, I should point out that she did go through childbirth twice—once with twins—so when the moment calls for it, she can absolutely tough it out. She just prefers not to make a hobby out of it like I apparently do.

As for me, I’ve been dealing with this back pain for as long as I can remember. Never really complained much about it. I just chalked it up to muscle fatigue, getting older, or doing something dumb and pretending I didn’t.

Turns out… muscle fatigue was not the issue.

According to the latest X-rays, this has been something a little more “interesting” all along. And lately, just to keep things exciting, the pain decided to crank itself up over the past month.

Naturally, my pain tolerance—once my greatest ally—has started waving the white flag. So today, I finally broke down and reached for the pain meds.

At the doctor’s office the other day, they gave me a steroid shot, and I have to admit—it worked. Yesterday morning, I got out of bed without feeling like someone was stabbing me in the back. It was a beautiful, almost spiritual experience.

This morning? Not so much.

That shot wore off like a good dream, and reality came back with a vengeance.

On top of that, I was prescribed Methocarbamol—a muscle relaxer. The doctor told me, “Take it at bedtime… and during the day if you need it. Just be aware it might make you drowsy.”

Might.

Last night, I took one and thought, “This isn’t so bad.” I stayed awake for a while and figured I was in the clear.

This morning, after wrestling my way out of bed, I decided to take another before heading to Bible study.

Thirty minutes later… I was unconscious in the recliner.

Not “a little sleepy.” Not “slightly drowsy.” I mean full-on, lights out, someone-check-my-pulse kind of asleep.

My wife had to come wake me up so I could even attempt to get ready. I made it to Bible study, but staying awake was more of a suggestion than a reality.

By the time I got back home, I sat down in the recliner—and that’s about all I remember.

My day officially ended at 10:30 in the morning.

All the plans I had for the day? Gone. Completely wiped out. The only thing I accomplished was catching up on all the sleep I’ve been missing from staying up late and getting up early preparing for these craft shows.

So I guess… not a total loss?

Tomorrow is church, and after that, I’ve got a big date planned with my recliner and heating pad. We’ve grown very close lately.

With a little rest (and maybe slightly less “effective” medication), I’m hoping by Monday I can get back to working on the projects that didn’t stand a chance today.

Until then, I’ll be right here—taking it easy and trying not to accidentally time-travel to the next day every time I take my medicine.