tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12490870726316796312024-03-07T01:14:57.442-07:00Spirit of Saint LewisA Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05066992019067893513noreply@blogger.comBlogger921125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1249087072631679631.post-32984557322943243632014-05-29T09:00:00.003-06:002014-06-03T12:27:38.960-06:00Look Up -------<i>We've got our smart phones but we're a very dumb people.</i> It's time for my life to take a different turn. I'm not happy where it is today. I find that evaluations of my life on a regular basis is essential. To be sure I am on the right track. The track I actually <i>want</i> to be on instead of a road that has simply evolved, one that has just occurred by happenstance instead of by a concerted choice of mine. Today, I'm choosing differently. I have to. I really do. Today I am choosing to look up, into the eyes of those around me more than down at a mobile screen. Today I'm going to leave my mobile at home, or alone, for an hour....or more. I may even turn it off.....and go to the gym, or take a walk, or read a book. Who knows what may happen.<br />
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I am 52 years old. And as much as I love technology, it is plain to see what negative effects it has had on our human world. The world of connecting on a human, lifelike level. Oh, we're connected on the screen, no doubt. But that's where it ends. <b><i>It's like a life half lived</i></b>. I've got a husband who needs me now. Today. Right this minute. Far more than my need to answer a text message. I've got a life that needs creating -- into a peaceful, warm environment. Far more than my need to see if I have any notifications or "likes". So what is the value if someone "likes" you on Facebook but hates you in real life. <br />
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In a recent writing, I shared of my irritation with life in past years. And I shared that I don't like it. Today is a day to do something different. Anything! A Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05066992019067893513noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1249087072631679631.post-69806354517646400202014-05-13T09:16:00.003-06:002014-05-13T09:16:42.884-06:00Where Did It Go?Where did it go? My ability to be happy more often than not. My ability to not be irritated right from the get-go in the morning. And my inability to allow what used to fuel my life to propel me into old age. I always saw myself as the guy who would grow old beautifully, happily, gracefully and with a giant appreciation for the world around me. <br />
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I walk outside on a perfectly beautiful morning and I'm instantly irritated. The unthoughtful person who has tied their dog to the bike rack by our front door on private property pisses me off. Rainier Beer cans tossed into the grass along our street makes me angry along with the speeding cars that careen their way down our 20-mile-per-hour section of neighborhood. Drivers that don't keep up with the speed limit, hold up traffic, and have no idea where they are going send me to a place I don't care for. And the list goes on. <br />
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The clear blue morning sky no longer holds the attraction that it once did for me. I miss the power that the plants, trees and grass used to hold over me. The outdoors have always been my mainstay. My rock. And they used to be my focus. But I've lost it. And I recognize it. I know very well that a separation has taken place. I know instantly when I'm "there" and really need to be "over there" mentally, emotionally.....and even sometimes physically. A Hawaii layover is just another place to spend the night. My senses have been dulled. It doesn't take more than a few minutes in a crowded mall with teenagers and families doing absolutely nothing to send me into deep longing to be back outside. I find that my best times are in solace and quite peacefulness nowadays. Having fun, being in public, going to big events and partying......bleh. <br />
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Now I don't want you to think I've gone off the deep end. Because I have not. I just have found myself in a period of my life that I do not truly enjoy. Content I don't struggle with. I am very much content -- except for this one sort of "issue" hanging over me. I know it. I recognize it. And I don't like it. I've started back to the gym thinking that forcing exercise and oxygen through my system can't be all bad. Yoga, I've struggled getting back into. I spend far too much time on the internet and my phone and laptop which keeps me from being elsewhere. And it has all cropped up in the last, say, ten years or so. Since age 40. The cares of life just plain old seem to have a hold on me that they didn't used to. The irritants that are constantly around all of us seem to rear their ugly head to a higher place in my mental capacity than they deserve. Walking Mason does not bring much joy. It's a chore, not an enjoyable short period of time when I'd like for it to be. <br />
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So, that's it. My persona of having it all together isn't quite as shiny and bright as it may appear. I know it. I see it. And I struggle with it. But that's good, right? That I have that much going for me? It's just the long-term solution that I seek. <br />
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<br />A Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05066992019067893513noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1249087072631679631.post-49638834948210756612014-04-17T17:56:00.000-06:002014-04-17T17:56:17.273-06:00The EnemaBless her heart. Grandma is more than 90 years old. She lived alone until just the last year or two. By herself in a home where she'd lived for many years. She drove an old car.....for years, the same old car. And she'd come to the Oakland Hilton Airport hotel to pick up her granddaughter Nicole and whichever crew members wanted to go to grandma's house for the day. Nicole is a crewmember with me. And we've both been around for nearly 20 years. Nicole is a conservative Christian woman. And so is her grandmother. Church-going, no drinking, no swearing. And whoever wanted to go to grandma's house was welcome to on Oakland layovers. Until she ended up in a retirement home recently. Nicole visits her as often as she can. She is a very good granddaughter. <br />
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Nicole was visiting just two weeks ago when grandma broke the news. The pipes were clogged up and she needed an enema. Things weren't quite right. "Oh wow, okay," Nicole said as she stood in the drug store in front of what seemed like 100 or more choices for enemas. She had no idea......this was all new territory for her. A first. She selected what seemed like the appropriate bottle to plunge into grandma's bum. She returned to grandma, rolled up her sleeves, donned her gloves, and prepared the enema for insertion into grandma's you-know-what. "Okay grandma, time to drop your drawers." Grandma obliged. <br />
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Now grandma has one of those walkers that seem to be all the rage nowadays. All of the cool kids have one. The kind with the comfortable sitting bench built into it. So you can sit down if necessary. Grandma bent over the walker and held on with her hands to the top handrails. "Bend over as far as you can, grandma," Nicole instructed. And grandma did. Trousers dropped, bum bared, gloved hands ushering the enema bottle into grandma's, ummmm, rectum. And no sooner had things begun, grandma uttered the words that began a rapidly disintegrating situation. "Nicole! I'm not so sure how long my hands can hold on....I feel like they're going to give way!" And they did. <br />
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Grandma's old hands could not hold on any longer and let go of the top handrails which dropped her bent-over head to the sitting bench on the walker. Bang! Her head hit the bench seat and slipped backwards in the walker wedging her head in between the seat and the metal rails on the walker. She was stuck. Ass up. Nicole administering the goods. And grandma, for the very first time in her life, uttered the words that no one was even aware that grandma knew: <i>"Oh shit."</i> Nicole dropped the enema bottle and helped grandma dislodge her head from the walker. Grandma stood up semi-straight as the enema apparently began to do some sort of good. And grandma repeated her earlier swear words -- only this time with further embellishment: <i>"Oh shit, I'm standing in my shit!"</i> And she was. <br />
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I don't think I've laughed as hard as I did when Nicole shared grandma's story with me. Tears were running down my face. I think the funniest part is that it happened to Nicole and her grandmother -- the conservative, Bible-toting, straight-laced women that they are. <br />
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Apparently grandma has learned a few new words in the retirement home. Oh and for the record, grandma is back to normal. Things are functioning properly now. A Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05066992019067893513noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1249087072631679631.post-73637818996157363292014-03-26T07:38:00.000-06:002014-03-26T07:38:13.364-06:00"I Hate No One""I hate no one." Those stinging words are included in one of my latest Facebook messages from a nice guy that I traveled with far back in 1982. We traveled the entirety of the United States from Los Angeles to New York and back. We ventured to England, The Netherlands, Belgium and what was then West Germany (any youngsters here have no idea what West Germany is?). You may remember my traveling and singing days with a Christian group called The Continental Singers. And this guy was one of our sound or lighting technicians on my very first tour. <br />
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As my life has continued to mature and evolve, I have indeed received friend requests from a variety of folks over the years. It is always those from my church past that concern me. I've been defriended. I have defriended some. I've had messages and chats, I've had emails. And without a doubt they always include some version of the "I don't hate you even though I may disagree with your choices" phrase. It is the new buzz phrase of the very old and tired, "I hate the sin but love the sinner" phrase. <br />
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And so yesterday it wasn't all that much of a surprise to hear from. I always send a message back first before approving the friend request just to double check and be positive sure that they know what they are getting in to. I want them fully aware of my politics, my beliefs, and my inability to keep my mouth shut if they get going on silliness or idiotic comments or thoughts. I simply won't listen to antiquated 1975 thoughts in the year 2014. I want them fully on board with my marriage. And I certainly don't want them to be my friend "Even though I may disagree with your choices." Ummm, no thanks. That was in a prior life. <br />
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<u>So here is his response to my disclaimer</u>: <br />
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"........<span class="null"> let me give you a little background on me. I hate no
one and even though we may disagree on some big and important things it
doesn't mean we can't still be friends. I married my wife 2 years ago
and let me describe my "modern family". Her ex left her after 20 years
of marriage and 2 sons because he decided that he loved a young man 20
years younger than him more than the family he created with her. _____
and _____ have now adopted a 3 year old and _____ and I are the God
parents. We celebrate birthdays and holidays together and while I don't
agree with the choices they make it doesn't keep us from being what we
are, a family. A long time ago for a very intense short time we
walked, talked and lived with 35 others and experienced many wonderful
times. I probably don't agree with you on many things and you won't
agree with me on some things but I hope that we can agree that
friendships formed in our life's journeys deserve to be respected and
cherished. No hate ever here. Disagree at times, probably but that
doesn't make me disrespect you as a person any more than I hope it
doesn't make you disrespect me. Thanks for listening to my rambles as
well!!"</span><br />
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<span class="null"><u>And my response to him</u>:</span><br />
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<span class="null">"..... </span><span class="null">And you see ___, I want you to agree on the "big and
important things." The rest of it is crap. But it's the big and
important things like admiring and affirming and 100% agreeing with my
choice to marry my husband of 17 years that I require you to be on board
with. I don't care what choice you make for your ice cream or color of
car. But if you don't join me in my marriage and relationship and
friendship to my husband, then I'm afraid that you're not on board at
all. How would you like it if I told you I wanted to be your friend but
I'm not on board with your choice to marry a female. It would
put quite a damper on things, right? I have quite clearly learned that
there are many folks from my past who make it quite clear that they
don't "hate" me. They tell me that they "tolerate" me. My wisdom has
proved that the difference between tolerance and hatred is nothing more
than a thin, wobbly thread. I don't want to be tolerated. In fact,
I refuse to be. I'm worth far more than that. I love your family's
story. I love that it has taken a turn that you probably could not have
ever dreamed up. I love that. I hope you're open to your story
changing even more. Thanks for listening."</span><br />
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<span class="null">As of this morning, I've heard nothing. Nada. Not a word. I refuse to be tolerated. I refuse to be friends with those who don't like me because I've married a man. Those are no friends at all. </span><br />
<span class="null"> </span>A Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05066992019067893513noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1249087072631679631.post-75030171202315512912014-03-18T08:57:00.001-06:002014-03-18T17:53:23.402-06:0020 Years -- Time Flies By<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Twenty years tomorrow. I know I'm getting old because I find myself saying, "Wow, time sure flies by" frequently. That's a sure-fire way to know you're gettin' up there. <br />
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My father passed away twenty years ago tomorrow.....on March 19, 1994. You know those things in your life that seem as alive and fresh today as they were in your distant past? This is one of them. The struggle, the decisions, the horribleness of Lou Gehrig's Disease. And learned lessons. He was most certainly one of a kind in many respects. He was uneducated and didn't graduate high school. He worked for more than twenty years without taking a single sick day. His life was shaped by his love for the mountains of Idaho and by a fairly rough and sort of small-town way about him. He didn't demand money, jewelry, stocks, fame or fortune. He knew none of that. But he loved. He loved everyone and would do anything necessary to make someone else's life an easier place to be. He gave of himself at home, work, church and anywhere else that he spotted a need. To a fault sometimes. He loved his family and being around kids brought an instant spark to his face. And he never knew me as a gay man. And he never made it past 62 years of age. I could go on and on. But I'd rather you spent a few minutes reading about his life. I promise you inspiration from the words that I bring to you. Take the time if you would. Learn something today from the pages of this man's life. Oh and one more thing, he was kind. People tell me from time to time that I'm a lot like him. And perhaps I am in some respects. But I know myself better than anyone. And I can assure you that I have a long way to go on the journey. I am frequently reminded of the impact he made on others. I'm still working on it. (Read the series below in order.) <br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://spiritofsaintlewis.blogspot.com/2007/03/my-dad-part-1-impact-of-childhood.html"><u><b>Part 1 -- Impact of Childhood Lessons</b></u></a> </span>-- <i>"He took us camping nearly every weekend all summer long. We had nothing
fancy like a trailer. But we had a huge old sheepherder’s tent."</i><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><b><a href="http://spiritofsaintlewis.blogspot.com/2007/03/my-dad-part-2-its-great-day.html">Part 2 -- It's a Great Day</a></b></span> --<i> "I told him how much I loved him and what a good time I was having on my
concert tour. I told him that I missed him. And, of course, I said
“Happy Birthday.” All I could hear was his grunting….trying his best to
formulate a word or two. But, it <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">didn</span>’t happen….ever again."</i><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><b><a href="http://spiritofsaintlewis.blogspot.com/2007/03/my-dad-part-3-finale-curtain-must-close.html">Part 3 -- Finale, The Curtain Must Close</a></b></span> -- <i> "My heart was broken already, I knew what message was waiting." </i><br />
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<br />A Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05066992019067893513noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1249087072631679631.post-32354346725757245962014-01-29T10:21:00.001-07:002014-01-29T10:21:36.867-07:00Back to The Mat. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Regret. Ever had it? Quite honestly, I haven't had too much of it. I'm just not that kind of guy. If I choose to do something, or not to do something, I typically do it after a well-thought-out planning session in my head. First born. Type A. I do it with intention knowing full well that I may, or may not, wish I hadn't later on. I know it ahead of time. I don't usually look backwards except with fond memories and points of learning. I rarely look back and say, "I wish I had......" <br />
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Except there is this one little thing. The gym. Yoga. And I'm clearly not alone. I don't know what it is in our heads and hearts that allows us to ignore what is good for us. I don't think I suffer from a lack of education or knowing precisely what is the best choice. It is simply the act of making it happen. It's not like I'm not paying for it every single month already. Or that it is a three-day trip from my house to get to it -- it's less than a mile. It's not that I don't like it once I get there because I do. And there is no doubt at all that the endorphins created by being there make my life a decidedly better place to be. Motivation is a strange bedfellow indeed. <br />
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I went to yoga for several years. And enjoyed every minute of it (well, nearly every minute, truth be told). Gained flexibility. Allowing my physical body to do things that it had never done before. Learning something new that I knew nothing about before. Exploring thoughts that I hadn't before. Examining my own mind and heart and the good and bad that lies within. Challenging myself to <i>not</i> look at that damned clock that they have up on the wall in the room -- but rather make my mind focus, demand that it retain certain thoughts and rid itself of others. The yoga mat I have today is my original one. And it lies in the far back reaches of the Kia Sportage. Not really hidden. But ignored. At least I think it is still there. <br />
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Last week, I received an issue of Yoga Journal in the mail. By accident. I've read the magazine before but really have no idea why this one particular issue arrived in the mailbox. And the headline on the front could not have been more appropriate: "10 Tips to Get You Back On Your Mat." How did they know! If you have practiced yoga, you'll know exactly what I'm talking about. If you haven't, you should. <br />
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And so, today, after a more than one-year hiatus, I do believe that I'm going back to the mat. I'm expecting a hour of pushing things in my body to places they haven't been in a while. The health concerns of my last year are in the forefront of my mind -- I'll need to skip any neck extensions or poses -- but you see, that is how yoga works.....it allows you to honor your own body and do what is right for you, today. And that is enough. A Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05066992019067893513noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1249087072631679631.post-25106108506938522492013-06-24T10:06:00.002-06:002013-06-24T11:39:30.776-06:00The $46,000 Question<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Which of these Cardiovascular Surgical Suites looks to you like it is worth a $46,000 bill? They all look remarkably like the room where I recently underwent a Dynamic Cerebral Angiogram to take 3D pictures of my carotid arteries and the associated pseudo aneurisms. Less than an hour for the procedure. Seven people working on me -- from the neurosurgeon to the several nurses to the technicians to the radiologists taking the pictures. <br />
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I have to be honest, I was petrified a few days before the procedure. Which is not really like me. I was extremely anxious and had a hard time taking deep breaths. You see, the procedure has to be done while you're awake. They provide some amount of sedation but because of the high risk for stroke or damage to the arteries, the neurosurgeon has to be able to communicate with you during the procedure to be sure that he hasn't done anything neurologically damaging to you. <br />
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Day of the procedure? I was in a much better place. In spite of the fact that they began the procedure 4.5 hours late. I maintained with the help of LoverBoy and our good friend Alan who stayed all of the 12 hours at the hospital with me -- plus our buddies Scott and Robert who are both medical professionals and stopped by to check in on me. I found the whole thing quite intriguing. And the pain? Next to none. I couldn't believe it. They poke a hole in your groin, run a catheter up inside your carotid arteries of your neck and you don't feel a thing. Wow. This is a great day and age that we live in. But back to my original question -- $46,000? Wow. Wow. Wow. And remember, this was simply to take the 3D pictures. This was not to actually fix the issue .... which is coming up within the next few weeks. And the neurosurgeon tells me that I can expect to have these sorts of procedures off and on for the remainder of my life. May I leave you with the statement that I'm quite thankful for my insurance coverage. A Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05066992019067893513noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1249087072631679631.post-87757053061737311302013-05-27T08:32:00.001-06:002013-05-27T08:32:42.053-06:00Memorial Day is Pissing Me OffIt is the holiday, you know. Memorial Day. The unofficial start to summertime. But it's raining here today -- 100% chance of it. I've pulled the BBQ grill in underneath the roofline to dry out before we grill corn on the cob and veggie burgers later on. But the rain is the least of my worries today. Unexpectedly so. <br />
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Why is it that I make a far better nurse than I do a patient? When I'm the one playing nurse, I can get the job done -- promptly, efficiently, with clarity and speed. When I'm the patient facing invasive tests, I'm the one worrying. Lying awake at nights. Thinking about it 90% of the day. Processing, planning, organizing. And I don't like it. It's making me anxious and irritated. <br />
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In spite of the fact that we had hoped <a href="http://spiritofsaintlewis.blogspot.com/2012/11/i-think-ill-live-for-now.html"><b>my Carotid Artery Dissection</b></a> would heal over the seven months that I've been on Warfarin/Coumadin blood thinners, it has not. The left side shows some positive change. The right side shows no change at all. In addition, there are slight pseudoaneurysms on both sides. And those must be dealt with. They are little slight bulbous areas on the carotid artery that have the potential to turn into an aneurysm if left unchecked. The only good news from my visit with the Neurosurgeon last Friday was that he recommended I end my time with the blood thinners. Which is excellent news considering that they are nothing but <a href="http://wiki.answers.com/Q/Does_Coumadin_have_rat_poison_in_it">low doses of rat poison. That is true, you know</a>. Rat poison. So now I'm free to go back to eating spinach, kale and all of the other vitamin K products that I choose to. <br />
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<a href="http://spiritofsaintlewis.blogspot.com/2012/11/i-think-ill-live-for-now.html">This all started last October with my neurologist diagnosing me with Horner's Syndrome. </a> Continued on with three more CT scans, a weekend in the hospital, and continued over the next seven months with routine INR blood level checks to be sure that my blood was thin enough to prevent clotting. Everything has been fine, my original Horner's Syndrome symptoms have all but completely disappeared. And that is why my latest fantastic news from the Neurosurgeon was more than I wanted to hear. And why I've been able to do nothing but think about it nonstop all weekend long. <br />
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I'll be having a <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Angiography">Dynamic Cerebral Angiogram</a> within a few weeks. That will apparently provide amazing 3D images of the insides of my carotids and the dissections and pseudoaneurysms. The pseudos must be filled in to reduce the risk of filling up, or clotting, with unwanted blood clots. Which is why I'm sort of anticipating the follow-up surgery after the angiogram. They actually fill up the pseudos with teeny-tiny little platinum coils. It's called <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=15J5s9fwSEE">Endovascular Coiling</a>. And they do it the same way as the angiogram -- a small incision in the femoral artery in the groin and threading a catheter, scope, and camera all of the way up into the neck. Amazing stuff. I'm thankful that I live in the day and age that I do. If they don't opt for the coiling procedure, they also have an option to clip it -- like a potato chip bag clip. Or a stent in the artery to reduce the amount of blood from entering the bulbous area. Honestly, it's all very routine. Procedure is a day stay. The follow-up surgery is a one-night stay, apparently. <br />
<br />
But when it's being done on ME ....... on MY carotid arteries ...... it makes one anxious. The men in my family don't live as long as the women do. I've already outlived many of them. And that's unsettling. Like I said, I'm a far better nurse than patient. Oh, one more bit of good news -- the Cardiovascular Surgeon said that there shouldn't be any problem with me going back to the gym -- with reasonable accommodation, of course. And that is good news. Perhaps I should go there now. They say that exercise helps reduce stress. A Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05066992019067893513noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1249087072631679631.post-20876887560043319842013-05-09T09:22:00.002-06:002013-05-09T09:22:51.706-06:00May MadnessHoly smokes people. It's been busy busy busy. You'll recall<a href="http://spiritofsaintlewis.blogspot.com/2013/05/the-painter-and-his-madness.html"> the debacle of getting bids for painting and what an ordeal that was</a>. We wanted to lighten up our entire condominium and have it repainted. We've been here nearly five years and occasionally the grey of Portland winters need some lighter colors to relieve it. Neither of us are given to Seasonal Affective Disorder -- neither the rain nor grey really bother us. But the new paint is completely amazing. So pretty. Lighter. With a couple of accent walls which really spruce it up. We absolutely have to give a <a href="http://www.pacificcoatpainting.com/">shout out to Pacific Coat Painting of Portland, Oregon.</a> They were so far above what I could have imagined. Professional, on time, polite, cleaned up after themselves, did what they promised at the time they promised it, and the painting job is perfect. We lived at a hotel over by the airport where we got a fantastic airline rate for two nights. It's a place that we've driven by for 15 years now -- so it was sort of weird to be spending the night there. Today will be spent cleaning, returning everything in the entire condo to its perfect spot. It is only 850 square feet but may as well be <a href="http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/masterpiece/downtonabbey/">Downton Abbey</a> as much stuff as we have. <br />
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In the meantime, I've had a squirm, or itch, I guess you'd call it. Well, I can't even say that I was actively <i>looking </i>or squirming. These things just happen this way in my life. If you've been reading the <a href="http://spiritofsaintlewis.blogspot.com/">Spirit of Saint Lewis</a> for a while, then <a href="http://spiritofsaintlewis.blogspot.com/2007/03/my-name-is-lewis-and-im-car-aholic.html">you'll recall my need for an intervention. Or perhaps just a meeting. I'm a Car-Aholic</a>. This week brought us our third (yes, I said third....don't judge...) Kia Sportage. We had a horrible one in the year 2000. And a cute little brown one in -- oh, I can't remember -- and now we have a <a href="http://www.kia.com/us/#/sportage">2013 Kia Sportage EX AWD</a>. The fanciest car I've ever had. Loaded. Loaded. Loaded. My butt was getting cold while I was driving it the other day. LoverBoy had turned on my seat cooler! <i>(And did I mention that even the glove box is air conditioned???)</i> Who would have ever thought. I can't tell you how many cars I've owned in my life. But it's a lot. I love them. I love the new, the latest and greatest technology. In fact, I told the salesperson that I could probably sell cars for a living. (And quite frankly, I knew a lot more about the Sportage than he did....ha!). <br />
<br />
And if all of that isn't enough, my eyes have been wandering. Yes, in <i>that</i> way. The fruit in my pocket just isn't giving me the latest and greatest. My Apple iPhone, that is. I like it. It's okay, nothing wrong with it. But compared to the cutting-edge features and screen of the <a href="http://www.samsung.com/global/microsite/galaxys4/">Samsung Galaxy S4</a> and the <a href="http://www.htc.com/us/smartphones/htc-one/?PS=1&cid=sem157p174347&gclid=CJ3FrqmlibcCFWQ6QgodGV0AHQ">HTC One</a>......humm. I like new. I like the latest. I like toys and technology. And all of that gets me into trouble as evidenced by my confessions in paragraph two, above. I've been at the <a href="http://www.bestbuy.com/site/Global-Promotions/Samsung-Experience-Shop/pcmcat297800050005.c?id=pcmcat297800050005">Samsung Experience Shop at Best Buy</a> (did you know there was such a shop??) looking and looking. I've been to the AT&T store asking questions. Doing my research. It's sort of all hinging on whatever Apple may, or may not, do with the next version of iPhone. My biggest concern is the syncing and connectivity with my iPad and Macbook. We'll just have to see. But I don't want any of you to be surprised when.........<br />
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<br />
Plans are underway for <a href="http://pridenw.org/">Portland Pride</a> next month and our fifth year at <a href="http://www.ptownbears.org/">Bear Week in Provincetown</a> in July. I wonder if this will be the year that the entire storage locker of camping gear that we have will get put to good use -- or if this will be yet another year of wishing that we'd gone camping but didn't. Who knows. <br />
<br />A Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05066992019067893513noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1249087072631679631.post-5991126855021364072013-05-03T09:31:00.000-06:002013-05-03T09:31:17.487-06:00The Painter and His Madness<div>
Good morning my lads and lasses. You'll recall last week's mess with regard to receiving estimates for the painting of our condominium -- and <a href="http://spiritofsaintlewis.blogspot.com/2013/04/hating-gaysor-at-least-their-money.html"><b>Michael Knight and Performance Plus Painting of Gresham, Oregon's failure to provide the written estimate he promised to.</b></a> I had emailed three times asking for the estimate. And finally wrote to him asking if his lack of an estimate was in any way with regard to our being ummm, shall we say, homosexual. Still heard nothing ...... until yesterday. At the outset, may I just say how pleased I am that we did not select Michael Knight and his esteemed Performance Plus Painting in Gresham, Oregon. It feels a bit like one of the daytime soap operas that I have never been a fan of. And without further adieu .......... </div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
<i>"I completely understand your frustration for my lack of follow
through. I am so very sorry in every way. I meant no disrespect and had
every intention to provide you with a detailed estimate. I was looking
forward to the possibility of working with you to bring your project to
completion. The fact that you and your partner are gay was in no way a
problem for me. I enjoyed our brief interaction and thought you guys
were great.</i></div>
<i>
</i><div>
<i> </i></div>
<i>It has been very difficult for me lately. Especially to
talk about what happened to me and why I haven't made myself available
to anyone but a few family members. I wanted to keep this private. But, I
feel I owe you an explanation for my lack of communication. It seems
you were greatly affected by my actions or rather no actions and Im
sorry for that. I have had some difficult times with a women who I am in
love with. I am also trying to make it through a divorce after 23 years
of marriage. The women Im in love with has had some severe insecurities
and trust issues with me over my dealings with my wife. Someone told my
girlfriend that I had met my wife for cocktails last November at a
place where I only go to with my girlfriend. My girlfriend ended up
getting very drunk and went into a rage over what she was told. I was at
home asleep in my apartment lying in bed. My girlfriend came in and
while I was sleeping attacked and assulted me first by hitting me with a
metal chair across my neck, shoulder and back. Then jumped on top of me
pulling my hair out and punching me in the face several times then bit
through my cheek. It all happened so fast I was barely awake. I thought
I had been shot or stabbed from the impact of the chair. She took off
running out of the apartment. I tried to follow her and made it out the
door and down the stairs before passing out. I came to and then called
police. I ended up going by ambulance to the hospital where I was
treated and released after about 4 hours. My sister picked me up and
took me home to my apartment where I barracaded myself in for several
days. It has been a very emotional and traumatic experience. I didn't
want to see anyone or talk to anyone. I was left with bloody teeth marks
and bruises on my face and a severely injured shoulder and back. I
couldn't move or lift my arm and my body felt like I got hit by a truck.
I have been on pain medicine and have been a mess both physically and
emotionally. Their is more to this incident as you might have guessed
but hoefully this explanation of why I never responed to your emails
will help you to understand that it was nothing you had done or that you
are gay. Please except my sincere apology. Thank you."</i>A Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05066992019067893513noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1249087072631679631.post-39488983410049269292013-04-29T16:30:00.002-06:002013-05-03T21:23:21.211-06:00Hating the Gays....Or at Least Their MoneyIt has happened before. And it's happened again. Yes sir, in the year 2013. Over the years, we've had a variety of unknown people come into our house. For bids and estimates, to look at projects, whatever the need is. And if you're gay, you'll know precisely what I'm talking about when I say that it can be a bit uncomfortable from time to time. You just never know what is going to happen until the person is there and you're saying, "Thanks for coming over. I'd like you to meet my partner....." The unknown. I always scour websites and advertisements for little Christian fish or crosses. Or references to "The Lord" or "Church" or what have you. It's best simply to avoid it right from the beginning if possible.<br />
<br />
So here's the gig -- we were collecting bids for repainting our entire condominium. A big job and we wanted it done right. I had three estimates set up for last Friday. 10am, 1pm, 2pm. 1pm guy scared me to death because I couldn't communicate with him or ask him any questions....and his bid seemed far under what it should have been. He walked in, walked out, and put an erroneous weird low-ball figure on a piece of paper. The 2pm guy was <a href="https://www.facebook.com/PerformancePlusPaintingLlc"><b>Michael Knight from Performance Plus Painting in Gresham, Oregon</b></a>. I had emailed with Michael Knight a time or two before the bid -- he wanted inside pictures of the condo before arriving. He seemed pleasant. In fact, he seemed highly knowledgeable and super smart on the whole thing. He left around 2:30pm Friday and promised us a bid "Before the end of the day or first thing tomorrow morning." To put it bluntly, no bid ever arrived.<br />
<br />
I did a bit of investigation and f<a href="https://www.facebook.com/michaelknightpaint"><b>ound Michael Knight's Facebook page</b></a>. Nothing overly telling except for his "Likes" of The Bible and Jesus Christ. And a comment from someone else on his page about "The Heavenly Father." Now believe me, I grew up in those circles and know them backwards and forwards. <br />
<br />
I emailed him Saturday afternoon asking about it. No response. I gave him the benefit of the doubt and thought that his weekend got busy and he needed the first workday back and work to finish it. So on Tuesday I emailed again. No response. And on Thursday my final not-so-pleasant email. No response. <a href="http://www.yelp.com/biz/performance-plus-painting-gresham"><b>My Yelp review of Performance Plus Painting</b></a> followed.<br />
<br />
If you're going to not do what you tell me you're going to, you aren't cut out for the job. And if you're going to do it because I'm gay, I don't want you here anyway. But for god's sake, be an honest man and say so. Nothing Jesus hates worse than a lying sack of poo poo calling himself a Jesus lovin' Christian. I don't think that gay money is as valuable as straight money anyway.<br />
<br />
By the way, we hired the most amazing guy in the world to do our painting. Professional, us being gay not an issue, super prompt, knowledgeable, it's all set up and will be done next week. So there Michael Knight at Performance Plus Painting in Gresham, Oregon. Take your straight dollars and shove 'em right up your........oh, look at me....stooping to levels where I shouldn't be........<br />
<br />
<u>UPDATE</u>: After this post was written, I received a response....you can read that <a href="http://spiritofsaintlewis.blogspot.com/2013/05/the-painter-and-his-madness.html"><u><b>post and update HERE</b></u></a>.....<br /> <br />
<br />A Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05066992019067893513noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1249087072631679631.post-28685877552746997062013-03-21T11:14:00.002-06:002013-03-21T11:14:41.375-06:00Stewardess School<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Stewardess. Air Hostess. Flight Attendant. Whatever you call it, it's my life. 18 years now. I have the great opportunity to assist others along the path toward a professional career as a flight attendant about every five weeks or so. I assist one day in each of our new FA classes. It's called "Services Day," the one particular day where we learn how to set up carts, pour drinks, serve from a tray, sell food products from the Northern Bites cart, operate our point of sale devices. We talk about which FA does what, which one stands where, who is responsible for what items, who picks up trash and recycling, how to mix drinks in First Class, how to avoid spilling, how to roll carts around safely and carefully in a skinny airplane aisle (a fully loaded beverage cart weighs 197 pounds), if we are permitted to serve First Class champagne in the main cabin or not, when we can offer a complimentary beverage and when we cannot, what to do with drunks, how to brew coffee on board, what kinds of wine we have, where the emergency water shut-off valve is in the galleys, how to ensure that all latches are locked for takeoff and landing, when and how to place a napkin on a tray table, when and how to make service announcements, how to properly offer and plate First Class meals, how to lift and move soda drawers (they are our single heaviest drawers and weight 19.5 pounds), what to do if they do spill on a customer, how many services are required on which flights, the extra things that are required to be done on flights to Hawaii and the East Coast, how to distribute our Inflight Entertainment Systems, which line on the cup to pour the wine up to, the differences between working with a 3-person versus a 4-person crew and and and and and and. The learning never stops. <br />
<br />
It's a great day. One of the most exciting and fun days of the entire five weeks of flight attendant training. And yes, it is only one day. That is far more services training than I had 18 years ago. We like to say that we spend one day training for what we actually do 95% of our lives. And 95% of the time training for what we may never have to do -- emergencies and such. <br />
<br />
I love the energy, the newness and freshness of those who have been through our very difficult selection process and have finally made it into training. Some have big attitude and already "know it all," some have actually been FAs for other airlines in the past, but most are open to learning and ready for the challenge. Tomorrow is that day again. I will go up to Seattle this afternoon. Then our team arrives at our Flight Operations building at 6:15am tomorrow, the carts (picture above) are delivered to us by our airport kitchen at 6:30am and class begins at 8am sharp. We finish with the students at 5pm, clean up, return the carts for pickup, and then I am on the 7pm flight back to Portland. It's an exhausting day. But so much fun to be a part of ushering new Stewardesses into the next part of their lives in the Friendly Skies. Be nice to your flight attendant next time you see one. Take them a treat -- we love chocolates or other fun things and, oh, tell them I sent you. A Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05066992019067893513noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1249087072631679631.post-64901065496140764722013-03-18T19:44:00.000-06:002013-03-18T19:55:36.771-06:0019 Years Ago Today<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I've been thinking crazy thoughts lately. I mean, nothing dark or horrible or wrong. But about life. And about death. My own mortality, actually. How at age 51 that my life is more than half over. And about the fact that no men in my family have lived past 70. And about my most recent health issues which I hope are under control. And that brings me to my own amazing father. My Dad. Tomorrow will mark the 19th anniversary of his passing way back on March 19, 1994. It wasn't pretty. But he sure was. <a href="http://spiritofsaintlewis.blogspot.com/2007/03/my-dad-part-3-finale-curtain-must-close.html"><u><b>You'll find this link to Part 3</b></u></a> (or you can simply read it below) of the three-part series I wrote about him a number of years ago. In this particular link, you can find <a href="http://spiritofsaintlewis.blogspot.com/2007/03/my-dad-part-1-impact-of-childhood.html"><u><b>Part 1</b></u></a> and <a href="http://spiritofsaintlewis.blogspot.com/2007/03/my-dad-part-2-its-great-day.html"><u><b>Part 2</b></u></a> links if you care to recount it along with me. I will read through the whole series as I always do on March 19. I've said it before, I think I miss him more now that I'm an adult than I did in my younger years. Some days, you just need a father around. <br />
<br />
<u><b>Part 3 --</b></u> It was March 19, 1994.…13 years ago today….and my alarm went off at
6:45am. I was in Liverpool, England, directly on the cold, dark Irish
Sea, and beginning day three of our Rehearsal Camp for the British
Continentals,a group that I was going to be directing on a musical tour
through England, Scotland, The Netherlands, Denmark, and Germany. As I
lay there trying to get every minute of sleep possible, there was a
knock at my door. A telephone message had been received during the night
by the camp operator. I was supposed to call my sister. My heart was
broken already, I knew what message was waiting. I was exhausted.
Physically but also turning like a butter churn internally. I knew I
should be in a hurry to return the call but I <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">wasn</span>’t.
I had left Boise only four days earlier after throwing myself across my
father’s lap as he sat in his wheelchair at the airport -- his oxygen
pumping away. And me on my hands and knees in the boarding area, bawling
like a child, my luggage tossed aside. I got up from his lap and went
around behind him. I put my face against his cool, old skin and bones
and held him as he grunted, groaned, and tried to wave me toward the
airplane. I knew the inevitable was soon coming. My god, it <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">couldn</span>’t be….could it? Never again would I see the life in his eyes.<br />
<br />
As
I made my way out into the early Sunday morning, I remember thinking
how warm it felt especially being, literally, just across the road from
the sea. I breathed deeply and heavily, trying as nearly as I could, to
propel myself into calmness. The phone was ringing thousands of miles
away. Her shaky, monotone, and dark voice said that “Dad passed away two
hours ago.” The doctors had wanted him to stay in the Portland VA
Hospital for his dehydration. But he wrote “Boise” on his notebook. He
wanted to go home. A place of comfort, respite, if any were to be found.
The doctor finally agreed to let my mom drive him the 450 miles to the
VA Hospital in Boise and check him in. She drove through the drenching
rain having to stop repeatedly to fix the windshield wipers. My amazing
parents spent the last night of their 33 years together in an old
roadside motel just west of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Pendleton</span>, Oregon. You just never know where the road you’re traveling is going to end up. Dad <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">couldn</span>’t
breathe while laying down any longer so he slept in a recliner,
upright. I still have the handwritten notes he wrote to the doctors and
family that last afternoon. It is incredible to trace his journey by
reading scribbled notes. That evening ,carbon dioxide began building up
in his body. “Your husband is in critical condition and probably won’t
live through the night” the nurse told my mom in the hallway outside his
room. “Call your family together.” How could this be? Can’t we just put
in a feeding tube…that should take care of it. Did he actually hear
them saying that he <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">wouldn</span>’t
make it through the night? His last words on paper: “I have to go to
the bathroom….pee….it’s hot.” My brother and my mom were on either side
of the recliner that my father was resting in. They sort of “looked at
each other” at 10pm and their tired eyes told each other that he <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">wasn</span>’t
breathing any longer. Lewis was gone. Damn that wretched Lou Gehrig’s
Disease….it would never haunt him again. I walked back to my room in the
warm wind just as the sun was making it’s way up over England. I’m glad
it <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">wasn</span>’t
raining that morning. I returned home the very next day. All of the way
back across the globe to where I’d just come from a few days earlier.<br />
<br />
He lay in his Navy uniform, glasses in place, and hands folded just so. You <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">wouldn</span>’t
have believed the red, white, and blue flowers that were jam-packed
into the small viewing room. The morning of his funeral, I took the car
to get it washed….well, at least that’s what I used as my excuse to go,
by myself, for one last visit with my father. I slipped into the
Alden-Waggoner Funeral Home, turned left, and down the hall where he and
I had a chat. I kissed his cold hands that had worked so hard for 62
years. And I leaned into the wooden box as far as I dared and hugged his
face as tightly as I could. I thought it may break….no, wait, that’s my
heart. That blip in history, my friends, will wring water from my eyes
forever. The rest of the day was spent with 500 of his dearest friends
at his completely overwhelming funeral--45 minutes for their long, wan
faces to file past his casket. The moment or two before the lid was
closed permanently is one moment of time that etches itself in my
memory. “Wait,“ I wanted to shout. I would never see him again. Never.
And, that was it. The lid closed and locked. His essential life lessons
to me were over. Class was dismissed. There were so many of his fellow
Navy men and women who volunteered to salute him that day that they had
to turn them down. His impact on the people of this earth was dramatic
in a horribly simplistic way. As the seven rifles cracked three times
with their 21-gun salute, we jumped…but in silence…on the hillside above
Boise that spring afternoon with the wind blowing. It still blows there
today. The flag was folded with precision by the Navy and rested gently<span style="color: yellow;"> </span>on
my mother’s lap. As we drove away, my determined and self-assured mom
staring, almost glaring, in silence--her voice broke, the wind seemingly
sucked out of her lungs, and she sobbed. “I told him to wait for me but
he <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">couldn</span>’t.”<br />
<br />
My
father never met a stranger. His infectious smile broke across the
deepest of divides. I have no idea whether he knew about my sexuality or
not. I have no regrets. None. I do wish that I’d done more to open
myself up to him…not only in the last few short years…but throughout my
whole fleeting lifetime. I wish I’d allowed him to see me for who I
truly am. Time is short, my friends. Very. Don’t waste it. I wish that
he’d been able to know me as a gay man….his gay son. The man that I know
I am today. His spirit lives on in me, that I know. I find myself
thinking like him, acting like him, even, possibly, looking like him.
And, in the greatest of honors, I now use his name for my own when I
can. He would be proud, I know he would. I can see his smile, his
crooked teeth, hear his bright laughing voice, and feel his positive
energy even today. I loved him dearly. My world <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">isn</span>’t
the same without him in it. But in some crazy, unexplainable way, it
is. He lives on in me….and that, my dear comrades, makes my journey on
this earth complete.A Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05066992019067893513noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1249087072631679631.post-61752728090619141552013-03-09T10:11:00.000-07:002013-03-09T10:11:00.047-07:00On The RoadCHICAGO O'HARE AIRPORT HOTEL -- The workout room here is quite nice. Pool, hot tub, weights, yoga mats with lots of floor space for poses, machines, treadmills, and water! I'm working away quietly, no one else around, doing my best to embrace the sweat when Little Missy arrives on the treadmill right next to mine. I will never understand why someone would bypass every other machine to be right next to mine when there is no one else around. It's like taking a leak at a urinal. If someone else is there, proper etiquette calls for at least one urinal's distance from the other guy. Unless of course, there are ulterior objectives. In her most Paula Deen southern drawl she begins the following:<br />
<br />
ME: Saying absolutely nothing, eyes straight ahead, walking vigorously.<br />
Little Missy: Mornin'. Does the TV work on yours?<br />
ME: I don't think it has TV. <br />
Little Missy: I can't stand this cold. I'm headed back to the Big D today.<br />
ME: Oh.<br />
Little Missy: My husband is from Michigan. He calls Texas God's Country.<br />
ME: Oh it's not that cold out. It's actually warmed up from last night.<br />
<br />
At this point she turns on her iTunes and lays it on her treadmill without using ear buds. I tell myself that this is yet another of life's weird and wonderful moments in spite of the fact that I've never heard anyone in the gym using their music without a headset. <br />
<br />
Little Missy: Will this music bother you?<br />
ME: Nope. <br />
Little Missy: The ear buds I have just fall out. <br />
ME: Oh. <br />
Little Missy: What kind of music do you like?<br />
ME: Oh, anything is fine. <br />
Little Missy (Her phone is now ringing and she answers): Hey girl!<br />
ME: Silent as a church mouse.<br />
Little Missy: I'm doin' my three miles yoo-hoo! I'll call you back. <br />
<br />
The remainder of our 30 minutes was silent. The wild. The wonderful. The funny things that happen to one in our lives. <br />
A Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05066992019067893513noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1249087072631679631.post-44946543495427466622013-01-31T09:38:00.002-07:002013-01-31T09:44:11.822-07:00Alaska Airlines Flight 261<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW8ujRSIUSlZkofTRFxchz9vfZT1hV2Lz4u0MKwWnUdHGXZwo1RIJRF6AKTtalQhnbkXz86RlfdjZAxQ87gfe_9acGUS3rPtPTEqUE5PubHkkvGBdria7Gcsfkc_roEo7XC4AoW5zDvpQ/s1600/alaska_261.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW8ujRSIUSlZkofTRFxchz9vfZT1hV2Lz4u0MKwWnUdHGXZwo1RIJRF6AKTtalQhnbkXz86RlfdjZAxQ87gfe_9acGUS3rPtPTEqUE5PubHkkvGBdria7Gcsfkc_roEo7XC4AoW5zDvpQ/s1600/alaska_261.jpg" /></a></div>
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It was the 31st of January 2000 and I was working an easy three-leg turn with LoverBoy and our friend Kelly. We left on an MD-80 and flew Portland up to Seattle. Then we changed planes and worked a 737-700 from Seattle to San Francisco. And then we changed planes again and worked a 737-400 from San Francisco to Portland. Something like 08:30am-17:00pm. (Wait, did I start out this paragraph above by saying this was an <i>easy</i> three-leg turn???). Three legs, three different aircraft, with two different sit times....no, that's not easy....ha!</div>
<br />
We had left SFO on the last leg to PDX. One of our passengers was on the on-board telephones that we had built into the backs of the seats at that time. The flight is pretty short, maybe 1:25 or so. We had finished our beverage service and the passenger came to the back galley. She actually pulled the curtain across the galley opening which I thought odd. And she said, "I just got off of the phone with my boss and I'm not sure if I should tell you this or not -- but one of your airplanes has gone down in the water off the coast of California."<br />
<br />
What? No way! What are you talking about!? Which aircraft? What flight? Where? Who was the crew? Do we tell the pilots of the current flight that we are working or let them simply find out when we arrive in Portland? I was the "A" flight attendant working in First Class that day. We made the decision for me to go into the flight deck and actually tell our two pilots. We had just started to make our gradual descent into Portland when I entered the flight deck and told them. I also told a crew that we had deadheading with us that day. And by then, we were well into our approach and had to prepare for landing. <br />
<br />
I opened the front-left side L1 door to the face of my brother-in-law Tom. Tom was a Customer Service Agent in Portland at that time. I won't soon forget the look on his face. In his mind, he was wondering if I knew. And in my mind, I was wondering if he knew. The jetway was filled with supervisors and a variety of other atypical people for an arriving flight. We were told to phone our family and friends immediately to tell them that we were <i>not</i> the crew that had gone down. We gathered upstairs for an hour or more with a roomful of flight attendants and other staff while we watched the Breaking News together. It wasn't good.<br />
<br />
Alaska Airlines flight 261 was enroute from Puerto Vallarta to San Francisco when it developed rudder stabilization troubles. It was having a difficult time staying in a proper flying formation. It was trying to divert to the Los Angeles airport when it nosedived into the blue waters of the Pacific off the California coast near the Point Mugu Naval Air Station. At least 35 occupants, including 12 employees,<sup class="reference" id="cite_ref-HatcherAngerGrief_5-0"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alaska_Airlines_Flight_261#cite_note-HatcherAngerGrief-5"> </a></sup>were connected to Alaska Airlines or Horizon Air in some manner, leading many airline employees to mourn for those lost in the crash.<sup class="reference" id="cite_ref-Griefself_6-0"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alaska_Airlines_Flight_261#cite_note-Griefself-6"></a></sup>
Bouquets of flowers started arriving at our headquarters building, gate areas, staff areas, ticket counters, and given by hand to flight crew members in jetways by not only our own management, but the staff of many other airlines....people that we didn't even know. I remember flying the very same three-leg turn the following day after the crash. Oh boy, that was a very difficult day to be back in the air. I remember arriving from the first PDX-SEA leg at gate D5 in Seattle and being handed a single white rose by a flight attendant from United Airlines. I walked by gate D5 just two days ago -- and pointed out to my friend Mitch about my memories of that day and gate D5. <br />
<br />
So today, I clearly remember. These are the sorts of days that one won't soon forget. I had worked that particular aircraft several times in the few weeks prior to its demise. One of the two coffee makers in the forward First Class galley was out of service.....and it had been for a couple of weeks. And it still was on the day that Alaska Airlines flight 261 met her date with destiny. I still see my friend Kelly once in a while -- the flight attendant we were working with on that terrible day. LoverBoy and I will always have a special place in our lives for her. We will always share that day. Sadly. <br />
<br />
<a href="https://www.google.com/search?q=alaska+airlines+flight+261&ie=utf-8&oe=utf-8&aq=t&rls=org.mozilla:en-US:official&client=firefox-a"><u><b>Links to News Reports</b></u></a><u><b> </b></u><br />
<br />
<u><b><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wTa8GcWnqmk">Audio Recording that Will Break Your Heart</a> </b></u><br />
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<br />A Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05066992019067893513noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1249087072631679631.post-42971475135445411712013-01-30T16:34:00.004-07:002013-01-30T16:34:55.957-07:00Shallow! No Diving!Am I just getting old? Or are things changing around us? Have Facebook and Twitter and Tumblr and Pinterest and Scruff and Grindr and Growlr and Loopt all changed the way we do business? I feel like they are making our lives shallow. I feel like they have cheapened us. And like we want nothing more than a quick status update or picture. And, hey now, that's it. Nothing beyond that. 30 seconds and I'm done with you. <br />
<br />
I am friends with, shall we say, a lot of people. Young, old, odd, normal, the whole lot. What about young people today who are actively engaged in searching out a long-term relationship partner. Are there any? I see plenty of status updates, pictures, and chatting but I don't see too many dates with fully engaged intentions of seeking out a relationship. You know, the kind of relationships that will carry us way out into our 60s, 70s or even 80s. Dare I go out on a limb here and say that I think we are happy with the way all of the aforementioned websites and apps have allowed us to not have to deal with the actual reality of 10-, 20, 30-plus year relationships. I'll shoot you a picture but I certainly don't want to have to wake up next to you -- well, more than one or two mornings, anyway. We don't have to work at anything anymore. I will simply defriend you if I don't like you. Well, either that or just "hide" you to avoid an actual, live, in-person conversation or confrontation about an issue. <br />
<br />
I would guess that it is easier to handle the virtual life rather than real life. It requires little. It costs me next to nothing. And I don't have to practice my communication skills. I can tell you that I'm 40 when I'm actually 50 because the chances of us ever meeting are next to none. I can say "LOL" or "WTF" because it's fast, easy -- and we all know what they mean nowadays. I can "like" your status update or make a quick quip or snappy comment about your two sentences. And leave it at that. That's it. The extent of our relations many times now. Someone said to me a while back that "I'm too scared of real life to actually live it." Virtual life is much easier. <br />
<br />
What do you think the long-term effect is on our world? Our families? Our homes and relationships? Or work world? What do you think that the family unit will look like in 50 years? Or homes? I think our homes will exist virtually rather than actually. Humm. Food for thought. A Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05066992019067893513noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1249087072631679631.post-6020869126792780622013-01-24T10:13:00.000-07:002013-01-24T13:21:45.234-07:00The (Blood) Pressure WithinI have taken a vow of silence. For this year. To have less discussion about my health ills. <a href="http://spiritofsaintlewis.blogspot.com/2012/11/head-games.html"><b>The last few months of 2012 were crap</b></a>. Utter crap. Things went to hell in a pretty homemade handbasket in mid-October with my diagnosis of <a href="http://spiritofsaintlewis.blogspot.com/2012/10/horners-syndrome.html"><b>Horner's Syndrome and a dissection of my carotid arteries</b></a> followed by a hospital stay, blood thinners, an ultrasound, three CT scans, injections into my fat pale white belly, and all of the subsequent grisly details of such. So for this year, things are looking up so far. And I have a bit less intention of discussing my health. Except for this one thing that I'm very happy about. My blood pressure.<br />
<br />
My BP was 100% normal up until a year or two ago. You see, I track everything. Every number, cholesterol, blood pressure, thyroid, PSA, liver, kidney, everything. I want to know. I <i>like</i> to know. I visited with a cardiologist a year ago and he suggested that I begin a minimal dose of high blood pressure medications. My BP had began to creep upwards....from the normal 120/80 up into the 130s and even the 140s. So I started a 5mg dose of Lisinopril a year ago and voila! the BP went right back down to normal. Perfect. Easy. Whew.<br />
<br />
Until I ended up in the hospital November with all of the aforementioned ills. They check your BP every two hours in the hospital you know. Everything is tracked, charted and plotted. "Is your blood pressure always this high," they began to ask. No, it isn't, thank you. It was in the 130/140s and into the 150/160s sometime. And even the diastolic (bottom) number was headed up.....90, 100. Far too high. So my normal BP had been hijacked....grrrr, just one more thing to have to deal with. One of the doctor's suggested that I increase my BP meds to counteract it. But the cardiovascular surgeon suggested that we actually do not increase the medications. He explained that since I was on blood thinners for the carotid artery dissection, he was actually happy with a slight elevation of the BP for now -- for increased cerebral profusion, as he put it -- to keep good flow to the brain. I mentioned that perhaps even my BP was on the rise due to the stress and anxiety of the last few months. So, I've waited. And waited. Right up until two weeks ago.......<br />
<br />
Two weeks ago, right after the celebratory welcoming of 2013 had been completed, my BP dropped back to what I call normal of 115-125 over 70-80. Perfect. And it has stayed there. I couldn't be happier. I have no idea why. It happened so suddenly. Maybe it's an indication of some sort of healing taking place inside my carotid arteries. Maybe it is my determination to be in the gym doing <i>something</i>, no matter how insignificant it may seem, while my arteries heal. But it has happened. So, I'm tracking it faithfully as I always do. <i><b>But for now the pressure that lies within has become, shall we say, less pressurish.</b></i> Smile. A Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05066992019067893513noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1249087072631679631.post-79078292160417733182013-01-19T18:27:00.001-07:002013-01-19T18:27:06.208-07:00I Like CockThis will come as no surprise but there are days when I think I've seen and heard it all. But I know that I haven't....quite yet. And today brought yet another humorous round of frivolity in the sky. Big group of nice looking men traveling home together from a conference. Old, younger, all types, nice and friendly. One super nice looking big-armed upper 20s dude plunks his self into an aisle seat. His older, married, bellied buddy plunks his butt across the aisle. Young dude falls asleep. His older traveling companion ends up in the back galley and chats about his low-back pains and such. And continues on about traveling with such a young kid and how the kid can't focus on any damned thing for more than a minute or two. "Shiny Object" and the young guy is off and runnin' until there's another momentary diversion. This appears to be a fairly common way of running one's life nowadays with younger folk. <br />
<br />
So older guy tells us that they were supposed to leave their hotel at 0700 for the airport and that was the understood time of departure. Older dude wakes up at 0500 and no young guy in the room...he hadn't been in all night long. Older guy surmises that he has been out with a group of three Dutch women that they had met the night before. Young kids these days, they just can't remain focused for very long at all. And they wear themselves out quickly -- staying out all night long. The young kid is now asleep and older dude has an idea:<br />
<br />
He asks us if we have a Magic Marker -- he wants to play a trick on the kid. He tells us that he wants to write <i>"I Like Cock"</i> across the front of his t-shirt while he is asleep. Oh lord, this is getting good. I mention that perhaps he does, in fact, like cock. Nah, old guy says, he really liked those Dutch women last night. Kid sleeps away the rest of the flight. Old guy finds a small little teeny tiny airplane cutout from a magazine and drops it gingerly from the sky above the kid's muscled-out chest. The airplane lands gently between his nipples. And he continues to sleep. <br />
<br />
I'm telling you, you just never know what's going to happen next in life.A Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05066992019067893513noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1249087072631679631.post-27809660963325272422013-01-09T09:01:00.005-07:002013-01-09T10:45:26.594-07:00I'm Not CompassionateDid you know that? I'm not compassionate. Occasionally I am, given the right set of circumstances and people. I'm not overly touchy-feely. Nor wishy-washy. I don't put up with excuses or delays or blah blah blah. I call things as I see them, verbally many times. And on my face and in my emotions other times.<br />
<br />
I had an encounter over the transition into the new year -- which I'm calling Lucky '13 by the way. The encounter was unexpected and completely out of the blue. I was told that I'm not compassionate and that some people will spend their lives trying to earn my approval. My approval is hard to come by, just for the record. I actually don't even consider those sorts of thoughts except on a very rare basis. But that's the problem, apparently. I don't consider it.<br />
<br />
I'm just me. Black and white. Sensible. Able to see processes and procedures easily and am not enamored with diversions to get where I'm going. I would say that more than half of the world is in the way of where I want to go. Not a lot of fluff or patting on the back. I'm a get things done sort of guy. If you want a problem solved, you'll come to me. If you want to simply talk about solving a problem, you <i>won't</i> come to me. I expect everyone to pull themselves up by the boot straps and stay focused. I know, I know....a big ethereal sort of nonrealistic vision. But I'm relatively comfortable right there. <br />
<br />
So I start Lucky '13 with a new set of accusations. Ones that I've known about for a very long time. Ones, even, that I think about from time to time. None of the finger-pointing at me was a surprise. You see, I have lived with myself for nearly 51 years now. I know myself quite well. And I'm nearly completely comfortable there. But these things do cause a moment for pause and reflection. And when the new year is still so fresh, reflection is paramount. A Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05066992019067893513noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1249087072631679631.post-27628335838740767002012-11-09T12:27:00.002-07:002012-11-09T12:45:06.778-07:00Head GamesIt is clear that middle age is upon me. I turned 50 earlier this year and, I must say, it's all gone to hell in the last 30 days. I was what I thought a vibrant sort of guy. The gym, yoga, boot camp class, treadmill, weight lifting, worked a full schedule, got up early, took fish oil/B complex/multi vitamin/aspirin, ate well, didn't smoke, drinks only occasionally, and had a (fairly) good attitude. Umm yeah. All of that has been placed on the back burner. <br />
<br />
Three or so weeks ago, the headache, eye pain, and neck ache began along with a droopy left eye. My first thought was stroke. But the <a href="http://spiritofsaintlewis.blogspot.com/2012/10/horners-syndrome.html">diagnosis was Horner's Syndrome. </a>I'd never heard of it. After that, the quest was to find the cause for the Horner's. One of my two neurologists sent me for a CT scan of the brain, neck and chest which returned a startling discovery -- <a href="http://spiritofsaintlewis.blogspot.com/2012/11/i-think-ill-live-for-now.html">bilateral dissected carotid arteries</a>. And that was one week ago today. Critical. Cardiovascular surgeon was placed on hold pending my further assessment. <i>"You need to return to the hospital and check yourself in immediately</i>." The risk for stroke was high. I spent last weekend in the hospital with LoverBoy right next to me on a cot. I have determined that hospitals are not for resting and recouperating. They are noisy, busy, interruptive, repeatedly answering the same questions, and listening to crazy patients in the rooms next door. I had eight or ten doctors visit me in my room. Excellent care and nursing staff. <br />
<br />
Let's talk about the cause for the dissection of the arteries for a minute.....I have no definitive idea why mine happened. Yoga? Gym? Weight lifting? Twisting my neck wrong? The list of possibilities is long and includes: <br />
<ul>
<li>Neck extension during hair-washing at a beauty parlor
</li>
<li>Chiropractic manipulation of the neck
</li>
<li>Whiplash injuries
</li>
<li>Blunt trauma to the neck
</li>
<li>Extreme neck extension during yoga
</li>
<li>Painting a ceiling
</li>
<li>Coughing, vomiting and sneezing
</li>
<li>Neck extension while receiving mouth-to-mouth during cardiopulmonary resuscitation (CPR)</li>
</ul>
I left the hospital shooting myself in the stomach twice daily with <a href="http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmedhealth/PMH0000158/">Lovenox</a>, a blood thinner. This medication was accompanied by the world famous and widely prescribed "rat poison" <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Warfarin">Coumadin/Warfarin</a>. As soon as the Coumadin was at the proper level of thinning my blood, I would terminate the Lovenox shots. That happened yesterday. My blood is thin enough, but not too thin, now they say. This Coumadin regimen will continue for the next six months -- Blood draws to check the levels every few days or a week, maybe up to a month. I will repeat the CT scan then. The cardiovascular surgeon fully expects that the dissection of the carotids will have healed itself by then. I had no idea! That was a small piece of good news in this whole mess. I had anticipated dealing with it for the remainder of my life. I've also visited with a Neuro Opthamologist -- a Canadian-born woman of great education and knowledge in Horner's Syndrome and the dissection. She told me my eye was in perfect medical health, nothing to worry about there. She discussed my condition with huge amounts of experience and made me feel much better about my prognosis. <br />
<br />
While I was in the hospital, they discovered a 70% <a href="http://www.ehow.com/about_5183737_celiac-artery-stenosis-symptoms.html">blockage in my celiac artery</a>. Because one thing isn't enough....right?! I was having no symptoms and had no idea it was there. They said it could have been there a very long time, possibly even from birth. But they'd like to do an ultrasound on it to measure the blood flow and track it again in six months to see if the occlusion/blockage has gotten worse or not. So I had the ultrasound yesterday. Brad, the technician, was amazing and offered me all kinds of information and medical information -- I love that stuff. BUT, since I had the test, guess what.....I now have symptoms in the very spot where the celiac artery lies. Just below the xiphoid process, which is on the center line just below your rib cage. It has hurt since I left the test yesterday. It kept me awake for about an hour in the night. Lawdy. Lawdy. Lawdy. So back to see my primary care doctor this afternoon. Surgery is the fix for the celiac artery issue. I can't wait. <br />
<br />
I'm 50. I have already outlived several adults in my family who died in their 40s. My own father had two heart attacks just a year or so ahead of my current age. He eventually died at 62 from Lou Gehrig's Disease. Both grandfathers died in their 60s, or barely 70. No men in my immediate family have lived past 70. This crap plays heavy games in my head. I think about it. I wonder about it. I mean, I feel in some ways like I'm just getting started in my life. Happy, (was) healthy, eating nicely, enjoying things. But now I wonder. Who knows what tomorrow will bring. Let's just say that I'm more than thankful for insurance. Oh yeah, and one more thing, I'm supposed to be working at a real live job somewhere in the middle of this whole mess. <br />
<br />A Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05066992019067893513noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1249087072631679631.post-80014614311531273912012-11-05T09:28:00.002-07:002012-11-05T09:28:55.334-07:00I Think I'll Live For Now<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dKy7EllmQ7M/UJfjHlOQ-GI/AAAAAAAACog/r9khhDbOuWQ/s1600/artery.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dKy7EllmQ7M/UJfjHlOQ-GI/AAAAAAAACog/r9khhDbOuWQ/s1600/artery.gif" /></a></div>
Take a good close look above. That's what not one, but both, of my carotid arteries apparently looks like. At the top of the carotid, just at the base of where the carotid enters the skull. The above scenario is not good. It allows for lessened blood flow and it also poses high risk for blood clots or complete obstruction causing a stroke. Or if a clot was allowed to form and then move into the brain....well, let's not talk about that. <br />
<br />
You'll remember my earlier troubles and the diagnoses of <a href="http://spiritofsaintlewis.blogspot.com/2012/10/horners-syndrome.html">Horner's Syndrome</a> a few weeks back. One of the many reasons for Horner's to develop is, indeed, a dissection of the carotid arteries. I had hopes for a lesser-impactful, happier shall we say, reason. Last Thursday and Friday, we had our entire condominium returned to hardwood floors. There were four workers here, the entire place was in disarray and sawdust, and the workers headed home after finishing a beautiful job. I went to Portland Providence Medical Center for my CT scan of the brain, neck and chest. I headed home and began helping clean the condo and putting things back in place. And the neurologist called. "I'm advising you to return to the Emergency Room immediately..." What? Huh? I feel good. Can't I wait until tomorrow? Or Monday when my doctor's office opens? Before long, two more doctors had called with the same recommendation.....return to the ER at once. You are running a high risk of stroke. Now, I had not been too worried about this whole thing until right at that point. I had been optimistic and pretty upbeat. But suddenly I'm on the internet reading about emergency surgery to put in a stent. And he said it was both sides. And that it was significant. <a href="http://blairscorner.wordpress.com/2012/11/04/hes-coming-home/">You can read about the whole affair over at LoverBoy's site here</a>. So I showered and headed back to the hospital fully expecting emergency surgery. I found out later from the Cardiovascular Surgeon that he had been alerted and was ready for me in the operating room. I had very few symptoms. And my Horner's Syndrome symptoms from a few weeks ago had improved and were actually almost gone. The doctor's began coming in and you know how that goes. I answered the same medical questions ad nausea for three days repeatedly. They agreed that the surgery was not necessary at this point. I began blood thinning medication to reduce the chance of clots. One of the thinners is an injection that I'm giving to myself. The other is the world-famous Coumadin, or Warfarin. It is powerful and has to be monitored many times a week to start with. I'll have my blood drawn 2-3 times a week and they make adjustments to the medication -- they don't want the blood to thick or too thin. Huge risks of bleeding...externally or internally. <br />
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My conversation with my new friend the Cardiovascular Surgeon was really a good one. Don't tell anyone, but he likes me. He told me so. He said that he enjoys being around guys like me who are positive, energetic, go to the gym, eat right, don't smoke and take an active role in their health care. And he went on to say that he fully expects that my dissection will repair itself over the next six months. Wow. Really? I guess I thought that I would be on blood thinners for the remainder of my life. But the doc says no. Repeat CT scan in six months to check it out again. I think the tears in my eyes alerted him to how happy I was simply to be alive. And to hear his good news made it just that much better. He patted me on the knee as he walked out. <br />
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So I'm home this morning. Getting ready to shoot myself in the stomach with the needle of blood thinning meds. No weight lifting. Super easy, no running, on the treadmill. And no work this week until the blood thinners have a chance to get up to speed and evened out. I'm nervous. I keep thinking of those two carotid arteries which are each of our lifelines to being alive. It makes me super nervous. I think of my family history and how I've already outlived several men in my family. And how my father had two heart attacks at my age. It's unsettling and I have a hard time shaking the thoughts. But I am alive. And I have the best pooch and husband in the world. And the friends! The friends! Facebook, texts, voice mails and emails clearly indicate that I have a group of the world's most amazing friends. And I thank you. From the bottom of my heart, I thank you. Oh, here I go again crying. I've gotta go. A Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05066992019067893513noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1249087072631679631.post-13198575738594046082012-10-28T16:37:00.003-06:002012-10-28T16:53:51.246-06:00Horner's Syndrome<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Horner%27s_syndrome"><u><b>Horner's Syndrome</b></u></a>. Have you ever heard of it? Nope, neither had I. Until a few days ago when a neurologist told me that he thinks I have it. You see, I've had a headache, pain behind my eye, and neck pain all on the left side for two weeks now. I guess that's not considered normal. So my doctor sent me for a CT scan. Nothing. Normal. All of my blood work is status quo. And then she referred me to the neurologist who gave me the above, tentative, diagnosis.<br />
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My left eye is sagging. Drooping. Just like in the picture. And there have been a few small episodes where it felt like the left eye was trying to close, or droop. They happen most often when I'm looking down....trying to text, or read something. And you won't believe this, but the left side of my forehead isn't sweating to the same degree as the right side. Weird. But that's one of the telltale signs. And I have a strange, unusual sensation on the left side of my forehead. Not like the right. The left is more sensitive and feels sort of, well, I don't even know how to describe it to you. Weird. And my pupils. My pupils are asymmetrical....the left one being slightly smaller than the right. <br />
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Horner's Syndrome is nothing in and of itself. It's the manifestation of something else going on. An issue with nerves being blocked or pinched. So we need to find out what is causing it and deal with that. There are a long list of possible causes -- some that wouldn't even hardly phase a guy -- and some that are quite serious. Things like middle ear infections all of the way to tumors in the chest, head, and neck. Multiple sclerosis. Carotid artery troubles. Cluster headaches. The list is long...you can see it in the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Horner%27s_syndrome"><u><b>Horner's Syndrome link here</b></u></a>.<br />
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I'm headed for a CT scan of the brain, carotid arteries, and neck. And possibly an MRI beyond that. Also an xray of the chest looking for tumors. And to see a Neuro Ophthalmologist. Ever heard of one? Nope, neither had I. This person is extremely educated in the intricacies of the brain and eyes and how they work together. Her appointments are currently scheduled several months out. But I got in ten days from now because of my urgent referral from the neurologist. <br />
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There is a possibility that they will not discover the precise cause. And there is the possibility that it will go away all by itself. I've been on Ibuprofen for two weeks. But that has lessened a bit in the last day or two. One bit of good news, right? So, off we go. Into unknown territory. It can't be any worse than brain cancer, right? Like my mom has always said about whatever physical troubles she is having, "Honey, if this is the worst thing that I ever have to deal with, I'll be okay." I have at least some of her optimism right now. I think. <br />
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<br />A Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05066992019067893513noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1249087072631679631.post-25319728141815306762012-09-20T08:55:00.000-06:002012-09-20T09:01:00.780-06:00Boot Camp 101<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b>Boot camp. Do you do it? Have you gone? Are you sore?</b><br />
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My friend Matthew is just completely convinced that it is the cat's meow. That is it <i>THE</i> thing to turn us into creatures of bathing beauty status by next spring. If you haven't gone yet, it is probably one of the highest intensity workouts that you'll participate in. A variety of workout stations set up around the room. All sorts of barbells, dumbbells, and stepping risers at each stations. Probably half of the room for upper body workout. The other half for lower body. It's a quick minute or two of warm up jumping jacks or push ups or some other pussified thing and then we're off! To about 50 or so minutes of fast-paced, race car-speed-induced stations of exercises designed to raise your heart rate, keep it raised, and push your limits. I would actually concur that it is <i>beyond</i> my limits and the limits of all but one, maybe two, people out of the 30 or so in my class. There are no breaks, no periods of rest, other than the 10 seconds racing from one station to the next when <i>straight Asian bodybuilder boy Sam who thinks that he's all of that with the chi</i>cks yells "Switch!" But along with about 90% of our class, I found myself finding my own few seconds of rest. My legs wouldn't even work. I couldn't even raise one leg up to the riser to step up onto it. And the squats? Really? Man oh man, I am sooorrreeee today. Probably the most sore I've been in many, many years. And that's good...right?<br />
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I have made a dedicated effort to get myself to the gym. And keep myself there. Let's just say that consistency is not my middle name. I was going to yoga quite often but have eased up on it a bit....there are actually a few yoga poses that worsen my lower back pain rather than help it and I need to get that all figured out. I've been doing dumbell and barbell curls, flying arm sorts of deals designed to work the forearms, shoulders and shoulders, tricep pull downs, chest pull downs, sit ups and other core benders until my middle-aged flab doesn't know which end is up. And then upstairs to the treadmill. Thirty minutes of racewalking interspersed with intervals of running -- all the while adjusting the incline up and down, the pace up and down. That burns fat, you know.....the intervals.....not letting your body's metabolism settle in to one pace. And I don't have a lot of fat to burn. Just a drop or six around my midsection. I'm not sure if you call it a jelly roll or a muffin top. But clearly, it is some sort of pastry that doesn't need to be sitting on my store shelf.<br />
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I've been eating much better at home. And in restaurants. Better choices. Better decisions. Tons of delicious salads filled with fruits and vegetables like apples, watermelon, asparagus, carrots, peppers and grapes. It has really been a nice change. And I feel much better. It seems like when I start doing one thing that is good for me, that it makes it a little easier to do others. But getting started, and staying the course, is a challenge for many of us. My weight was 128 pounds from 8th grade all of the way into my mid-20s. Then it inched up to around 140 pounds where it stayed for years. And then I burgeoned up past the 150's up to 162 pounds when I said that was enough. No way this is going to happen. That's when this whole gym thing started. I had been paying the monthly membership for four years now. But I'd been famously NOT at the gym which is complete silliness. Not going and still paying for it is asinine. I'm now down to 154 pounds. It needs to stay there. The pastry shelf in the middle is still there but looks much better. And a little tiny baby buddha belly is cute, right? And feels better. And I'm happy with that. I'll be excited to see what my blood pressure and cholesterol numbers look like next week at my semi-annual blood work checkup. <br />
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So, whether I go back to Boot Camp or not, I'm not sure. I wouldn't call it fun. I didn't really "enjoy" it. I am so not the guy that pushes himself beyond his limits. I just don't have that competitive spirit or edge about me. But when personal trainer turned drill sergeant yells at me that <b>"You don't want to go home saying to yourself that you could have worked out harder!"</b> what am I supposed to do? Clearly, he doesn't know me. A Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05066992019067893513noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1249087072631679631.post-2962385800167685412012-09-17T10:34:00.002-06:002012-09-17T10:34:36.281-06:00The Testing of Peace<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Isn't peace always being tested? Mine is. I have this stainless steel peace necklace around my neck. It's a reminder. Constantly. Of my humanity and frailty. <br />
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But I think it is time to take it off. I feel less peaceful today than in a very long time. And the peace symbol seems to be quite ironic. It almost mocks me. I have one on the tattooed on the back of my calf too. I always said that I would always work toward peace. But today, I'm not so sure. <br />
<br />A Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05066992019067893513noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1249087072631679631.post-83924224812534448572012-09-14T13:24:00.001-06:002012-09-14T13:24:46.693-06:00My CEO Supports Same-Sex MarriageIn case you hadn't heard, there continues to be a big old fight among our nation's lawmakers and citizens regarding whether the gays and lesbians of the nation should have the same marriage rights as everyone else or not. Yes sir, I'm surprised too. I looked at the calendar. And it says 2012. And it says that we've elected a black guy to be our President. But it doesn't say anything about same-sex marriage. You'd think we're back in Birmingham in 1955, quite frankly.<br />
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But there continues to be a growing sentiment among those who are rich and famous putting forth their voice of support for those of us who yet have to achieve the same rights as everyone else. And corporations! Yes, corporate support is on the rise too. Plenty of companies have discovered the value of honesty and equality -- and they've put their money where their mouth is and made a full-fledged support for same-sex marriage.<br />
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In the state of Washington (I can see it from my window.....so there, Sarah Palin.....), Referendum 74 is on the November ballot. The citizens -- the commoners! -- of the state will decide whether same-sex marriage in Washington state gets to move forward or not. Can you imagine your neighbors and people you live around actually being permitted to decide the case of equal rights? Only here in the greatest nation on earth. R74 needs to be APPROVED. If you "approve" of same-sex marriage, you need to "approve" R74. That's their slogan.<br />
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And I couldn't be more proud of the company I work for. <a href="http://washingtonunitedformarriage.org/corporate-week-senior-leadership-at-alaska-air-group/"><u><i><b>My CEO and good friend Brad has stepped up to the plate with a few others and put their names behind the referendum. They want it to pass.</b></i></u></a> They believe in the inherent value of equality for their customers and employees. Brad gets it. Clearly. I admire him, I look up to not only his leadership skills but his human being skills. He's a great man. And I told him so just the other day. I couldn't be more happy to be working where I do. Check out the above link and article. Here's the verbiage: <br />
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<i><br /></i>
<i>Senior leadership at Alaska Air Group and Alaska Airlines have
announced their support for Washington United for Marriage and the
campaign to Approve Referendum 74, joining a growing number of corporate
leaders and businesses who understand the fundamental fairness of the
bipartisan marriage law.</i><br />
<i> </i><br />
<i>For Alaska Air Group and Alaska Airlines president Brad Tilden
(pictured left in article link above) and his wife, Danielle, it comes down to doing the right
thing. “Marriage equality is the right and fair thing to do in and for
our state,” said Tilden, “From a business perspective, we risk losing
qualified employees and applicants to other states which have adopted
marriage equality statutes. Danielle and I are proud to support this
initiative and are hopeful it will take our state to a new and more
equitable place.”</i><br />
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<i>Joining Tilden and his wife, is Glenn Johnson (pictured right in the article link above) and
his partner Mike, who have been together for 15 years. Johnson, a
30-year Alaska Group veteran and president of Horizon Air, said, “[My
partner] Mike and I have been in a committed relationship for 15 years;
we take our responsibilities as a married couple to each other, to our
community and to our workplace very seriously. Approving marriage
equality is simply about creating strong families, like ours who live,
work and love side by side with<br />
every other family in America.”</i><br />
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<i>Joining the two senior leaders in supporting the effort is Keith
Loveless, general counsel of Alaska Airlines and Alaska Air Group. “I’m
proud to live in a state where the legislature and governor have acted
to legalize same-sex marriage,” said Loveless. “Passage of R 74 is
important for customers and employees of Alaska Airlines. And it’s
important to me.”</i><br />
<br />A Lewishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05066992019067893513noreply@blogger.com2