Follow the bubbles up

I haven't posted since my father died, haven't really been sure what to write. I am going to try today.



I read somewhere yesterday that it's not your fault that you are down or depressed, but it is your fault if you don't get back up. So that's what I get to face now because I am down and I am pretty sure that wasn't the button I pushed on life's elevator and yet here I am -- in the basement. And it isn't the bargain basement and it doesn't appear to be the root cellar. What is that? First things first, I want to dump the load of crap I am carrying around first and then I will get to how to clean it up. Wind the clock back to the best things I can remember before the move down began.



October 2007 comes, I put on running shoes and say this time things will be different. Two and a half years had gone by since my knee injury. My odometer on my bike showed 2,500 miles between April and October 2007. I was fit, I was strong and after attacking Wisconsin hills in a September century, I felt ready to run. Slowly, you know, but run. And run I did, first for 15 minutes, then 20, then 30. And it didn't hurt, so I kept running and I started to dream again, of races shorts and long of marathons and everything in between. I pulled out the calendar and found a race, in Fort Wayne the same weekend as my high school reunion. I wrote about it here. It was a reaffirmation, a rebirth, a reawakening in me of my ability to run and run fast (sort of).



November came and October's high point was under siege. I ran a trail race, mentioned here somewhere and captured in the photo at the top of the page. At the time of the photo, I had already stepped in one of the two holes that would sprain by ankle and lead, in my humble opinion, to the fracture of my third metatarsel. Another hole near the finish and my ankle did its characteristic roll of 90 degrees, foot in, leg out. Ouch, that %$#@ing hurts. And kept hurting.

The funny thing, looking back with the boot once again on my right foot as the healing hasn't, is that I thougt it a good idea to run another race two weeks later. Iwanted to run it because the entry had been free. The signs were there telling me not to run. My foot wasn't perfect, it was a 20 degree November day on race day with icy snow blowing and pelting north to south, but like all competitive runners -- I was an idiot with a bib on my shirt. So I ran and my foot fractured. Beginning of story.

I wore the boot, also pictured and documented here, somewhere, from early December until the third week of January. My doctor reluctantly allowed me to remove it but that story didn't end there.

And then the pneumonia came. I went to work Monday through Wednesday alternating between extreme chills and volcanic sweat. On one day, I wore my hat indoors at work -- that just isn't normal. It took until Friday of that week with my fever nearly melting me at 103 degrees to get a diagnosis and to get medecine to bring me back to normal temperature.

And then January 25, 2008 came. I left my house at noon to go to the doctor. I fought snow and ice as I drove on a day when few were on the roads. I waited for the doctor, he took blood and urine (they don't give it back) and then sent me to the mall for a chest x-ray (funny but not worth detailing), and then called me back to his office to get a prescription. From there it was on to Walgreens where I sat for an hour to get my meds. And then, finally, over three hours later, I got home, took the medecine, put on all my warm clothes, sweat pants, fleece shirt, hat, wool socks, gloves and climbed into bed. I took my temperature and saw 103 again and then, my wife was at my side, on the phone with my mother, screaming:

"Your dad is on the floor, I think he is gone."

And he was gone.

And he is still gone.

All this is a very long way of saying that since November I have felt lousy about most of what life has thrown my way.

Now I just have to figure it out. I am greiving for my father. The pain has lessened, it feels less immediate, but no less real. I still want to call him, I just want to hear his voice.

My osteoporosis is being managed. I have cut my coffee intake. Some days that doesn't cause problems, but not always. I take supplements all day long, it seems, but others do to.

Now, it's on to my foot. The boot is back on, an MRI is scheduled for later this week. More information should make a solution more possible even if it isn't immediately within reach.

Like so many stories long and short, to be continued.