Diagnosis +82

A couple of things on this slightly overcast but still spring-like Sunday...

Well, apparently there was a whole pack of Sasquatches visiting the house last night.  This morning was a trial.  I was literally writhing at mass today, serves me right for cutting my dose of Lortab in half.  The good news is that the pain is much more tolerable - it's pretty much a dull, constant pain, rather than the horrific shooting pain that accompanied me for the last weeks of radiation and the two weeks afterward.  Each day is a little better, I suppose - although yesterday morning wasn't any fun.

Last evening I was feeling pretty good.  My good friend Jeff came over with my godson Brian and they mowed the back yard.  Brian independently decided that he's going to mow my yard for the rest of the summer.  Wow! What do you do in the face of such generosity?  Jeff and his family have always been great friends.  Back when Elena was a toddler, Jeff's wife Julie babysat her every day (and pretty much potty trained her too!).  I haven't been nearly the friend to Jeff that he has been to me.  There's going to have to be some serious payback later on.  I should give Jeff a ski boat!

Anyway, I was feeling pretty good yesterday until the fever hit.  For no reason at all, I ran a 100° fever and had the muscle aches and chills that I associate with flu.  I popped a couple of Lortabs and felt better after an hour or so, and when I woke up this morning it was without a fever.  What's up with that?  Probably a rectal abscess.

The other weird thing - last Friday Elizabeth & I left the kids in the care of Elena and went to the Friday Fish Fry and Stations of the Cross.  Now, I've been trying pretty hard to focus on my faith this lent, but as I've said before, it's with mixed success.  Despite the opportunity of suffering, I haven't had any great epiphany.  But Stations was beautiful.  Maybe it was being there without any kids to distract me, but I was greatly affected by the Stations - I was able to pay closer attention and intend the prayers.  Further, right from the beginning of Stations I was overwhelmed with emotion.  I'm not a weeping kind of guy, but I was on the verge of tears throughout the Stations.  Perhaps it's the proximity of my own death - while I think that's a factor, I don't think that's all.  I've always found Mary's suffering as she watched her son die to be the most affecting part of the passion.  For some reason, this past Friday the faces of my own children came to mind as we sung the Stabat Mater, and I was overcome with God's sacrifice of his Son in a way that I hadn't been before.

I wish I could say that this carried over on Saturday and I awakened as a Saint, but sadly, Saturday morning my discomfort got the best of me and I yelled at my children and moped around the house feeling sorry for myself.

But as the day wore on, I recaptured some part of the awakened spirituality.  Last night Elizabeth & I watched the wonderful biopic Pope John Paul II.  And there it was again - overcome with emotion - tears were literally pouring down my face right from the beginning of the movie.  As much as I love(d) Pope Benedict, I had forgotten what a tremendous saint John Paul II, what an incredible life he led.

As I mentioned earlier, this morning's mass was somewhat washed out by the severe discomfort I was feeling.  And having kids hanging off of me was no help.  And I've been preoccupied by political and philosophical thoughts related to the gay marriage blitzkrieg and its implications for the future of western civilization and civil liberties.

So what to do when you're leaving mass distracted and in pain?  Why, go to Taco Bell of course!  Three delicious XXL tacos later (you're not fooling me, Taco Bell - you've just brought back the Taco Belgrande - and about time too!) and I was ready for a nap.

Only you can't take a nap with Isabelle in the house.  She cuddled up with me in the "prayer blanket" that the ladies of St. Mary's Oak Ridge made for me.  And then she started rolling until she had the whole blanket and slowly pushed me off the couch.  Thanks a lot Isabelle!  Only now do I realize that this is a nice metaphor for my own behavior toward my heavenly Father.  Pretty much wrapped up in myself until I take all of God's blessings and then push God's will off of the couch.

Finally, today marks the end of Cancer Beard.  I've decided to shave off the sides and go with a Van Dyke style for a while.  Maybe it won't look so stupid.  The final pictures of Cancer Beard will be published shortly.  Good bye, but not good riddance.  In the words of some famous Australians, if your dad doesn't have a beard you've got too moms.