My 2015 in Review

Well, it’s the end of the year. It’s time for my review of the year that was, as it pertained to me and my family.

2015 was a very rough year for this family, as it was for many of those this family knows. That’s not to say that it was rotten for everyone, but it was for far more than it has been in the past few years.

First, one year ago today, I fell on my bathroom floor and boogered my knees up terribly. That hobbled me up pretty bad. Sometime around February, I got a terrible infection in my right lower leg. My leg turned bright red, and the redness started going up my leg. It was hot to the touch and very painful. It made me feel very sick and I had a high fever. The doctors tried a couple of antibiotics, but in the end, I had to take Levaquin to knock it out. Levaquin is a very nasty antibiotic and it nearly knocked me out. I wonder if the Levaquin didn’t set me up for the next problem that I had……

While on Levaquin, I started having terrible bouts with depression. We also had vehicle failures, financial uncertainties, and other stressors which led my doctor to prescribing alprazolam (Xanax) to me on a full time basis. Up to this point, I had a prescription for it, but only took a tablet here or there as needed. Taking the medication full time at first seemed like a good idea, but come July 16th, I thought I had a heart attack. It seems it was a panic attack brought on by my body getting used to the dosage. Xanax is a short acting drug meaning it’s effects on the body are short lived. It is also a drug belonging to the benzodiazepine class of medications. These are the same drugs that are used before you go into surgery to relax you and to make you forget things. In the hands of skilled anesthetists,  it’s a wonder drug, but I found out that it can also become a nightmare when taken for any length of time.

My doctor wanted me to take more alprazolam, but I figured that any drug that can make you feel like you’re having a heart attack in between doses is a terrible drug, far worse than even nicotine. I quit smoking because I didn’t want to be addicted to something, so it shouldn’t be any surprise that I wanted off of the alprazolam too. I essentially went cold turkey off of the medicine, which I found out after-the-fact, is a very bad idea! I suffered horrendous withdrawal symptoms which confined me to my bed for nearly 6 weeks. I still feel symptoms of withdrawal as I write this, four and one half months after my last dose. I have read many places from many other people who have been down this road that I can expect to experience withdrawal problems for up to two years after my last dose! Some people get better sooner, and a few people never really get over it. I find it hard to believe that I little drug like that can mess someone up so bad until I think about LSD. How many hippies have we heard about who “fried” their brains on LSD? Supposedly, many of them went into our mental institutions and some are still walking our streets, suffering flashbacks and other terrible side effects, decades after last taking the drug. It really testifies to how delicate our brain is.

We didn’t put in a garden this year. We did plant a couple of trees. We did get some firewood cut, but not as much as we had liked. Our vehicles gave us a lot of fits this year. First, the van’s water pump gave out. The bill to fix that was over $600. Some good Samaritan picked up the tab for that anonymously. Then the heater hoses under the van rusted through not once, but twice. The guy who originally worked on the van for us really screwed us over. He did a half-assed job and charged us dealership rates for his labor. The second time we just fixed it ourselves, on the side of the road. The pickup also had fits. First, we thought it was the fuel pump. An old friend of mine and his wife came over and helped KinDee change the fuel pump. It still was not running right, so we changed an expensive fuel pressure regulator, and that cured the problem. Oh, I almost forgot, the power steering pump failed on the pickup this year and my wife had to change it all on her own! That was a real treat and required us to spend a small fortune for parts and tools. AND, another one I almost forgot involved the brakes on the van which needed replaced, cleaned, as well as the van needing two new shocks. Again, an old friend of mine arranged for someone to do the labor for us, thank God! In all, over $2000 got stuck into our vehicles this year, but thankfully, a portion of that was mitigated by the kindness of others.

I am only homeschooling Jenna at the moment. I sent Sean and Karen back to school, not because I couldn’t hack homeschooling, but because of my poor health. I miss homeschooling the two younger kids, but I must admit, that I just didn’t have the energy for it after I got ill this past spring. I have a pretty good relationship with our new principal at this school. While I still abhor what we have done to our school by making it a K-8 and sending our high school kids to West Union, at least we have a top notch principal. For that, I’m quite thankful.

Now, for the hardest part of the year. 2015 brought some losses to our family. First, another old friend of mine lost his young son to cancer. That took a toll on this family. I watched my sister Lisa die and losing one of my own children has been a terrible nightmare of mine. Watching my old friend go through it brought back a lot of pain and hurt, as well as fear for me. As his family was going through the pain, I was reliving the pain here on top of it all. We also lost Cousin Ann Durnan totally unexpectedly this March. While Ann and I had our disagreements, I still loved her and I never wanted to see anything like that happen to her. Ann, along with her sister Grace, help take care of my Uncle Mike, who in many ways is like a father to me. I hated seeing Grace and Mike lose someone else so close to them in less than ten years. First it was Bonnie in 2006, Dave in 2009, and then Ann this year. My family was very close to Mike and Bonnie’s, so we felt that loss pretty hard as well. On top of this, several people I know lost loved ones. A few family members, myself included, have failing health this year. As I write this, I have an aunt who has been on hospice, in what is most likely the very end of her life. It’s been a tough, tough year for losses.

On the bright side, it’s also been a year that God has shined through friends and strangers. As I said, someone anonymously paid to have our van fixed with the water pump. KinDee and I have been blessed by an old friend of mine who has helped with fixing vehicles, to several other things that have helped us. There have been other areas where complete strangers have brought sunshine into an otherwise dreary year.

I am probably forgetting a ton of things on here. Regardless, I pray that 2016 is a much better year. The past couple of years have been tough and it would be nice to catch a break!

 

Eric’s Parable of The Evil Son

There was a family of thieves and murderers going back several generations. However, in recent times, many in the family turned from their life of crime, and walked the straight and narrow.

One particular family from this line existed and they had a son who chose to live like his ancestors. This son robbed and killed his fellow man. He robbed and killed those who were strangers as well as his distant relatives, and anyone who he felt stood in his way.

This son went into hiding from the law and continued to bring terror upon his victims. He also tried to convince other family members to resurrect the old family way and to join him.

As it so happened, the sheriff came to the door of the son’s father looking for the son. The father told the sheriff, “I do not know where my son is.” This was a lie. While the father himself did not murder or rob, nor would he give direct support to his son, he would not turn his son over to the law. Deep down he sympathized with his son.

The sheriff asked the son’s mother to divulge the son’s whereabouts and she threw her hands up in the air and proclaimed, “I don’t know what my son does, where he is, nor do I want to know. What he does is his own business. Leave me be.” She did not live the life of a thief or murderer, and had not raised her son to be one, but once he became one, she put her head in the sand and chose to not accept what her son had become. She was ashamed of him, but loved him and dealt with him by ignoring his actions. She would never turn in her son.

The sheriff went to the son’s brother and inquired as to the son’s whereabouts. By all appearances, this brother was an upstanding man. He outwardly projected himself as a pious man. He gave to charity and widows. However, deep down, he sympathized with his brother and secretly gave him direct support. He would give his brother food and shelter, and hide him out from the law. He lied to the sheriff and said, “Am I my brother’s keeper? I don’t know where he is.”

The sheriff went a few houses down where the son’s uncle lived. This uncle lived an honest and peaceful life, and his children and their families lived the same way. However, he wasn’t very close to his brother and their family despite living two houses away. He said to the uncle, “Your family there, two houses down, has a son who is a murderer and thief. I inquired of them where your nephew is and I feel they all lied to me. Go to your brother for me. Explain to him that his son has caused great harm and done wrong to many people. Explain to him that his son sows discontent and does evil even to those distantly related to him. Impress upon your brother, his wife, and their other son, that this is unacceptable and that they need to turn the evil son over so that justice can be done and peace can come to this land again.”

The uncle heard the sheriff and replied, “These are my kin. I have my own family that I tend to. I raise my family my way, he raises his as he sees fit. It is not my place to go to my brother and ask him to turn his son over to you. Yes, his son gives our family a bad name, but don’t judge me because of my brother. Besides, if I were to go to my brother and instruct him as you have asked of me, I may draw anger from them and endanger my own family for alas, his son is known for killing and robbing anyone who disagrees with him. There is peace between us now and I wish to keep it that way. I wish you well.” Afterwards, the uncle thought, “I am not related to the sheriff. While I do not agree with my brother’s family, if I had to choose between my distant brother or the sheriff, I would choose my brother as he is family and the sheriff is not.”

Now, the son continued to rob and murder. Who is guilty for the son’s crimes?

My DR RapidFire, 3 years later…….

I made my last payment on my log splitter just a month ago. I thought now would be a good time to write a little about my experiences with this splitter. In short, it’s regret.
I have had a lot of trouble with my splitter. The engine is great. The bolts that DR used are cheap. I’ve had the bolts used to adjust the motor snap off from normal use (tightening and loosening). They must be grade 3 by the looks of them. They should use Grade 8. The cost isn’t that great that it should even be a factor. I’ve had the bolts all replaced with Grade 8’s at my expense.

The handle mechanism has fallen apart once, needing a re-weld. Then the bushing and the rest of the engaging mechanism wore out from regular use, necessitating an upgrade from DR Power. To their credit, they sent me the upgraded material gratis, but I still had to pay a local guy here some money to do the work. Now, it’s broke down again. The handle won’t disengage if the splitter fails to make it through the wood in one pass. It’s probably the handle mechanism again, which seems to be a really weak point for this splitter.

The belts that DR use on the splitter are inferior. They should be a cogged belt for great grip around the clutch mechanism. I recommend Gates AX71 belts.

In short, this splitter is very fickle. The wood has to be just right. If it isn’t cut just right, or has a knot in a certain spot, it’s either dangerous to you the operator, or very hard on the machine. The handle mechanism just isn’t designed correctly. The Super Split guys never seem to complain about theirs, yet there’s plenty of complaints on the DR machine. I really wanted to see this machine excel over hydraulic units I have used before. While it does do well, when it’s not broken down and on straight grained, perfectly cut wood, for my usage, it’s more of a hindrance than a help. If I had it to do over today, I’d buy a good 34 Ton hydraulic splitter. Sure, it’s slower, but it would be broke down far less, negating any speed advantage the RapidFire has over it.

If you’re looking at the RapidFire and comparing it to a hydraulic, my advice to you is to go with the hydraulic unless you need to split pine, or other easy, straight grained wood. If you will be splitting elm and/or hickory, the hydraulic will be much better.

If you’re comparing it to the Super Split, I cannot help you as I’ve never used one. The Super Split is still out of my budget, and without financing, I’ll never be able to afford one.

So, three years out, I do not recommend the DR Splitter.

My advice to Trump ……. Broker a deal.

Now we’ve had our three debates, we are settling into the winter season before the first caucuses and primaries. You tout that you are a deal maker. You say that you will be a great leader for this country. You say that you will be a great world leader. Your first goal should be to become the leader of the GOP. You need to step up to the plate, broker deals with your contenders, and get them to fall in line behind you. You need to listen and address their concerns. You’ll probably have to kick some money to them for their campaign debts if they have any, and show us that you can take charge of the GOP and set its course. By the time the first caucus in Iowa happens, you should have a majority of your opponents out of the race, backing you, especially if you are a deal maker as you claim. I have little doubt that you are the deal maker you claim to be, but it’s show time.

You also need to do something about the GOP leadership. If you want to be president and come from the GOP party, you need to take charge of it. You need to do some back room dealing to get someone other than  Reince Priebus as chairman and you need to call Mitch McConnell and Paul Ryan (if he indeed becomes Speaker) to your Trump Towers for meetings, and broker deals with them to support you, and start working on policy that you’d like to see them work on while you are going through the process of being elected. You claim to be a great leader. Then you already know this is the route you need to take. Start leading!

Here are my thoughts on your major contenders in the race;

Dr. Carson – Nice guy. What position could you offer him in a Trump administration where he would feel like he’s using his God given talents? He’ll be a tricky one to appease. I’m sure you can figure something out as Dr. Carson is a very intelligent man and you do seem to have some nice rapport with him.

Jeb Bush – Well, let’s face it. The Bush’s are powerhouses in the Republican Party. You’ll probably have to appease them. Maybe an ambassadorship to Mexico or some important South American country? Maybe a cabinet post where he can feel important without having much influence on America? If you don’t appease Bush and his family, they will work against you behind the scenes. It’s no different than how Obama had to handle Hillary.

Chris Christie – If there ever was a good candidate for Attorney General! The only problem is that he’ll go after states where there’s legal marijuana and that isn’t popular. Of course, as leader of the GOP, you could push for a party platform change and push for the feds to get out of the marijuana business altogether and leave it to the states like alcohol. Christie seems like a straight shooter. The only reason he’d go after marijuana is because he feels he needs to follow the law. Christie a good man, one you should utilize in your administration. He’s just not right for president. He could do the job, but he’s not the best option.

Ted Cruz – Now there’s a man that would be loyal to you and serve you well. Being a Texan, he’d be good in your cabinet, dealing either with energy matters, or financial ones. But, there is a better candidate for financial matters…..

Rand Paul – He would make a great Secretary of the Treasury. He could then audit the Fed and help get America financially strong again. Financial matters are the Paul family’s strong points.

Carly Fiorina – If you didn’t broker a deal with her, it might look like you don’t appreciate women. She might make a good Ambassador to the United Nations as she is quite articulate, and would do a great job representing America on the world stage.

Mike Huckabee – Here’s a guy you should seriously consider as your VP. I have another candidate that would also work well as your VP, but Huckabee is very Reaganesque and would appear great on camera. He is also highly intelligent, very articulate, well liked, and he won the Iowa caucus in 2008. He also has experience dealing with the Clintons. He’s very popular in the South.

Marco Rubio – Ambassador to Cuba. Need I say more?

Bobby Jindahl – He’s also a really good guy. To be  honest, he’d be a good guy to take over Reince Priebus’s position in the party. He’s young. He’s a hard worker. I think it would be a great position for him if he’d accept.

Rick Santorum – What to do with Rick? Does it matter if you appease Rick? He does have some pull with the social conservatives. It would be better to have him on board than not. I’m sure you can strike a deal with him.

Rick Perry – Yes, Rick is out of the race, but he was a very good guy. He was a very successful governor in Texas and his talents should be utilized. If you didn’t use Huckabee as a VP, Perry would also be good in that position. Perry is probably the most like you out of all of the other Republican candidates, at least in personality. Where I think Perry would work best though is as Secretary of Defense. Perry has bonafide military experience as a commissioned officer in the United States Air Force, and seeing that the future of defense will be in air power, including drones, he would be a great fit.

The rest of the candidates are such small potatoes that if you get a majority of the ones listed above, the others will fall in line. Jeb is your biggest concern right now because he has all that establishment money behind him. It’s one thing to beat him, but if his people are unhappy, they will do everything in their power behind the scenes to destroy you. You’ll probably have to also meet with all the movers and shakers behind the Republican party, including the Koch Brothers, and assure them that if you’re president, they’ll still be rich. They just won’t be able to control politics for awhile from their office in Wichita, Kansas. They’ll have to run for president themselves, like you, or else mind their own business.

Granted, I’m just throwing out options regarding the candidates above, but I’m serious when I say that you should be working right now to build a coalition. The mainstream media and the democrats are counting on the Republicans to tear each other to shreds over the nominating process. Just like what happened at the final Republican CNBC debate, wouldn’t it be nice if the Republicans would work together instead of against each other? I’ve said it before – you claim to be the deal maker. Then make it happen! Show America that you can do what you say!

Hurricane Patricia…..my memory of Hurricane Isabel

Living here in Iowa, we rarely make acquaintances with Hurricanes. If we get any association with a hurricane, it generally comes from those that land in Texas, get into the jet stream, and dump a lot of rain on Iowa as a tropical depression. Even then, that’s a rare occurrence as the jet stream usually grabs hold of those systems and kicks them east into Illinois and Indiana instead. Usually the greatest effect from any hurricane in Iowa is that it puts our own weather into a holding pattern for a few days.

Hurricane Patricia  is in the news today. They say it’s about to hit Mexico and is currently the strongest hurricane on record in the western hemisphere. I have been reading stories about the evacuations and preparations going on in Mexico right now and one thing about the stories reminded me of my one true experience with a hurricane, Hurricane Isabel in 2003. It’s that it’s already raining ahead of the hurricane in Mexico.

I was on my way to Williamston, North Carolina in mid-September of 2003 with a load of kosher beef trimmings out of the Agri-Processors plant in Postville, Iowa. There in Williamston was a hot dog plant that made hot dogs from these trimmings. The weather was beautiful September weather when I left Iowa. I spent the night around Louisville as I always did on the first night. The next day I remember I took the southern route to Williamston which took me through Knoxville, Tennessee and across I-40 through North Carolina. This is as opposed to the northern route which took me across I-64 from Louisville through Charleston, then down through West Virginia, Virginia, and into North Carolina. I had some bad luck the previous time through Charleston with traffic that stopped abruptly in front of me and allowed my load to slip off of the pallets. Why Agri-Processors never shrink wrapped the cardboard combos to the pallets is beyond me, but that load had to be hand unloaded and they were not happy in Williamston.

As I was travelling across North Carolina, it was the evening of the second night. I had to deliver the next morning. It started raining. I was east of Greensboro, actually east of Burlington, heading for the Durham/Raleigh area where I’d catch Route 64 and head east. This area was under intense road construction at the time and I was in a construction zone, doing 55 MPH. I came over a small hill and there was a Cadillac in my lane with a flat tire. They couldn’t pull over, so they were driving about 15 MPH. I had to slam on my brakes. I had nowhere to go. The shoulder had been replaced with a cement barrier and there was very thick traffic on my left. I knew it wasn’t good. While I didn’t hit that Cadillac, I knew the load in the back probably wasn’t on the pallets anymore. I found a truck stop and went to bed for the night.

The next morning I woke up. It was cloudy. That morning, the news was that Johnny Cash and John Ritter had passed away. I’ll never forget it because John Ritter reminded me of my father. In fact, he was only born one day before Dad. I also listened to WSM out of Nashville at the time. They were on my Sirius Satellite Radio (although I don’t think they are anymore). They were playing a lot of Johnny Cash tunes. Sure enough, I got to Williamston and the load had shifted off of the pallets. The guy looked at me and told me that he wasn’t going to unload this one. He handed me a fork and told me it was my job this time.

I unloaded 40,000 pounds of beef trimmings by hand. It took me over 4 hours! All I had was a food grade pitchfork! The unloading guy would bring me a plastic tote and I would fork the meat over from the combo into his tote. I was still in relatively good health at the time. It was the last time that I recall doing that level of labor in my life. Only a year later I would start becoming pretty ill. I remember when the load was unloaded, it was afternoon. I pulled away from the dock and had to change clothes as I was soaked to the bone from sweat and I had bits of meat on me. I felt very ill as I wasn’t used to working so hard. Truthfully, I am surprised I didn’t have a heart attack. Thankfully, I had quit smoking a year earlier.

My next stop was up in Severn, North Carolina, up by the Virginia border. I had until the next morning, so I left Williamston. It was cloudy and there were rain squalls at this point, but nothing serious. I drove up Highway 17 and caught Highway 13 which took me up to Suffolk where I knew there was a small truck stop where I could spend the evening. Just north of the Highway 17 & 13 split, on the north side of Windsor, I came across this peanut place that I had passed on previous trips, but never had the time to stop. Since I had the time, I wheeled in there. The place is called Bertie County Peanuts, and they have a website online. They are a small outfit, about the size of Krob’s in my hometown of Walker, Iowa. There’s a cotton field across the road. I sat inside there and visited with the equally inquisitive employee and spent about an hour or so at the place. The guy was even nice enough to walk me across the road to show me the cotton field and explain how cotton grows, and how they pick it. I ended buying a satchel of peanuts from the guy. He told me that all the peanuts in the store taste terrible because they aren’t refrigerated. He said that peanuts have oil in them and that if you want the best tasting peanuts, you had to buy ones that have been kept cool immediately after roasting. His were kept in a cooler and I can attest that his tasted far superior to anything I’ve ever eaten from a store. I left there and got up to the little truck stop in Suffolk, Virginia

There is a television station around Suffolk called WAVE. I will never forget that as I thought of a tidal wave and felt that if a large wave ever struck the area, they’d be the aptly named station to watch regarding the event. Their news was wall to wall that evening regarding the impending hurricane, Isabelle. It was still a few days out, but was already a Category 5 storm. It was still cloudy and the radar showed bands of rain from the hurricane starting to make landfall, even though the hurricane was still a long ways out. They said that it was about to start raining, and stay raining. Before dark, the rain came and never abated during the rest of my time in that area.

I awoke the next morning and it was certainly raining. One thing about the rain out on the east coast that I noticed is that it’s not a cold of a rain the way we get here in Iowa in September. It might have been a product of a more southerly latitude, but the rain wasn’t cold. It was warm and humid, and raining like crazy. It would soak you to the bone. It created light fog conditions and it was hard keeping my windows clear. I learned a long time ago that cracking your window does more to keep your windows clear than the defroster alone does. After a quick bite to eat, I left along U.S. Route 58 heading west, then caught Virginia Route 35, and headed south through Boykins, Virginia, and down to a business called Resinall at Severn, NC, just across the border from Virginia. It was raining cats and dogs there. I backed up to the dock and waited to get loaded. After awhile, nothing was happening, so I went inside. A “gentleman” inside informed me that they could smell “something” in the trailer and saw what looked like dried blood on the floor. Indeed, there was some dried blood on the floor, but it didn’t smell that bad to me. There wasn’t much blood at all. The guy told me that they would refuse to load me unless I went somewhere to wash out. Fair enough.

Then began a long process of trying to find a place to wash out. It was decided that I was to go to Emporia, Virginia and wash my trailer out, then return to load. So, off through the rain I went to Emporia and there I had the trailer washed out. On the way back, I heard a lady honking her horn at me in Boykins. It seems my door had come unlocked and was flapping about back there. God bless her! Someone could have gotten hit by that door. I got back to Severn and they proceeded to load me. I will say this, these guys were arrogant pricks. They wouldn’t even come outside to tell me that they wouldn’t load me the first time I was there. I was supposed to “figure it out” I guess when nothing happened after an hour. They must have thought that I was supposed to sit there and watch them, so that’s what I did the second time and the jerk on the forklift kept whistling, “If I only had a brain” from the Wizard of Oz, as if I was stupid. Anyhow, they loaded me with pallets of raw pine tree resin and I went to the peanut place in town to scale myself and realized that I was too heavy on the nose of the trailer. No matter how forward I moved my tandems, I couldn’t make it work. Trust me, I stood in that bone soaking rain and tried! So, back to Resinall I went!

They were not happy that I needed the load reloaded and redistributed. This time they told me that if I needed reloaded, it would cost me. Pricks! So back to the scale I went and it was loaded really heavy on the tandems. I stood out there in the pouring rain, beating on those pins which hold the tandems in place, and slid the tandems all the way to the rear of the trailer. I was still over weight on the tandems. I knew these guys were messing with me now. They went from one extreme to the other. I figured I only had a few scales to cross, so I’d try and hit them at night when they’d be closed. Off to the truck stop in Emporia I went. I still remember eating a seafood buffet and being surprised at the nearly 10% sales tax that I was charged there. I went back out to my truck and did some paperwork. It was just starting to get dark. I watched as a truck with a load of pipe was leaving the truck stop and was forced to slam on his brakes as a car came zipping over the hill. The pipe on his trailer slid to the front and hit his headache rack. Sadly for him, his headache rack was attached to the tractor, so he was now unable to turn his truck. He had to back up in a straight line (which he was thankfully able to do) and then he had to unhook his trailer. As I was getting ready to go to bed, there were forklifts starting to show up to work on his load. I then went to bed. It was still a constant rain.

I woke up very early the next morning. It might have been 2 or three in the morning. The truck whose load of pipe had shifted forward was now gone. He must have gotten it all figured out and got on his way. It was still raining, dark and gloomy. I left the truck stop and headed north up to Petersburg, then Richmond, Virginia via I-95 and then grabbed I-64 and headed west. Out past Charlottesville, there is a section of I-64 like no other interstate that I have traveled before. Due to the mountains, trees, elevation, and other factors, there is a considerable amount of fog in this area. There have been several deadly wrecks along this stretch, all attributed to poor visibility due to fog. For this reason, they installed lights into the roadway of I-64, like an airport runway. This particular morning, the interstate was lit up because of the rain and fog, and I got the pleasure of driving down the interstate this way, the only time that I had traveled this stretch with the lights on.

By the time I reached West Virginia, the rain was breaking up and by the time I got into Kentucky, the sun started coming out again. By the time I got home, it was typical fall like weather back in Iowa. It was sunny, dry, and cool. The load that I had on had to deliver in Des Moines and I had a few extra days before my delivery date, so I stopped at the house. The hurricane made landfall while I was sitting in my easy chair back home in Wadena. Isabelle wreaked a lot of havoc on that area. The main culprit was all that rain and flooding. They had problems with sever flooding all the way into West Virginia, where I had been only days earlier. Thankfully I got out of that area before the bulk of the storm hit, but I do remember that while I was watching television back in Suffolk, the night before I loaded in Severn, Isabelle was a Category 5 Hurricane, but was still a couple of days out at least. Yet, it was raining.

I delivered my load to Firestone in Des Moines and I told them that they were lucky to get their shipment as the place I had loaded from was getting smacked around by that hurricane. The guy shrugged his shoulders. To him, Severn, North Carolina could have been on another planet for all he was concerned. He was busy, working, and the weather was beautiful outside! I had experiences like this a lot when I drove semi. Like Mary Poppins, I popped in to and out of people’s lives and their parts of the country. Now that I’ve sat here to home for about 8 years, I try and remind myself that what I see on the news is reality for someone out there, far from me. For those poor people in Mexico, I can empathize with them. While I have never sat through a hurricane while it has hit, I have seen what it’s like in the days leading up to one. It’s miserable and it’s wet! So when they say that it’s raining in Mexico while they prepare for this Hurricane Patricia, it reminds me of that time I had just a fleeting moment with Hurricane Isabelle in 2003.

Two Months Benzo Free

I took my last dose of poison on the morning of August 13th, 2015. I had been on Xanax, .25mg, twice a day for about 6 months. I had taken it as needed for about two years before that. I had mainly used it to help me sleep on stressful nights. I wish I had never taken it at all.

My withdrawal has been a difficult one for me. I spent the better part of the first month off of the drug stuck in bed. I was sick like I have never been before. Not even during my worst infections that I have had have I been as sick as I have been since discontinuing Xanax. Even at two months off of the drug that was legally prescribed to me, I suffer withdrawal symptoms. Just late last week I had a rough night where my heart was racing, my body hurt, and I was sweating profusely. I barely slept. Even today I feel the effects of withdrawal.

In the first days, I suffered from everything under the sun. The worst withdrawal problems were the insomnia with adrenaline rushes. It would make my heart race and I felt like I was dying of heart failure. I sweat terribly and had really terrible bouts of depression and anxiety. I was a mess. I take that back. Even a mess looked good compared to what I was. I was beyond a mess. Slowly, I have transitioned to a phase they call “windows and waves”. This is where I feel fairly normal – “windows” – and then go back into benzo hell – “waves”. These windows and waves come and go at whim. It’s like being locked up by a serial rapist and he can come and go and rape me at whim. I have no control over when I am attacked. I do not know when my predicament will end. I have been told, and have faith, that it will end someday. I pray for that day.

Some of the early symptoms have quieted down to the point that I can tolerate them, or they visit so infrequently that I don’t think of them often. No longer do my eyes roll uncontrollably in my head. I can watch television again without it making sick, most of the time. When I’m in a  bad wave it still bugs me. Light doesn’t bother me as bad, but there are days where it does. Bright sun in the evening still pesters me. My computer monitors are still turned down to dim. The incessant vertigo has left me for the most part. Sometimes I still get it when objects move when I don’t expect them, or when riding in the van. In the early days, it was there 24/7. The heart attack sensations rarely happen anymore. Late last week my chest hurt in that bad window, but it didn’t last as long or as badly as before. I’m hoping it never returns like it did previously. The insomnia is much better for the most part. I still have some issues with it, but I always have. Part of it is that I sit at these computers or watch television late in the evening. I should learn to shut these things off a 8 o’clock and find something to do that doesn’t involve artificial light.

I’m not having the deep depression or the really bad anxiety attacks anymore. Knock on wood! I’m not getting as many muscle pains or cramps as I had in the early days. I still get some, but not to the extreme level they were at. My brain isn’t quite as foggy. I’m not having trouble finding words like I did in the early weeks. I’m able to write much better. I also noticed in the early days, if I tried to write something like this, I would start to feel the benzo dogs come attack me. Just trying to slice a tomato sent my body into attack mode. I can now slice a tomato without feeling like hell! I’m still not to 100%, but I am better.

Like I said, I am still sensitive to bright light. I wouldn’t dare want to be around a strobe light. If I get tired, my vision sort of washes out. I find that closing my eyes and leaving them closed for awhile helps. I am sensitive to sound. I now sleep with ear plugs in. KinDee assures me she’ll wake me up if the smoke alarm were to go off. When the kids fight and quarrel, it makes me feel icky, but not as bad as it did in the early weeks. I’m still having digestive issues. My stomach is all messed up and I have a constant pressure behind my sternum. I also get short of breath easily, and I don’t like that too well. I get a bad ringing in my ears. Some days it’s better than others, but when the benzo dogs drag me into another wave, it’s generally pretty loud. I get really strange headaches. They are intense pain that makes me feel sick and feel like a stabbing in my head. Ibuprofen nor Tylenol touches it. Neither does closing my eyes. It’s something I am forced to endure. I still get muscle pain and aches, just not as bad as I did weeks ago. My stomach really is messed up. I feel nauseous a lot. My intestines aren’t right either and I’m eating yogurt and taking it easy on them. The emergency room doctor that I saw weeks ago told me that our guts are full of serotonin and benzo receptors and that it was normal to have a sick stomach. Ugh! It’s one of my worst symptoms as I write this. I too hope this will pass.

I’m sure I’m missing out on many of the things that are bothering me right now. Sufficed to say, I’m far from being 100%, but I’ve come quite a ways since I started my journey. I remember that back in the first week or two of my journey, I didn’t feel hunger, tiredness, the urge to urinate, or do other bodily functions, or even thirst. I felt like a zombie. I had to force myself to drink and eat. I took a cup and said to myself that I needed to drink that amount for the day. My urine was really dark there for awhile. I actually lost 80 pounds! I know it doesn’t look like it, but that’s what the scale has told me. I’ve been a sick dog.

I know a lot of you have prayed for me these past few months and I want to thank you for it. I want to ask for your continued prayers as I’m by no means out of the woods yet. From everything that I’ve read, I’m looking at a journey that is two months at best, and in many cases, lasts up to two years, or longer. As I’ve pointed out, tomorrow marks two months. I’ve probably got up to 22 more months ahead of me, but hopefully, with God’s Grace, and your prayers, less. Thank you again for your support.

I’ve changed my mind……………

Let’s see, 7 years ago I would have been 32 years old. Since then, I’ve lived a lot of life. As with most people, my thoughts on some things have changed. I wasn’t really into family history as deep back then. My father in law was still alive. I wrote a piece stating that I only wanted to live long enough, then die before I got too old and lonely. You can read about it here: http://ericdurnan.blogspot.com/2008/03/live-just-long-enough-and-prosper.html

I pointed to my maternal grandmother who was only 67 years old when she died. I spoke of how she was lucky that she never had to bury any of her children or watch her siblings die. I hereby take back those words. Life experiences have changed my mind on the matter. Since then, my health has gotten far worse and there have been a couple of instances where I felt near death. I learned rather unequivocally that I wanted to keep living. I thought of my children living life without me. My youngest is now 8 years old, but even the thought of another 15 years on this earth seems too short. In fifteen years, I’ll be about 55 years old. Think of how much life I would be giving up if I died then! My grandfather, whom I mentioned in the original piece, died 5 years later. If I hadn’t of had those 5 years, I would have missed out on some very special bonding with him. I have learned that even though your peers may be dead, you are still worth something to the younger generation. It’s worth sticking around and seeing what happens.

If I live to be 67, the age that my grandmother died at, I would live until the year 2043. By contrast, if I live to be 90 years old, I will live until the year 2066. That’s a 23 year difference. That’s enough time to see a grandchild go from being born to being a 23 year old. Think of how much influence I could have in the life of that young soul! If that grandchild lives to be 90 years old, then I’ll be remembered by someone on this earth until the year 2133! Fancy that! They say you’re not truly dead until the last person who remembers you dies. Those extra 23 years on this earth are worth it.

I have a new philosophy about life. I think of life in 30 year blocks. The first thirty years should be for building your life. This includes getting your education, picking a profession, getting married, and starting your family. The second 30 years should be spent living your life. These are the years where you take what you built in your first thirty years and care for it, and expand it. These seem to be a person’s prime years. These are the years that you invest in your family. These are the years where the older generation starts passing on and the younger generation is being raised. This is where your family is a blend of old and new, but gradually becomes more new than old.

The last 30 years of one’s life, from age 60 through 90 ought to be spent winding down, tying up loose ends, and preparing to leave a legacy behind. These should be the years where you plan on retiring, paying off your mortgage, and taking some vacations. The older generations in your family are for the most part gone and there are more young ones being born to your children and grandchildren than you can keep up with. You should be a wise sage and offer advice to the younger generations if they ask. You should be there to help your children out with their families if they need it. Invest in your grandchildren as their parents are probably too busy to spend as much time as you can with them. I think the bond between a grandparent and grandchild is a very special one.

Anything over 90 seems to be gravy, however, it has been my experience that those who get over 90 years old lose touch with the youngest in their family. My grandfather lost track of how many great, and great-great grandchildren he had. However, that’s not to say that he didn’t serve a purpose in life after 90. He was still there for me, his grandchild. I loved my grandfather very much and those last few years of his life were very special to me.

So, starting this year, I have started praying to God that I live to at least be 90. That is my prayer. I’m not even half way there yet.