Greetings Folks

Just thought I would swing by and say hello. It has been a good while. I hope that life is treating you well and that you and yours are healthy and happy.

The recent past has been quite eventful and challenging for me on a personal level. It seems that all of my physical ailments had finally caught up with me and my slow, downward spiral was picking up speed. One morning I was unable to get out of bed. I could barely lift my head off the pillow. I was taken by ambulance to Deborah Heart Hospital for emergency surgery in what was thought to be a last-ditch effort to keep me alive. Within a couple of hours, I received my 3rd and 4th coronary stents. Additionally, I was having recurring tachycardia, multiple times per hour. I had an additional surgery for an ablation in my top chamber which is fairly common with individuals with tachycardia. My condition was severe enough to also require the same procedure in my lower chamber, which is extremely rare. Just one more way that I'm special. :-)

While finishing up the procedure and attempting to remove the surgical instruments from my body, they completed shredded the main artery in my groin. I lost 7 units of blood and wound up in the ICU for almost a week. After that, I was in the hospital recuperating for another 3 weeks. Finally, in the end, I was informed by one of the best heart hospitals in the world that they had done everything they could for me, but my congestive heart failure was not something that could be reversed. Because of the numerous other health complications that I have, as well as my age, a transplant was not an option. Basically, I was sent home to die. I spent almost 2 months in bed while all of my muscles, which were fairly well atrophied in the first place, simply turned to mush. Due to one of the medications I was on, which was basically responsible for keeping me alive, I was unable to eat anything. I lived on a couple of small bottles of Ensure every day for around 6 weeks. I lost 55 pounds and couldn't lift my arms over my head. This led to the worst day of my entire life - having reached the point where I couldn't stand to keep Honey in boarding for over 3 months since this all started. Since it didn't appear that I would ever be able to care for her, again, a close friend of mine helped me find a new home for her. She has been adopted for around 3 months now and is well cared for, loved, and happy. While I am crushed with incredible sadness, I am so happy for her that I can't even put it into words. She is the warmest, sweetest, loving dog anyone could ever hope to adopt into their family. What's left of my life will never be the same. I have never loved a living creature more, at least since my first Pit rescue, "Baby" passed. I have come to realize that I will be inconsolable for the rest of my life, but proud that I was unselfish enough to do the best thing for her. Most of the pain and sadness is from wondering every day if she thinks that I abandoned her. What does a dog think after 8 years of continuity in their lives and then one day it is gone? Vanished. Will the day ever come when I don't cry at night when she's not in bed beside me, rolling over for a belly rub? Will I ever stop wishing I was dead when I wake up each morning without her being there licking my face until I burst out in laughter? Am I going to rot in hell for eternity for what I have done? I don't believe in heaven or hell, but I find myself wishing there was one as I'm pretty sure that hell is where I belong for what I have done to that loving and trusting creature. What must be going through her mind? Yes, I get it. Anthropomorphizing your dog is not a sign of intellectual stability or maturity, but I don't care. After 20 years of keeping two rescues, I just can't face the prospect of being alone for my remaining time. It's horrific to contemplate.

Anyway, other than that, I have only been up and about since mid-September and went directly into a home health care scenario where I had nurses, physical therapists, dieticians, and social workers coming in on a weekly basis in an attempt to get me strong enough to get out of bed and basically learn to walk, again.

That lasted for around 5 weeks and at the end of that, I was able to walk with a cane for about 20 feet before having to rest for a minute or two before trying another 20 feet or so. The only exercise I could do was pulling on a piece of stretchy material. I didn't see how that could help, but over time my muscles got strong enough where I could lift a full carton of milk.

I have slowly fought my way back from the brink and a few days ago I stopped using the cane to walk, but I still carry it for going up and down stairs which is still a struggle, and for those instances where I feel loopy on my feet and about to keel over. My sense of balance has not yet returned. I am mortified to admit that while I am now able to drive to the supermarket, I am forced to use one of those little electric carts to do my shopping. Probably the single most degrading thing I have ever experienced. After a while, I realized that there were more than a few disabled vets also roaming the aisles in one, so at least I knew there were some kindred spirits I could identify with - but, still.

I'll admit to never paying much attention to those I encountered while shopping who were forced to use those carts, but I did always try to be considerate of them and their need to navigate, especially during busy shopping hours. It was never too much trouble to give them a wide berth and a smile. What I found out when it was my turn in the barrel is that there are mainly two distinct ways in which people relate to you. The first are the ones who don't even see you. They will not acknowledge your existence and simply go about their business as if your physical presence is meaningless to them. The second group is the, "Why are you in my way and why don't you just stay the hell home?" Oh, man. You don't want to know what I have said to some of those cretins on occasion. lol There is a third group and while I don't want to seem unappreciative of their kindness, their insistence on wanting to do everything for you winds up being more irritating than the other two groups, combined. I'm smart enough to know that it's just my pride rearing its ugly head, but it's still maddening.

My worst encounter was when I was in the checkout line and the woman behind me insisted on paying for my groceries when she saw that I was wearing my Vietnam veteran cap. No matter how many times I told her that I appreciated it, but it wasn't necessary, she insisted. This went on for a couple of minutes and she would not relent. I only had a few items in my cart, so I was tempted to just let her pay to shut her the hell up. But no, I lost my cool and told her, "I really appreciate the kindness, but Uncle Sam sends me $4,000 a month just for waking up in the morning and I drove here in a $60,000 BMW convertible. I can handle buying my own groceries." So, what does she do? She hands the cashier a $20 bill and the cashier who was watching this scene play out and could surely tell how I felt - actually took the money with an approving look on her face. Holy crap. Seriously. lol

So, that's my tale of woe covering the past six months, although it might be close to a year or even more since I last stopped by. I'm putting on weight, getting stronger by the day am doing coronary rehabilitation at a local hospital and am even trying to get back to work, although I don't know why. Oh, wait! Yes, I do! Because I have nothing else to do with what time I have left. Nothing on my bucket list.

My only help in telling you all of this is in case you are feeling down about your own lot in life, especially as the holidays approach which can be treacherous psychologically for many of us, it's important to focus on being grateful for what you have and that you are living quite well without what you might wish you had. If you're surviving without it, how important can it be? Every time I contemplated taking a turn on the pity-pot I reminded myself that there are veterans living in cardboard boxes. As long as my eyes open in the morning - life is good. Another day in paradise!

That's it. Hoping that all of you are well and will be surrounded by close friends and a loving family during the upcoming holiday season. It's going to be a bit rough for me, with Honey gone, but I'll make it. I still possess the indomitable will and the indefatigable spirit which has allowed me to continually put one foot in front of the other as I march into the future. There's nothing that will ever change that. Regardless of my 18 medical conditions, most of which I'm still being treated for, I'm still truckin'.

Oh, one last thing. I can still take any of you out behind the shed and kick your ass, but you already know that.

Cheers,

Big Frank (Optie)

P.S. Still plan on trading my Bimmer in early next spring. I'm going with the white interior, though. At least now I have lost enough weight where I can wedge myself into that beauty.

2022 BMW Z4 M401