These things change us

[Queersetti]

Here in hickville, when someone says bike, they look at you funny if you don't have tattoos and a skank bro.

Stew

What happened to your skank?

 

[Stewart_Pidd]

What happened to your skank?

She ran off with my tattoos, broken down cars, and pit bull bro.

Stew

 

[Bob_Bytchin]

My father was an immigrant, and he really believed in America. He loved jazz and Hollywood movies, greasy cheeseburgers and the Red Sox. He believed in the idea that in America, if you worked hard, you could get ahead, give your family a good life, and leave more for the next generation that was left for you. But he was uneducated and spent his life as a longshoreman, in Genoa, then in Mystic Connecticut and Portland Maine. He made a good living, couldn't afford to buy a big house or start a business. But what he could do was buy life insurance. He bought a lot of life insurance.

When he died in 1989, he left the family with much more money than we had imagined we would ever have. I was teaching high school at the time. My mother wanted a secure way to make the money grow. Nothing spectacular, just some steady income for herself, my sister and I. Land was really cheap in midcoast Maine, and we bought several houses in the area to use as rental property. It turned out to be a great idea. Over the next twenty years, the value of our properties skyrocketed as more and more people moved to the Maine coast or purchased summer homes there. When my mom passed, I had enough money to buy out my sister's share and become sole owner.

In 2009, I suffered a near fatal heart attack. I fully recovered. In fact, my long time cardiologist retired a couple of years ago, and when I saw a new one, he told me that if my stents didn't show up on xrays, he'd be skeptical that I'd actually had a heart attack. But I made the decision to slow down, and so, I sold off most of my properties, and bought a house in Italy, in the hills above Genoa, not far from where my parents grew up. Since then, I have split my time, summer in Maine, winter in Liguria.

There was one property that never sold. I had taken it as an add on in a deal for another place. It was not near the coast, but about 30 miles inland, on a dirt road in a rural area.I had it up for sale for years and never got a bite. Eventually, I stopped listing it. I'd get a property tax bill every year for about a hundred dollars. I'd pay it and forget about it.

Last summer, I was in the area visiting friends, and on a whim, I drove out to my property. It's just five acres, mostly scrubby meadow near the road, woods in the back half. I parked and walked around a little bit, just reminiscing about how I had once thought I might build a country house there someday.

By coincidence, I heard voices coming from the woods. A few minutes later, a young couple emerged. I think I startled them, but we introduced ourselves. They owned the property behind mine. We had a lovely chat. He was an outdoor kind of guy, fisherman, hiker, hunter. She joked that she preferred to stay at home, curled up with a book. At one point he said that if they had more buildable land, he'd build her a "she shed" where she could escape from all his activity and read in peace.

It was getting late in the day, and we said our goodbyes, but as they walked back toward the woods, I impulsively called them back.

"You could build it here," I told them. "Do you want this land?'

They said they couldn't afford it. I said, "I didn't ask you if you wanted to buy it."

A few days later, we met at the town office as soon as it opened, and I signed the deed over to them. I hope he builds her that little getaway, and I hope she enjoys it.

Later, I wondered why I had spontaneously just given away that land. On reflection, I realized that, at the age of 68, I have entered that phase of life where one faces the inevitability of mortality. The season of letting go. And I'm okay with that. I regard every minute of life that I've enjoyed since that heart attack as gift time, extra icing on my cake.

It's still my ultimate goal to be the modern version of the old Italian man in Catch-22, waving his cane at the young men and mocking them for their presumptions of knowledge and wisdom. But whatever comes, I'm ready for it. That young couple didn't pay me for that parcel with money, it was an exchange of land for an epiphany.

Your dad was a go-getter, looking for the betterment of your futures. Hats off to your dad.

You using what you have to better others is just as important as what your dad did for you. Glad you're still around Q.

BTW, I'm from midcoast Maine. All my family is in the Lincolnville/Camden/Rockland area.

 

[thør]

She ran off with my tattoos, broken down cars, and pit bull bro.

Stew

Did she take the "shooting car"?

 

[PFWilly]

What changed me was waking up three days after my 8th angioplasty. I didn’t recall much, other than my doctor saying, ”hang in there, Bill”, as things faded to black. Full cardiac arrest, defibrillation failed to re-establish a stable rhythm. Fifty minutes of CPR, emergency five way bypass, and an induced coma.

Docs told my wife there was a 50/50 chance of surviving for three days. If I were to survive, a 90% chance of permanent brain damage.

25 year anniversary of that event, this month. Still here, plugging away.

My fair lady is still assessing the brain damage, I’m good with that.

 

[Debbie]

Re reading some of these posts reminds me of how helpful this thread is to vent. To share.

There are probably people who read this but didnt post that it may have given them a little solace or food for thought.

 

[FL30]

The call came in at 9pm. A 34 year old patient with pain out of control. She is on a CADD pump, with Dilaudid, but her pain is escalating. As the on call RN, I had to go and titrate her meds up.

The hour drive made me cranky, muttering under my breath, "why didn't the nurse that was out earlier fix this..."

The road was dark, the 2 flights of stairs up to the house even darker. The entry was well lit, and the 10 pairs of shoes lined up neatly on the front porch began a story. I was suddenly glad I had just painted my toenails.

I was welcomed in and ushered quickly and quietly into a small room, dominated by a hospital bed, a small jaundiced-bronzed woman in obvious, severe distress and 6 Afghani women.

For the next 4-1/2 hours, I sat vigil with these women, as I increased the Dilaudid from 4mg/hour to 64mg/hr, giving Ativan to calm, began oxygen, held hands.

The patient is 34, her sister died from the very same cancer recently. Her mother and I spoke only the language of the love for our children. She is suffering, just as her dying daughter is. The older woman pulled a chair next to her for me to sit, holding my hand, kissing first one cheek, then the other. We watched and prayed together as her baby's breathing became less labored and her moans became softer and less frequent.

And the young women talked of politics and how they had no interest until just recently, as they are hated, despised for their religious beliefs. As we sat together, sharing a glass of hot tea and sweet dates, we talked of all those fighting, being killed, some Mother's child.

The suffering I saw tonight was not any less nor any more deserved for this young Moslem woman and her family. They welcomed me, never asked about my religion. The dying woman's mother said she loved me, loved me for easing the suffering of her child.

I am different tonight

And now have no tolerance for blind and ignorant hatred


What experiences have changed you in a heartbeat?

When we're on our death bed, is someone's skin color, religion, house, car, job or any other beliefs really that important? If you needed a blood transfusion or an organ, would you say "no" due to someone's skin color, religion, or any other beliefs?

While we're alive, we make so much fuss about so many little, little things that in the end really just don't matter.

 

[dkak001]

Spent the last nine months dealing with a cancer scare with my spouse. That's passed, finally, and with good results. But the process was draining.

So now dealing with my own issues, which were supposed to be routine and were put off due her issues. Headed to surgery next week, and during a call with another health care provider for a whole different set of issue, I get a call that I may have cancer. Or, at least the test came back positive. Now, not only heading in for surgery, but heading in for colonoscopy same day too. I'm just too exhausted to deal with this right now.