Josh Hilden's Blog, page 5
April 25, 2023
Goodbye Grandma
What follows is the Twitter chronicle of my Grandmothers illness, passing, and some of the aftermath. There is no final closure in these Tweets because that’s not how the world works. Fair warning these Tweets are not edited. I present them exactly as they were written.
They took my grandma (who raised me) to the hospital yesterday in an ambulance. I spent the afternoon in the ER with the Spoose, waiting for information. My little brother arrived from Columbus. Grandpa, who'd gone home for a couple of hours, came back. They took her to surgery for severe abdominal issues at 630pm, and she was in recovery by 1030pm. I'm returning to the hospital after getting the youngest girl off to school. It's going to be a long day. I am so freaked out.
-March 13, 2023
Grandma Update: She's been extubated, and they woke her up. She's aware and answers questions, but her throat is swollen, so we're limiting her talking. The doctor had positive things to say, so we're all optimistic I was there from 9am to 1pm. Now I am home resting. I will be going back when the Spoose gets home from work. It'll probably be a long night.
-March 13, 2023
Grandma is critical. She coded for ten minutes before.the resucitated her. It looks dire.
-March 16, 2023
Grandma is in emergency surgery. They're running her bowel and exploring the area. They're unsure what's going on.
-March 16, 2023
Grandma update. She made it through emergency surgery without issues and is under sedation for the next two days in the ICU. Her doctors are cautiously optimistic, but I am keeping my guard up. I've heard that she will be ok more than once already.
-March 16, 2023
Once more I've been at the hospital all morning. She's still critical but they're weaning her off the sedation right now. Hopefully things go better this te than they did yesterday. ❤️
-March 17, 2023
I'm so tired of hospitals.
-March 17, 2023
There are a lot of people here I don't know, or don't like, or have had no contact with in over a decade.
-March 17, 2023
They put her back on the ventilator and resedated her. When they let her breathe on her own her O2 stats went into the 60s.
-March 17, 2023
Just got back from spending all morning at the Hospital ICU. There's no real change in grandma’s status. They don't plan on stopping sedation and removing the breathing tube until tomorrow at the earliest.
-March 18, 2023
They brought in a neurologist who ordered a CT scan and, depending on what she sees, a continuous EEG. This scares me. Alzheimer's and Dementia run in the family, and Grandma has always been terrified of losing her cognitive abilities. Her mind was sharp as a razor before all of this. There's no telling what she'll be like when she wakes up... if she wakes up.
-March 18, 2023
Final grandma update of the night (unless something terrible happens). The neurologist had a serious talk with the kids (my aunts and uncles) and laid it out. We already knew this is really bad, but some people didn't want to admit it. The hospital finally found her DNR they miss filed (they need to be sued for that, IMO) and added to her jacket. If the tube comes out, it NEVER goes back in. She shouldn't have been intubated in the first place. I'll be heading back up in the morning, and for those who care, I'll keep updating you.
-March 18, 2023
Not so much a grandma update but a Josh update. I was doing okay here at the hospital until the extended family arrived. I fled to another waiting area (surgical instead of the ICU) as soon as possible. I love my family, mostly, but I don't need to listen to a pack of ultra-right-wing, judgemental Christian MAGAts spout their views. They aren't forcing them on me. I just don't need to hear it. Especially now. Besides, they've completely taken over the ICU's small waiting room.
-March 19, 2023
I am spent. I've been at the hospital every day since Grandma was admitted. I'd do this every day for a month if it meant she was getting better, but that said, I'm so tired. I'll return to my post in the waiting room at 9am tomorrow.
-March 19, 2023
I'm back at the hospital. There's no improvement and the Doctors are concerned.
-March 20, 2023
The longer this goes on the worse my Grandfathers dementia gets.
-March 20, 2023
I just want the thank the racist family sharing the ICU waiting room with us. You help confirm my disappointment with humanity.
-March 20, 2023
Home from the hospital. No changes to grandma's condition. I'll be back in the morning.
-March 20, 2023
Of course, I'll be going to sit with grandma tomorrow. I won't miss a day until she's out of the woods... or it's over. But I have a bunch to do that I've been putting off before I go. So, it looks like an afternoon visit. I only worry that something will happen while I'm not there.
-March 20, 2023
Back from another long day at the hospital. Grandma is doing a little bit better. She's keeping her eyes open and squeezing people's hands. It might be a reflex, but it might indicate she's aware. The big question now is how badly her brain was affected by the 10 minutes without blood flow. We'll have to wait and see. I'm still worried. And now we have to deal with my grandfather's mind decompiling in front of us. He had a lucid moment today and told me his mind was going and that he knew how bad it was. I wanted to cry.
-March 21, 2023
I'm not going to the hospital today. I woke up with a sore throat and an ache in my right ear. I'm 85% sure it's because of the weather. But considering Grandma is in the ICU, I'd rather not take the chance of getting her, or another patient, sick. I feel bad about not seeing her today, I haven't missed a day before today, but it is what it is.
-March 22, 2023
Back at my post in the hospital. Her stomach is swelling again and they're not sure why. Other than that her condition is unchanged.
-March 23, 2023
Grandma Update - She's doing better. They have stopped the fentanyl and reduced her to a less powerful painkiller. She's awake, alert, and aware. The doctors plan on removing the breathing tube in a few hours, but they might hold off until tomorrow morning. Her mental status remains a giant question mark, but I am thrilled with her progress.
-March 23, 2023
Been at the hospital since 10am. Everyone in the family is talking about her like she's already gone. ☹️
-March 24, 2023
Back from visiting grandma. The news from the doctor and the nurses (whose opinions I trust more) is mixed. Some things seem to be better, some are the same, and some are worse. The doctor won't make a prediction, but the nurses seem worried. Needless to say, I'm wiped out, but I'll be back at my post in the ICU waiting room tomorrow.
-March 24, 2023
Been at the hospital all day. They are bringing her off sedation again. They're looking to take her off of the event soon. With the reinstated DNR, they won't be able to hook it back up.
-March 26, 2023
I'm unsure how long I'm going to stay today. She's barely awake, and I doubt she's aware that people are in her room and talking to her. We spoke with one of the doctors, and he said they might take her off of the vent sometime tomorrow. It's scary because, as I said earlier, it doesn't come back on once the vent is off. She either breathes on her own, or she doesn't.
-March 26, 2023
She pulled her tube out earlier today (3pm-ish), and because of her DNR, it was not reinserted. Now we want for the end.
-March 26, 2023
She made it through the night without life support. My grandfather thinks she's improving, but that's his dementia talking. 💔 Hopefully, she will let go soon. I can't stand the idea that she's suffering while fighting to stay alive. 😢
-March 27, 2023
(Grandma died that day. I didn't Tweet it. I was too bereft.)
All the details for my grandma's viewing/memorial/burial have been hammered out. My little brother, my uncle, and several other family members did a masterful job handling the details. Everything is a go on Friday and Saturday. I can't wait until this is over, and I can grieve.
-March 29, 2023
Went to see my grandfather and my brother. He's the rock carrying most of the load these last two (going on three) weeks. Mom lives there, but she didn't come up from her room to see me. That's fine. She does that all of the time. About an hour into my visit, my middle brother (the one I couldn't care less about) showed up from Michigan with his wife. I told my baby brother I was leaving, and he APPEARED to be upset. He very well might have been, I tend to project in times of stress, but it seemed that way. The topper on the visit was while I was getting ready to go. Mom got up, I assume because my middle brother was there. The sad part is that all they do is fight, but she still keeps putting herself out there. I don't understand my family.
-March 30, 2023
Depression has finally taken over. It's approaching the three-week point (Sunday) since the dark odyssey began, and I think I've held it together pretty well until this point. But today's events have nudged me just far enough to the edge that I feel empty and sad. Two more days left, then I can let go and get this out of me.
-March 30, 2023
Today is the first day of two. Tonight (5pm) is the family viewing. I really don't want to do this. I've already said goodbye.
-March 31, 2023
I made it through the main viewing yesterday. Today is a short viewing. I'll attend because my oldest and his wife will be there, and he might need his dad. I hope I'm not being presumptuous. After the viewing, we drive to the grave for the burial ceremony. Finally, there's the memorial, and I'm done with this. I can let go and grieve in private. I will say this. I saw a lot of my family I hadn't seen in years, and it was actually nice.
-April 01, 2023
It's done. I went to the second viewing, the services, the burial, and the memorial. Now I'm home, and I feel... empty. I know it's supposed to be better for coping after the rituals are finished. But all I feel is hollow. Maybe tomorrow or maybe next week.
-April 01, 2023
Woke up at 5am. I've been looking through family photos. I have to say this about my grandmother's passing, I realized I like my family more than I thought I did... for the most part.
-April 02, 2023
Went to visit my mom today, and I was greeted with a surprise. My grandfather, who was supposed to be in Michigan with his daughters, was there. I visited for a bit, and my mom told me his daughter brought him back last night. Halfway through my visit, her husband called to check on Grandpa. After that, he talked to me and explained what happened. Grandpa kept leaving their house, wanting to go home. Since they had no legal ability to make him stay, they took him home. Later the medics showed up. Grandpa's son had called in a wellness check from Georgia. I appreciate what his children are doing, I have no idea what I'd do, but something has to be done. I know they agree with me, but they need to change tactics. Sorry for my bitching. I'm just frustrated.
-April 04, 2023
All joking aside, today is tough for me. We did three holidays (Easter, Thanksgiving, and Christmas) at Grandma's every year. We're hosting Easter this year, and while I'm thrilled to see all my kids and grandkids in one place, it feels wrong. I know I'll mostly get used to the new normal, but it'll feel like everything is crooked and wrong for the rest of my life.
-April 09, 2023
Do you guys wanna hear something funny? Lately, I learned my extended family has a family group here on BookFace. I searched and searched for it, then I had another family member pull it up and try to add me to it. They could not. Apparently, and I could be wrong about this, but I find that very doubtful. I am blocked from it. Do you know what? I'm not even mad. If anything, I'm amused. I have zero ideas why I'm blocked, although I have my suspicions, but it is what it is. What it is, is petty. Also, I'm well aware of the irony in my blocking my family from seeing this.
-April 12, 2023
I've been holding it together for a month (the length of her sickness and the time since her funeral), but it's finally hit me. My old friend is back. Let's see how long that SOB sticks around this time.
-April 12, 2023
It's been a messed up couple of weeks. So brace yourself. I am going to vent. First, you need to know that my grandfather has declined severely since my grandma died. The "plan" after my grandmother's funeral was for my grandfather's biological children (technically my step-grandfather). Still, as I reported in an earlier post, they bailed, claiming they can't make him do what he doesn't want to do. This is ABSOLUTELY true but is also being used as a blanket to cover inaction. This has left my mother to take care of him alone. My mom has issues. She suffers from chronic pain, Bipolar type 1 (thanks, mom), PTSD, and is a recovering (?) drug addict. My mom and my grandfather have been fighting more often than not. I've been there for some of it, and it amounts to Mom trying to tell him what he's saying is wrong (bad idea) and my grandpa yelling at her that she's a liar (also a bad idea). The night before last, it came to a head. My mom told him he could not drive anymore (she is 100% correct), and my grandfather blew his top. He told her to leave, then he said he was leaving, took the Jeep, and disappeared for hours. After getting family and the police involved, my grandfather stayed overnight at a friend's house. Fast forward to this morning, and I received a call from Mom asking if she could stay a few days with us. I said yes (so did the Spoose) and waited for her to call for me to get her. Three hours later, I called, and she said she wasn't sure what she wanted to do and would let me know later. That's fair. I'm not mad. I have to give my mom a ton of credit (I know, I'm scared, too). She has been my dementia-addled grandfather's only caregiver for weeks. I have no idea what comes next. All I know is I'm scared.
-April 20, 2023
And, as of April 24, 2023, we are at a standstill. Nothing new has happened and the effort to help my grandfather is semi stalled. My baby brother and mother are doing all they can, but they are only two people (My brother lives 1.5 hours away). My mom has her own problems on top of being the primary caregiver, has stretched her to her limits. The family is pulling together but it’s hard on all of us.
- Josh (04/23/2023)
They took my grandma (who raised me) to the hospital yesterday in an ambulance. I spent the afternoon in the ER with the Spoose, waiting for information. My little brother arrived from Columbus. Grandpa, who'd gone home for a couple of hours, came back. They took her to surgery for severe abdominal issues at 630pm, and she was in recovery by 1030pm. I'm returning to the hospital after getting the youngest girl off to school. It's going to be a long day. I am so freaked out.
-March 13, 2023
Grandma Update: She's been extubated, and they woke her up. She's aware and answers questions, but her throat is swollen, so we're limiting her talking. The doctor had positive things to say, so we're all optimistic I was there from 9am to 1pm. Now I am home resting. I will be going back when the Spoose gets home from work. It'll probably be a long night.
-March 13, 2023
Grandma is critical. She coded for ten minutes before.the resucitated her. It looks dire.
-March 16, 2023
Grandma is in emergency surgery. They're running her bowel and exploring the area. They're unsure what's going on.
-March 16, 2023
Grandma update. She made it through emergency surgery without issues and is under sedation for the next two days in the ICU. Her doctors are cautiously optimistic, but I am keeping my guard up. I've heard that she will be ok more than once already.
-March 16, 2023
Once more I've been at the hospital all morning. She's still critical but they're weaning her off the sedation right now. Hopefully things go better this te than they did yesterday. ❤️
-March 17, 2023
I'm so tired of hospitals.
-March 17, 2023
There are a lot of people here I don't know, or don't like, or have had no contact with in over a decade.
-March 17, 2023
They put her back on the ventilator and resedated her. When they let her breathe on her own her O2 stats went into the 60s.
-March 17, 2023
Just got back from spending all morning at the Hospital ICU. There's no real change in grandma’s status. They don't plan on stopping sedation and removing the breathing tube until tomorrow at the earliest.
-March 18, 2023
They brought in a neurologist who ordered a CT scan and, depending on what she sees, a continuous EEG. This scares me. Alzheimer's and Dementia run in the family, and Grandma has always been terrified of losing her cognitive abilities. Her mind was sharp as a razor before all of this. There's no telling what she'll be like when she wakes up... if she wakes up.
-March 18, 2023
Final grandma update of the night (unless something terrible happens). The neurologist had a serious talk with the kids (my aunts and uncles) and laid it out. We already knew this is really bad, but some people didn't want to admit it. The hospital finally found her DNR they miss filed (they need to be sued for that, IMO) and added to her jacket. If the tube comes out, it NEVER goes back in. She shouldn't have been intubated in the first place. I'll be heading back up in the morning, and for those who care, I'll keep updating you.
-March 18, 2023
Not so much a grandma update but a Josh update. I was doing okay here at the hospital until the extended family arrived. I fled to another waiting area (surgical instead of the ICU) as soon as possible. I love my family, mostly, but I don't need to listen to a pack of ultra-right-wing, judgemental Christian MAGAts spout their views. They aren't forcing them on me. I just don't need to hear it. Especially now. Besides, they've completely taken over the ICU's small waiting room.
-March 19, 2023
I am spent. I've been at the hospital every day since Grandma was admitted. I'd do this every day for a month if it meant she was getting better, but that said, I'm so tired. I'll return to my post in the waiting room at 9am tomorrow.
-March 19, 2023
I'm back at the hospital. There's no improvement and the Doctors are concerned.
-March 20, 2023
The longer this goes on the worse my Grandfathers dementia gets.
-March 20, 2023
I just want the thank the racist family sharing the ICU waiting room with us. You help confirm my disappointment with humanity.
-March 20, 2023
Home from the hospital. No changes to grandma's condition. I'll be back in the morning.
-March 20, 2023
Of course, I'll be going to sit with grandma tomorrow. I won't miss a day until she's out of the woods... or it's over. But I have a bunch to do that I've been putting off before I go. So, it looks like an afternoon visit. I only worry that something will happen while I'm not there.
-March 20, 2023
Back from another long day at the hospital. Grandma is doing a little bit better. She's keeping her eyes open and squeezing people's hands. It might be a reflex, but it might indicate she's aware. The big question now is how badly her brain was affected by the 10 minutes without blood flow. We'll have to wait and see. I'm still worried. And now we have to deal with my grandfather's mind decompiling in front of us. He had a lucid moment today and told me his mind was going and that he knew how bad it was. I wanted to cry.
-March 21, 2023
I'm not going to the hospital today. I woke up with a sore throat and an ache in my right ear. I'm 85% sure it's because of the weather. But considering Grandma is in the ICU, I'd rather not take the chance of getting her, or another patient, sick. I feel bad about not seeing her today, I haven't missed a day before today, but it is what it is.
-March 22, 2023
Back at my post in the hospital. Her stomach is swelling again and they're not sure why. Other than that her condition is unchanged.
-March 23, 2023
Grandma Update - She's doing better. They have stopped the fentanyl and reduced her to a less powerful painkiller. She's awake, alert, and aware. The doctors plan on removing the breathing tube in a few hours, but they might hold off until tomorrow morning. Her mental status remains a giant question mark, but I am thrilled with her progress.
-March 23, 2023
Been at the hospital since 10am. Everyone in the family is talking about her like she's already gone. ☹️
-March 24, 2023
Back from visiting grandma. The news from the doctor and the nurses (whose opinions I trust more) is mixed. Some things seem to be better, some are the same, and some are worse. The doctor won't make a prediction, but the nurses seem worried. Needless to say, I'm wiped out, but I'll be back at my post in the ICU waiting room tomorrow.
-March 24, 2023
Been at the hospital all day. They are bringing her off sedation again. They're looking to take her off of the event soon. With the reinstated DNR, they won't be able to hook it back up.
-March 26, 2023
I'm unsure how long I'm going to stay today. She's barely awake, and I doubt she's aware that people are in her room and talking to her. We spoke with one of the doctors, and he said they might take her off of the vent sometime tomorrow. It's scary because, as I said earlier, it doesn't come back on once the vent is off. She either breathes on her own, or she doesn't.
-March 26, 2023
She pulled her tube out earlier today (3pm-ish), and because of her DNR, it was not reinserted. Now we want for the end.
-March 26, 2023
She made it through the night without life support. My grandfather thinks she's improving, but that's his dementia talking. 💔 Hopefully, she will let go soon. I can't stand the idea that she's suffering while fighting to stay alive. 😢
-March 27, 2023
(Grandma died that day. I didn't Tweet it. I was too bereft.)
All the details for my grandma's viewing/memorial/burial have been hammered out. My little brother, my uncle, and several other family members did a masterful job handling the details. Everything is a go on Friday and Saturday. I can't wait until this is over, and I can grieve.
-March 29, 2023
Went to see my grandfather and my brother. He's the rock carrying most of the load these last two (going on three) weeks. Mom lives there, but she didn't come up from her room to see me. That's fine. She does that all of the time. About an hour into my visit, my middle brother (the one I couldn't care less about) showed up from Michigan with his wife. I told my baby brother I was leaving, and he APPEARED to be upset. He very well might have been, I tend to project in times of stress, but it seemed that way. The topper on the visit was while I was getting ready to go. Mom got up, I assume because my middle brother was there. The sad part is that all they do is fight, but she still keeps putting herself out there. I don't understand my family.
-March 30, 2023
Depression has finally taken over. It's approaching the three-week point (Sunday) since the dark odyssey began, and I think I've held it together pretty well until this point. But today's events have nudged me just far enough to the edge that I feel empty and sad. Two more days left, then I can let go and get this out of me.
-March 30, 2023
Today is the first day of two. Tonight (5pm) is the family viewing. I really don't want to do this. I've already said goodbye.
-March 31, 2023
I made it through the main viewing yesterday. Today is a short viewing. I'll attend because my oldest and his wife will be there, and he might need his dad. I hope I'm not being presumptuous. After the viewing, we drive to the grave for the burial ceremony. Finally, there's the memorial, and I'm done with this. I can let go and grieve in private. I will say this. I saw a lot of my family I hadn't seen in years, and it was actually nice.
-April 01, 2023
It's done. I went to the second viewing, the services, the burial, and the memorial. Now I'm home, and I feel... empty. I know it's supposed to be better for coping after the rituals are finished. But all I feel is hollow. Maybe tomorrow or maybe next week.
-April 01, 2023
Woke up at 5am. I've been looking through family photos. I have to say this about my grandmother's passing, I realized I like my family more than I thought I did... for the most part.
-April 02, 2023
Went to visit my mom today, and I was greeted with a surprise. My grandfather, who was supposed to be in Michigan with his daughters, was there. I visited for a bit, and my mom told me his daughter brought him back last night. Halfway through my visit, her husband called to check on Grandpa. After that, he talked to me and explained what happened. Grandpa kept leaving their house, wanting to go home. Since they had no legal ability to make him stay, they took him home. Later the medics showed up. Grandpa's son had called in a wellness check from Georgia. I appreciate what his children are doing, I have no idea what I'd do, but something has to be done. I know they agree with me, but they need to change tactics. Sorry for my bitching. I'm just frustrated.
-April 04, 2023
All joking aside, today is tough for me. We did three holidays (Easter, Thanksgiving, and Christmas) at Grandma's every year. We're hosting Easter this year, and while I'm thrilled to see all my kids and grandkids in one place, it feels wrong. I know I'll mostly get used to the new normal, but it'll feel like everything is crooked and wrong for the rest of my life.
-April 09, 2023
Do you guys wanna hear something funny? Lately, I learned my extended family has a family group here on BookFace. I searched and searched for it, then I had another family member pull it up and try to add me to it. They could not. Apparently, and I could be wrong about this, but I find that very doubtful. I am blocked from it. Do you know what? I'm not even mad. If anything, I'm amused. I have zero ideas why I'm blocked, although I have my suspicions, but it is what it is. What it is, is petty. Also, I'm well aware of the irony in my blocking my family from seeing this.
-April 12, 2023
I've been holding it together for a month (the length of her sickness and the time since her funeral), but it's finally hit me. My old friend is back. Let's see how long that SOB sticks around this time.
-April 12, 2023
It's been a messed up couple of weeks. So brace yourself. I am going to vent. First, you need to know that my grandfather has declined severely since my grandma died. The "plan" after my grandmother's funeral was for my grandfather's biological children (technically my step-grandfather). Still, as I reported in an earlier post, they bailed, claiming they can't make him do what he doesn't want to do. This is ABSOLUTELY true but is also being used as a blanket to cover inaction. This has left my mother to take care of him alone. My mom has issues. She suffers from chronic pain, Bipolar type 1 (thanks, mom), PTSD, and is a recovering (?) drug addict. My mom and my grandfather have been fighting more often than not. I've been there for some of it, and it amounts to Mom trying to tell him what he's saying is wrong (bad idea) and my grandpa yelling at her that she's a liar (also a bad idea). The night before last, it came to a head. My mom told him he could not drive anymore (she is 100% correct), and my grandfather blew his top. He told her to leave, then he said he was leaving, took the Jeep, and disappeared for hours. After getting family and the police involved, my grandfather stayed overnight at a friend's house. Fast forward to this morning, and I received a call from Mom asking if she could stay a few days with us. I said yes (so did the Spoose) and waited for her to call for me to get her. Three hours later, I called, and she said she wasn't sure what she wanted to do and would let me know later. That's fair. I'm not mad. I have to give my mom a ton of credit (I know, I'm scared, too). She has been my dementia-addled grandfather's only caregiver for weeks. I have no idea what comes next. All I know is I'm scared.
-April 20, 2023
And, as of April 24, 2023, we are at a standstill. Nothing new has happened and the effort to help my grandfather is semi stalled. My baby brother and mother are doing all they can, but they are only two people (My brother lives 1.5 hours away). My mom has her own problems on top of being the primary caregiver, has stretched her to her limits. The family is pulling together but it’s hard on all of us.
- Josh (04/23/2023)
This Is The Day
The anniversary of the worst day of my life.
Three years ago today, there was a knock on my door, the knock every parent is terrified of. A police sergeant stood on my porch with that look on his face. The one that says he is so sorry before he says a word. I already knew what he was going to say.
I just didn't know the details.
(I will not share the details because, even now, they are too painful.)
In short, he told me my son had killed himself.
After a discussion where I managed to keep it together, I told the officer I would tell my Spouse, who was at work. It needed to come from me, and not a stranger.
The drive to her job went by in a blur. I don't remember the drive. I was hyper-focused on telling her.
Long story short, I told her, and she had a breakdown in her office. Telling her is the hardest thing I've ever had to do.
We went home and made the phone calls. I ended up having to pay to find the phone number of her POS ex-husband because they were both his next of kin, and he needed to sign off on releasing the body to the funeral home.
That night, somewhere around two in the morning, I broke down and let it all out.
Today is the third anniversary of the worst day of my life.
- Josh (04/23/2023)
Three years ago today, there was a knock on my door, the knock every parent is terrified of. A police sergeant stood on my porch with that look on his face. The one that says he is so sorry before he says a word. I already knew what he was going to say.
I just didn't know the details.
(I will not share the details because, even now, they are too painful.)
In short, he told me my son had killed himself.
After a discussion where I managed to keep it together, I told the officer I would tell my Spouse, who was at work. It needed to come from me, and not a stranger.
The drive to her job went by in a blur. I don't remember the drive. I was hyper-focused on telling her.
Long story short, I told her, and she had a breakdown in her office. Telling her is the hardest thing I've ever had to do.
We went home and made the phone calls. I ended up having to pay to find the phone number of her POS ex-husband because they were both his next of kin, and he needed to sign off on releasing the body to the funeral home.
That night, somewhere around two in the morning, I broke down and let it all out.
Today is the third anniversary of the worst day of my life.
- Josh (04/23/2023)
October 13, 2021
I'm A Work In Progress
As many of you know, it's been a rough couple of months.
I've been through a lot, most of it mental, some of it emotional, and a couple of things that are physical. All of that said, I have to say thank you to every one of you that reached out to me and had kind words and messages of peace and hope. If it wasn't for the help, support, and good words from my friends online and my family in real life, I'm not sure I could have made it to this point standing. I’m not saying I would have killed myself. I'm saying I would have spent two weeks in bed without engaging with anybody.
So why are things better?
It's never been diagnosed, but I think I have a seasonal affective disorder. Every summer, I seem to shut down emotionally and mentally. With the exception of trips back home to Michigan. And the conventions that I managed to go to, the summers are a dark time for me. It's too hot. There's too much sunlight. There are too many people in the neighborhood out and about, and I just can't handle it.
The only good part about the summer is that my daughter is home from school. You would think that I would want her to be at school while I’m so depressed but having her around makes me feel better. She is one of the beacons of light in my life, and I don't know where I'd be without her or my other children.
From the very end of September until the middle of January, I am happier than at any other point in the year. Maybe it's the cool air. Maybe it's the lack of humidity, and maybe it's just. A feeling that makes no sense, but when it gets cool and when the nights get longer, and I don't have to run the air conditioner anymore, I'm happy, or at least as happy as I can be.
Yesterday was a bad day. Yesterday was the day that one of my phobias was triggered, and I had needles put in my eyes. Yeah, I'm OK. I'm not freaking out even though my eyes are sore, and it was hard to sleep last night. I don't feel so bad. Between the eyes and my upcoming colonoscopy, I have to have another one because I screwed up the prep on the first one, and my truck not being in the best of shape at the moment. I'm still in a pretty good mood.
Am I just coming out of a depressive swing?
Is it the weather that truly makes me feel better?
Or is it just nature?
Is it the way it's supposed to be?
I don't actually believe that things happen for a reason. But I feel better. I almost feel good. I know the feeling won't last, but for the moment, I'm relatively calm. I'm relatively happy. I'm relatively at peace.
Maybe, in the end, it's just my friends and family supporting me that did it that brought me out of this dark cycle that's been going on since April. Whatever it is, I'm thankful to the universe that I'm feeling this way. The ideas of ending my life or never getting out of bed, or not wanting to shower or eat have been virtually banished from my life.
I know this is just a temporary change. I know that I'll feel the depression again sooner rather than later. I know that there's no cure for the way I feel, and it's just a constant fight every day to be better than I was the day before.
To quote Battlestar Galactica, "this is all happened before, and it will happen again."
Even though I know that. I will take it today. I will take the peace I have. I will take my ability to function. I will be happy that I got up, took a shower, fed my dog, made breakfast, got my daughter off to school, and in the end, didn't take a long nap.
I guess it really is the little things that determine how you're doing.
In the end, you're either alone or surrounded by the people that love you. There's no Other option. I know that sounds dark, but I find comfort in it. I have a large family. I have a large community of friends, although most of them are online, but that didn't matter during my time of crisis. They all reached out to me. They tried to help me, and in the end, they did help me. I managed to walk through the darkness and come out on the other side.
I’m not gonna lie to any of you the year and a half. that's passed since my son died in the hardest of my life. Maybe I'm starting to come to terms with it because I'm willing to talk about it. Maybe I just ran out of gas in the tank, and it's time to fix things.
All I know is I love each and every one of you. This supported me. You are either my family by blood or the family I choose. Either way, I appreciate every last one of you.
But now it's time to do that thing. The thing I never wanna do. I have to start. I have to do things that have been sitting on done for almost two years. I have to get down to the brass tacks, as they would say, and address the major issues. I have a therapist now, and I'm hoping to work through many of these things.
For the first time in years, I have hope. I have hope that I can be normal or as close to normal as possible. I have hope that my mental illness won't control my life any longer. I know it will be hard. I know it will be scary. Things that have been kept buried for a long time need to be exhumed and studied. Things that even in my essays in which I try to be open, I haven't spoken of.
There's a lot of work to be done.
Because I'm a work in progress.
- Josh (10/03/2021)
I've been through a lot, most of it mental, some of it emotional, and a couple of things that are physical. All of that said, I have to say thank you to every one of you that reached out to me and had kind words and messages of peace and hope. If it wasn't for the help, support, and good words from my friends online and my family in real life, I'm not sure I could have made it to this point standing. I’m not saying I would have killed myself. I'm saying I would have spent two weeks in bed without engaging with anybody.
So why are things better?
It's never been diagnosed, but I think I have a seasonal affective disorder. Every summer, I seem to shut down emotionally and mentally. With the exception of trips back home to Michigan. And the conventions that I managed to go to, the summers are a dark time for me. It's too hot. There's too much sunlight. There are too many people in the neighborhood out and about, and I just can't handle it.
The only good part about the summer is that my daughter is home from school. You would think that I would want her to be at school while I’m so depressed but having her around makes me feel better. She is one of the beacons of light in my life, and I don't know where I'd be without her or my other children.
From the very end of September until the middle of January, I am happier than at any other point in the year. Maybe it's the cool air. Maybe it's the lack of humidity, and maybe it's just. A feeling that makes no sense, but when it gets cool and when the nights get longer, and I don't have to run the air conditioner anymore, I'm happy, or at least as happy as I can be.
Yesterday was a bad day. Yesterday was the day that one of my phobias was triggered, and I had needles put in my eyes. Yeah, I'm OK. I'm not freaking out even though my eyes are sore, and it was hard to sleep last night. I don't feel so bad. Between the eyes and my upcoming colonoscopy, I have to have another one because I screwed up the prep on the first one, and my truck not being in the best of shape at the moment. I'm still in a pretty good mood.
Am I just coming out of a depressive swing?
Is it the weather that truly makes me feel better?
Or is it just nature?
Is it the way it's supposed to be?
I don't actually believe that things happen for a reason. But I feel better. I almost feel good. I know the feeling won't last, but for the moment, I'm relatively calm. I'm relatively happy. I'm relatively at peace.
Maybe, in the end, it's just my friends and family supporting me that did it that brought me out of this dark cycle that's been going on since April. Whatever it is, I'm thankful to the universe that I'm feeling this way. The ideas of ending my life or never getting out of bed, or not wanting to shower or eat have been virtually banished from my life.
I know this is just a temporary change. I know that I'll feel the depression again sooner rather than later. I know that there's no cure for the way I feel, and it's just a constant fight every day to be better than I was the day before.
To quote Battlestar Galactica, "this is all happened before, and it will happen again."
Even though I know that. I will take it today. I will take the peace I have. I will take my ability to function. I will be happy that I got up, took a shower, fed my dog, made breakfast, got my daughter off to school, and in the end, didn't take a long nap.
I guess it really is the little things that determine how you're doing.
In the end, you're either alone or surrounded by the people that love you. There's no Other option. I know that sounds dark, but I find comfort in it. I have a large family. I have a large community of friends, although most of them are online, but that didn't matter during my time of crisis. They all reached out to me. They tried to help me, and in the end, they did help me. I managed to walk through the darkness and come out on the other side.
I’m not gonna lie to any of you the year and a half. that's passed since my son died in the hardest of my life. Maybe I'm starting to come to terms with it because I'm willing to talk about it. Maybe I just ran out of gas in the tank, and it's time to fix things.
All I know is I love each and every one of you. This supported me. You are either my family by blood or the family I choose. Either way, I appreciate every last one of you.
But now it's time to do that thing. The thing I never wanna do. I have to start. I have to do things that have been sitting on done for almost two years. I have to get down to the brass tacks, as they would say, and address the major issues. I have a therapist now, and I'm hoping to work through many of these things.
For the first time in years, I have hope. I have hope that I can be normal or as close to normal as possible. I have hope that my mental illness won't control my life any longer. I know it will be hard. I know it will be scary. Things that have been kept buried for a long time need to be exhumed and studied. Things that even in my essays in which I try to be open, I haven't spoken of.
There's a lot of work to be done.
Because I'm a work in progress.
- Josh (10/03/2021)
October 10, 2021
The Doldrums
It's always hardest to start.
It's just a struggle to get up every morning.
They tell me I have bipolar disorder. They tell me I'll never be normal like all the other people around me. They tell me I need to take this medication in order to maintain balance. I live in a world of exhaustion, depression. And oblique sadness.
How does my day usually go?
I get up at 8:00 AM in order to maintain a schedule.
The very first thing I do is feed and water the dog, or at least I used to. Now my daughter does it to relieve me of one more menial task that does nothing more than driving my depression. deeper and harder into my soul.
I must take my medication before 10. I have a glass of milk and maybe a piece of fruit before I choke down the pills. I need to start my day. I take 5 pills in the morning, 4 pills in the afternoon, and I take 10 pills before I go to bed.
It's a fun way to live.
After I take my pills, which is the official start of my day, the first thing I do is take a shower. If I don't take a shower in the morning, I won't take one all day, and I'll end up smelly and disgusting. The worst of the smells from my ears. Because I wear glasses, sweat gets caught between the arm and the ear. It's a disgusting smell. I had no idea it could emerge from such a small area of the body.
Once I've taken the hottest shower, I can stand, I move on to chores from the night before. I wash the dishes. I straighten up the living room. I take the laundry downstairs. Well, I used to take laundry up and down the basement stairs. Although now my daughter does it. She's a big help, and I always wish I could thank her more.
The real depression starts. When the dishes are finished.
Every day I contemplate suicide. I'm not suicidal per-say. I don't actually want to die at the moment, but I still contemplate it. Every night when I go to bed, I tell myself if the next day is worse than the one I just lived. I can end it. I don't think I actually mean that, but it does help me balance my day knowing that there isn't out, just in case it becomes too bad.
Please don't freak out or go reporting me to Internet authorities or my family. This is just something I contemplate. It is not something I ever plan on doing again.
I don't do much the rest of the day. I write. Well, sometimes I can, sometimes I can't. I sit on the couch a lot. I sit on this couch, and I watch TV, and I think, "Is this all there is?" I know there's more I could get out of life. I know there's happiness out there beyond my family. I know it intellectually, but I don't feel it, and that's the problem.
I'm on an upswing now. Not so depressed and able to work. Not making people feel horrible. Making people feel horrible means a lot to me, I'm convinced, I make everybody who loves me feel awful. They tell me I don't, but that doesn't change the fact that I feel it.
Today isn't a bad day. I woke up. I did my routine. But I didn't go back to bed. I stayed up. I tried to do some work around the house. I'm working on the computer trying to do some writing, so maybe today is one of those good days. Maybe today is one of those days where I look back and say that was a happy day.
Later today, we are going to my granddaughter's birthday, and I'm actually looking forward to it. She's kept this family sane since Stephen killed himself. Everyone can look at her and say, we have something good in the family. Something we could concentrate on. It doesn't make us sad.
With the news of my middle daughter now being pregnant, that joy is multiplied by 10.
Hopefully, we'll be able to move past what's been going on. Will be able to remember Stephen only in a good way, and in the end, that will be enough.
And yet I sit here numb. I think to myself, is this as good as it gets when I'm on an upswing. To be numb to not feel depressed enough. Feel sad but not feel extreme joy or happiness. Maybe the numbness is the actual first step towards healing. Maybe I'll eventually move past the numbness and feel real happiness once more.
I realize I have a pretty good life. I have a wife who loves me. I have six children now, five that love me. I have a granddaughter who loves me. I have a new Grandchild on the way, and I can only say that I will love this grandchild as much as any other person in this family. I haven't. We're not in crushing financial debt. My wife has a job that she likes now as opposed to the one she hated. We own our own home. I own my own vehicle. She owns her own vehicle as well. We're in very little debt if you do not count the house.
Life should be good all-around, and yet it doesn't feel like it.
I cling to the fact that I am trying to make things better. I'm more cautious with my sugars. I'm taking my pills when I'm supposed to and letting my doctors know if there are any side effects. But more importantly, I'm taking on the rest of my health and trying to be better. I'm following my diet closer than I ever have before. I'm having the midlife tests all men have to have. I'm working to maintain my vision. Trying to make sure I don't lose it sooner than I have to.
Life should be good.
But if that's the case, why am I so sad?
- Josh (10/10/2021)
It's just a struggle to get up every morning.
They tell me I have bipolar disorder. They tell me I'll never be normal like all the other people around me. They tell me I need to take this medication in order to maintain balance. I live in a world of exhaustion, depression. And oblique sadness.
How does my day usually go?
I get up at 8:00 AM in order to maintain a schedule.
The very first thing I do is feed and water the dog, or at least I used to. Now my daughter does it to relieve me of one more menial task that does nothing more than driving my depression. deeper and harder into my soul.
I must take my medication before 10. I have a glass of milk and maybe a piece of fruit before I choke down the pills. I need to start my day. I take 5 pills in the morning, 4 pills in the afternoon, and I take 10 pills before I go to bed.
It's a fun way to live.
After I take my pills, which is the official start of my day, the first thing I do is take a shower. If I don't take a shower in the morning, I won't take one all day, and I'll end up smelly and disgusting. The worst of the smells from my ears. Because I wear glasses, sweat gets caught between the arm and the ear. It's a disgusting smell. I had no idea it could emerge from such a small area of the body.
Once I've taken the hottest shower, I can stand, I move on to chores from the night before. I wash the dishes. I straighten up the living room. I take the laundry downstairs. Well, I used to take laundry up and down the basement stairs. Although now my daughter does it. She's a big help, and I always wish I could thank her more.
The real depression starts. When the dishes are finished.
Every day I contemplate suicide. I'm not suicidal per-say. I don't actually want to die at the moment, but I still contemplate it. Every night when I go to bed, I tell myself if the next day is worse than the one I just lived. I can end it. I don't think I actually mean that, but it does help me balance my day knowing that there isn't out, just in case it becomes too bad.
Please don't freak out or go reporting me to Internet authorities or my family. This is just something I contemplate. It is not something I ever plan on doing again.
I don't do much the rest of the day. I write. Well, sometimes I can, sometimes I can't. I sit on the couch a lot. I sit on this couch, and I watch TV, and I think, "Is this all there is?" I know there's more I could get out of life. I know there's happiness out there beyond my family. I know it intellectually, but I don't feel it, and that's the problem.
I'm on an upswing now. Not so depressed and able to work. Not making people feel horrible. Making people feel horrible means a lot to me, I'm convinced, I make everybody who loves me feel awful. They tell me I don't, but that doesn't change the fact that I feel it.
Today isn't a bad day. I woke up. I did my routine. But I didn't go back to bed. I stayed up. I tried to do some work around the house. I'm working on the computer trying to do some writing, so maybe today is one of those good days. Maybe today is one of those days where I look back and say that was a happy day.
Later today, we are going to my granddaughter's birthday, and I'm actually looking forward to it. She's kept this family sane since Stephen killed himself. Everyone can look at her and say, we have something good in the family. Something we could concentrate on. It doesn't make us sad.
With the news of my middle daughter now being pregnant, that joy is multiplied by 10.
Hopefully, we'll be able to move past what's been going on. Will be able to remember Stephen only in a good way, and in the end, that will be enough.
And yet I sit here numb. I think to myself, is this as good as it gets when I'm on an upswing. To be numb to not feel depressed enough. Feel sad but not feel extreme joy or happiness. Maybe the numbness is the actual first step towards healing. Maybe I'll eventually move past the numbness and feel real happiness once more.
I realize I have a pretty good life. I have a wife who loves me. I have six children now, five that love me. I have a granddaughter who loves me. I have a new Grandchild on the way, and I can only say that I will love this grandchild as much as any other person in this family. I haven't. We're not in crushing financial debt. My wife has a job that she likes now as opposed to the one she hated. We own our own home. I own my own vehicle. She owns her own vehicle as well. We're in very little debt if you do not count the house.
Life should be good all-around, and yet it doesn't feel like it.
I cling to the fact that I am trying to make things better. I'm more cautious with my sugars. I'm taking my pills when I'm supposed to and letting my doctors know if there are any side effects. But more importantly, I'm taking on the rest of my health and trying to be better. I'm following my diet closer than I ever have before. I'm having the midlife tests all men have to have. I'm working to maintain my vision. Trying to make sure I don't lose it sooner than I have to.
Life should be good.
But if that's the case, why am I so sad?
- Josh (10/10/2021)
October 5, 2021
Neon Pee
I'm gonna try to keep this one short.
Today I had an appointment with a specialist. Another ophthalmologist was recommended by the first one, who told me I was going to go blind. The appointment was not fun.
The first thing they did was numb my eyes.
Followed by dilation.
These things bring back Bad memories of childhood. I've had problems with my eyes ever since I was born. I was born with a lazy eye that rolls as far to the side as it possibly could. When I was six months old, they put goggles on me. One of my worst memories of childhood is being dragged to the optometrist and the ophthalmologist to have my eyes checked. The machine scared the hell out of me, and every time they had to dilate my eyes, I'd cry.
This is probably why I haven't been back to the ophthalmologist inside the teenager.
Today, the first thing I did after I was dilated was used that nifty little hammer device to check the pressure in my eyes. It took everything I had not to jump up and run from the seat. When the little nubs touched my eye. But I didn't, and I sat there, and I waited for the next indignity.
I didn't have to wait long.
I sat for half an hour for pictures Of my eye's interior, which pretty much meant I stared into a bright light for half an hour. They took picture after picture after picture and a long series of videos. It was uncomfortable and, in some cases, downright painful, but I endured it. It's not to make it sound like I'm some kind of tough guy. It's just I have a lot of experience with these things.
Then came the dye.
They injected me with a fluorescent dye to help them better see how bad off my eyes were. It didn't hurt to have the injection. The tech they had put in the line for the needle was pretty good at his job.
But I was still terrified.
What follows another series of pictures and videos? Much brighter and much more painful. But when they were done with these pictures and videos, I was done. They told me there was nothing to worry about and that the only thing I would notice was that my pee was going to be neon yellow for the next few days. Also, the dike made my vision red for half an hour which was actually kind of cool.
They took me from the lab back to the exam room, and I waited for the doctor. When he arrived, he laid it out for me as best he could. Yes, I am really going to go blind eventually, but there are things we can do for the next couple of years to keep it in check. Unfortunately, these things that we have to do trigger one of my biggest phobias, and it basically sent me into a panic.
Every month or so, I'm going to get an injection in each eye to relieve the pressure, and then two weeks after that, laser surgery on each eye. This will continue as long as The treatments are effective.
After that, my only choice is surgery.
Surgery on my eye.
The concept that may scare me the most of anything in the entire world that affects only me.
So now I sit here at my computer. Using this headset to input my words as opposed to the keyboard. I'm scared, I'm concerned, and more importantly, I'm mad. I'm mad at myself for letting it get this way. I'm mad at myself for not taking my diabetes seriously until this year, and mostly I'm mad at myself for never doing what I need to do to take care of my health.
Now I wait.
Now I contemplate,
And now the fear gestates.
I'll survive.
- Josh (10/05/2021)
Today I had an appointment with a specialist. Another ophthalmologist was recommended by the first one, who told me I was going to go blind. The appointment was not fun.
The first thing they did was numb my eyes.
Followed by dilation.
These things bring back Bad memories of childhood. I've had problems with my eyes ever since I was born. I was born with a lazy eye that rolls as far to the side as it possibly could. When I was six months old, they put goggles on me. One of my worst memories of childhood is being dragged to the optometrist and the ophthalmologist to have my eyes checked. The machine scared the hell out of me, and every time they had to dilate my eyes, I'd cry.
This is probably why I haven't been back to the ophthalmologist inside the teenager.
Today, the first thing I did after I was dilated was used that nifty little hammer device to check the pressure in my eyes. It took everything I had not to jump up and run from the seat. When the little nubs touched my eye. But I didn't, and I sat there, and I waited for the next indignity.
I didn't have to wait long.
I sat for half an hour for pictures Of my eye's interior, which pretty much meant I stared into a bright light for half an hour. They took picture after picture after picture and a long series of videos. It was uncomfortable and, in some cases, downright painful, but I endured it. It's not to make it sound like I'm some kind of tough guy. It's just I have a lot of experience with these things.
Then came the dye.
They injected me with a fluorescent dye to help them better see how bad off my eyes were. It didn't hurt to have the injection. The tech they had put in the line for the needle was pretty good at his job.
But I was still terrified.
What follows another series of pictures and videos? Much brighter and much more painful. But when they were done with these pictures and videos, I was done. They told me there was nothing to worry about and that the only thing I would notice was that my pee was going to be neon yellow for the next few days. Also, the dike made my vision red for half an hour which was actually kind of cool.
They took me from the lab back to the exam room, and I waited for the doctor. When he arrived, he laid it out for me as best he could. Yes, I am really going to go blind eventually, but there are things we can do for the next couple of years to keep it in check. Unfortunately, these things that we have to do trigger one of my biggest phobias, and it basically sent me into a panic.
Every month or so, I'm going to get an injection in each eye to relieve the pressure, and then two weeks after that, laser surgery on each eye. This will continue as long as The treatments are effective.
After that, my only choice is surgery.
Surgery on my eye.
The concept that may scare me the most of anything in the entire world that affects only me.
So now I sit here at my computer. Using this headset to input my words as opposed to the keyboard. I'm scared, I'm concerned, and more importantly, I'm mad. I'm mad at myself for letting it get this way. I'm mad at myself for not taking my diabetes seriously until this year, and mostly I'm mad at myself for never doing what I need to do to take care of my health.
Now I wait.
Now I contemplate,
And now the fear gestates.
I'll survive.
- Josh (10/05/2021)
October 4, 2021
On The Couch Again
When I was 14, my father sent me to see a therapist for the first time.
When I met the man whose name was Terry, I didn't wanna do it. I didn't wanna talk to him about my problems. I didn't wanna talk to him about my family issues, and I didn't wanna talk to you about the secret things that I hadn't told anybody. But over the course of three years, I came to trust Harry and eventually invested all of my secrets with him.
In the end, it was Terry who came to my aid when I tried to kill myself, not any of the doctors at the hospital. I told him about my sexuality. I told him about what happened to me when I was seven, and I told him about the real problems I was having living with my father and my stepmother.
Terry was kind, he was thoughtful, and he was intelligent. He never pushed me to say what I didn't wanna say, but he did push me enough to say this stuff. I wanted to say but was too afraid. The last time I saw him was a month before I moved from the Detroit Metro area to Dayton, OH. I sometimes wonder how he's doing.
What does this have to do with my current situation?
Today, for the first time in almost 30 years, I saw a therapist. She seems nice. She seems intelligent. She seems like she has all her shit together. I hope so because she's really the only choice I have when it comes to my insurance. How much I can pay out of pocket?
So why do I need to see a therapist?
As many of you have been reading my blog and my Facebook page for a long time, no. That I have a lot of problems, a lot of issues I haven't dealt with beyond blogs and journaling about a month and a half ago, my general practitioner told me I need to start seeing a therapist I need to deal with the grief, the loss of my son. I needed to deal with the issues that I live with based on what happened to me when I was 7, and I need to deal with the problems I'm having with my family problems that I caused problems that have made me miserable for more than 10 years.
I'm not sure how I feel about all this. I'm more comfortable sharing what happened and how I'm doing and coping via the Internet. Talking to a single person is a little scary. I know I shouldn't be afraid. I know these people really are there to help. I mean, why would they do this job for such little pay if they didn't give a shit?
So what am I hoping to get out of this?
I want to not cry every week. Uncontrollably because I miss my son. I know that there were always be tears, and I know I will never not miss him, but I need to be functional. I need to not have it like a stone weighing me down and pulling me into the depths.
I wanna deal with what happened to me when I was seven. I want to finally get it out. I want to know that it's over. I want to believe that it's over. I want to make my understand something that wasn't my fault and that I need to stop acting like I'm the guilty party. I know those are foolish things to think, but I've thought them all my life.
And finally, I want to fix what's wrong between my father and me. I will not go into the details of what's broken in our relationship because that's private, and I know he wouldn't appreciate having it shared, but Needless to say, most of what's wrong is my fault. Doesn't make me feel good to say that it makes me feel like I've been kicked in the balls. Well, it's true. All the sundering with my father, it wouldn't have happened if I to handle things differently.
So as of today, I'm in therapy. Starting next month, I'll be going two times a month and more if needed. I think I'm ready to do this. I think I'm ready to talk about the problems that have been plaguing me almost my entire life. I hope that when this is over, things between me, my children, my wife, and my extended family will be better than they are now. I hope I'll stop making people feel bad. I hope I'll stop breaking hearts. I hope I'll stop making things worse because I can't deal with what happened before.
Fingers crossed, I'm on a new path.
- Josh (10/03/2021)
When I met the man whose name was Terry, I didn't wanna do it. I didn't wanna talk to him about my problems. I didn't wanna talk to him about my family issues, and I didn't wanna talk to you about the secret things that I hadn't told anybody. But over the course of three years, I came to trust Harry and eventually invested all of my secrets with him.
In the end, it was Terry who came to my aid when I tried to kill myself, not any of the doctors at the hospital. I told him about my sexuality. I told him about what happened to me when I was seven, and I told him about the real problems I was having living with my father and my stepmother.
Terry was kind, he was thoughtful, and he was intelligent. He never pushed me to say what I didn't wanna say, but he did push me enough to say this stuff. I wanted to say but was too afraid. The last time I saw him was a month before I moved from the Detroit Metro area to Dayton, OH. I sometimes wonder how he's doing.
What does this have to do with my current situation?
Today, for the first time in almost 30 years, I saw a therapist. She seems nice. She seems intelligent. She seems like she has all her shit together. I hope so because she's really the only choice I have when it comes to my insurance. How much I can pay out of pocket?
So why do I need to see a therapist?
As many of you have been reading my blog and my Facebook page for a long time, no. That I have a lot of problems, a lot of issues I haven't dealt with beyond blogs and journaling about a month and a half ago, my general practitioner told me I need to start seeing a therapist I need to deal with the grief, the loss of my son. I needed to deal with the issues that I live with based on what happened to me when I was 7, and I need to deal with the problems I'm having with my family problems that I caused problems that have made me miserable for more than 10 years.
I'm not sure how I feel about all this. I'm more comfortable sharing what happened and how I'm doing and coping via the Internet. Talking to a single person is a little scary. I know I shouldn't be afraid. I know these people really are there to help. I mean, why would they do this job for such little pay if they didn't give a shit?
So what am I hoping to get out of this?
I want to not cry every week. Uncontrollably because I miss my son. I know that there were always be tears, and I know I will never not miss him, but I need to be functional. I need to not have it like a stone weighing me down and pulling me into the depths.
I wanna deal with what happened to me when I was seven. I want to finally get it out. I want to know that it's over. I want to believe that it's over. I want to make my understand something that wasn't my fault and that I need to stop acting like I'm the guilty party. I know those are foolish things to think, but I've thought them all my life.
And finally, I want to fix what's wrong between my father and me. I will not go into the details of what's broken in our relationship because that's private, and I know he wouldn't appreciate having it shared, but Needless to say, most of what's wrong is my fault. Doesn't make me feel good to say that it makes me feel like I've been kicked in the balls. Well, it's true. All the sundering with my father, it wouldn't have happened if I to handle things differently.
So as of today, I'm in therapy. Starting next month, I'll be going two times a month and more if needed. I think I'm ready to do this. I think I'm ready to talk about the problems that have been plaguing me almost my entire life. I hope that when this is over, things between me, my children, my wife, and my extended family will be better than they are now. I hope I'll stop making people feel bad. I hope I'll stop breaking hearts. I hope I'll stop making things worse because I can't deal with what happened before.
Fingers crossed, I'm on a new path.
- Josh (10/03/2021)
October 1, 2021
The World is a Blur
Here's an update on my eye situation.
I went to the ophthalmologist today, and I got a full load of tests dilation all that crap. Here's what it comes down to. My eyes are cloudy and hard to See out of because I have Ruptured blood vessels behind them. The rupturing is coming from pressure due to my diabetes, and there's no reversing it. The best they can do is treat it for as long as possible, and that involves a series of injections in my Eyes.
If any of you know me, you know I'm absolutely terrified of anything even touching my eyes. I told the doctor there was nothing happening. His response if it doesn't happen, I go blind sooner rather than later.
The sooner rather than later part was what freaked me out. I'm going to go blind. It's pretty much a done deal. It'll either be a year from now, 10 years from now or maybe 25 years from now.
Eventually, I'm going to be blind.
This has been hard to digest. I have an appointment Monday. Where they're going to numb me with drops and then use needles in the blowout. Then they're going to give me drops to you to hopefully keep the blood vessels small. Eventually, they will become ineffective, and the blood vessels become too engorged.
And then my condition would deteriorate quickly.
I don't know if there's much more I want to say about this. I'm still in shock. I'm currently writing this via Speech to text Because of the blood in my eyes that makes typing hard at best and excruciating at worst. Hopefully, I can learn to use this properly because, in the future, it's going to be the only way I can facilitate more than a tweet.
I'm going to miss feeling the keys under my fingertips. The very idea is depressing. It's one of my favorite sounds in the world.
I guess that's enough the one you like today. Unless, of course, you’re not interested in then you can just avoid these posts.
.
Josh (10/01/2021)
I went to the ophthalmologist today, and I got a full load of tests dilation all that crap. Here's what it comes down to. My eyes are cloudy and hard to See out of because I have Ruptured blood vessels behind them. The rupturing is coming from pressure due to my diabetes, and there's no reversing it. The best they can do is treat it for as long as possible, and that involves a series of injections in my Eyes.
If any of you know me, you know I'm absolutely terrified of anything even touching my eyes. I told the doctor there was nothing happening. His response if it doesn't happen, I go blind sooner rather than later.
The sooner rather than later part was what freaked me out. I'm going to go blind. It's pretty much a done deal. It'll either be a year from now, 10 years from now or maybe 25 years from now.
Eventually, I'm going to be blind.
This has been hard to digest. I have an appointment Monday. Where they're going to numb me with drops and then use needles in the blowout. Then they're going to give me drops to you to hopefully keep the blood vessels small. Eventually, they will become ineffective, and the blood vessels become too engorged.
And then my condition would deteriorate quickly.
I don't know if there's much more I want to say about this. I'm still in shock. I'm currently writing this via Speech to text Because of the blood in my eyes that makes typing hard at best and excruciating at worst. Hopefully, I can learn to use this properly because, in the future, it's going to be the only way I can facilitate more than a tweet.
I'm going to miss feeling the keys under my fingertips. The very idea is depressing. It's one of my favorite sounds in the world.
I guess that's enough the one you like today. Unless, of course, you’re not interested in then you can just avoid these posts.
.
Josh (10/01/2021)
May 22, 2021
I Can't Drive... 25?
Well, boils and ghouls old Josh has some personal truth to drop on you today. If you’re not interested or up to hearing some personal stuff feel free to stop reading here. There’s no reason to feel bad about that. Sometimes these kinds of missives are just not people's cup of tea.
Are we cool?
Awesome, moving on.
Here’s the hard truth I am being forced to confront today.
I’m afraid to drive.
Here’s some context. I received my driver's license in the fall of 1992, and I’ve been driving ever since. In all of those years, The only time I’ve ever been afraid to drive was the very first time I got on Interstate 94 by myself. I’ve never been a person who enjoys driving, although for a time I came to find it a bit calming and enjoyable as long as I was going somewhere I knew. But that said, it never did more than give me a slight pause when I was making a longish commute.
That was, until this past winter.
One afternoon my wife was really craving her favorite dessert, fresh-made creme horns from a bakery in Cinnicinatti. It is a forty-five-minute drive from the house, but I was more than happy to make the hour and a half round trip to get them for her. When I set out for the store, it was early afternoon, warmish, and partly cloudy. But in typical southern Ohio fashion, it was dark, ice-cold, and spitting sleet when I departed the store for home.
Let me take a second and add something. I am leery of driving in the dark. At that point, I could do it without freaking out, especially if I wasn’t alone, but after the short tale I’m about to relate, I refuse to drive more than half a dozen miles at night.
So, like I said, conditions were less than optimal during the return trip.
I stayed in the right lane and just kissed the speed limit as I semi-white-knuckled the trip. Traffic was very heavy. It was the tail end of rush hour, and I did my best to just keep up with the flow of traffic despite the piss poor conditions. Or I was until the incident.
About halfway home, a Highway Patrol Officer had a car pulled over. I only knew this because of the flashing lights on top of the cop car. There was no way for me to get into the next lane due to the heavy traffic, so I concentrated as hard as I could to leave room between myself and the two vehicles on the shoulder. I was certain everything would be ok. Then the Officer stepped from between the vehicles, leaving me no time to react.
No, thank the universe, I didn’t hit him.
But it was close.
Way too fucking close.
I don’t remember much about the rest of the trip home other than the desire to throw up. When I finally ended the terror journey and was safe in my house once more, I kept the incident to myself. I mean, nobody was hurt. I was just a bit, ok, a lot, freaked out, but I was sure that would pass.
News flash, it didn’t.
The next weekend was my annual, or semi-annual, trip back to Michigan to see my friends and relax. I have LITERALLY made the trip more than a hundred times, and normally it’s no big deal. This time was different. When I reached the city limits of Toledo, my heart was hammering in my chest, and my stomach filled with that ice-cold water feeling that comes with my anxiety. Every time I was sandwiched between two vehicles or a vehicle and a concrete barrier, it took everything I had to not start screaming and crying.
I made it to Detroit Metro, but just barely.
The trip home wasn’t as bad because I took the long route around Toledo and again around Dayton when I got home. It was still hard, but I managed it. When I returned to Michigan a couple of months ago, I did the same, but I was in high anxiety the entire time.
Worth it, but terrifying.
Since then, all of the joy or at least lack of unease I used to feel when I drive has died. Every trip is an exercise of the will over the fear. Every time I leave, I have to psych myself up, and I spend the entire trip in a state of hyper attentiveness, which is ten times scarier than if I didn’t feel that way. I am trying to overcome the fear, forcing myself to drive when I don’t want to, but the best I’ve managed is a deadlock between terror and acceptance.
So, why am I writing this?
Like with all of my personal essays, it’s an attempt to work through my issues. Putting stuff out there has, in the past, helped me climb hills I never thought I could summit.
Will it help this time?
I don’t know. I tend to be mercurial in my moods, and maybe all this will do is make me feel better but not actually help me with the underlying issues. Or maybe this is the first step on the road to returning to normalcy.
I hope so.
Thank you for reading.
- Josh (05/22/2021)
Are we cool?
Awesome, moving on.
Here’s the hard truth I am being forced to confront today.
I’m afraid to drive.
Here’s some context. I received my driver's license in the fall of 1992, and I’ve been driving ever since. In all of those years, The only time I’ve ever been afraid to drive was the very first time I got on Interstate 94 by myself. I’ve never been a person who enjoys driving, although for a time I came to find it a bit calming and enjoyable as long as I was going somewhere I knew. But that said, it never did more than give me a slight pause when I was making a longish commute.
That was, until this past winter.
One afternoon my wife was really craving her favorite dessert, fresh-made creme horns from a bakery in Cinnicinatti. It is a forty-five-minute drive from the house, but I was more than happy to make the hour and a half round trip to get them for her. When I set out for the store, it was early afternoon, warmish, and partly cloudy. But in typical southern Ohio fashion, it was dark, ice-cold, and spitting sleet when I departed the store for home.
Let me take a second and add something. I am leery of driving in the dark. At that point, I could do it without freaking out, especially if I wasn’t alone, but after the short tale I’m about to relate, I refuse to drive more than half a dozen miles at night.
So, like I said, conditions were less than optimal during the return trip.
I stayed in the right lane and just kissed the speed limit as I semi-white-knuckled the trip. Traffic was very heavy. It was the tail end of rush hour, and I did my best to just keep up with the flow of traffic despite the piss poor conditions. Or I was until the incident.
About halfway home, a Highway Patrol Officer had a car pulled over. I only knew this because of the flashing lights on top of the cop car. There was no way for me to get into the next lane due to the heavy traffic, so I concentrated as hard as I could to leave room between myself and the two vehicles on the shoulder. I was certain everything would be ok. Then the Officer stepped from between the vehicles, leaving me no time to react.
No, thank the universe, I didn’t hit him.
But it was close.
Way too fucking close.
I don’t remember much about the rest of the trip home other than the desire to throw up. When I finally ended the terror journey and was safe in my house once more, I kept the incident to myself. I mean, nobody was hurt. I was just a bit, ok, a lot, freaked out, but I was sure that would pass.
News flash, it didn’t.
The next weekend was my annual, or semi-annual, trip back to Michigan to see my friends and relax. I have LITERALLY made the trip more than a hundred times, and normally it’s no big deal. This time was different. When I reached the city limits of Toledo, my heart was hammering in my chest, and my stomach filled with that ice-cold water feeling that comes with my anxiety. Every time I was sandwiched between two vehicles or a vehicle and a concrete barrier, it took everything I had to not start screaming and crying.
I made it to Detroit Metro, but just barely.
The trip home wasn’t as bad because I took the long route around Toledo and again around Dayton when I got home. It was still hard, but I managed it. When I returned to Michigan a couple of months ago, I did the same, but I was in high anxiety the entire time.
Worth it, but terrifying.
Since then, all of the joy or at least lack of unease I used to feel when I drive has died. Every trip is an exercise of the will over the fear. Every time I leave, I have to psych myself up, and I spend the entire trip in a state of hyper attentiveness, which is ten times scarier than if I didn’t feel that way. I am trying to overcome the fear, forcing myself to drive when I don’t want to, but the best I’ve managed is a deadlock between terror and acceptance.
So, why am I writing this?
Like with all of my personal essays, it’s an attempt to work through my issues. Putting stuff out there has, in the past, helped me climb hills I never thought I could summit.
Will it help this time?
I don’t know. I tend to be mercurial in my moods, and maybe all this will do is make me feel better but not actually help me with the underlying issues. Or maybe this is the first step on the road to returning to normalcy.
I hope so.
Thank you for reading.
- Josh (05/22/2021)
April 11, 2021
April Showers
The weather hit eighty degrees Fahrenheit and almost one hundred percent humidity the other day.
It’s my dad’s birthday today.
In less than two weeks, it’ll be the 24th of April screwing a cap on my year in hell.
To put it in a more general point of view, I’m being slammed three times this month.
Let’s start the way all epic stories start, with the weather.
In my life, April has always been the beginning of the bad times. At first, when I was a kid, it was the weather. As April advanced warm sticky weather was the order of the day, and I never learned how to live with it. We didn’t have air conditioning when I was a kid. Things were cooler in Michigan back then, thank you for global warming, and we could usually get by with open windows and fans.
That was never the case in Ohio.
Even when the weather was more pleasant, Southwest Ohio was a subtropical hell hole. We had air conditioning when I lived with my grandmother, and for a few years, I knew true comfort. Still, the weather outside of my artificially cooled and dehumidified home is still something out of my nightmares.
Do you get the point that I hate warm wet weather?
Moving on.
My dad and I used to be really close. When I was a teenager, we butted heads like a parent and child are wont to do. When I was trying to work through all of my baggage and trauma via journaling, I didn’t take any time to consider how the journey I was taking, which saved y life, would affect the people in my sphere.
I hurt my dad badly.
I didn’t stop and consider how telling stories about my life would overflow and cause damage.
My brother and I don’t speak after he threatened to sue me. I gotta be honest. Our relationship was crap before the journaling, and I’m not sure how upset I am about that. Sometimes the damage isn’t all my fault.
And sometimes it is.
I tried to talk to my dad after last April about how we needed to fix things. He was disinterested, and I don’t blame him more than I blame myself. I did the damage, not him. I’m not saying it’s all my fault, but it’s mostly my fault, so I understand his disinterest.
Like I said, my fault. I wish I’d handled things differently. Every day I want to fix this mess. I don’t think I’ll ever b able to. I think I have seriously and permanently ruined my relationship with my dad. We’re two stubborn Michiganders in all of the bad ways.
My broken relationship with my dad was the worst pain in my life until April 24th, 2020, that was the day my middle son killed himself. I know some of you are probably thinking of some form of, “it’s been a year, and it’s time to move on. You’re killing yourself with grief Josh.”
I probably am.
Between my depression and my eating habits are, as I’ve said before, is a long-term suicide plan.
Or maybe I’m just full of shit.
Who knows?
Now to the worst part. The close we get to the day my son died, the more I’m disengaging from reality. I don’t want to talk to my friends and family. I don’t want to write. I don’t want to do chores. And I damn sure don’t want to leave the house.
The other day I was making Ramen noodles, and I thought to myself, “Stephen loved ramen, and now he’ll never be able to eat ramen again. I ended up on the kitchen floor sobbing.
I miss my son.
So yeah, I guess you could say I’m having a hard time.
Maybe, if I try really hard to make it so, I can swim past all of this.
Maybe when it’s all past, I’ll feel alive again.
Maybe I’ll make it through the Aril showers.
Maybe I’ll get to smell the May flowers.
- Josh (04/11/2021)
It’s my dad’s birthday today.
In less than two weeks, it’ll be the 24th of April screwing a cap on my year in hell.
To put it in a more general point of view, I’m being slammed three times this month.
Let’s start the way all epic stories start, with the weather.
In my life, April has always been the beginning of the bad times. At first, when I was a kid, it was the weather. As April advanced warm sticky weather was the order of the day, and I never learned how to live with it. We didn’t have air conditioning when I was a kid. Things were cooler in Michigan back then, thank you for global warming, and we could usually get by with open windows and fans.
That was never the case in Ohio.
Even when the weather was more pleasant, Southwest Ohio was a subtropical hell hole. We had air conditioning when I lived with my grandmother, and for a few years, I knew true comfort. Still, the weather outside of my artificially cooled and dehumidified home is still something out of my nightmares.
Do you get the point that I hate warm wet weather?
Moving on.
My dad and I used to be really close. When I was a teenager, we butted heads like a parent and child are wont to do. When I was trying to work through all of my baggage and trauma via journaling, I didn’t take any time to consider how the journey I was taking, which saved y life, would affect the people in my sphere.
I hurt my dad badly.
I didn’t stop and consider how telling stories about my life would overflow and cause damage.
My brother and I don’t speak after he threatened to sue me. I gotta be honest. Our relationship was crap before the journaling, and I’m not sure how upset I am about that. Sometimes the damage isn’t all my fault.
And sometimes it is.
I tried to talk to my dad after last April about how we needed to fix things. He was disinterested, and I don’t blame him more than I blame myself. I did the damage, not him. I’m not saying it’s all my fault, but it’s mostly my fault, so I understand his disinterest.
Like I said, my fault. I wish I’d handled things differently. Every day I want to fix this mess. I don’t think I’ll ever b able to. I think I have seriously and permanently ruined my relationship with my dad. We’re two stubborn Michiganders in all of the bad ways.
My broken relationship with my dad was the worst pain in my life until April 24th, 2020, that was the day my middle son killed himself. I know some of you are probably thinking of some form of, “it’s been a year, and it’s time to move on. You’re killing yourself with grief Josh.”
I probably am.
Between my depression and my eating habits are, as I’ve said before, is a long-term suicide plan.
Or maybe I’m just full of shit.
Who knows?
Now to the worst part. The close we get to the day my son died, the more I’m disengaging from reality. I don’t want to talk to my friends and family. I don’t want to write. I don’t want to do chores. And I damn sure don’t want to leave the house.
The other day I was making Ramen noodles, and I thought to myself, “Stephen loved ramen, and now he’ll never be able to eat ramen again. I ended up on the kitchen floor sobbing.
I miss my son.
So yeah, I guess you could say I’m having a hard time.
Maybe, if I try really hard to make it so, I can swim past all of this.
Maybe when it’s all past, I’ll feel alive again.
Maybe I’ll make it through the Aril showers.
Maybe I’ll get to smell the May flowers.
- Josh (04/11/2021)
March 18, 2021
Safe Travels Little Buddy
I am in extreme (more like moderate) pain, both emotional and physical. I have severely bruised ribs on my left side. Scraped and cut thighs, a jammed toe, and hands that are cut and scrapped to shit. Add to that a new depression, and I am in pretty pitiful shape.
Why am I in pain?
In order to explain the source of my pain, we need to go back in time and start at the beginning.
Almost eight years ago, our landlord brought over a teeny tine little turtle, about the size as a quarter, for my daughter. She named it Swimmy, and I bought a tank and filter for him. We were pet owners once more, whether I wanted to be or not.
As Swimmy got bigger, we came to the realization that he was a snapping turtle.
The family soon lost interest in him, and his care fell on me. My wife wanted to release him back into the wild, but I’d grown attached to the little monster and decided to keep him.
Quick note. While releasing most species of turtles into the wild is a bad idea and will most likely result in their deaths, it’s different with a snapper. According to science, as long as a snapper is released into the area they came from, and they aren’t too tamed, it’s perfectly fine to release them. Adding to that, that they are apex predators in this region, and the danger to them is minimal.
For the next few years, I fed him, cleaned his take (with my youngest son’s help), and interacted with him through the heavy plastic of his tank. We learned quickly he was strong enough to break the glass.
He snapped at me at random times, and I joked that when I died, he could have one of my toes because he won the war against me. He got ahold of me once and stripped the flesh from the middle and ring finger on my left hand.
I loved my prehistoric predator little buddy.
After my son died last year, I started thinking about the quality of life. Swimmy lived in the largest tank I could find, but he was so large (the size of a large serving platter and over thirty pounds) that he couldn’t move more than a few inches.
He had to be miserable.
I’ve kicked the idea of letting him have his freedom ever since then.
Two months ago, I decided that when the weather was appropriate, I’d let him go. We live in a river valley, and there are several large slow running tributaries appropriate to letting him go.
Yesterday I set my little buddy free.
So how did this action lead to my current painful state?
I took swimmy to a spot by the river, off a back road, where people fish even though they’re legally not allowed to. Parking the truck, I took Swimmy out of the Rubbermaid tub I’d transported him in and headed down the wet and muddy riverbank.
I think you can tell where this is going.
I slid in the mud.
I lost my left shoe in the mud (I dug it out later).
I lost my grip on Swimmy and tossed him into the (thankfully) soft muddy ground.
I fell HARD three times, crushing up my rids, jamming my bare toe, and scrapping my legs to hell.
Finally reaching the river, I set my Little Buddy into the water, and he swam away.
I cried.
I half walked, and half crawled up the river bank.
I dug out my shoe.
I drove home.
I took a long hot shower.
I sit here filled with a lot of over-the-counter pain meds in my system. I know I did the right thing, and my injuries were worth it to give him his freedom. But I keep looking over to where his tank sat until yesterday, waiting for him to slam the plastic in his eternal effort to get at me.
I’m glad my little buddy is free to live his life.
I miss him terribly.
- Josh (03/18/2021)
Why am I in pain?
In order to explain the source of my pain, we need to go back in time and start at the beginning.
Almost eight years ago, our landlord brought over a teeny tine little turtle, about the size as a quarter, for my daughter. She named it Swimmy, and I bought a tank and filter for him. We were pet owners once more, whether I wanted to be or not.
As Swimmy got bigger, we came to the realization that he was a snapping turtle.
The family soon lost interest in him, and his care fell on me. My wife wanted to release him back into the wild, but I’d grown attached to the little monster and decided to keep him.
Quick note. While releasing most species of turtles into the wild is a bad idea and will most likely result in their deaths, it’s different with a snapper. According to science, as long as a snapper is released into the area they came from, and they aren’t too tamed, it’s perfectly fine to release them. Adding to that, that they are apex predators in this region, and the danger to them is minimal.
For the next few years, I fed him, cleaned his take (with my youngest son’s help), and interacted with him through the heavy plastic of his tank. We learned quickly he was strong enough to break the glass.
He snapped at me at random times, and I joked that when I died, he could have one of my toes because he won the war against me. He got ahold of me once and stripped the flesh from the middle and ring finger on my left hand.
I loved my prehistoric predator little buddy.
After my son died last year, I started thinking about the quality of life. Swimmy lived in the largest tank I could find, but he was so large (the size of a large serving platter and over thirty pounds) that he couldn’t move more than a few inches.
He had to be miserable.
I’ve kicked the idea of letting him have his freedom ever since then.
Two months ago, I decided that when the weather was appropriate, I’d let him go. We live in a river valley, and there are several large slow running tributaries appropriate to letting him go.
Yesterday I set my little buddy free.
So how did this action lead to my current painful state?
I took swimmy to a spot by the river, off a back road, where people fish even though they’re legally not allowed to. Parking the truck, I took Swimmy out of the Rubbermaid tub I’d transported him in and headed down the wet and muddy riverbank.
I think you can tell where this is going.
I slid in the mud.
I lost my left shoe in the mud (I dug it out later).
I lost my grip on Swimmy and tossed him into the (thankfully) soft muddy ground.
I fell HARD three times, crushing up my rids, jamming my bare toe, and scrapping my legs to hell.
Finally reaching the river, I set my Little Buddy into the water, and he swam away.
I cried.
I half walked, and half crawled up the river bank.
I dug out my shoe.
I drove home.
I took a long hot shower.
I sit here filled with a lot of over-the-counter pain meds in my system. I know I did the right thing, and my injuries were worth it to give him his freedom. But I keep looking over to where his tank sat until yesterday, waiting for him to slam the plastic in his eternal effort to get at me.
I’m glad my little buddy is free to live his life.
I miss him terribly.
- Josh (03/18/2021)
