I’ve had bad days. It’s just one of those.

If this year had gone the way it was supposed to, I’d still be basking in the afterglow of a two-week vacation in Hawaii with my family right now. I’d be getting ready to head over to Tampa for a rehearsal of Picasso at the Lapin Agile. I’d be getting amped up about the fact that in less than two weeks I was taking my son to Dragon Con with me for the first time.

Edit: TripIt just did me the “kindness” of reminding me that we’d still be IN Hawaii right now. Sigh.

I could go on. The point is that, for me, 2022 has felt like a long line of “oh, you thought this cool thing was going to happen? NAH.” and it feels like it’s not going to get better any time soon. I mean, for the first time in almost ten years I actually expressed a desire to make a big deal out of my birthday in November (the last time I really did so was for my 40th…I’m ok with indulging myself on milestone birthdays) and now I’m like “well, will I be doing anything other than laying around and recovering from surgery and/or dealing with the side effects of the potential radiation therapy I’ll likely need after?”

I’m just not in the best place about all “this” today. The double whammy of cancer and COVID is just a bit more than my brain was ready to accept and feeling trapped in the house and unable to take care of myself isn’t helping.

Oh, hey…so speaking of…guess what is even more pronounced when you mix cancer with COVID? Fatigue! Yay! At least, that’s been the case for me. Mind you, fatigue and energy level issues are what started me down the path that led to my diagnosis in the first place.

I can do this all day

So on Tuesday night I got to spend about 20 minutes in the Shimberg with a few old friends and some folks I was excited to start working with. I know it was only about 20 minutes because I tested positive for COVID-19 and had to go home.

Friends, I’m about at my wits end.

The symptoms came on pretty fast. They had already started when I tested positive, but I hadn’t thought twice about the fact that I had a sore throat because the day before I had an Endoscopy. My assumption is that my immune system was compromised due to the number of invasive tests I’ve had lately, including the colonoscopy I had last week that probably wiped all the good gut biomes out of my system.

The symptoms have been mild-ish I suppose, but they have knocked me on my ass. The most persistent symptom I’ve had has been an incredibly sore throat, which seemed to peak overnight last night. I barely slept at all because the pain kept waking me up. No respiratory issues of note, and the sinus stuff seems to have passed. Dry cough, made more painful by the sore throat. Sitting up for extended periods makes me tired and I’ve got brain fog. Doctors have me on Paxlovid because of the cancer and my diabetes.

So yeah, this has pretty much sucked. Lisa has been taking amazing care of me and has, thankfully, remained asymptomatic with negative daily test results. We’ve split the house in two and when she comes back here to bring me things she has a KN95 on with a cloth mask to boot.

And y’all thought I was in my feels about this cancer situation before? This here pity party is an all night rave with no seats and $20 bottles of water. Honestly, what really upsets me the most about all this is that it pushed back my appointment at Moffitt and I really wanted to get that out of the way so I could figure out how my treatment is going to impact our lives in the next few months.

Now here’s a positive thing about all this – Many of you who have known me for a while have probably heard me talk about my first programming mentor, Wendell, and how one of the most valuable lessons he taught me was not to put my job before my health (he taught me this lesson by example…he worked himself to death). I was in the middle of writing a text message to Lisa about how I was going to “power through” the work I had to do on Wednesday before taking the rest of the day off. I realized I was heading down the path Wendell did and stopped that line of thought cold. I’m not dying because of my job, especially since EVERY co-worker I have has done nothing but emphasize how I need to focus on getting better.

You know, it’s kinda funny to me how the same thing keeps popping up in my head and has for the last few years. I’ve said for a long time that while Spider-Man is the super hero I find most relatable, Captain America is the one that inspires me. It’s kinda his thing, really. That scene in Avengers: Endgame comes to mind often and has a lot over the last three years. Oh come on, you know the scene I’m talking about if you’ve seen it. Cap has had his ass handed to him, his shield is broken, his friends are incapacitated, and he has a whole army coming his way. But he grimaces through the pain, tightens his broken shield on to his arm, and stands up to face what is coming. He doesn’t say it, but it’s the ongoing thread of “I can do this all day” that he has throughout his entire story arc. That’s where I’m at right now.

And when I’m done with my surgery and on the other side of this I’m getting myself a shield for my office.

Broken Tiles

It’s St. Patrick’s Day. Eight years ago today I met my wife for the first person at O’Keefe’s in Clearwater. It was one of the best days of my life.

A year ago today we were moving into our temporary home in a downtown St. Petersburg AirBNB while our floors were being done. It was less than two months after the suicide of my step-son, Christopher. They say that you shouldn’t make any major decisions in your life in the first year after losing someone to suicide, but I thought that since Christopher was my step-son I was immune from that. I was going to be able to be the strong one and keep the ship going while my wife grieved. I went into therapy myself a few months after we had the floors done, and I’ve realized in the months since how very wrong I was. I’ve always known that I was a “fixer,” but I didn’t realize how much that my desire to fix things had to do with me. The house I live in has always been a source of great comfort for me. If I can keep it clean, and neat, and organized, and well-maintained…well, the rest of the world could go to hell around me but I’d still have a place to seek comfort. Christopher’s suicide broke us. It broke our sense of peace. It broke our ability to take comfort in each other, and in our house. I realized this morning that my decision to get the floors fixed was an effort on my part to fix the psychological damage in our home. The broken tiles represented us. They were a constant reminder of the fact that we were not at all ok.

If I fixed them…maybe that would change.

It didn’t. The floors are beautiful, and I don’t regret our decision to get them, but our damage was still there when the workers had left and everything was cleaned up and put back into place. It’s still there now. We’re working on it. Both of us. As hard as we can. But it’s still there.

And then…

Today I’m physically in the office for what could be the last time in a very long time, with the world falling down around us as the COVID-19 pandemic continues to grow. Again, I find myself doing whatever I can to fix a situation that can’t be fixed. What can I buy to prepare ourselves? What can I do to prepare? How can I make what’s going on ok?

I can’t.

I’ve been putting on a brave face for all this, but it’s getting to me. I’m not OK. I’m not going to be OK if it gets a lot worse. I’m not cut out for this kind of thing.

This is the song stuck in my head today. It’s not a good angsty blog post without song lyrics, right?

Until I should die, until I should break
Not a god, not a devil my soul shall take
If I should lie to betray myself
Then I would damn myself, and my soul forsakeI don’t want fifteen minutes want a whole lot more
Don’t want to suffer the fools and the spoils of war
I don’t want fifteen minutes, or a reason why
I want a stainless steel road stretching off to the skyI don’t need sentiment, want, or hate on my mind
No crimes of passion or obsessions in kind
No walls, restraints, or momentary thrill
No blood on my hands, no time to killI want more body, I want more soul
Flip the switch to automatic, I want controlI want control
I want control
I want controlIf I should give in, if I should turn away
Not a god, not a devil my soul could save
I want more body, I want more soul
Flip the switch to automatic, I want controlI want control
I want control
I want controlI want control
I want control
(I want control) I want control