Tag Archives: health

My Hobbies Are Cheaper Than Therapy (Mostly)

05 Thursday Mar 2026

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

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Let’s talk about hobbies.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Find your happy place.

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

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

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

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

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

04 Wednesday Mar 2026

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Today was my bariatric appointment.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It felt strange even writing that sentence.

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

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

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

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

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

When the Calendar Attacks

02 Monday Mar 2026

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

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Photo by Yan Krukau on Pexels.com

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

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

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

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

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

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

Now let me clarify something.

I volunteered to take her.

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

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

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

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

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

Of course.

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

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

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

And then there’s my fishing buddy.

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

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

“So… when are we going fishing?”

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

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

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

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

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

This is one of those weeks.

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

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

And maybe next week… I’ll go fishing.

Insurance Knows Best… Supposedly

25 Wednesday Feb 2026

Posted by in Cancer, Diabetic, Disability, Family, Leukemia, Life, Photography, Retirement, Uncategorized

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Doctor Says Yes… Insurance Says “We’ll Think About It”

Photo by Anna Shvets on Pexels.com

Doctors, diagnoses, prescriptions, Medicare, insurance, and denial — those are words that seem to follow me around these days. Sometimes I think dealing with the medical system is almost a full-time job. If they paid by the appointment, I’d be drawing a salary by now.

One thing I’ve never quite understood is how a doctor can go to school for years, train for years more, examine you personally, and decide what medication you need — only for the insurance company to step in and say, “Nope, we don’t think so.”

Apparently, somewhere a person is sitting behind a desk who knows more about my condition than the doctor who actually saw me.

I worked for a health insurance company for 32 years before I retired. I was in the maintenance department, which meant I fixed things like doors and lights — not insurance claims. Still, people who knew where I worked would often ask me why their medication was denied even though their doctor prescribed it.

I always had to explain that just because I worked there didn’t mean I knew anything about insurance decisions.

Truth be told, I still don’t.

A good example is what happened recently with my son. He was prescribed medication for severe sleep deprivation. His previous insurance covered it, and he was happy because they had finally found something that actually worked.

Then he changed jobs.

His new insurance company now says the medication is “not medically necessary.” I guess sleeping is optional now.

The doctors now think he might have sleep apnea and ordered a sleep study. Before he even got scheduled, he got a phone call saying the test would cost over $2,000 because his insurance wouldn’t cover it.

He’s a young man with a mortgage, a car payment, and utility bills. In other words, he’s living in the real world — the one where people don’t just have $2,000 laying around for a test that might help them sleep at night.

Meanwhile, I realize I’m one of the fortunate ones. Because of my disabilities, I qualify for Medicare, and because I worked for an insurance company, I retired with a good supplemental plan. That combination gives me coverage that many people would love to have.

I don’t pay co-pays for doctor visits. I don’t pay for emergency room visits. Every time I leave the hospital, the bill says I owe exactly zero dollars, which is my favorite number.

I do pay for some medications, but not a lot.

One medication I take costs about $20,000 for a 30-day supply.

Yes, twenty thousand dollars.

For that price, I feel like it ought to come with a steak dinner and a weekend vacation.

Fortunately, the drug company offers a $0 co-pay card because they know insurance only pays part of the cost. Thanks to that program, I don’t pay a penny for a medication that costs more than some cars.

I consider myself blessed, because there are people who need this same drug and simply can’t get it because they don’t have the right insurance. That part isn’t funny at all.

When I ask why the drug costs so much, I’m told it’s because of all the research that went into developing it. I understand that research costs money, but sometimes I wonder if the scientists also built a few vacation homes along the way.

After being on this medication for a while, I feel like I’ve personally contributed a pretty fair share toward paying for that research — and I know some folks have been on it a lot longer than I have.

I don’t know what the answer is. Doctors are trying to help people. Insurance companies are trying to control costs. Drug companies are trying to recover research money.

And patients are just trying to stay alive without going broke in the process.

Maybe one day there will be a system where if your doctor says you need something, you can actually get it without filling out forms, making phone calls, and saying a small prayer first.

Until then, I guess we’ll just keep taking our prescriptions — and a healthy dose of patience right along with them.

When Life Schedules You Back-to-Back

12 Thursday Feb 2026

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thankfully, Medicare eventually changed course and started covering it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Today was one of those days.

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

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

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

11 Wednesday Feb 2026

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

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

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

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

But it comes at a cost.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

When Your Brain Hits the Snooze Button

09 Monday Feb 2026

Posted by in Cancer, Disability, Leukemia, Life, Pets, Retirement, Uncategorized

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Brain fog is working overtime this morning.

My cat got me up earlier than normal, so I started my day the usual way — getting my coffee going and sitting down to do my daily devotional. Afterward, I usually sit in the darkness for a bit to reflect on what I just read and mentally prepare myself for the rest of the day. That normally lasts about 15 to 20 minutes, depending on what I have planned.

Evidently, today I went into a deep sleep while doing so.
So instead of reflecting on scripture, I apparently reflected on the inside of my eyelids.

I got up, went into the kitchen, took a bowl out of the cabinet, and proceeded to pour cereal into it when my wife walked into the kitchen and asked what I was doing. I could only look at her with what I assume was a very strange look on my face — the same look Windows gives right before it crashes.

Normally, when someone is pouring cereal into a bowl, it means they’re about to eat breakfast. So I told her I was fixing breakfast.

She then informed me that I had already eaten breakfast.

A small argument began.

“No, I haven’t,” I replied, with the confidence of a man who clearly has no idea what he’s talking about.

She then pointed to the kitchen sink where an empty bowl with a spoon sat. Next to it was an empty plate with a fork — the same plate where I had apparently made myself a sausage patty earlier.

I honestly don’t remember eating breakfast this morning. But the evidence was sitting right there in the sink like a crime scene I had committed against breakfast foods.

I took the bowl of cereal, poured it back into the cereal box (because groceries are too expensive to waste), and went to sit down — feeling beaten and confused.

It made me wonder… how many times have I done something like this before and not remembered it? I think this was the first time with breakfast. Otherwise, I probably would have noticed empty dishes in the sink and wondered if we had a very polite burglar who only steals memories and leaves dishes.

What I do know is that during conversations, I can forget things right in the middle of saying them, and it’s frustrating. Sure, I know as you get older your brain starts playing games with you, but this feels different.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve done the classic “walk into a room and forget why I’m there” routine. I’ll leave one room, get halfway down the hall, and forget where I was going or what I needed. At this point, I just assume I live in the hallway now.

But lately, it feels… bigger than that.

I’ve also quit arguing with my wife about things that come up missing. I used to accuse her of moving things and not remembering where she put them — when in fact, it was me who moved them and can’t remember doing it. Turns out the call was coming from inside the house… and by house, I mean my brain.

I go back to the doctor on Tuesday, and if I can remember, this will definitely be one of the topics I bring up. I’m not sure if there’s anything they can do, but at least it will be on record.

And maybe — just maybe — tomorrow I’ll only eat breakfast once.

Under the Microscope… Again (Apparently I’m Now 5.9% Banana)

06 Friday Feb 2026

Posted by in bariatric-surgery, Diabetic, diet, Life, Uncategorized, Weight Loss

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Lab results are in, and just like that… I’m under scrutiny again.

When I got the email with the results, the first thing that jumped out at me was my potassium. High. Again.

This isn’t new. It was high before, then magically went back to normal on the retest. Go figure. But here we are again. My doctor called yesterday and told me my potassium was elevated to an “extremely high” level. Naturally, I went digging through my past labs, and I noticed a pattern — since my weight-loss surgery last April, my potassium has been slowly climbing.

And I have absolutely no explanation why.

For those who don’t live their lives waiting on lab portals to refresh, high potassium — or hyperkalemia — means there’s too much potassium in your blood. Normal is between 3.5 and 5.0 mEq/L. Mine? 5.9 mEq/L.
Apparently, that extra .9 is where doctors start using their serious voice.

Now here’s where it gets interesting.

The only real lifestyle change I’ve made since surgery is that I’ve apparently developed a full-blown relationship with coffee. Before surgery, I had never enjoyed a single cup in my life. Not one drop. Loved the smell. Hated the taste. But after surgery? My body apparently said, “You know what we need? Coffee. All of it.”

Those pre-surgery classes warned me this might happen. Foods you hate, you’ll crave. Foods you love, you might hate. They never warned me I’d wake up one day emotionally attached to a coffee mug.

I’ve asked other doctors if coffee could be the culprit. Most said, “Probably not,” though they also gently hinted that maybe I shouldn’t be drinking coffee like it’s my full-time job. This latest doctor, however, seems less convinced.

The nurse asked how much coffee I drink in a day.

I was honest.

  • 22 oz before breakfast
  • 22 oz with breakfast
  • 22 oz sometime after supper

Apparently, this is not the answer they were hoping for.

And it doesn’t stop there.

If I go somewhere, I have a freshly made 22 oz riding with me in the truck. I also have what can only be described as a coffee emergency kit — a toolbox with all the fixings — just in case I get stranded somewhere that doesn’t have a coffee shop with my brand of coffee.

Yes. I know. It’s really sick.

Some people say caffeine keeps them awake. Not me. I can drink coffee at 9 PM and be asleep by 11 like a toddler after a long day at daycare. I’m not wired all day. I’m not bouncing off walls. I’m just… caffeinated and functional.

Her suggestion?
Limit myself to one cup per day.

Not one 22 oz cup.
One. Cup.

Friends… that is simply not going to happen.

Today I tried. I drank only one 22-oz cup. And I spent the rest of the day thinking about coffee like it was an ex who still had my hoodie.

I go back to the doctor next Tuesday for more labs. Hopefully, I can make it until then. And maybe — just maybe — they’ll tell me it’s not the coffee doing this.

So now I wait. More labs. More monitoring. More trying to figure out what exactly my body is doing and why it suddenly decided potassium is its favorite hobby.

In the meantime, if you see me walking around slightly jittery but emotionally stable, just know I’m doing my best… and possibly negotiating with myself about a second cup.

When a Routine Becomes a Memory

03 Tuesday Feb 2026

Posted by in Boy Scouts, Cancer, Diabetic, Disability, Life, Uncategorized

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Tuesdays are my long days.

They start at 4:00 a.m. — rolling out of bed, grabbing a shower, getting dressed, and heading straight to the kitchen for the first of what will be four cups of coffee. Tuesday mornings mean Bible study across town at 6:00 a.m., so once my first 22-ounce cup is ready, I sit at the kitchen table and go over the material we’ll be covering later that morning. Sometimes I’ll pour a bowl of cereal while I drink my coffee and wake up enough to be conversational.

This morning, though, I lost track of time. One coffee refill turned into “oh wow, I need to leave now.”

I left the house about ten minutes later than normal, thinking I could make up the time on the drive. That thought lasted right up until I hit a blocked road. Detour ahead. The detour added about twenty minutes to my drive, which pretty much killed any hope of being early. And I’m one of those people who would rather be thirty minutes early than five minutes late. I ended up pulling in right at 6:00 a.m. — which, technically, is on time… but still feels late to me.

Normally, after Bible study, I head back toward home and stop for breakfast with one of my fishing buddies. Not today. Today was lab work day, which meant going to the doctor’s office to give blood. Ever since I lost all this weight, nurses seem to have trouble getting blood from me without sticking me multiple times. Either the blood stops flowing, or my veins decide to roll out of the way like they’re dodging responsibility.

This morning was no different. Three sticks before they found a vein that cooperated long enough to get what they needed.

After lab work, I went across the street to a diner and grabbed a breakfast sandwich to go. Once I got home, I spent most of the afternoon working on Boy Scout awards. We’ve got an awards ceremony for the young men in our troop this Saturday, and everything had to be sorted and organized. Of course, I found out I’m missing some awards, so tomorrow it’s back to the Scout office to track those down.

Tuesday nights are — or maybe I should say were — Scout nights for me.

Tonight was my last regular Tuesday night with the Boy Scouts. We have the awards ceremony on Saturday, and that will be my last official night serving as a leader. I’m not going to say much more about that until after Saturday. I’ve got something in mind that I’ll be writing about and posting here once everything is finished. All I’ll say for now is… it’s bittersweet.

After the meeting, some of the leaders stayed behind talking about old times and even tossing around ideas about future camping trips. I haven’t been home long, and it’s getting late. I’m not really sure what my Tuesday evenings will look like starting next week. Part of me is a little sad… and part of me is relieved.

I do have a training class starting next month that will fall on Tuesdays, but it’s only for eight weeks. After that? I guess we’ll see what new routine Tuesday decides to become.

When “Stable” Is a Standing Ovation

30 Friday Jan 2026

Posted by in Cancer, Diabetic, diet, Leukemia, Life, Uncategorized, Weight Loss

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My nephrologist called me the other day to reschedule my appointment. Apparently, the hospital had a flood on the top floor, and their offices were flooded as well. Because when you’re already dealing with kidney issues, why not throw in some surprise indoor rain?

As a result, they had to temporarily move their offices to one of their satellite locations in a nearby city. The day before my appointment, they called again and asked if we could just do a teleconference instead. Same time, same doctor, no driving, and no pants required from the waist down—absolutely.

My lab work had already been done a couple of weeks earlier, and because I like to mentally prepare myself for either good news or emotional damage, I had my results emailed directly to me. Now, I’m not a doctor, and I don’t pretend to understand every number on those reports, but there are a few that I follow very closely.

First up is eGFR, or estimated Glomerular Filtration Rate. This number tells you how well your kidneys are filtering your blood. A normal range is between 90 and 120—numbers I personally haven’t seen in a while and would probably frame if they ever showed up again.

  • 60–89 is Stage 2 kidney disease
  • 45–59 is Stage 3a
  • 30–44 is Stage 3b
  • 15–29 is Stage 4
  • Below 15 means kidney failure, and dialysis becomes a very real conversation

Then there’s Creatinine, a waste product filtered by the kidneys. In simple terms, the higher the number, the worse things are working. Think of it as your kidneys’ performance review—lower is better.

The last big number I keep an eye on is hemoglobin, the protein responsible for carrying oxygen throughout your body. This one has a direct impact on how much energy I have, which explains why some days I feel like I could conquer the world, and other days I need a nap after tying my shoes. Normal range is 13.2-17.1

So here are the numbers I focus on:

  • eGFR: 35
  • Creatinine: 2.09
  • Hemoglobin: 10.5

Now yes, an eGFR of 35 doesn’t exactly scream “picture of perfect health,” but context is everything. Last year, that number was 14. At that point, my doctor was already talking about my next visit being with a dialysis specialist. That’s not a meeting you look forward to.

So going from 14 to 35? I’ll call that a solid upgrade.

My creatinine also improved significantly—from 4.29 last year down to just over 2. Another small victory, but I’ll gladly stack those wins wherever I can get them.

Hemoglobin, however, continues to do whatever it wants. It fluctuates so much that I regularly need iron infusions. My oncologist thinks it’s related to my kidney function, while my nephrologist believes it’s tied to the chemo drug I’m on. At this point, I feel like the two of them should arm wrestle, and whoever wins gets to be right.

When the call wrapped up, my nephrologist said she was happy with where things are. She even used the word “stable.”

And if you’ve never dealt with chronic illness, “stable” might sound underwhelming. But when you live in this world, stable is a beautiful word.

Stable means no dialysis—for now.
Stable means nothing is getting worse.
Stable means today is better than last year.

So yeah, I’ll take stable.
No complaints.
And preferably without any more floods—indoor or otherwise.