So how does one welcome
himself back to the excitement of writing a daily blog post?
Honestly, I haven’t even
looked at the blog in about two months and so sneaking back into writing seems
to be a very accurate description of what I’m doing.
During my unofficial
hiatus I did pre-write a bunch of posts! Some of them were good stuff! But I
can’t use those! To me, that seems to go against the essence of a blog. A blog
is supposed to be the moment all of us meet up in the den I plop down on the
floor and put my feet with dirty socks up on the couch and tell all of you
about my goings-on for the day.
So, we will press forward
from where we are.
I will say this, though. I’ve
missed our time together!
But enough of the sappy
and cheesy stuff…
Without any further to-do,
and with only a rustling of papers from the back row of the internet’s bloggy-verse, I’m back!
I can sense the rumbling
from all of you…
“Where’ve you been, Spuds?
You went away and we didn’t know what happened.”
“You just disappeared and
didn’t even say goodbye!”
And that’s all true. I did
disappear without even a public by-your-leave, and I know that was a bit rude.
(My advertising company has been especially strident in their feelings
regarding my sudden drop from the public eye.)
So, I offer you, my
readers (not the advertising company), my most heartfelt apologies for being so
rude.
As for the reasons for
being gone, I won’t blame it on any single situation or person, but if I had to
choose the most trying of the trials, I would have to say it was all of the
medical issues.
One of my friends aptly described
the situation, “Spuds, you don’t just get sick… you become a walking, talking
and coughing train wreck!”
It’s true! From major
bleeding in the esophagus, to catching double pneumonia to tearing the
ligaments in both shoulders to… this…
Just last week I was
sitting on the exam table with my shirt off as my Doc gave me the most recent
diagnosis. “You’re losing your hair…. And it looks like you’re going to be
losing a lot of your hair.”
I have to admit I had my
suspicions about such a situation. I had noticed some circular shaped bald
spots on the back of my head and under my chin and had asked the doc to take a
look at the spots, seeing as I was already in her office having stitches taken
out of my legs.
Seeing as I was quietly dumbfounded
the doc started talking about a non-infectious condition with a name that
sounded a lot like a name you would hear in the projects of Jackson,
Mississippi… Alopecia Ariata.
“So I could get bald …
everywhere!”
Doc just nodded so she
wouldn’t grin.
Driving home I tried
taking inventory of all the good things in my life, but my broken shoulders
felt like they were being severed from my body and I swear I could feel the
hair falling out… down THERE! (FYI…There is still grass on the fertile prairies, as of last night.)
But without any recourse
available for checking my pubic hair situation, I could feel myself age every
time I had to groan and turn the steering wheel of my manly mass of
masculinity, AKA “Bull”, my suburban assault vehicle.
After receiving the news
that you are going to soon be bald, taking a shower seemed the logical thing to
do after I arrived back at the house. It was during the shower time that I
discovered that full length mirrors in the bathroom are not kind, if you’re so
inclined to look at yourself with some degree of honesty.
The scars start high on my
forehead and cover my shoulders and chest. “Hmm… maybe if I smile more…the
smile… yeah it’s permanently crooked due to breaking my jaw a few times.
Instinctively, I tried to rub
some of the deeper scars out of my shoulders but instead I noticed my crooked
fingers from when my hands were broken.
Broken, tired, beaten down
and (why not add it to the list) LOSING MY HAIR, I was ready for an early
bedtime.
Later that night I knelt
down beside Ramona as she said her nightly prayers. Calvin was already asleep
in his bed so it was just the two of us.
It has become my habit to
lean over and hug my kids and whisper that I love them in their ears but as I
pulled back from whispering in Ramona’s ear she held her hug longer.
“It’s stronger when you
whisper it, isn’t it?”
“What’s that, Sweetie?”
“When you whisper “I love
you.” Cuz when you whisper it only I can hear it and that makes it more strong.”
Ramona leaned forward and whispered, “I love you… DADDIO!”
Without realizing it my
eyebrows raised up and, you know what?
She’s right!
Ramona was smiling, “SEE!”
I grinned my handsome, crooked smile back at her and I walked out of that bedroom about 10 years
lighter.
