Sunday, August 22, 2010

One Step at a Time: Climbed Any Mountains Lately?

I looked so high above, as far as I could see
Was a mountain so high it overpowered me
It's peak not seen by my naked eye
I said to myself, "it must touch the sky!"

It was so wide, as wide can be
To go around it would take eternity
Here this mountain stood; in my way it would be
For I could not go forward 'til I put it behind me.

"I've got to do this," to myself I said,
And started to climb, my heart filled with dread.
For I knew deep within I didn't have a chance
Of getting to the top; I could tell at a glance.

But just a short distance away, I saw a little ridge
I could reach in only a day.
"I'll go just that far, then stop there and see
Just how much closer to the top I will be."

So away I went, looking forward to see
Only as far as my first destiny.
I reached the little ridge, sat down with a sigh
And looked ahead to see where my next stop might lie.

There it is; I can see it well
I'll make that one -- easily! I could very well tell.
So this is the way it will have to be
To reach the top, I now clearly see.

For the goals we set, difficult as we may believe
If we take one step at a time, will be possible to achieve.

AHoxie

Saturday, August 21, 2010

Building on the Landfill

Earlier today this writer was reminded of an unpleasant occurrence of about 39 years ago.  While the event itself was short-lived, it's effects are ongoing, even today.  The reminder of The Thing brought to mind that we are products of everything that has happened in our lives up to the moment in which we take our most recent breath.  See?  It just happened again.  What? you might ask.  Well, you just took another breath, and in some tiny, microscopic, miniscule way, you are not the same as before; nor am I.  So? you think.  What's the point?  you persist.

Here, Reader, is the point.  It only takes a moment for tiny or dramatic shifts in our lives make them something other than what they were the moment before.  In our little lives, things happen -- good, bad and indifferent.  The good things help to keep us going:  nurturing our minds, bodies and spirits -- encouraging us to try again, to keep going, to not give up -- instilling within us hope for the future -- growing our faith -- catalyzing our ambitions -- deepening our determination.  The bad things sometimes serve us similarly, if we can look past the badness to whatever good there is to be gleaned from such as The Thing.  Or, the bad things can deter us from being all that was intended by our creation.  The indifferent things are -- well -- indifferent.  They neither lend to nor take away from whatever; however, they can be useful fodder for one's landfill without causing additional odorous memories like The Bad.
So what's this landfill thing?  The landfill is the stuff -- the good, bad and indifferent.  It starts as a little whole in the ground.  Over time it may get deeper, wider, or higher depending on the need for space to house the stuff that makes one, well, oneself.  How one manages the landfill may determine how one manages the present.  We can either let it be an unsightly mess with little fragments strewn about in intermittent, untidy piles; or we can confine it to specific boundaries, keep it pressed down and compacted together.  

There is no profound statement here.  There is no endorsement of any landfill type.  There is, however, an understanding that one's landfill should somehow be managed to support modicums of peace and order in one's life.   Decide for yourself on what kind of landfill you will build the rest of your life.

Wednesday, August 11, 2010

Working Through the Mess

What a fitting title for my 100th writing via this blog -- Coming Out of the Closet -- Keeping it Real.  I often wonder what folks think when they first see that title.  Anyway, let's get to the sujet du jour 


Last week I was in my little kitchen, heating some really good, grainy bread -- bread which begged to be drizzled with grapeseed oil and spices.  (Just for the record, grapeseed oil has healthful benefits just as olive oil, but it tolerates higher heat for cooking and is not as heavy-hitting on the wallet.)  As I returned the bottle of oil to the shelf, there erupted an involuntary, violent, dry cough, the force of which caused me to lose my grip on the glass bottle which crashed to the floor and shattered.  In other words, I had my own personal oil-spill crises.  As I took action to clean up the kitchen's environment, two phones rang simultaneously, and my Blackberry vibrated, alerting me of an incoming message.

Working through the mess is -- well -- messy.  Sometimes we have to juggle.  Sometimes we have to just stop and deal with the mess.  Whether we choose to juggle the mess with other stuff or just deal with the mess, one thing is clear:  the mess must go.

Our little lives are fraught with ugly messes.  The longer they are left untended and unfinished, the larger and more burdensome they become, until they become part of the family.  In fact, they can change the family dynamic.  Or the business dynamic.  Or whatever in your life makes life worth living.  Messes are like diseases.  If left unchecked they wreak havoc.  So what mess have you left untended?  Why not clean it up today?


A note from the writer:
Many thanks to Erin Conaway, our Associate Pastor at South Main Baptist Church, whose sermon this past Sunday, taken from the first chapter of Isaiah, validated the weekend urgings of three people whom I admire and respect.  He ended the message with a challenge identical to that of my folks (many thanks to them as well), prompting me to see to a mess that I had left untended far, far too long.  And while I started this blog well before this past weekend, it took the prodding of my friends and a message from the Almighty via Erin, to finish it, for I could not do so until I had worked through  a mess.    

Sarca-who? -- Will You Walk for People Like Me?

Take a look at my mugshot.  Go on.  Kind of normal looking, don't you think?  Think again.  I know, some of you are groaning inwardly:  Is she going to write about that?  Again??  Well, yes, I am.

Perhaps a week or so ago -- I forget because my days tend to bleed into each other -- I saw a snippet of President Obama on television, announcing a five-year plan for reducing HIV-AIDS.  I thought to myself, well, that's nice, but what about me -- and people like me?  Then, I had to remind myself that there are lots of people like me who would gladly trade places with me, and properly chastised myself for such a lapse.  But, let me tell you about people like me.  

People like me have Sarcoidosis.  Most times when I mention that in conversation, the reply is "Sarca-who?" and I have to repeat myself:  Sar -- coi -- do -- sis.  I'm not going to try to explain to you what it is, other than it has been described as a run-away immune inflammatory response.  There are a few sources on the web for information, to which I commend you.  Just google the word.

So why am I writing about this again -- today??? 


I just love it when you ask the right question!  I want to tell you about the upcoming Annual Janine Sarcoidosis Outreach Foundation Walk for a Cure in October.  I ask that if you participate in events of this nature, that you consider participating in this one.   It is highly likely that you didn't  know Janine; neither did I.  However, I had the pleasure to meet her mom -- at least on the phone.  At some point, whether during or after Janine lost her battle with Sarcoidosis, her mom, Emma Carroll, started a support  group for people with Sarcoidosis.  Emma is actively and regularly involved with this group and works hard to promote awareness of this orphan disease.  


Speaking of orphans, how many 200-plus-year-old orphans do you know?  Yes, it's that old; it's just not that popular.   And it is more prevalent than one may think.  Perhaps it just hasn't claimed the right person's life.  Morbid?  Sure.  But it is what it is.   





Consider that despite the crise de la saison folks are still getting out, enjoying time off, and going about their daily tasks.  Just last Saturday on local news, this writer learned of an International Jazz Festival taking place at Discovery Green here in Houston.   Saturday was another day of a triple-digit heat index.   And the sun precedes such temperatures.    









The sun.  I love the sun.  And not because I need to work on my tan (although I wish it were just a little more uniform as opposed to a plethora of shades of brown).  The sun is life-giving.  Yes, it can be dangerous when one over indulges, but in proper doses, the sun is a good thing.  But not for people with Sarcoidosis.  Many of us cannot abide prolonged exposure to sun, or triple-digit heat indices.    Most of my time is spent indoors, and I relish the thought of a parking space near the entrance of whatever place I need to visit.  


One of the added bonuses that 
often accompanies Sarcoidosis, including elevated angiotensin-converting enzymes, which causes high blood pressure.  In a roundabout way, that's what prompted this writing.   Years ago I divested myself of all prescription medications except one:  the pilule du jour for high blood pressure.  I have tried many.  The current one is a high-dollar thing, labeled with its description and three warnings:  





May cause dizziness.   One might think why is this problematic -- just take it at bedtime.  Well, that would be great, but I have to take it in the morning.






Do Not Use This Medicine If You Are Pregnant Or Plan to Become Pregnant.  My first thought:  why is the warning capitalized as if it's a title?  Am I to look elsewhere for a detailed explanation?  My second thought:  no problem for me; there'd have to be a Star in the East and one occurrence of that in the history of the world is quite enough.


You Should Avoid Prolonged Or Excessive Exposure To Direct And/Or Artificial Sunlight While Taking This Medicine.  My reaction:  Duh . . . I cannot think of one "sarcoid" patient who gets to enjoy the sun anyway.


What I'm getting to is this:  There is a Sarcoidosis awareness walk in October.   I may not be able to come.  At the rate our summer is progressing it will be a long time before we have manageable temperatures for outdoor activities.  And if I do come, will I be in remission?  We'll just have to wait and see.  But will you come?  Will you walk?  For me and people like me?