In the wake of the tragedy in Charlottesville I’ve seen a lot of folks on either side of the socio-political spectrum advising people to look after themselves first before anything else. It makes sense when you think about it. A lot of this generation of activists and protesters haven’t really seen what happens when ideals clash violently. Sure, we’ve seen alleged nazis punched, we’ve seen folks smacked upside the head with bike locks, and we’ve all seen our share of stores getting broken into because reasons.
But death? That brings things into a chilling, laser-like focus that most folks aren’t mentally prepared to deal with.
An actual death, or even its specter, can have a profound effect on people in terms of things like perspective and outlook on things. Realizing one’s mortality can shake one to their core and really make them wonder at their life’s priorities.
I’m no stranger to it, though it took a few swipes with the scythe before I got it. Hey, I never said I was quick on the uptake.
Wind the clock back to February of 2016. I was heading to the theater to catch a movie, but when I got to my car I suddenly felt like I couldn’t breathe. More appropriately, it felt like I’d sprinted all the way from my downstairs home to my car, then did 10 laps around it at full tilt before getting in. Needless to say I was a little more than concerned and called 911 shortly after.
I got to the hospital and after a few tests the doctor told me what had happened: Pulmonary Embolism. Basically, a bunch of blood clots had gotten into my lungs and were putting pressure both on them and on my heart. The doctor then said I was lucky to be alive. That was swipe 1.
I was in the hospital for a few days after that, getting pumped full of Heparin to thin my blood out and help with the dissolving of those clots. After my discharge I was prescribed two needles full of Innohep per day for the next 6 months. For someone who’s not a fan of needles…yeah…
Life was pretty normal after that. I did my needles diligently for the 6 months and after a follow up visit with the doctor, I was taken off of them. Things seemed OK.
Then in March of this year, I was scheduled for a surgery based on some of the findings from my February 2016 stay. Basically they found what they thought was a cyst on my pancreas and wanted to remove it. On March 8 I was admitted and later that day the procedure was performed. It turned out it wasn’t a cyst, but a neuroendocrine tumor that, thankfully, was benign. Still, it resulted in me being opened up and not only having that removed, but my spleen as well.
During my stay in the hospital, I suffered another PE because of the clotting agents they were using on me, and after discharge I was put back on the blood thinners. This was swipe #2. Again, things seemed OK right up until August of 2017, when swipe #3 happened.
I was starting to feel short of breath again and checked myself back into the hospital. As it turned out, the Innohep dose I was getting wasn’t strong enough to counter my body’s clotting mechanisms post-op. Plus, I was injecting them in the wrong place on my body, which had become a series of internal hematomas. The meds weren’t circulating the way they were supposed to, and as a result I was suffering yet a third Pulmonary Embolism.
So now they’ve changed my medication type, upped the dose, and showed me where to properly inject the stuff, and after a couple of days in the hospital for observation, I was let out. I’ve been feeling OK since, but after having this happen to me 3 times, you might say my perspective has shifted…a lot.
In The Gunslinger, Stephen King talks about how his being hit by a van made him realize that he was in fact mortal. It’s what spurred him on to finish the Dark Tower series, just so that he could get the story out there before he died.
That’s how I feel now: I have no delusions that I’m living on borrowed time now. Three near-death experiences in two years is more than enough to convince me that I need to knuckle down and get busy on my unfinished projects.
I’ve gotten back to watching what I eat now, and I’m spending a couple of hours per night writing instead of just playing video games or doing nothing in particular. I’m currently fighting a cold so recording’s out for the moment, but you can bet that once I’ve kicked this, I’ll be in front of that microphone making sure that the remastered version of ‘Outcast’ is completed and ready for publishing.
Some of you may have also noticed that I’ve cooled my heels on the whole SJW/anti-SJW bullshit, and that ‘s part of this perspective too. Quite frankly at this point, I just don’t care anymore. There’s no talking to either side of this argument with any hope of them seeing anything other than their own viewpoints, so why bother? It’s a waste of oxygen to try, and I’m done railing about it. Instead of expending a shit-ton of energy bitching about what I can’t change, I’m just going to focus on what I can change, which is my own life. Beyond that, unless it’s relevant to me, it’s not worth it.
So yeah, sorry if you came here looking for another shit-poster who’ll rag on those interested in things like social justice or other such things. Like the opener said, I need to take care of myself first, and that’s what I plan to do. I’m not hanging up this blog though. I’ll still have a few things to say on here, just not a bunch of whining about what so-and-so said and how stupid they were for saying it. That’s not my game anymore.
Come to think of it, I don’t think it ever was.