“Today is the first day of the rest of your life.”
So goes that old saying. Today is supposed to be different. At least, so I’ve been told. I officially enter the ranks of the Retired.
I don’t know. I feel kind of ambivalent about the whole thing. Maybe cuz of everything else that’s going on. Cancer; surgeries; coronavirus; stay at home orders. This is certainly not how I imagined this day would be.
But, time moves on in spite of what may be happening around us. And, here we are. We made it.
I’m sure that eventually I’ll settle in to a new way of living without a time clock. Maybe I’ll even celebrate! When the restaurants open and we’re once again allowed to gather together.
I don’t know.
Maybe.
Until then, I appreciate the well-wishes from all of you. I hope that we can remain in touch as time moves on.
I know that I said a couple of week ago that I was back after surgery. At that time I was beginning to feel pretty good again. I thought that the worst was behind and that, soon, I would be back in fine stride working toward full restoration.
That was before a perforation in my bowel knocked me back down.
On Thursday, March 12, I was suddenly assaulted by an acute pain in my lower gut. I thought that I had eaten something that didn’t agree with me. So, I took some pain meds and went to bed. Friday I awoke feeling somewhat better. At least as far as the pain was concerned. But, I was pretty weak and listless. By Friday evening I was spiking a fever. We called my surgeon about it. He sent me to get a CT scan of the area. The scan did show some abnormality. They ordered an ambulance to take me back to Fairview Hospital where the surgical team was waiting for me. So, at about 2 A.M. on Saturday the 14th, I had emergency surgery to repair the perforation. I awoke from that surgery with an ostomy bag hanging from my belly.
I gotta tell ya, two major surgeries in less than two weeks tends to sap the life out of a person. I don’t recall feeling so weak and frail as I have these past couple of weeks. I’m 20 pounds lighter than my pre-surgery weight. I have little strength left. They told me not to lift anything over 10 pounds. Hell, I can barely lift that much!
The next step will, hopefully, be near the end of May when the ostomy is to be reversed and I’ll be put back together.
I appreciate all of the concern that has been expressed to my through social media and the phone. You are all good people.
Thank you!
As far as moving forward, well, next Wednesday, April 1, will be my first full day of retirement. I am looking forward to it. Who knows, maybe my life will be able to develop some form of ‘normalcy.’ (Although for me, what really IS normal?)
I hope to get back to some form of creating content here as well as some other projects that I have swimming around in the back of my brain. It will be an interesting time, to be sure.
So, thank you again to all of you who have stuck with me on this strange journey. I look forward to walking with you further on down this road.
I’m Back! Well, kinda. It would be understating things just a tad if I said that my body hadn’t just taken a pretty big hit. I guess that you can’t have your belly cut open and 12″ of colon removed then get back to business as usual. Hell, it’s taken over a week and a half just to get one semi-formed turd! (Ok, I get it…TMI.) But, you get the idea. I am still quite a way off from being anywhere close to physically well.
The week I spent in hospital was rough. I tried to share some of what was going on with friends on Facebook. I had a lot of fluids going in, but not much coming out. This caused the staff to get concerned. Then, I began to get sick. Nausea. Not good with a belly wound. They stuck an NG tube up my nose and into my stomach to help relieve the distress. There is nothing fun about that. Not at all. Eventually, after about a day and a half, it appeared that things had settled down. They pulled the tube and I began to take clear liquids again. I had finally turned a corner and was on my way forward toward recovery again.
But, it’s slow. I’ve had to purposely keep from doing too much. That has included writing here and spending much time on social media.
What all of this down time has allowed is time to reflect. Now, for those of you who know me, that can be a dangerous thing. Giving me time to spend inside of my own head, well, weird stuff can happen. So, I hope to spend time discussing some of these thoughts here over the next little while. I don’t know that I’ll be able to write every day. That’s going to entirely depend on how I feel. Right now I have to listen to my body. And, if it says, “Whoa! Not today!” Then, so be it. But, as the name of this blog states, I am here to push boundaries. I want to offer alternatives to accepted norms. I ask questions and don’t necessarily expect answers. And, I want to spend more time working to speak Truth to Power. People have for too long been marginalized and held down because of religion and other human-created constraints. There are a lot of other people, like me, who have seen enough crap and are compelled to speak up. So, that’s kinda where I hope to head in the next little while with a particular focus on critique from within concerning the Christian Church. It needs it.
The past month has been, well, unique for me. I began the month looking forward to my retirement looming just at the horizon. I could see the glint and glitter of my own Emerald City as the rays of the sun caressed it. The reflections dancing on the wisps of clouds that soared so high above.
Then, I have what?!?
And, the roller coaster plunged down that first hill. Cedar Point got nothing on this one!
The weeks that followed my diagnosis have been, well, a tad turbulent. I’ve had what appeared to be one setback after another. From suspicious spots on my liver to a failed cardiac test. All of these things adding to the stress and anxiety that was already present.
Oh, and still trying to get all of the details nailed down for that retirement thing.
It’s been, well, interesting.
Yet, even as I sit here, still uncertain about what’s next, I am filled with gratitude.
I am extremely grateful that on that November Monday morning in 2011 that Dr. Dean Nukta was on call at Fairview Hospital. He was the person who put two stents in the main artery of my heart that was 100% blocked. He saved my life that day. I am grateful that he is still my doctor and, when an abnormality showed up in a stress test, immediately scheduled a cardiac cath so he could determine what was happening. He cared enough about my upcoming cancer surgery to shoe-horn me in. He also oversaw this procedure. In all of the years that I’ve been his patient, yesterday was the first time that I saw him smile as he told me that everything looked great. So, thank you Dr. Nukta.
Staying with that theme, I want to sincerely thank the entire cath team for their work. They were professional, yet personable. They were a comfort both in their presence and their expertise. The team in Pre/Post, especially Jackie, deserve cudos. Again, their care, compassion, and professionalism were greatly appreciated.
I want to thank all of you who have been following this continuing saga. Your concern and well-wishes are appreciated more than you can ever know. Thank you, thank you, thank you!!!
Of course, my wife and daughter have been pillars for me. Even though they are both battling illness, they have risen to the task of supporting me physically and emotionally. There are not enough thanks that can be offered for them.
God, too, is deserving of my gratitude. Perhaps not for the reasons that some of you may expect. I am grateful to Yahweh for Presence. I am not some kind of holy person. I don’t walk around with my religious head up my sanctified butt. But, I do recognize God’s Presence. If I seem comfortable and peaceful it’s not because I have some ability to rise above circumstance. I don’t. In truth, I am a real pain in the ass. However, if I can testify to anything at all it’s that God has been fully Present throughout this time. Please don’t think that I’m saying that God is somehow orchestrating the process. I don’t believe that for a second. God is Present in the process. God Empathizes wholly with what I am experiencing and has chosen to walk beside me as I go through all of this. So, yes, I am grateful to God for Presence.
I am still awaiting the outcome of that MRI I had yesterday. That will be the final determinate as to whether I have surgery on Monday or, um, something else less encouraging.
I do appreciate you all for your support. And, I hope that I don’t need to return this particular favor. I don’t wish what I am experiencing on anyone. But, if the time should come, I will do my best to walk with you.
Ok! I said that I was going to chronicle my journey with cancer. I found out a little over two weeks ago that I have a mass in my colon. Biopsy showed it is cancer. Now, for a normal person that would mean a CT scan to see if there was any spread. Once done, surgery would be scheduled and the cancer removed.
Everyone, and I mean EVERYONE who knows me knows that there’s nothing normal about me. So, of course this has turned into one major cluster-f@#k. First, the CT scan showed a couple spots on my liver. They are too small to determine xactly what they are. So, the surgeon ordered an MRI. Of course, that requires pre-certification from my insurance company. Add 10 days to the wait for surgery.
In the mean-time, I had to involve my cardiologist because I had a heart attack in 2011. They put 2 stents in the LAD artery, the so-called “Widow Maker.” My cardiologist ordered a nuclear stress test to determine how well the blood flows through my coronary arteries. Even though I studied hard, I apparently failed that test. I saw my cardiologist yesterday. He explained that there are two parts of my heart that showed poor blood flow. He ordered a cardiac cath so that he can go in and see exactly what the issues are.
So, what does all of this mean?
Here’s the down low.
MRI If the spots on my liver are normal cysts or something else that isn’t a problem, I would be cleared for colon surgery on Monday. If, however, the spots are possibly cancer, the surgery is off and I get to start chemo. fun.
Heart cath If the cath shows no major problem, then I go home and am clear for surgery on monday. If the doc finds something serious and needs to put in a stent or other intervention, then I stay in hospital and the surgery is postponed.
As you’re reading this, I’m prepping for the MRI. And, I still don’t know a thing about anything.
I won’t know if surgery is a go until, perhaps tomorrow.
So, for a normal person the surgery would have been done almost 2 weeks ago and that person would be sitting at home healing.
For me?
Well, shit! Normal’s no fun!!!
I will try to keep you all updated as this somewhat rocky journey continues.
I’ve written before about the use of the word “Metamorphosis” in the Gospels and Paul’s Epistle to the Church at Rome. How it’s translated as “transformed,” or “transfigured.” I’ve also written that those words really seem to lack in nuance. Compare the image of transformed, like water when heated transforms into steam, with the image of Metamorphosis, a beautiful butterfly breaking free from its previous form.
This past Sunday the lectionary selections were from the Gospel according to Matthew and 2nd Peter. Both shared the story of Jesus’ transfiguration. In that story we see Jesus going to the top of a mountain with his three buds, Peter, John, and James. While on the mountain Jesus was transfigured. His face shone brightly and his clothes became radiant. The Light that Is God filled Jesus and He shone as a source of light, not a reflection of it. Stop here and think about that. Visualize it in your mind’s eye. What did that look like? I’m just thinking, Wow!
As I listened to our parish priest talk about this, suddenly gears began falling into place. I saw something beyond the exegesis that I shared at our Bible study that morning. Our priest alluded to what I began to think. That the Church, AKA the Body of Christ, may be the only Light that many people see. He went on to encourage us to walk in the footsteps of Jesus. Helping the poor, the outcast, the Other, and leaning into humanity just as God did in Jesus.
I get that. That’s how we who follow Jesus should not just act, but should BE to the world around us.
I saw something else, though, in these texts.
In the Sermon on the Mount Jesus told his followers, “You are the light of the world.” Ok, cool. How do we do that? How do we become that Light that Jesus talked about?
Paul wrote to the Church at Rome and told them, “Hey, folks…don’t follow the ways of this world. Don’t let your life be formed in that mold. But, rather, allow your mind to be renewed so that you may Metamorphosize.”
I think that if we who follow Jesus truly desire to walk that path, we too, must experience that Transfiguration that Jesus experienced. Somehow, our minds are capable of renewal and we are capable of experiencing transformation that will, in fact, make the Church a source of Light in this world. A beacon of love and hope where all are welcome.
Unlike many who claim to be christian, who choose to remain in larval or pupate form, who eat and eat and eat, and take and take and take, we are asked to grow beyond that narrow life. We are asked to look to a Big God Whose Light may course through us a shine from deep within.
Let us seek God’s renewal. Let us BE transformed. Let us BE LIGHT!!!
Juliet said to Romeo, “Parting is such sweet sorrow.” Little did she know at the time what a great tragedy was in store for them both.
That phrase is still used today to convey hope that there will be a future return. Those parted will one day find their paths converging in a joyful reunion. Such is the hope, anyway.
I am finding no sweetness in the partings that lie before me. I will be officially retiring from active employment at the end of March. However, with cancer surgery looming large on the near horizon and at least a month of recovery time, I will be leaving my current workplace at the end of next week.
Five more workdays. Two of those will be taken by tests for the upcoming surgery. So, three days.
Three days to pack in almost 30 years of shared experience.
Yeah, it’s true that there are some that I work with who I will be glad to show my heels. Not everyone gets along in any family. Right?
There are those who you know on sight, but need to check their shirt in order to remember their name. “Hey! How ya doin’ uh, Mark?” These are good folks, but nothing more than fellow grunts in the trenches.
The others, though. The ones that you have laughed with over the years. You shared in the joys of marriages and the birth of children. They’re the ones that you would gladly take dinner to when they have need. Friends with whom you shared their most deep and painful loss. How do you say goodbye to these? People who each own a piece of your heart?
I suppose that there are people who can go through their entire career and not forge bonds like these. For them, when it’s time to move on to the next phase of life they simply wave and they’re gone.
I’m not like that. These are folks that I have spent the better share of 30 years with. Folks that I have spent more waking hours with than my own family. People who I love and care about deeply.
Sure, my company has graciously agreed to let me work from home for the few weeks between surgery and retirement. I am more than grateful to them for this. So, in a way, these who are beloved will still be present with me. But, what about their faces? The laughter shared over a joke. Or, the eyes that suddenly open and shine with sudden understanding at the solution to a problem. These things will be missing. Then, when April showers come along, I will be gone.
Yeah, I know. There are ways to stay in touch. I can always go back for a visit. Maybe, I’m just being overly emotional about this.
Sorry. I can’t help that right now. I’m emotionally invested in these people. Heartstrings are being pulled and stretched to the breaking point.
I hope that I can adequately thank these, my dearest friends and comrades, over the next few days. I’m not sure that such gratitude can be expressed. But, I’ll try.
Chains come in many shapes and sizes. When I think of chains that bind my mind conjures an image of Jacob Marley confronting his old partner Ebenezer Scrooge. I’m sure that you remember that. Marley trudges up the stairs of Scrooge’s house. We here the Thump of his footfalls. There is the sound of metal dragging and clunking up the wooden steps. Marley enters the room completely bound in iron links with locks and iron boxes attached along the length of the chain.
The purpose of this blog is to look at the chains that we willing allow ourselves to be caught up in, and to get out the keys and the bolt cutters so that we can be freed from this burden.
So, I ask questions. Most of the time I have no answers to those questions. Just asking may be enough to remove a link or five.
One thing that I’ve questioned over many years is, “What is the flesh”? For those of us who have our spiritual roots in the World of Evangelicalism, the answer is pretty clear. The flesh in the New Testament refers to the sinful nature of all humans as a result of Adam and Eve disobeying God. It is something that we are born with. It is something that must be overcome and defeated.
In short, it is an evil stain on our humanity that is wholly corrupt.
As a result, there is nothing that humans can possibly do that will please God. Only through the sacrifice of Jesus Christ can we have any hope at all of putting our Flesh to death and becoming people pleasing to God.
Pretty cool, huh?
Now, there are some philosophical underpinnings to this idea. A thing called Neo-Platonism influenced theologians. In that philosophy the entire physical cosmos is corrupt. It doesn’t live up to some Ultimate Ideal that exists in some other reality. (Don’t worry. I’m not gonna chase that rabbit.)
My question, though, is “Are they correct”? Is the Flesh evil, or at least, contrary to God?
I want to say, No, it’s not.
In fact, I want to stand in direct opposition to that entire notion.
For those who want a pithy quote to hang on to,
“The Flesh Ain’t So Bad After All.”
What?!?! I can hear all of my evangelical friends crying out, “Heretic! Fuel the Bonfire!”
Not so fast, my friends. There may be more to this story than your leaders have figured out.
Perhaps the most important thing that I learned in seminary was that the Bible was NOT written to us. When those ancient people, living in ancient cultures, spoke and wrote those ancient words, they were not thinking, “Gee, I think I need to write something to those folks living in America 2,000 years from now.” The trouble is, many people believe that they did. They think that the words in Scripture can be cut from their original context and pasted into ours. Wrong. They can’t.
The current thoughts in evangelicalism about the language of “Flesh” is an example of that.
The Apostle Paul is the authority that most of these folks turn to. After all, he wrote more about the Flesh than any other New Testament writer. They cite texts about how that works of the flesh produce death. The list of the so-called works of the flesh is given in a negative context to the so-called works of the spirit. By the end of the day we are presented with a dichotomy or warring people parts. Flesh Bad/Spirit Good!
The problem with this lies in our Western concept of humanity. The Ancient Greeks influenced not only our philosophy, but our theology as well. They fired their best shot at understanding the relationship of Spirit and Flesh. And, they missed the target entirely.
When Paul wrote about the flesh he was writing about one thing, and one thing only. This skin tent that we all live in.
That’s it. Period.
I don’t know about you. But, I don’t see anything moral or immoral about that. It’s necessary for us. Can’t live without it. It holds our bones together and keeps our innards from spilling out on the floor.
So, why all the Bad Flesh language today?
The ancient Semitic view of a person was one in which we are all a complete and unified Soul. Body, spirit, the whole shebang is a singular and inseparable unit.
There is a difference between the parts. But, all are necessary for a person to be Whole.
I want to suggest that the difference lies, not in the Flesh alone, but in the appetites that we have and how we live with those.
I think that there is a sort of asceticism that Paul and the other writers encouraged. They seemed to desire that people learn how to discipline themselves, to control their appetites, in such a way that appetites did not control them. In their view the flesh is not evil, but can get unruly. We can become enslaved to the instincts and desires of our physical body. These may then push us beyond our needs and into the realm of doing real harm to ourselves and others.
The early Church decided in their Councils that physical things are not evil. After all, God looked at creation and said that it was “Very Good.” Jesus, the Son of God throughout all eternity, put on a “Tent of Flesh” and became human. Just like you and me.
No, the whole idea that our flesh is somehow an evil that must be defeated is Wrong! It is Deadly! It needs to go away to the Pit where it belongs.
Good Morning, Julia! How are you doing? I hope all is well in sunny New Mexico! It’s been pretty sunny here recently. But, bloody cold!
Anyway, I was debating whether or not to share this with you. It’s kinda dark. And, you know how we humans hate airing our own dirty laundry in public! (But, we really like getting other folks’ nasty BVDs out there!)
This is especially difficult for me because I have a public image that may cause folks to think I’m some squeaky-clean holy guy who has his shit all together. Yeah, really! Who? Me?
The truth is that I don’t. I never have. I’m as flawed as anyone else. Probably more than most.
For a lot of years I hung out with someone who I thought was a good friend. He used lots of different names. “Jack,” “Tullamore Dew,” and my favorite, “Jameson.”
Of course, these are all whiskeys. Whiskey…the Water of the Gods…they say.
And, I jumped right into that with both feet. I think that I spent the better part of a decade, maybe more, doing my best to drown my head; my heart; my liver. I didn’t worry too much about it, though. I wasn’t what you’d call a ‘Mean Drunk.’ In fact, my mother once told me that I was more fun to be around when I’d had a few.
And, I probably was. I don’t know. I really don’t remember too much about that.
People say that drinking causes people to become different. That they change under the influence. We really don’t. What alcohol does is release the beasties that already live within. They get to run around and play and cause all sorts of havoc. But, they are what’s in our heart. I did a lot of really, really stupid stuff when I drank. Because, when allowed to run free, those things that live within are really, really stupid and self-destructive. When people told me that I had a drinking problem I would tell them, “Not really. I drink. I get drunk. I fall asleep. See? No problem!”
But, it was a problem. I’m very fortunate that I didn’t kill anyone when I got in my car to drive to the store for more. I’m fortunate that I didn’t kill myself when I fell down stairs or passed out on the floor. I’m really fortunate that I didn’t destroy every important relationship that I had. That there were still people who, although stressed to the max, still stood with me during that time.
To them, “Sorry” doesn’t say enough.
But, I’ve been alcohol free for well over two years. I have to thank my doc for helping me treat my Alcohol Use Disorder. (Yeah, it’s a thing.) It took a long time to Break those Chains that had me bound and sinking into the abyss.
I shared this, I think, because I’m becoming more and more convinced that we can Break the Chains that Bind. Addictions are big, heavy links that are forged over time. Links are added every day that we live with them. We don’t need to stay imprisoned, though. Freedom is just one step away.
