Heather and I spent about a month between January and February 2015 in Sebring, Florida.  Her father, a Vietnam War Veteran, had acquired Parkinson’s Syndrome from exposure to Agent Orange during his three tours of duty. Heather’s father had reached the end stages of a horrible disease. The time we spent here was to support Heather’s mom (and her Dad as well) as the inevitable played out.

Due to our anticipated “extended stay” in Florida, we brought our Basset hound, Olive, with us so as to keep our expenses at a minimum. Walter, our cat, stayed at home and enjoyed visits from my friend Beth and her sons. There was no shortage of lovin’s for Walter in our absence. Beth and her family made sure of that.

Olive, not content to spend her days enjoying her relatively large playground (aka Heather’s parent’s backyard and covered patio), found an escape route where the fence converged with the neighbors.  I tried at least three or four different “fixes” for that gap…all of which were no match for a dog on a mission.

Several neighbors either put her back inside the fence or held onto her until we returned home for the evening.  However, upon our return one particular afternoon, she was nowhere to be found.  It’s very common for her breed to let their noses lead them astray and incapable of finding their way back home. 

So…Heather and I set out on foot scouring the neighborhood and asking anyone we came across if they had seen a stray Bassett hound. We were getting nothing but “sorry, haven’t seen one” pretty much across the board…that is until I came upon Olive’s angel.  

The following events have no natural explanation.

This first image shows the location of the family home.  Heather took a path in what would be a southwest direction in regards to the image’s alignment.  I took the northeastern direction upon reach Lakeview Drive.

As I began to make my way around the curve of Lakeview Drive visible in the above picture, a gentleman on a bicycle asked if I was looking for a dog.  I indicated that I was…and he then told me, “there’s one down there” (pointing in the direction of a very dense patch of trees and roots and directly to the right of where he had stopped).

This man had stopped at the section of sidewalk where you can see the “guardrail” installed.  As I was approaching where he had stopped, he made no adjustments to his bike, took no water breaks…nothing.  He appeared to be very athletically fit and was not huffing and puffing for air…unlike myself who was sucking the dirt off the road trying to breathe.

Why did he stop at the very place where Olive had chosen for safety? How on earth was he able to see through those trees, and into a dank root system, and locate a mostly black dog hiding beneath the tree roots? She wasn’t making a noise…therefore he couldn’t have heard her. She was literally “under” these mangrove roots…and invisible to someone who had just stopped and wasn’t making an effort to look for a dog.

As I reached the area and entered into the trees, I looked back to thank the gentleman…but he was gone.  I’m not talking up the street…I’m talking “gone”…period.  No site of him anywhere. If he truly was an angel, as I’m unquestionably convinced, his job was done once I located our beloved “fur baby”.  No, job is the wrong word…once his miraculous feat was complete…bringing a bit of peace and faith back to a daughter (Heather) already stressed to her limits…he was gone.  Just like that. 

Once I returned to the effort of rescuing Olive from the root system and mud, I then realized why she had chosen this place as a refuge.  She was utterly terrified by the sound of passing cars.  Not having the leash (Heather had it on the other end of our search area), I tried my best to lead her out using her collar. Fail.  Then my silly worn-out self thought I’d try carrying her. Fail.  So, Olive and I took a seat in someone’s driveway as I made a call back to Mom’s home to leave a message where I was sitting and that we needed a ride.   

It really doesn’t matter whether readers of this post are skeptics or find the work of angels completely plausible. The manner in which Olive was rescued entails an extraordinary number of conditions operating outside what we might call “normal”.

Last year, Heather and I installed three wrought iron fence sections (from Lowe’s) where Olive “Houdini” Turner had performed her escape tricks. We also made some much needed “tweaking” of the front gate where the landscapers enter the backyard.  The chain-link fence gates have a “handle” on one side of the gate and a U-shaped lift on the other. The pipe in which the “handle” drops into to secure both sides of the dual gate had been run over way too many times by the landscapers, and rained upon for more years than I would are to fathom.  In addition, a rusted piece of steel (once recognized as a lock) had to be removed.  I located the pipe and then used a paddle-bit in my drill (running in reverse) to force all the packed sand out enough to enable the handle a renewed home. To finish the job correctly, the pipe needs to be pulled out of the ground about 2~3 inches.

Yeah…like you really cared about us fixing a gate after I’ve described a supernatural event. Probably lack of sleep or something.

–Bill 

My children flew to Florida this past Sunday for my birthday and to hang out for a few days. Seeing those two standing at my door was simply overwhelming. It’s been over a year since I last saw them and gave them huge bear-hugs as they were coming and going from our home.

Drew (my eldest) had to head back on Wednesday evening in order to take care of a customer. He towers over me even more now (as I continue to shrink). I gave him a hug before he headed off to Tampa International…I don’t think he wanted to let go. I know I didn’t. Heather told me she didn’t realize it was a mutual father-son bond that has been somewhat ill for a few years.  He’s grown in so many ways.

I’m currently sitting in one of the procedure rooms at my surgeon’s office (stomach/digestive system surgery). The staples from my recent surgery are gone (thank you!!). I was forced to say goodbye to Lauren from here. Due to time constraints (and unpredictable clinic schedules), Heather left me here and took Lauren to the airport. I just received a message from Heather that she’s heading back this way. Not the way I wanted to see my daughter off. 

Having those kids (yes…I know they’re adults) made my year by coming to visit. It hurts to see them leave. I love and miss them so much. So much about their lives I’m not aware of…prompting the need for more reliable and meaningful conversations. How do I accomplish this? I’m not sure, yet.

Heather took a picture of Drew, Lauren, and myself as we stood out at the end of the Venice Pier. She says my smile in that picture has been missing for a very long time. She was happy to know it still exists. She made a note to let Drew and Lauren both know and understand just how much seeing them (even if for a short period of time) was affecting my life. I hope they know just how much they mean to me…and how much I want and need them in my life.

I think I’m just going to walk out of here. An appointment at 1:15pm for which I showed up thirty minutes early. It’s now 3:18pm and time to leave. My time is valuable as well. For those curious about the update article concerning the abdominal medical procedures that has me here today (for follow-up)…it’s still forthcoming. Editing posts on a cellphone really isn’t the most convenient method.

So many emotions. So many directions. So many unresolved issues. I’ve conquered so many demons in my life…yet daily I facing down an unrelenting army of them. So many memories and events still to be shared. God willing…I’ll be able to post more soon.

Until next time…

 

 

Yesterday, Heather and I made another trek to Tampa General Hospital (TGH). This trip was for my Upper GI Endoscopy. This procedure consists of sending a camera down my esophagus then into my stomach, pylorus, and duodenum.

My surgeon noted a moderate amount of residual food in my stomach that is consistent with a gastroparesis diagnosis. The scope was passed through the pylorus (basically the stomach’s emptying valve) and then through the first and second portions of the duodenum. No lesions were found.

The scope was then retracted to the antrum (lower part of the stomach that holds broken down food). My doctor made note of chronic gastritis and the presence of a few “diminutive sessile polyps”. He used endoscopic forceps to grab one of the polyps (biopsy) to be sent for pathological review. So you’re aware…these are usually not a problem. All of the reasons for having stomach polyps fit me to a T. Additionally, my research reveals medications use for acid control (known as proton pump inhibitors) have also been linked to the formation of stomach polyps. Right now, just wait for the pathology report and proceed as planned.

As my surgeon continued the retraction of the scope, he found no lesions in the cardia or fundus, and reported my esophagus was found to be normal. That made me really happy.

Currently, I’m scheduled to have surgery on December 5th. The planned procedures are as follows:

• Nissen Fundoplication. The left or upper side of my stomach will be wrapped around the Lower Esophageal Sphincter (LES) and sutured in place. This creates a one-way valve that puts an end to the contents of my stomach winding up in my lungs. This issue is the cause of one of the two forms of rejection I’m currently experiencing. This form is the Bronchiolitis Obliterans Syndrome (BOS).
• Hiatal Hernia Prevention. My surgeon will suture my stomach and esophagus so as to prevent the possibility of any future hiatal hernias. This is when your stomach winds up in your diaphragm (organ that makes your lungs breathe in and out).
• Pyloric Valve Opening. Due to the slow emptying nature of my stomach, the surgeon is going to create a small opening in the pylorus. He’ll suture the pyloric valve so there is a small permanent opening that will permit gastric emptying. This will prevent food from hanging around in my stomach for days at a time.
• Umbilical Hernia. During my clinic visit with my surgeon, he identified an umbilical hernia of which I hadn’t a clue existed. He’s going to fix that while he’s at it.

The entire surgery is to be performed laparoscopically via about five entry points if he follows the methods used by Heather’s surgeon. And, yes, my wife and I will share similar surgical scars.

All of the above was scheduled and occurred starting on December 5th. And, what’s written above is the way things were supposed occur. Check out a forthcoming update article where I’ll explain the rest of the story.

NOTICE: Before this rant begins, a few important disclaimers. First, I am a “sinner”..and know it. Next, I know that I am far from ever being “perfect”.  Also, I know that it is not my place to “judge” others.  Lastly, even so, I know that I am a fallible “human being” and I will continue to make “observations” and “commentary” about people, institutions, etc. who profess a particular motus operandi and then deviate at will.

So, for today’s soapbox issue, I continue to observe a large majority of the Contemporary Christian Music (aka CCM) “business” just as pathetically arrogant (as in maybe a little snobbish), money motivated, and vanity ridden (otherwise tossed in with the boilerplate attitudes and song writing templates) as every other genre of today’s music industry.

Every CCM artist (and video) I watched on “YouTube” this morning was of the “Video-TV Friendly“ variety.  As in, not one Mick Jagger (Rolling Stones), Angus Young (AC/DC), Steve Tyler (Aerosmith), Lemmy (Motörhead), Kurt Cobain (Nirvana…Yeah Grunge), Freddie Mercury (Queen), or any other <span style=”color: #008080;”>“Pre-MTV Era-Styled” musician/artist sans Botox, perfect teeth, hair, jawlines, eyes, you name it…were to be found. One single word sums it up, “LOOKS”! Indeed it would appear, “Video Killed The CCM Radio Star” as he was going about stabbing all the other “Radio-Era” musicians in the back and changing the face (ha!…a pun!) of music forever. I’ll save that topic for a rainy day when I have nothing else to write about…yep.

If you’re still unsure what I’m talking about, before the “MTV, VH1, YouTube, Internet Video-Era” emerged, music sold to a large extent based on…well…the music itself. Many fans hadn’t a clue what the musicians looked like…nor did they care. They wanted “the music”.  And to be blunt, often times the artists behind the music were “NOT” of the “beautiful people” classification. They were, for the most part, common looking Joe’s like the majority of the human population. And of course, the “idiot tube” and “music videos” where quickly followed by an even worse abomination. Recording studios now had the tools, and skills to convert nearly any decent looking, breathing, human body into a “Superstar”. What?  You mean my favorite Top-40 artist is incapable of performing her new hit song “live”? They’re doing what? Lip-syncing? Blaspheme!

Ok Ok…, so as I dig myself out of this giant rabbit hole and get back on topic, I’d like to offer a few lines from a song released when I was about three years old (and yes, I know…out of context):

“Something touched me deep inside,
…the day the music died.”
— Don McLean’s “American Pie” (1971)

Now, over the course of a few of my previous lives, I had the opportunity to meet both secular and Christian production personalities.  These individuals, and I am referring to the Christian variety… pushing out “Music With A Message”…oozed a pungent, arrogant demeanor…as if their particular occupation had somehow elevated them to an “elite level” within the Christian faith.  Basically, I am suggesting, because of their particular places of employment and activity in the music world…somehow made them…“Holier Than Thou.”  Of course, we’re all quite familiar with how these situations typically play out.  I can personally voice knowledge of at least one instance…pride did cometh before the fall.  I take no joy in this knowledge whatsoever.  In fact, as contradictory as I somewhat find myself, I prayed for them to find the strength and wisdom needed to piece their lives back together.

During my ownership of the “Red Rose Coffee House”, I made it a point to invite local CCM artists to perform at my establishment.  Yes, some who came to perform (local bands…often members from church praise & worship teams) exuded this same attitude.  I invited them into an established business I had acquired, a business with a reputation for catering to gay & lesbian clientele.  I put myself in the lion’s den, I established a Bible study, I had long conversations with my college-kid crowd(s), I built a stage and installed a PA system (“Hey Obama…guess what…I built that”).  I mention all these off-topic details, not to brag, but to establish my efforts and for a reason I feel people should know.  The pastor at a local Baptist church just over the rail-road tracks on Middle Tennessee Boulevard ordered his congregation to “stay away” from my business.  He had seen the calendar in a local college’s newspaper showing a lesbian sorority meeting up at my business.

So, I’m asking myself, how can someone sing, praise and profess such love of God, Jesus and His Eleventh Commandment…”to love one another”…and then display an attitude of, “I don’t have time to talk to some peon like you.” ? I know it has to be a tiring job touring and such…but that is the mission they chose. As such, shouldn’t they expect to be approached by their audience(s) and fan(s)? Wouldn’t you think these performers would rise to a higher standard if they’re going to preach (sing) to crowds of thousands of souls?

And yes, they do indeed preach through their music…and I can imagine people who hear these words and desperately want to discuss the subjects with the artists. When one sings of forgiveness, salvation, and the freedom Jesus Christ offers us to massive crowds…we would all pray that someone’s heart be touched.  We would pray they seek out the musician(s) who just performed and want to know more about Jesus and Salvation?

I will concede, as with every other issue on this planet, my most trivial rant does not cover 100% of the CCM performers, producers, executives, or anything…period.  There are “always” exceptions to every rule.  I should be one to know…I’ve been living life as one of this world’s “exceptions” for quite sometime (…and I thank God for making each day I do).  Even so, I must confess, it breaks my heart to see such vanity, greed, and elitism running just as rampantly (…if not more) within the CCM circles as it is with every other division of the music industry.

May God bless those who walk the line of truth…and my he open the eyes and hearts of those who may be walking amongst these disciples yet are deaf to the words they hear.

Psalms 100 (NIV)
1 Shout for joy to the Lord, all the earth.
2 Worship the Lord with gladness;
    come before him with joyful songs.
3 Know that the Lord is God.
        It is he who made us, and we are his;
                          we are his people, the sheep of his pasture.
4 Enter his gates with thanksgiving
and his courts with praise;
      give thanks to him and praise his name.
5 For the Lord is good and his love endures forever;
his faithfulness continues through all generations.

— Bill

You know, I really don’t like writing about all the negative aspects of my life…but the thoughts loom large over me daily.  I continue to learn and utilize skills to combat the thoughts…as I will as long as I’m here on Earth.  You’ve seen the pill dispensers stocked with my cocktail of daily medications (minus  the items that don’t fit in there).

The number of doctors telling me “you’re a mess” or “you’re an extremely complicated case” seems to increase on a daily basis.

When I began writing this post, I had finished the first session with my new therapist. Yes, I’m taking several medications to combat the “major depressive disorder”, “PTSD”, “anxiety” and the host of other psychological issues I endure…but these medications are only part of what I and many others require to combat the ugly monsters in our head. One-on-one conversations with a therapist who has no pre-conceived bias or connection to my family and/or friends is the goal.

Hopefully I’m wrong, but given all the data I have…all the research (…”always” peer-reviewed studies and such)…my physical condition…my mental state…all tell me I’ve entered a new stage. This new stage in life; I’ve prayed and hoped it would “never” become reality.

My goals now focus on “damage control”. Essentially…what can I, my physicians, and unimaginable chemical cocktails do to stop the current degradation…or at best…slow it down. Yes. I would gladly accept the “miracle” returning my body to the functional level I was blessed to have enjoyed for fifteen years of my life. Even with all the bumps in the road, I am forced to admit the abundant “time” I’ve enjoyed has been a truly magnificent blessing.  A bless that so many people never had the pleasure of experiencing.

Therefore, it behoves me to focus on the positive aspects of the life I still have and set aside the thoughts that strive to strip me of joy.

— Bill