Thursday, April 30, 2015


Admitting when its time to get help...

So, many of you know that I have been working on a book for the past several years.  Sadly, it has been slow going, but well over two hundred pages and fourteen plus chapters have been written.  The good news is that those who have read the first section of the book have all said "keep writing!"  I set a personal incentive a while back that when I finish the book I'll get to cut my hair is now quite long and continues to grow. 

Many of you also know that for the last year and a half or so...almost two years now...I have been suffering from strange monthly episodes that begin with sulfuric gas burps and nausea which then, over a varying degree of hours to days, develops into very violent and disgusting...often simultaneous...gastroenterological issues.  It's horridly awful...tastes like a doorway to hell has opened in my stomach, and pretty much feels like it too.  It led me to see numerous doctors last year, a severe sleep apnea diagnosis and a type 2 diabetes diagnosis in addition to revealing some very common allergies, but no answers about the monthly GI issues. 

What do these two opening paragraphs have in common, you might ask?  Well, the only correlation that I and those who have witnessed these recurring episodes have been able to observe is that whenever I make any real measurable progress on the book, one of these episodes follows within the next week or so.  The last occurrence was on November 9th, at which point I stopped writing, and I enjoyed the holiday season up to and including my 40th birthday with absolutely zero stomach issues.  I started working on the book again on the Monday after my birthday, as I had committed to myself that I would refocus at that point.

I should've waited.  I should've waited at least an additional month to get through dad's birthday.  Sadly, on that very day, as I was on my way to my parents house for his birthday dinner, the gates of hell opened in my stomach and I began burping sulfur once more.  All progress on the book has ceased momentarily and I have admitted that I need the psychological help that I never sought after the accident happened...after I lost my legs.  Go figure...right?  So, I've met with one therapist...whom I like and will probably continue to see...but as this is a new process for me, I'm also shopping around.  Happy birthday, dad, your son may have some deep rooted psychological problems (don't we all?) and he's finally getting help.  :)         

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