Tag Archives: Help

The Kind of Person I Want to Be

19 Tuesday May 2026

Posted by in Leukemia, Life

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

The whole visit only lasted about thirty minutes.

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

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

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

The machine refused to take her money.

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

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

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

I scanned it and paid for their parking.

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

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

And honestly, THIS is the person I usually am.

This is how I was raised.

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

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

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

Not because I have plenty.

Not because I’m trying to impress anyone.

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

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

Sometimes the world feels angry, divided, and selfish.

But small acts of kindness still matter.

Maybe now more than ever.

It’s Not the End of the Road

27 Monday Apr 2026

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

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Just a quick post.

I have Chronic Myeloid Leukemia (CML). I was diagnosed back in 2014. I’m not going to lie—when I first heard those words, I thought my world had come to an end.

I was devastated.
I got depressed.
I was angry at everything and everyone.

I couldn’t even carry on a simple conversation without it turning into something it didn’t need to be. In short, I wasn’t exactly easy to live with.

The truth is, everything I felt is something a lot of people experience when they hear the word “cancer.” That flood of emotions hits hard. But what I’ve learned since then is this—there is always hope, no matter the diagnosis.

I follow several CML groups online, and I try to help people who are just starting this journey and struggling to process it all.

Last night, I came across a post from a young woman who had just been diagnosed with CML. She was going through the same emotions I went through—fear, anger, and the overwhelming feeling that her life was over. She had just gotten married and was planning to start a family, but now she was ready to give up on that dream. Her husband, loving her the way he does, was willing to give that up, too.

That hit me.

So I reached out to her privately.

I told her what I wish someone had made crystal clear to me in the beginning: things have changed. Years ago, this diagnosis looked very different. Today, it’s not the same story.

There are medications now that can control this disease. It may not be something that just disappears, but it’s something many people live with—and live well with.

I also told her I understood exactly what she was feeling, because I had been there—the anger, the depression, the uncertainty. And I let her know she didn’t have to go through it alone.

And I told her about this blog—about my life after diagnosis, the ups and downs, the fishing trips, the everyday moments. I wanted her to see that there is still a life to live after hearing those words.

Honestly, I didn’t expect a response.

But she wrote back.

And after several messages, I could tell something had shifted. Knowing that someone else had been walking this road since 2014—and is still here—gave her a different perspective. It even made her reconsider the idea that her future, including having a family, might not be over after all.

That right there is why I share my story.

CML is not a death sentence. It’s a bump in the road. A big one sometimes—but not a roadblock.

My numbers still go up and down like a rollercoaster. Some months are good, some aren’t. But it’s been that way long enough that it doesn’t shake me like it used to.

Life goes on.

And that’s exactly what I told her—live your life. Keep your appointments. Take your medication. Listen to your doctor.

But don’t stop living.

Because this diagnosis doesn’t mean the end of your story.

Good Friday… but the Pipes Didn’t Get the Memo

03 Friday Apr 2026

Posted by in Family, Life, Retirement, Uncategorized, Woodworking

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Good Friday is a solemn day. A day set aside to remember the sacrifice of Jesus Christ—His crucifixion, His death, and ultimately the hope, redemption, and victory that came from it. It’s called “Good” not because of what happened, but because of what it means for all of us.

For many people, though, it also means something a little more… practical.
A day off work. A three-day weekend. Time with family. Maybe planting flowers, knocking out some yard work, or finally getting around to those projects that have been giving you the side-eye for weeks.

For me? It was a “catch up on everything I’ve been putting off” kind of day.

After breakfast, I headed out to the garage and got to work. I moved equipment outside, cut material for some crafts I’ve got going, and spent a good chunk of the day sanding everything down so it’ll be ready for paint tomorrow. I’ve got a craft show next Saturday, and let’s just say… I’m not exactly ahead of schedule.

Somewhere around 4 PM, my back decided it had officially had enough of my ambition.

But of course, I still had to haul everything back into the garage. Because nothing says “you’re done for the day” like one last round of lifting stuff you probably shouldn’t be lifting.

All I could think about at that point was one thing:
A hot cup of coffee, my heating pad, and a recliner.

I finally got everything put up, made a thermos of coffee, and just as I was about to sit down and enjoy that first sip…

My phone rang.

It was my son.

Now, I made the comment to my wife—only halfway joking—that the only time he calls me is when something’s wrong, and he needs help. Not a “Hey Dad, how’s your day?” or “Just checking in.”

Nope. Straight to business.

And sure enough… I was right.

He had a problem. A pretty big one.

Water was coming up through the floor between his kitchen and living room. Not exactly the kind of indoor water feature you want. He had already checked everything—ice maker, sink, water heater, dishwasher, bathrooms—and everything was dry.

So I had him check the water meter.

Still moving.

That’s never a good sign.

His house is built on a slab, which means all the plumbing runs underneath it. And to make things even more interesting, whoever built the house decided that shut-off valves inside the home were apparently optional. So if you want to turn off the water, you’ve got to go all the way out to the road.

Convenient, right?

At this point, it’s looking like a slab leak… which is about as fun as it sounds. He’s got the water shut off, fans running, and a call in to the insurance company. But until they figure things out, he can’t even stay in the house—no water, no way to function normally.

Oh, and he’s got two cats to deal with on top of it.

Because why not add a little extra complication to the mix?

Now here’s where it gets interesting.

We were all supposed to go to his house for Easter lunch.

Yeah… that’s not happening anymore.

So now, everybody’s coming to our house instead.

Which means… cleaning.

And let me tell you, when it’s just my wife living here and me, we don’t exactly keep the place in “company-ready” condition. I’ve got stuff—important stuff, mind you—everywhere.

After supper, I did what I could to clean up, but between my back and a full day of working in the garage, “deep clean” quickly turned into “good enough if you don’t look too close.” There’s always tomorrow, right?

Honestly, if I had known all this was coming, I might’ve paced myself a little better earlier in the day.

Tomorrow, after Bible study, I’m heading over to his place to see if I can spot anything he might’ve missed. I’m holding out hope it’s something simple—maybe a loose line on the dishwasher or refrigerator.

But if it’s not… then it’s in the hands of insurance, plumbers, and flooring folks. And we all know that’s not a quick process.

So no, this wasn’t exactly the Good Friday we had planned.

But I guess sometimes that’s the point.

Even on a day meant for reflection, life still happens. Problems pop up. Plans change. Coffee gets interrupted.

But through it all, we adjust, we help where we can, and we keep moving forward.

And maybe—just maybe—I’ll get to drink that cup of coffee while it’s still hot tomorrow.