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~ Diabetes, Cancer Fighter, Father of Twins, Kayak Fishing, Woodcrafter, Lover of Life

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Tag Archives: health

My Mouth Has Declared a Revolt

30 Thursday Jul 2026

Posted by Tim Hughes Living with CML in Amateur Radio, Cancer, Diabetic, Disability, Family, Fishing, Kayaking, Leukemia, Life

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adventure, Bass Fishing, Broken, Crown, Daughter, Dentist, Doctor, Drill, Fishing, health, Kayaking, Life, Novocain, Pain, teeth, writing

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Benadryl, Broken Noses, and a Busy Day

20 Monday Jul 2026

Posted by Tim Hughes Living with CML in Boy Scouts, Family, Leukemia, Life, Uncategorized

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adventure, Appointment, Benadryl, Calendar, Cancer, CML, Doctor, Drugs, Family, health, infusion, Kindle, Life, Nose, Reading, Therapist, writing

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

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

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

Well… that was the plan.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My good deed for today.

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

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

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

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

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

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

If the Shoe Doesn’t Fit… Send It Back!

14 Tuesday Jul 2026

Posted by Tim Hughes Living with CML in Diabetic, Disability

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Bigfoot, Blisters, Bone Condidtion, Charcot, Fashion, fitness, health, Life, Medicall, Pain, Shoe Store, Shoes

Going to the shoe store has become one of my worst nightmares. Not everyone sells the shoes in the width that I need. In fact, there are only two stores in the Birmingham metro area that sell shoes in my size.

For those who are new here, I have Charcot. Charcot is a condition that makes my bones brittle. Two years ago, I unknowingly broke my right foot. It couldn’t be a normal break; it had to be broken in several places. What makes it worse, I didn’t know that it was broken for a couple of weeks. I have neuropathy in both feet, so I have no feeling. I only noticed when my foot was swollen so bad that my foot no longer fit in the shoe.

To make a long story short, I was in a splint for 3 weeks, a cast for eight weeks, and a boot for another ten weeks. My right foot is a 10.5 6E, and my left foot is a 9.5 3E. No, I don’t purchase two separate shoe sizes. I just purchase the larger size, and the orthotics take care of the fitting in my left foot.

So far, I’ve only found one store that sells the shoe that really fits me. It’s a New Balance style 907. They only make that shoe in one color: white. After about a month, the shoes are no longer white but a dingy gray.

Last year we tried to purchase a different-style shoe, same size and width, only to find that it caused massive blisters. I had to send the shoes back.

I went to the shoe store yesterday to purchase some new shoes because the others were falling apart. I purchased another style of shoe because I wanted a color other than white. I finally got around to putting them on a couple of hours ago, and I already know that these will be going back because they hurt my feet.

After spending nearly $200 on these shoes, I expect them to fit a little better and not hurt my feet. They act like they are simply not wide enough. I’m not sure if they make a 7E or not.

I guess I’ll be finding out tomorrow when I take these shoes back.

B

One Day at a Time with Mom and Dad

11 Saturday Jul 2026

Posted by Tim Hughes Living with CML in Family, Life, Uncategorized

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Ageing, Arthritis, Dad, elder, Family, gardening, Grass, health, Lawn Mower, Life, Mom, Nature, Pain, Parents, Scoliosis, writing, Yard, Yard Work

Yesterday I got off to a later start than I had planned. I rolled up to my parents’ house a few minutes before 9:00 a.m. My goal had been to get there by 8:00, but I just couldn’t get moving. By the time I had eaten breakfast and made my second round of coffee, I was already running behind.

When I arrived, I didn’t see my parents’ car. Sometimes they park inside the garage, but most of the time it’s sitting just outside.

I unloaded the lawnmower, which takes a few minutes since it’s on a trailer. Once it was off, I moved it onto the driveway to make a few adjustments to the mower deck and ensure it was level.

Normally, by this point, Dad is already outside with me because his driveway alarm lets him know whenever someone pulls up. Since I hadn’t seen either of them, I figured one of them must have had a doctor’s appointment and had forgotten to tell me.

I started the mower and began cutting the grass. About thirty minutes later, I spotted Dad. Evidently, he had been outside the whole time working somewhere in the backyard. He was soaked with sweat. He had been picking up limbs to clear the way so I could mow the yard.

I immediately stopped the mower and told him he had done enough. I made him go inside where it was cool. I stood there and watched until I saw him walk across the deck and into the house. It was simply too hot for him to be outside doing that kind of work.

I mowed for a little over an hour before taking a break. When I went inside, Dad was sitting on the couch. He had changed shirts, but I could still tell he was overheated from being outside. I fussed at him a little for staying out there long enough to get that hot.

My poor mother was sitting on the other side of the room, bent over from the arthritis pain in her neck. She’s been dealing with that pain for several years now, and it just keeps getting worse. Unfortunately, there’s really nothing that can be done. She’s been rubbing Hemp cream on her neck, and it seems to help for a couple of hours, but the pain always returns.

Seeing my elderly parents in this condition always weighs heavily on my heart because I know the day will eventually come when they won’t be with us anymore.

Mom has been living with one kind of pain or another ever since they were involved in that terrible head-on collision back in 2014. She used to stand nearly six feet tall. Today, she’s barely five feet because of scoliosis and arthritis. She’s so hunched over and in so much pain. She refuses to just sit still. She wants to tend to her flowers and keep the house clean, but she’s reached the point where she simply can’t do those things anymore. Most days she ends up sitting in her recliner in the den, wishing she could still do what she once did.

Dad keeps talking about buying a new lawnmower. The truth is, he doesn’t need another mower because he doesn’t need to be cutting the grass anymore. But he refuses to slow down. He’s always got to be working on something. No one can convince him otherwise.

He’s a smart man. There’s a lifetime of knowledge locked away in that brain of his, and every now and then I still have to make a phone call and dig some of that knowledge out. I’ll definitely miss that someday.

After I finished cutting the grass, we were sitting on the back deck when I told him he didn’t need to worry about buying another mower. I told him I’d be more than happy to come up every couple of weeks and cut the grass for him. He seemed to appreciate that… right up until he asked if he could sit on my mower and drive it around to compare it to his old one. Before long, we were right back to talking about buying a new mower.

After everything was finished, Dad and I sat on the back deck talking for several hours before Mom joined us. A cool breeze had started blowing, making it comfortable enough to just sit and enjoy each other’s company.

We talked about life and the choices we’ve made over the years. We talked about my kids and the possibility of grandchildren someday since two of my three children are talking about getting married.

Mom quietly said she hopes she’ll still be around when my children become parents, but she isn’t sure that will happen.

To be honest, I have my doubts too.

But I’m still praying we’re both wrong.

Thunderstorms, Traffic Jams, and Heating Pads

18 Monday May 2026

Posted by Tim Hughes Living with CML in Amateur Radio, Cancer, Cycling, Life, Uncategorized, Weather

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Bicycle, Cheaha Challenge, Dermatologist, Doctor Appointment, Early Bird, Family, health, Life, Race, Skin Cancer, Sleep, Thunder, Thunderstorms, Travel, Weather, writing

Yesterday started way earlier than any sane person should be awake. My alarm went off at 4 am, so I could head out and set up my communications station before the Cheaha Challenge bicycle ride began. I left with plenty of time to spare and figured I’d be sitting there relaxed and ready by 7 am.

Well… that didn’t exactly happen.

About halfway there, traffic on the interstate came to a complete stop. Not just eastbound traffic either — westbound traffic was stopped too. Since there were no warning signs or construction notices heading east, I naturally assumed there had been a major accident somewhere ahead.

After sitting there long enough to question every life decision that led me to that interstate at 5-something in the morning, traffic finally started moving. A mile or so ahead, I spotted three state troopers slowly leading traffic and preventing anyone from passing them. Later, I found out the state had scheduled paving work between 6 am and 8 am.

Because apparently that sounded like a wonderful idea.

By the time I finally arrived, I was an hour and a half late. Thankfully, the folks working with me had already set everything up and had the station ready to go before the race started. That was a huge relief.

The ride itself actually went very smoothly. Considering the number of riders spread out across those routes, that’s always good news. We had only a couple of reports of cramps and dehydration. Usually, there are at least a few wrecks or injuries somewhere along the route, so we were fortunate not to have any serious incidents this year.

Today was a completely different kind of long day.

I had another doctor’s appointment to have more cancer removed from the side of my back. The doctor gave me strict instructions to take it easy for the rest of the day. After several mornings of getting up before daylight, I wasn’t exactly heartbroken to hear those words.

So I obeyed the doctor’s orders perfectly.

I came home, got settled into my recliner, turned the heating pad on high, and took a long nap. Right now, I’m starting to feel a little more pain creeping in, so I’ll probably take some pain medication before heading to bed tonight.

At the moment, I’m also keeping an eye on the weather radar. We’ve got several thunderstorms moving through the area. Nothing severe, but some of them are putting on a pretty decent lightning show.

Oddly enough, I’ve always loved listening to distant thunderstorms. It reminds me of being a kid when summertime storms were just… storms. Back then, nobody seemed to classify them in three different ways or warn us about them two weeks in advance. They would roll in during the afternoon, cool things off for a while, and move on.

Tomorrow will be another early morning with yet another doctor’s appointment around 11:30. Then, Thursday brings another pain block procedure. I’m really hoping this one works better than the last one did.

Until then, I’ll probably remain parked right here in my recliner with the heating pad doing most of the heavy lifting.

Screwed up Appointments, Making Sawdust, The Fish are Waiting, Meeting Boyfriends, 100 Miles of 1000 Bicycle Riders

12 Tuesday May 2026

Posted by Tim Hughes Living with CML in Amateur Radio, Arts and Crafts, Cancer, Family, Fishing, Kayaking, Life, Nature, Retirement, Uncategorized, Woodworking

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adventure, Amateur Radio, Appointment, Bicycle, BoyFriend, Cancer, Cheaha Challenge, Dad, Daughter, 🚴 Doctor Appointment, Engagement, Family, Fishing, health, kayak, Life, River Life, Skin Cancer, Surgery, writing

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.

Needles, Nerves, and Alabama Weather

08 Friday May 2026

Posted by Tim Hughes Living with CML in Arts and Crafts, Fishing, Kayaking, Life, Photography, Retirement, Uncategorized, Weather, Woodworking

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adventure, Anesthesia, Back, Bass, Chronic Pain, Copay, Crafts, Doctor, Family, Fishing, Gift, health, kayak, Life, Medicare, mental-health, Mother's Day, Nerve Block, Pain, RFA, Sciatic Nerve, Weather, Woodworking, writing

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.

When Plans Change, and Priorities Don’t

02 Saturday May 2026

Posted by Tim Hughes Living with CML in Family, Life, Uncategorized

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Family, Fuse, health, Heating, HVAC, Life, Medication, mental-health, No AC, No Heat, Pain, Pain pill, Parents, Transformer, Troubleshooting, Wireing, writing

There comes a time in your life when you realize things don’t always go according to plan. Life has a way of stepping in, throwing a wrench into your day, and reminding you that some things matter more than whatever you had written on your to-do list.

I’m not sure if I’m making myself clear, but let me try to explain.

Growing up, my parents were the kind of people who would drop everything to help their kids. It didn’t matter what they had going on, how they felt, or what time it was—if we needed them, they were there.

My dad worked evening and late shifts most of my childhood, so I didn’t see him much during the week. He spent most of his days sleeping so he could work through the night. But even then, if I needed him, he showed up. The same goes for my mom. Between the two of them, there was never a moment when I felt like I had to figure things out alone.

Well… now it’s my turn.

Today wasn’t exactly a great day for me physically. When I woke up at 5:30 this morning, my back pain was already making its presence known. I rolled over and went back to sleep, hoping for some relief. By 9:30, I had no choice but to get up—and it hurt. A lot.

I had taken a pain pill the night before, which is probably the only reason I slept that long. After getting dressed and making some coffee, I sat down to start my morning devotion. That’s when my dad called.

His brand-new HVAC unit wasn’t working. The thermostat was completely blank. No heat, no air—nothing.

On a pain scale, I was sitting at a solid 8. I seriously considered taking another pain pill after breakfast, but I knew that if I did, I wouldn’t be in any condition to drive. And at that moment, my dad needed help.

So I skipped the pill.

I scarfed down a bowl of cereal, grabbed what tools I thought I’d need, and headed out the door. I called my wife as I pulled onto the main road to let her know what was going on.

When I got there, the first thing I checked was the thermostat… and of course, it was working perfectly. Lit up, responsive, doing exactly what it was supposed to do. I switched it to cool—worked fine. Switched it to heat—no problem.

You can’t fix what isn’t broken… at least not right away.

After some troubleshooting, I narrowed it down to a possible issue with the condensate pump—one of the few things that could interrupt power to the low-voltage system.

Sure enough, the pump was full of buildup from years of use. I disconnected it and took it to the sink to clean it out.

That’s when things got interesting.

As I was reconnecting the wiring, one of the low-voltage wires brushed against the unit… and sparks flew.

If there wasn’t a problem before, there definitely was now.

I had officially upgraded the situation from “simple service call” to “well… that escalated quickly.”

Now the real fun began—finding that fuse.

There was a resettable fuse on the transformer, but it hadn’t tripped. Which meant one thing: somewhere inside that unit was a tiny little 3-amp fuse… hiding… laughing… probably calling its fuse friends to come watch.

And let me tell you, whoever designed that unit clearly never had to actually work on it.

This thing was tucked behind the control board in a spot that required either:

  1. Much smaller hands
  2. A double-jointed wrist
  3. Or a strong prayer life

I tried reaching it from one angle—nope. Another angle—still nope. At one point, I’m pretty sure I invented two brand-new yoga poses that will never make it into a class.

After what felt like an episode of “HVAC: Mission Impossible”, I finally laid eyes on it.

Victory… briefly.

Because of course… I didn’t have a spare.

Naturally.

So off I went to the auto parts store, where I got to buy an entire assortment pack of fuses—ranging from “barely useful” to “I may never need this in my lifetime”—just to get that one tiny 3-amp fuse.

But hey, if anyone within a 5-mile radius blows a fuse anytime soon, I’m officially their guy.

Before putting the new fuse in, I double-checked everything to make sure I hadn’t accidentally created a bigger problem (because at this point, that felt like a real possibility).

Once I was confident, I slid the fuse into place…

And just like that—it worked.

Like nothing had ever happened.

By this point, my back was absolutely screaming. There was no time for small talk or hanging around. I packed up my tools, said my goodbyes, and made my way back home—straight to my recliner.

I did what needed to be done.

I pushed through the pain because that’s exactly what my parents would have done for me.

Funny how life comes full circle like that.

Tomorrow’s Bible study has been canceled since everyone’s out of town, so I’ll be taking that as a sign to rest.

And hopefully… just hopefully… the phone stays quiet.

Heating Pad Chronicles

26 Sunday Apr 2026

Posted by Tim Hughes Living with CML in Arts and Crafts, Family, Life, Retirement, Uncategorized, Woodworking

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adventure, Appointment, Back Pain, Cancer, Doctor, health, Healthy, Life, mental-health, Oncologist, orthopedic, Pain, Pain Management, technology, writing

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.

Test Results Pending… Floors Not So Much

09 Thursday Apr 2026

Posted by Tim Hughes Living with CML in Boy Scouts, Family, Life, Retirement

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

adventure, Dad Duty, Family, flooring, health, Life, mental-health, Moisture, Plumbing, Son, Walls, Water Mitigation, writing

I’ve got a couple of updates since the last round of chaos, and like everything else lately, it’s a mix of “well, that’s good news” and “you’ve got to be kidding me.”

First off, I saw a post from my doctor’s office saying they plan to reopen on Monday. Now, I’ll be honest—I don’t know how they’re going to be mentally ready for that. After everything that’s happened, I can’t imagine just flipping the sign back to “Open” and jumping right back into caring for patients like nothing ever happened.

I do have some test results I need to get, but at this point, I’m not too worried about them. I could call, but something tells me they’re going to be completely overwhelmed. Phones are ringing off the hook, patients are trying to reschedule, and emotions are still running high. I think I’ll give them a few days. If they call me, great. If not, I’ll check in later when things settle down—at least a little.

They also mentioned they’re looking for another doctor to take over the practice. That could take some time, and honestly, who knows how that’s all going to play out. But I’ve got a backup plan. There’s another doctor I’ve seen before, someone I actually know pretty well outside of the office. We crossed paths a lot through Scouts—he was a scoutmaster in another district—and we’ve stayed in touch over the years. We’re even friends on Facebook, so he’s already got a front-row seat to my “medical adventures” without ever opening a chart. If things go south with my current doctor’s office, I know where my records will be heading.

Meanwhile, over at my son’s house, the saga continues.

The water mitigation team came back today to check on the fans and dehumidifiers. They went around testing the walls and floors for moisture. The good news? The walls are drying out just like they should.

The bad news? The floor… not so much.

So tomorrow, they’re coming back to start tearing up the flooring so the slab can dry out properly. Nothing says “progress” quite like ripping out perfectly good flooring. They’re also planning to remove a few of the fans from the bathroom, which should at least lower the noise level from “airport runway” down to “only mildly annoying.”

It’s been quite the adventure so far—and we’re not even close to the end.

Once everything is dry enough, they’ll move on to the restoration phase. That’s the part my son is really looking forward to… mainly because it means we’re finally heading in the direction of “normal.” He’s also hoping that by tomorrow evening—or at least by Saturday—most of the fans will be gone. I think we’re all looking forward to that.

Of course, my wife has asked me more than once if there was anything that could have been done to prevent all of this.

Short answer? No.

Long answer? Still no… unless you want to hop in a time machine and have a conversation with the original plumbers. It could’ve been a weak solder joint, a slight shift in the slab, or something else entirely hidden beneath the surface. Without tearing everything apart beforehand—or having some kind of superpower X-ray vision—there’s just no way to know. Sometimes things just fail, and you deal with them when they do.

And speaking of dealing with it, tomorrow my son has somewhere he needs to be, so he won’t be around to let the mitigation team in.

Which means… You guessed it… I’ll be making the 45-minute drive.

And you know what? I don’t mind one bit.

Because at the end of the day, this whole mess—doctor’s offices, test results, torn-up floors, and all—is just part of life. Messy, unpredictable, sometimes frustrating… but it also gives us chances to show up for each other.

Even if it means driving 45 minutes just to let someone in the door.

And honestly… compared to everything else going on, that’s the easy part.

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