Not a Sound From the Pavement

Before my wife and I were married, she told me this heroic story about her father, and how while he was serving in Vietnam, he narrowly escaped being blown up at some munitions compound.

Then, sometime later, as we were sitting with her parents talking about whatever we talked about back then, and my wife brought this story up. As it turns out, she had a few itsy-bitsy details messed up, and he didn't narrowly escape. He wasn't even on duty at the time, and no one was hurt.

It seems that our minds like to fill in details to a story to make it more exciting, or at least make us feel more important than we really are.

That would be me. Mr. Important. Or not, as it turned out.

See, here's the thing. I play the piano. I started lessons when I was five, and continued through most of high school. I got to be quite good. Well, at classical pieces, anyhow. So good, in fact, that I went to Festival one year and played a piece by Mozart...Sonata in C I believe it was...and was told by the judge that I had the best grasp of interpretting Mozart he had ever seen.

It was a proud moment. And yes, that part of my memory is quite true.

In the coming year or so, my piano teacher challenged me with new things, until one day she told me that I had learned everything she could teach me, and there was little point in taking lessons from her. I was ecstatic to think I had reached such a stage.

And then, I went to the subsequent Festival playing yet another piece by Mozart, originally picked out by my piano teacher. Fantasia in D minor, or something like that. I loved that song, but was disappointed when, while my performance was excellent, the same judge that I had the previous year told me that I really needed to work on my interpretation of Mozart, because I had taken far too many liberties with it.

And I had. I knew I had. Frankly, the stylistic decisions that Mozart had jotted down for the song weren't right, in my mind. So I spiced it up a bit. While I played every note as written, I had my fun with tempos and interpretation.

No biggie. All that is true, too.

And for years afterwards, even after I had moved, and lost my piano, I would tell people the story about how I had become so good that my piano teacher felt I didn't need her any longer.

Then, a few years ago, my piano teacher came to a program at my church. I forget what it was, but afterwards we had a nice time catching up.

And the truth was revealed. I was never as good as I thought I was. No, it seems my teacher's decision to break our ties had nothing to do with my advanced abilities, and everything to do with the fact that I wasn't listening to her. Sonata in C? Great interpretation because I actually listened to her. Fantasia? Well, I stopped listening. I decided it was time to be "creative"...to the point that her advice fell on deaf ears.

This was all news to me, and I was devastated. Well, okay, I found it vaguely humorous, though somewhat surprising. All this time I had convinced myself that had I not moved and lost my piano, I could have been the next Horowitz or something.

But no. I was just a schmuck who wouldn't follow directions.

Funny the kinds of things the memory creates...including an inflated ego.

It Was My Idea First

About four or five years ago I had an epiphany. A complete story idea sort of plummetted into my skull and couldn't escape. This happens frequently, actually...but in this case, it was an idea for a novel.

At the time, I was busy with other tasks, and so the story sort of simmered in my brain on low, taking form until the day came that I finally sat down to start writing. I wrote about 15,000 words of this story, a science fiction tale set 200 years in the future in a colony on Mars. I won't go into details for this story, as some of the ideas I've since pilferred for other stories and even a young-adult science fiction novel (not set on Mars) I may write some day.

But one itsy bitsy piece of this story was an idea I had. The future of computing. In my mind, there will be a day where individuals don't own their own computers. There is no need. Instead, there are "dumb terminals" everywhere, basically generic computers with all the processing power, but no actual data on them. Instead, each individual carries with them (perhaps as jewelry, or an implant, or something) that contains your personal computer files, operating system, and any other data. You simply walk up to a terminal, and wirelessly the terminal reads the data from your implant and you have your own custom computer system with you at all times.

So, today, I read an article...and it seems there is a company doing just that. Oh, it isn't so advanced as what I envisaged yet, but it is the first step. But let me make this clear: it was my idea first!

I know I have no rights to any monies associated with the product, but I feel I deserve at least a little fame for making this technology plausible in my uncompleted, abandoned novel.

If you're really interested in what the real-life software can do, go here. Read all about it. Pretty nifty idea, actually (if I do say so myself). I think it is a matter of time before such a technology will grow ubiquitous. Yes, you heard it here first, but I think this is the future of computing.

If you follow the progression of computing, it only makes sense. First, there was the mainframe. Then, someone had the bright idea of making "dumb terminals" that allowed multiple users to access the mainframe computer. Basically all computing power was on the mainframe.

Later, we started to see personal computers enter the market. Quite a shift. But we also started to see "distributed computing", where users could use their personal computers as "dumb terminals" to access a network of workstations. This eventually grew into the internet that we know today. But the PC still remains a mainstay. Still, with all the computer power scattered across the landscape, why not give access to each user's "personal computer" environment no matter where they go? The PDA was one attempt at this, but it wasn't quite right. As much as the PDA was a cool gadget (and still a useful one at that), it still can never fully replace the personal computer (be it a laptop or desktop).

At least not until this new technology is fully developed. It is a start. Kind of cool, though, to think that my idea might actually come to fruition. Too bad I didn't file any patents or anything. Oh well!

Underwear and the Great Clothing Shuffle

It's that time of year again, when plummetting temperatures means the great clothing shuffle is upon us. Every fall (well, and spring), this great event takes place. Pull out the boxes of the fall clothes, throw out the shirts that last year you thought were hip but this year are already out of style (well, okay, so "out of style" applies to my entire wardrobe...so let's just say, the shirts that are the most out of style). It also means washing all the shorts and short-sleeves so that they can be packed away, except for a couple standbys in the likely event we get a day or two of warm weather.

Now, this event has grown in complexity over the years, since our family size has also grown. We have three boys and a girl all growing faster than we, as parents, would like (especially when I have to consider that this year, my oldest boy practically needs an entirely new wardrobe). Fortunately, my wife is the master of organization. She sorts the clothes by size, season, and sex, and since we can't very well get rid of anything until the younger siblings have their chance at the same clothes, it all comes down to a huge mess of boxes. Our family is single-handedly keeping Rubbermaid in business.

During this shuffle, I've been putting off doing my own laundry, keeping the washer free for my wife to get the kids clothes sorted. (I leave such work for her since, frankly, I'd be more inclined to toss everything out and start anew each season. All I'm responsible for is retrieving and returning the boxes from the closets without pulling anything.)

Okay, truth be told, it is just an excuse. I hate doing laundry, and so until I'm out of underwear, I make do the best I can.

Well, yesterday, I ran out of underwear. And you'd think I'd just throw in a load. But no, not me. I have to dig through my drawers and see if I can find anything else to get me through another few days.

Sure enough, I have my wife and my kids to thank, because for Father's Day this year, they made me these "matching" hand-painted boxes and undershirt sets perfect for sleeping. Thing is, the boxers are fairly worthless as boxers. They have a fly that won't stay closed no matter what you do, so you still have to wear underwear under them. And then my kids used so much paint that these boxers are actually stiff. After a few washings, you can't really bend them.

But I was desperate, and so right now I'm typing this dressed in boxers that I'd be somewhat embarassed to be found in should I end up in an auto accident. So I guess that means I need to wash my clothes tonight, eh?

Or at least my underwear.

And maybe...just maybe...I'll do my clothing shuffle while I'm at it.

The Great Space Coaster

Anyone remember that show? "The Great Space Coaster"? I used to watch it as a kid. I only started watching it because it had the word "Coaster" in it. I was, and still am to this stay, a huge coaster enthusiast. I love coasters!

Sadly, the show had nothing to do with roller coasters. But, it did have the furry animal who always said, "No Gnus is Good Gnus". Or something to that effect.

But don't worry, this post isn't about that show. It is about news.

First, I wanted to follow up on my physical therapy just to say that my physical therapist must be punishing me for some horrible past trauma in her life involving someone who resembles me. Or least, that's how it feels. I've had two appointments so far, and never once has she offered to massage my neck and shoulders. Nope. Instead, she is tugging my leg this way and that, and pressing on my lower abdomen so hard I had to hold in the tears. Very painful. Of course, when I tell her this, she presses on my thigh gently claiming she's only pressing that hard. Impossible, I tell you! But, I can't complain, because the amount of free rotation I had without pain on the second day of physical therapy was already better than before I started, so she seems to be doing something right.

Second, I'm still trying to find an agent. However, I did have a "scare" (literarally) a couple days ago. See, I pulled into the driveway, shut off the engine, and opened the door all set to head inside, when my wife just pops out of nowhere in front of me, thrusting the phone in my face. She scared me so bad that I screamed like a little girl. Into the phone. My first inclination (well, second, if you count the urge to pee my pants) was that my mother had died or something. But she quickly told me it was an agent who had previously expressed interest in my manuscript.

Of course, I'm sure I deafened the agent with my scream, but I took the phone and headed inside, all ready to hear the words, "I'd like to represent you."

It didn't happen. No, instead, she was pleased with the changes I had made to the manuscript, but had a few more "issues". We talked for several minutes, and she explained to me the issues, but the conversation ended without an offer. The good news is that she still wants to see one more revision.

That's great news, actually. But scary news as well, because this next revision is a make or break moment. At least with this agent. If I don't get it right, then we part ways. If I get it right, then she'll take me on. Let the nail biting begin!

So, I'm back to editing my manuscript again. In the meantime, I do have a bit of interest from a couple other agents...but those relationships aren't nearly as far along yet. We'll see.

Anyhow, the fact that I have no real news means that "no gnus is good gnus!" Which is why I mentioned The Great Space Coaster.

Oh the Great Space Coaster!
We'll Explore!
On the Great Space Coaster...

Let the Therapy Begin!

Based on the title of this entry, I bet you figured this would be about how I finally faced the realization that I'm totally messed up, and there is no hope for me without professional help, and so now I'm finally giving in and going to see a therapist.

But, I'm afraid you'd be figuring wrong. Because frankly, I haven't faced the realization that I'm totally messed up.

No, instead, I'm talking about physical therapy. Which, in my mind, might very well be a worse realization, because I don't need physical therapy for an injury I obtained while sliding into third, or diving across the sand court and landing on my shoulder while making a save on the volley. No, I'm having physical therapy for a pain in my hip that seems to have happened without any significant event happening whatsoever.

And that, of course, means I'm getting old. At least, my body is. My mind is fine. No problems there. I'm as sharp as...

Sharp as...

Uh...what was I talking about?

Oh, right. Physical therapy.

I don't know what happened, seriously. Near the beginning of the summer, I started feeling pain in my hip (well, the joint between the hip and my leg, in the front). Walking is fine, but various motions where I rotate my leg, such as sitting cross-legged on the floor, have been increasingly painful. I figured it was minor, and so ignored it for most of the summer. But ignoring it didn't seem to actually help, since the pain was getting worse, not better.

I bit the bullet, saw a doctor, who then did an X-ray to rule out arthritis. (Arthritis! I mean, if you want to make a guy feel old, threaten him with arthritis!) But I'm arthritis-free. Instead, I have some tendon problem with a name I can't even tell you because I can't read the doctor's handwriting.

Next stop? Physical therapy. Starts today.

I've never been to physical therapy, and suddenly I realize I have no idea what in the world the protocol is going to be. Do I strip, don a white towel in a steamy room while "Hans" massages my back? I'm pretty sure that's a spa, not therapy.

Do I dress up in sweats, lining up with twenty other folks and go, "Uh-1, uh-2, and lift, and stretch, that's right uh-1, uh-2..."

No, I'm pretty sure that's an aerobics class.

I do know I have my own personal "therapist". I think her name is Cassie, or Carrie, or Callie. I just remember it starts with a C and ends in an -ie. Oh, and I found out yesterday that my first appointment will run 45 minutes to an hour. Not exactly sure what I'm going to be doing for that long. But am I going to have to strip and don a white towel? I hope not.

And the weirdest part of all this is that for the past few months, I've been trying to avoid moving my leg...and now I'm going to pay some girl big bucks to purposely cause pain. I don't think they realize that I'm a wimp. A full-fledged, self-diagnosed wimp. I don't like pain. My wife laughs at me when I hurt myself, because I'm the kind of guy who yells, and jumps around howling for five minutes when I stub my toe. Me no like pain!

But, I suppose it is all for the best. Hopefully, after my scheduled six sessions, I'll be able to sit cross-legged again normally. So, let the therapy begin.

The Dish Washer

Once upon a time, a long time ago, in a house far, far away (well, actually, about thirty miles north of here), I had to do the dishes. Actually, not just once, but regularly.

Now, for whatever reason, my mother has always insisted on washing dishes by hand. Oh, we had a dishwasher, but apparently she found the ritualistic dip, scrub, rinse, and dry for each plate, pan, or cup soothing. Uh, yeah. Right.

Me, on the other hand...I was a dishwasher man. And I became a dishwasher-loading expert. Today, I'm one of those people who can't stand it if you don't have the bowls in just the right spot, facing just the right direction. And don't even get me started on how you load the silverware basket!

But never can I say that I actually enjoyed doing the dishes. I suppose I didn't mind it, but soothing? Uh, yeah. Right.

So I was quite pleased when my oldest son was finally old enough to instruct on the ways of doing the dishes. Seven years old is the magic age in our house. You turn seven, and you can scrape and load. So, for an entire year, my boy had the chore of loading dishes.

Then, my second boy turned seven, and so the baton was passed. But, you see, my second son has some issues. He sort of lives in his own little world at times, and you can see, everyday, that his mind isn't on the dishes.

So almost everyday for the past six months I've had to remind him.

"You cannot put dishes in the dishwasher that have food stuck to them."

So, he scrapes off the food. Of course, then he feels the need to rinse off every spec of residue there is before placing the plate in, probably using up about 100 gallons of water in the process. So, I have to remind him.

"You don't have to rinse the dishes that much. Just so there aren't pieces of food."

So, he stops rinsing, and we're back to having food stuck to the plates.

And then there is the fact that he seems in too much of a hurry to actually finish loading. He kind of spreads the dishes around so that it looks like there is no more room, ignoring the fact that we can't see our counters, dumps in the detergent, and rushes off. I check on him and have to remind him.

"You have to fill the dishwaster! If you don't, you'll just end up having to load it twice."

So, he goes back and finishes loading. Well, at least he adds a few more dishes. I think he has a vision problem, though...because he seems incapable of seeing the glasses and silverware strewn across the counter. Once, he even loaded all the bowls (because I reminded him he would need them for breakfast the next morning). But come next morning, there were no spoons.

"Yes, well...in order to have spoons, you have to actually put them in the dishwasher. Now you're gonna have to wash them by hand."

He stares at me blankly, as though I had just asked him to fly.

Of course, when I started my son on the path to responsibility by assigning him dishwasher duty, I expected it to mean I wouldn't have to think about it. But now, I'm beginning to realize that perhaps I should go back to doing it myself. I don't know...I just think it would be more...more...soothing.

Uh, yeah. Right.

Uninspired

It is Wednesday, and I haven't written a new blog entry. I don't know why. I'm uninspired I guess. I guess last week's topics zapped me of anything interesting.

Maybe tomorrow folks.

In the meantime, may you have a wonderful day!

The Cover Up

I had considered now tackling the opposite side of the issues I discussed in the last two entries...but I decided against it. Although, the comments have been interesting, including Patti's, with whom I actually agree. But, as I said, I was trying to give a one-sided view on purpose.

Anyhow, today (actually last night) I was thinking about another topic that is aimed at diabetics, and my favorite topic: being self-aware of your symptoms.

But in theming with taking the "other side" of things this week, I wanted to talk about the things that make it more difficult to self-diagnose highs and lows.

What symptoms do you feel when you are high, and at just what point do you feel them? Likewise for when you are low? Symptoms can vary depending on just how high you've been, or how long you've been high, etc. Let me use my symptom of coughing. If my blood sugar is on the rise, generally passing the 200 mark or more, I tend to cough a lot. So, even if I don't have my meter handy, I'll generally take corrective action.

But there is a danger in this if there are other likely causes of the same symptom. And in my case, coughing can also mean a bit too much caffeine.

If I drink, say, two bottles of Diet Mountain Dew in a relatively short period of time, two things happen. First, I have to go to the bathroom, and second, I start coughing. This is because caffeine dehydrates. It runs straight through the body. But if I'm not paying attention, I might confuse my coughing and frequent bathroom trips as a high. I might correct when I don't need to, and end up low instead.

So it is important to not only be aware of your symptoms...but to be aware of anything else that might cause those symptoms, or mask those symptoms.

On the other side of things, I know that when I'm particularly tired, I'm far less aware of being low. That's because one symptom of being low is tiredness or lack of energy. So, when I've been particularly active, having worn myself out, or just tired from a lack of sleep, I'm more prone to end up low. Instead of noticing symptoms at 70 mg/dL, I might not notice them until I reach 50.

It is like a great "cover up"...where something else fools you into thinking you are high or low when you aren't, or fools you into think you aren't high or low when you are!

So what does this mean? It means that despite your best efforts in learning your symptoms...it has to go beyond that. You have to get to the point where you are also aware of when something else could be causing those symptoms. It also emphasizes the point that frequent testing, no matter how good you may be at determining the state of your BGLs, will always be needed.

But now I have a challenge for you. Or, perhaps, homework. I want you all to work on predicting your BGLs. How? Well, randomly, before you perform your usual BGLs, pay attention to how you feel. Note any symptoms you may or may not feel, as well as things you might not think of as symptoms, such as just feeling down, or tired, etc. Then "guess" what your BGL is. I generally say if I'm within 50 mg/dL, I'm pretty accurate. See how well you do. But don't just do it once. Do it for a week, or two weeks. And see if you start noticing any patterns. When you are way off, look at how you feel and figure out why it is. But always keep in mind the "cover ups".

For example, if you say, "Well, I'm really worn out. No energy today. I bet I'm low."
But keep in mind that you also only got four hours of sleep last night. So you test, and you find out you are 423!!! Ah, yes...don't forget that a symptom of extremely high BGLs is a lack of energy as well!

Okay. Let's synchronize our watches...and good luck!

Edit: By the way, I just realized that today marks the 1-year anniversary of the Ryan Bruner blog! Woohoo!

The Price of Healthcare

A few comments from my post yesterday on whether good Healthcare should be considered a right got me thinking, so I thought I'd just go with it, and tackle another harsh reality of Healthcare: the seemingly never-endingly rising costs.

Now, I'll once again offer warning that I'm tackling one side of the issue here. Clearly there are things that can be done, but lowering healthcare costs can be tricky, and I wanted to cover a few reasons why that is.

Let's start with a common suggestion: that healthcare in America should transform into something similar to what is found in Canada. A government-based national healthcare plan. After all, it works in Canada, why not the U.S.?

But there are several differences. First and foremost is overall population. The U.S. has close to ten times the population of Canada, which would also mean, theoretically, close to ten times the healthcare costs.

That, however, is really only a small part of the picture. The bigger picture, which people seem to forget, is that up until the last few years, most major medical advances have been made in the U.S. While plenty of research happens elsewhere, it is mainly in the U.S. that significant developments and discoveries in new medications and treatments for diseases takes place. The research involved in this progress is expensive. Very expensive. It can take decades for research to result in any usable results...and that research takes money. Lots of it.

So while going to a government-subsidized healthcare system may sound appealing, it also means that research, in general, would grind to a horrific standstill. So, if you thought that cure to diabetes was just a few more years away, under government-sponsored healthcare, that would grow to several decades away. (Although, as I've mentioned, I personally see a cure as several decades away anyhow.)

Anyhow, this brings me to the seemingly high costs of medical supplies and medicines. Scott mentioned the cost of test strips at $1 a piece. Does seem exorbitant, doesn't it? But these are commercial companies we're talking about. Companies who are not only trying to make a profit (as that is the goal of any company, and the driving force behind our capitalistic society), but they must always be on the cutting edge, developing new technologies. That takes research. Research is the ultimate money pit. There is absolutely no profit from research unless that research leads somewhere. And so, companies must come up with a stream of income that allows them to finance the research which will ultimately lead to the next level in diabetes treatment (or cancer treatment, or heart disease, etc.).

Think of it this way. When you pay that $1 per test strip, you aren't just paying for the materials and production costs of the strip itself, but you are paying for the company to develop, perhaps, the next continuous glucose monitoring system. Or perhaps the money isn't going into developing anything related to diabetes at all, but some other area of research the company is heavily invested in.

The reason why "generic" versions of medications and medical supplies are so cheap is because those companies don't need to spend money on research. All they are doing is taking the research another company did and copying it (once patents expire). But the company who did the research to begin with can't afford to make such a price cut. They need a source of income to move forward.

Now, granted, these companies are, as I mentioned, looking for a profit. A great many of them have shareholders, etc. But profit is, and always will be, a driving force behind research. I mean, frankly, I wouldn't be working where I do if I wasn't getting a paycheck. And I'm always interested in a larger paycheck. Okay, so perhaps the people at the top of the companies seem to be paid excessively. But is it really that excessive? Think about it. Those companies need experienced people who can ensure the longterm survival of a company. To keep such people at a company (be in medical or any other field), they need to be rewarded greatly, or else they'll go someplace else, and you'll end up with a mediocre company president or chairman who might drive the company into bankruptcy. Where I work, the president of the company made, last year, more in bonuses than I'll make in a lifetime. Yet, that president is always driving our company to profitabiliy in a very unstable time.

Okay. Next up, waste. Minnesota Nice's post about throwing on a once-used vial of insulin brings up another reality of healthcare in this country: the lawsuit. Or, rather the pursuit to avoid one. While it seems ridiculous to throw away that much insulin, hospitals are looking to avoid any possible source of infection, etc., that could jeopardize patients and result in a lawsuit. And while tossing out a vial of insulin after one use does seem excessive, from a cost perspective, do you have a better alternative? Because what would it take to avoid cross contamination with absolute certainty? There is a nursing shortage in this country. Medical staff work long hours, and are underpaid. So, medical errors can happen. Hospitals need to do what is necessary to minimize those errors.

So, why not implement a system which will prevent the contamination without the waste? Well, because it would mean hiring even more people throughout the hospital, investigating and implementing more checks and balances, leading to greater inefficiencies, which ultimately drive up costs. So, while throwing away a $100 bottle of insulin may seem like a waste, it would likely cost more to have a system in place that would eliminate the need to throw away that $100 bottle of insulin.

One solution, of course, would be for the insulin companies to produce hospital-sized vials, so that far less insulin is being thrown away. Okay, fine. But what financial incentive do the insulin companies have? It means that there is less waste, and therefore less profit for them.

I could go on and on here, but I think the point is made...despite our frustrations with the expense of healthcare, much of it cannot be avoided. Or, if it were avoided, we might not be very happy with the results. It is going to take a huge overhaul of the healthcare system that involves every level, from the consumer, to the doctors and hospitals, to the drug and research companies, and yes, even the government. Getting everyone to talk together in the same room and come to an agreement on how to solve the problem is likely a near-impossible task.

So, for now, I live with my $1 per strip expense. It is the price of healthcare, after all.

Is Good Heathcare a "Right"?

Let's face it. Having diabetes is expensive. If not for the individual, then for the individual's insurance company who foots the bill for test strips, insulin, syringes and/or pump supplies, quarterly doctor's visits, A1c tests, urine analysis, cholesterol screenings, annual eye exams, and if it should progress, treatment for complications such as retinopathy, neuropathy, heart disease, kidney problems, etc.

Lovely.

But I'll admit I'm split on the issue of the "right" to health care people tend to have. And, while I can argue either side very well, I wanted to focus on the more controversial side today, if only for the purpose of causing us to think. (I know, I know. Thinking makes my head hurt, too.)

There seems to be a lot of effort fighting for the "right" for everyone to have good health care. And, not surprisingly, most of the voices calling for such a fight are the very people either without health care, or with maladies that require it.

But I have to wonder just where the line is. At what point does the "right" end? The way many talk, you'd think we have a "right" to not be sick, that we have a "right" to not come down with colds, or the flu, or AIDS, or cancer...or diabetes.

The fact is, illness is a part of life. It is a part of this world. It isn't going away. Every time we make progress against some life-threatening disease, another one pops up. And treatment for existing diseases is growing more and more expensive.

So, where does my right to live as a healthy individual begin and end? And just what level of responsibility do I have in this?

Let's focus solely on diabetes. As the list above indicates, there is a lot of stuff that costs a lot of money to keep me healthy. And while it is all fine and well to say that my life is worth more than whatever the associated costs are, the fact is our country is bleeding, financially, when it comes to health care. Health insurance companies can't afford to treat everyone, nor can the government. So there must exist a give and take.

Unfortunately, everyone always wants to be on the taking side. But such mentality has to change.

I have a responsibility not only to my own life, and my own family, but also to my company which provides health insurance, as well as to the health insurance company itself (yes, I know...don't have a heart attack) to limit my health care expenses as much as possible.

There are many ways to do that. The first and foremost is taking care of myself. I've met many people who make no effort to take care of themselves, but then expect everyone to jump in and save their lives when their lack of responsibility for their own health catches up to them. I'm not suggesting any level of "enforcement" of this, of course. There is no effective means to judge who is taking advantage of the system in such a way. But the point is to encourage everyone to do everything possible to take care of themselves.

Of course, no matter how well I take care of myself, the fact is I'm still a diabetic. That isn't going away. (Sorry, but I'm not holding out much hope for a cure in my lifetime.) So, then, taking care of myself is confined to the hand I was dealt. As a diabetic, it means constant monitoring, for example.

But here is where things get tricky. If I want to stay healthy my whole life, just how much is reasonable for my health insurance to cover? Let's say they only pay for a box of 50 test strips a month. Am I willing to foot the bill to pay for more if I need them, knowing that it is my own life at stake, not the guy's writing checks at Blue Cross Blue Shield? And if not, why? Why would I expect BCBS to pay for something if I'm not? I've drawn a line in the sand, saying my own life isn't worth that much, so some insurance company should pay it instead.

Now, as I said, I'm being one-sided in this, because I realize many just can't afford the strips...or other care. But stay with me. I'm only trying to promote some discretion in how one determines their "rights".

Let's look at another expense. In my case, I have an insulin pump. Fact is, I don't need an insulin pump. I lived most of my life without one. Sure, I had to give myself four, five, sometimes six shots a day, and sure, I couldn't get quite as good of control as with the pump...but I was managing decent control. Staying under an A1c of 8, at least. The motive for getting the pump, aside from the fact that it is just cool and would help get a tad better control, was because I was having frequent lows on injections.

So, my insurance company foot the bill for a $6000 medical device, not to mention the additional cost of infusion sets and reservoirs. Now, in theory, the better control it offers should result in fewer complications and ultimately cost the insurance company far less money in the long run.

But today, I face a choice. My insulin pump just went out of warranty. It has been four years on the pump, and I'm happy to say I've kept my A1c levels at or below 7 for most of that time. I've had fewer lows. But my pump still works, and even though there are newer, better versions of the pump out there, and my insurance company would cover a replacement (being mine is out of warranty), the fact is I'm going to wait.

Why have the insurance company pay for something new when what I have today works just fine? And then, what about the fact that now I could get Minimed's Paradign REAL-time pump system with continuous glucose monitoring? Insurance companies won't pay for the CGMS part...and rightly so. Perhaps it would provide better control, and greater convenience. But do I have a "right" to that? Again, there is a line in the sand...and truth is, I don't think insurance companies should cover such an expense...not until it is cost effective for them.

So, here I am, living with an out of date pump. Boo hoo. Truth is, I'm so incredibly thankful and blessed to have it, I just can't see taking advantage of a "right" I have to a replacement pump unless something goes wrong with this one.

Anyhow, I suppose I'll stop now. I can imagine some of you rolling your eyes, going, "Yeah, easy for him to say. He's got health insurance." Or whatever. And I agree. It is easy for me to say. My tune would be very different if I didn't, I'm sure. Still, I think each of us can do anything we can to help out the health system in this country. And perhaps one day I'll write up why I think big business is good for health care, while at the same time it is bankrupting health care. But not today.

The Impossible Dream

I had this dream last night about my book.

Okay, actually I didn't. Rather, I had this daydream about a dream I had about my book. And it didn't happen last night at all. (Sorry, I just have this tendency to want to tells these horrific lies, like the time I was out with J. K. Rowling and I told her that it was because of her that I wanted to become a writer...)

So, back to the daydream of the dream. See, there I was walking through Barnes and Noble children's section when I happen upon my book. There it was, all shining as though rays of sunshine were streaming in through the ceiling (or maybe it was just one of those really expensive sun lamps) overhead. It was a truly angelic sight. Mindburst, by Ryan Bruner.

Thing is, there was only the one copy. And it seemed as though no one else in the store was aware of the bright light proclaiming the wonders of my book, because not a single soul made a second glance.

Then I realized that I was standing in the way, so of course no one would take a look. So, I hid around the corner, crouched down next to the Star Wars section, which was no small chore because it meant fighting off four different boys desperate to find the next book in the Jedi Apprentice series.

"No," I told them. "They aren't here. Go look over there, in that shiny light. Maybe you'll find something you like."

Eventually one of the kids managed to beat me up and get his Star Wars book. And still no one glanced at my book.

So I found an employee, who found the manager, and I offered to sign the book.

He hemmed and hawed and then said, "Well, I'm sorry, I can't let you do that."

"Why not?"

"Well, we've had the book on the shelf for three years now, but not a single person wants it, so we were going to ship it back to the publisher."

"But I only started writing it two years ago."

He shrugged. "Nevertheless, if you sign it I can't return it."

"Well, what if I buy it."

Looking me up and down, he said, "You're going to buy your own book?"

"Sure."

So, I go back, sign my own copy of my own book and take it to the cashier to pay.

"What a great find," I said (another of my great lies). "An autographed copy, even!"

She nodded and handed me a flyer. "You can save 10% if you sign up for our book club."

"Do you have any kids? They'd love it, I'm sure."

"Will that be cash or charge?"

I pulled out my card. "Charge."

Then she handed me my credit card slip to sign, checking that my signature matches the one on my card. Glancing at the book cover, she smirked, and my face went white. She handed back my card and said, "Thanks, Mr. Bruner. Enjoy your book."

Drat. Foiled again. I'm going to have to remember to pay cash next time. And the last part of my dream involves going out to my card and tossing my own book in the back end of my car, where another several hundred copies haphazardly sit.

Of course, not a bit of this is the least bit true. Just me daydreaming. And you'd think that if I'm the one in control of my daydreams, they could be a bit more upbeat. I'll have to talk to Dr. Phil about that the next time we do lunch together.

So Long, Barbie

Do you ever get mad at society in general at something that really is rather pointless? I'm not talking about the big issues, but small things that, in the grand scheme of life, amounts to very little?

Well, I'm in that boat right now. And I suppose part of this is because my daughter is getting old enough to make frequent visits to the "pink aisle" in the toy stores. It used to be I'd follow my sons down row after row of action figures and light sabers and Legos. But now, I have to throw in dolls, and doll furniture, and doll books, and clothes that you can dress up in to make you look like your doll.

And it is there, in the pink aisle, where society has gone inexplicitly wrong. Okay, so it was a bit upsetting to learn that Barbie and Ken broke up a couple years ago. What's up with that? Isn't there commitment? Why couldn't Ken just pop the question?

But it isn't Barbie that I'm concerned about. Barbie is old-school. I'm talking about Barbie's commercial nemesis, the Bratz dolls.

I'm sure you must be aware of them. They are everywhere, even popping up on t-shirts these days. Where there used to be a rull row of Barbies, you now have Bratz.

The name alone infuriates me. Who, in their right mind, would want their daughters owning a doll that seems to glorify "brat-dom"? But, no, that's not bad enough.

Remember all the complaints about Barbie? About her impossibly perfect figure? Well, magnify that with Bratz, with a figure that is downright insulting. And the clothing? We might as well start teaching our girls the art of becoming a prostitute! Dress like a slut, live like a brat. It is the "me" generation, and this doll...

Okay, calming down. See, it truly does infuriate me. But I'm not just mad at the sick minds that decided Bratz was a good idea. They, at least, had the almighty dollar influencing them. What really makes me mad is that the public seems to be rewarding that decision. Bratz are enormously successful, and that only happens because people are buying them!

Can't people see the problem with these Bratz? It is instilling a mindset in young girls about how they should dress. And the clothes they, themselves, dress in follows. I, frankly, can't believe the clothes young girls are wearing these days.

Where are the protests? I would think both the conservative Christian as well as ultra-liberal feminist, and everyone in between, would be outraged at these things. Sexualizing girls like this. It is crazy!

And so what does this mean for Barbie, who I always felt dressed a bit too provocatively anyhow? It means she is losing ground. So, what does Mattel do? They come out with a new Barbie that looks suspiciously like a Bratz doll!

Well, so long, Barbie. Your days are numbered. Bratz are planning to take over the world. God help us all.

Strange Symptom

In the twenty-four years that I've been a diabetic, I've learned a thing or two. Or three. And one thing that still amazes me is that there is always something new.

I love to preach about being aware of your symptoms. Pay attention to the signals your body gives you, because even the slightest thing could mean something.

And so, I think I've learned another. A strange symptom that I've never heard listed in any "high blood sugar" symptom list, but I'm becoming increasingly convinced of in myself.

But before I tell you what that strange symptom is, I'll tell you what isn't a strange symptom. At least, not for me. When my blood sugar is high, I get one or more of the following: frequent urination, extreme thirst, excessive coughing, feeling sluggish or depressed, restlessness in my sleep, or a sticky taste in my mouth. Oh, I'm probably missing some others.

If I notice any of these, symptoms, it is a sign to test my blood.

But I've become aware of a pattern. See, I frequently wake up in the middle of the night with an extremely painful and/or stiff back. Sometimes it is so bad, I have to take some ibuprofen. Now, admittedly, we don't have the best mattress in the world, so naturally I've been blaming this on my bed.

But the thing is, if it were just the bed, why is it sporadic. Shouldn't I have back stiffness and pain every night?

Then recently I began to notice that my back is worse the higher my blood sugar is. So, I've been explicitly paying attention, and sure enough, pain in the back equal a high BGL.

There you have it. Another strange symptom. To test this, one night last week I was having trouble sleeping due to my back. So, I pumped out a couple units of insulin. I didn't even bother testing. (Not recommended, by the way, if you aren't keenly aware of your lows when you sleep. Fortunately, I am.) Guess what? My back stopped hurting...at least, enough to sleep.

So, I'll urge you all (at least, those with diabetes), yet again, to be mindful of what your body is trying to tell you. Don't dismiss anything. It might be nothing. But look for patterns. Look for any and all means you have for judging your BGLs based on how you feel. The more symptoms you are aware of, the better care you can take of yourself.

I've got a little secret to share. And don't tell my endo, please. But my last A1c was a 7.0. Okay, my endo knows that part. But what my endo doesn't know is that I achieved that by testing my BGLs no more than once a day. I'm bad, I know. I should more often. So should you. But I was lazy, and the battery died on my meter, and I was trying to save money on strips. Amazingly, I was able to keep my A1c at the 7.0 level, however, almost entirely through being self-aware of my symptoms.

Now that I shared that secret, however, let me tell you that going very long without frequent testing does jeopardize your ability to accurately judge your BGLs. So, this three-month test is over, and I'm back to more frequent checks. Yet, it goes to show how much your "Spidey-sense" can help you keep good control. Of course, I still look forward to the day that I can afford the new Minimed Paradigm Real (or whatever it is called) that continuously monitors your BGLs for you, if only because it is cool!

Writing For Boys

A couple weeks ago, I took my son to the dentist. He was nervous, because he had to get his first filling, and I scared him to death telling him about the shot of novacaine, which it turns out he didn't even need.

Anyhow, to calm his nerves, I handed him a book I had brought along to read. A book for young-adults. He read it for maybe a minute (if I'm being generous) then put it down.

"You don't want to read it?"

"No," he said.

"Why not?"

"It's boring."

"But you barely read it!"

"Yeah, but there were no explosions on the first page."

Explosions. That's what happens when you let your boy read Star Wars books. Not only do you have to have action, but the action must be on page one, paragraph one. And it must be an explosion.

Flash forward to today, where someone asked about some young-adult thrillers geared toward boys, or perhaps books similar to those by Meg Cabot, except targeted to boys. It seems her son is much like my own, as well as like myself when I was a boy.

And now the wheels are cranking in my head. It seems more difficult to attract boys into reading than girls. So, what would it take to get boys interested? And can I write books that I think boys would want to read even more than girls?

I'll admit my novel Mindburst is targetting myself. It is based on my own childhood playtime, and my love affair with superheroes. But I also made the main character a girl. Why? Well, the reason is many-fold, but one reason is that I figured that it is more likely a girl will pick up my book than a boy. Boys would like it, I think. Then again, they may be turned off at the female protagonist. Who knows?

And the book I'm currently writing is most definitely targetting girls. Think Tuck, Everlasting and you'll have an idea of what my new book is like. (Or may be like, since I'm only about halfway done.)

The question becomes, how to write for boys? How do I appeal to the kid that I was when I was, well, a kid? How do I write something filled with the action that boys like, but also isn't just another Star Wars wannabe?

I have no answers. But it is worthwhile for me to consider it, because I think more needs to be done to attract boys to reading. We are seeing a lot of progress there, actually, with authors such as Eoin Colfer (Artemis Fowl, etc.). Maybe some day I can jump in.

So, those of you with boys...what do they like to read? Give me some ideas, because I'd like to find out who is doing the whole "writing for boys" thing right, and maybe learn a thing or two from them.

Deciding a path

There was a discussion about websites on a forum I frequent. It was mostly about what links to include where, etc. I'll admit I'm trying to figure out the future of my website. I don't like sites with too many links. And if you put links on, how can you be judicial enough to include the best ones? I have a lot of published (or soon to be published) friends, and as much as I would like to just include links to their sites (writers helping writers, and all that), I'm also faced with the reality that I want my own website to, eventually, appeal to youths. Which means I can't include links to authors of books definitely geared toward adults.

But a very inciteful...err...insightful person mentioned how you can't be all things to all people with your website, and how as a young-adult writer, I should start working on defining my on-line persona.

I've been trying to do that, actually. But the way he put it got me to thinking. He gave the example of Lemony Snicket, aka Daniel Handler. His website plays off of this false identity he created to promote his books. Brilliant, if you ask me. How can you not want to read his books when they start out with a warning telling you not to read it?

Anyhow, I don't plan to create a false identity. I like who I am, frankly. And I'm not really good at being something I'm not.

So, then, who am I? Or rather, who do I want to be? Where will this blog take me? My writing? My website? How do I shape how people will view me as that author?

There are many paths to take, I suppose, and I'm only just beginning to form where it will ultimately lead. One frontrunner is to play up a particular weakness I have. Or weaknesses, perhaps. Because people like to relate to other's weaknesses more than their strengths, I think.

Take, for example, the dichotomy I face with reading. I love reading. I love books. But I'm also a very slow reader. I'm a very hard-to-please reader. Which means, for me to actually finish a book (when it is not in audiobook format) takes either a lot of work on my part, or must be an absolutely tremendous book on the part of the author.

What can I do with that? Well, I think kids need to understand that they are not alone in this. Being a slow reader hasn't hindered my dreams of becoming a writer. Being slow at anything shouldn't hinder their dreams, either.

Well, anyhow, that's the idea. Creating that persona...a persona that appeals to my audience, and yet is still me. So, I have a goal ahead of me. In the next year, other than having a book on its way to publication (I hope!), I also would like to decide on and define the path I will take here. I need to start now.

So, I ask you this. What are the weaknesses from your own life, or the weaknesses your kids see in themselves? What are the areas that they must work at, struggle with, whatever? These should be the place I focus my attentions, and see how I can relate myself to that in any way.

Maybe.

Running the 10K

I think this blog entry will do it. At some point, somewhere, a reader of this blog entry will become the ten-thousandth visitor. Well, okay, not visitor. They will be the ten-thousandth time someone views my blog. I was secretly hoping this significant event would happen on September 8. Why? Because that would be exactly one year. My blogiversary. It would seem kind of cool to reach 10,000 hits at the one-year mark. Then again, now I can say, "more than 10,000 hits in less than a year." Sounds more impressive, I suppose.

It is hard to believe I've been blogging for almost a year. And what have I accomplished in this year? Well, I finished the final draft of a manuscript (three times...because "final" on one day isn't necessarily "final" a couple months later). I wrote a bunch of stories, and even managed to get one published. Another story has been accepted for publication in a print magazine, though I'm still waiting to find out which issue it will appear in, which makes it not quite feel "real" yet.

I also made improvements on my goal. Remember that, everyone? Do you remember what I planned to learn through this blog? Five stars if you do...

...That's right. I wanted to learn how to be funny. Or at least write things that are funny. And, more or less, I made some strides there. I'm no David Letterman or anything, but thanks to everyone who put up with my silliness at times in the past year, I have a better feel for writing something humorous. But I also learned that I'll, for the most part, stick to what I know. At least I can toss in some humor now and again. I even wrote a script for a banquet that was nothing but humor. That was quite a challenge, but somewhat liberating. (Then again, we haven't actually had the banquet yet, so it might still turn out that my script won't generate a single laugh, in which case it's back to the drawing board.)

I'm still trying to find an agent. The good news is that I've had some agent interest, so that is a positive thing. Just not enough interest (yet!) to offer representation. Soon. Hopefully. In the meantime, I think God is teaching me that while I might be a patient person, I'm not patient enough.

Oh, right...I also set up a new website.

What is disheartening, however, is that I have more trouble figuring out what I accomplished as a father and husband this year. I mean, really, who cares if I have a story published or new website? Have I grown closer to my children, shown more love to my wife, strengthened the familial bond in any way? I like to talk about the importance of family, but I realize, now, that I don't really have a measuring stick. I've run 10K on this blog, but being a husband and father is more like running a lifetime ofl 10Ks back to back.

How many times did I hurt my boys with the things I've said...or the things I haven't said? Could I have spent more time with them? Done more with them? I'm sure the answer is yes. But, like too many men, I often get caught up in my own ambitions to notice until it is too late.

I come home from work, and my boys are excited to see me. My daughter tells me the most intimate parts of her life (which, for a two-year-old, pretty much amounts to the fact that she didn't have an accident in her pull-up) and wants me to put nail polish on her nails or get her dressed in pretty clothes.

I suppose that means I'm on the right track. At least when I come home, they don't hole themselves up in their rooms or disappear into the backyard. Still, I fear I may squash them too often.

"Hey, Dad! Look at this spaceship I made!"

"Not now. Not until after you clean up the playroom!"

So, I have another 10K to run. Another chance to make a positive difference in the lives of my children, and while I'm at it, minimize the negative damage I might inflict at the same time.

Thanks to all of you who have taken this journey with me this far. Ten-thousand views of my blog is only the beginning!

Contemplating Friendliness

I'm not a friendly guy. Just ask my wife.

Okay, I'm friendly. I just don't look friendly. Or necessarily act friendly.

Thing is, being friendly, or at least looking friendly, takes effort. I can't speak for others, but my face just isn't naturally smiley. To lift those corners of the mouth can grow tiresome, so why bother?

And beyond looking friendly, acting friendly...well, that's even harder. It is an act, after all, right? I mean, you have to work at that, too.

"Hey, there, how's it going? Good to see you!"

I feel like a greeter at Wal-Mart or something, except that it is really awkward. It feels fake. Oh, sure, people like it. People are attracted to friendliness. Me? Well, they aren't attracted to me.

It doesn't help, either, that I try to avoid eye contact. I mean, come on. If you make eye contact, you have to either smile, or say something polite, or at least give a faint little nod that says, "Hey, there, hi, there," and be done with it.

It makes me kind of wish this was more like the Asian custom of bowing to greet people. To me, bowing is far easier than smiling. A bow doesn't feel fake.

So, I walk down the sidewalk, or through the halls at work, with my eyes staring at my feet, glancing up just often enough to ensure I don't run into anything or anyone.

But then I feel guilty. What if I pass someone I know? Would it appear like I'm just ignoring them? And just how painful is it really to brighten someone's day with a little smile from a stranger?

I admire those who are naturally peppy, who seem to be perpetally bubbly. How do they do it? Are they really that happy? Is it an act? Are the muscles in their face just sculpted differently? Whatever the reason, I think my wife secretly wishes I were more like that. Because it would reveal some emotion. Well, some positive emotion. Now, she always thinks I'm depressed. Or at least I look depressed. Personally, I prefer to call it "contemplative". Yes, that's it. I'm just thinking about something. Really hard. About being friendly.

The Man of the House

I try not to be controversial on this blog. But I'm going to make an exception today. Although, hopefully, in the end, you won't think it controversial.

But recently I heard a story about a husband and his wife. A true story. One going on right now. Now, this husband and wife are Christians, and as any good Christian knows, the "husband is the head of the wife" and "wives, submit to your husbands." And so, in good Christian form, this husband is over-bearing and controlling.

Thing is about this that makes me mad is that while the words are from the Bible, and therefore mandated in Christianity, there seems to be a bit of misunderstanding as to what it means. It is the interpretation above, however, that turns a great many away from Christianity, or at least turns people away from truly accepting what the Bible has to say. They become selective, picking and choosing what parts they will follow. Wives and submission, however, don't make the cut.

But this husband...and a great many other husbands, Christian and not alike...has it wrong. Because when the Bible talks about the husband being the head of the wife, it isn't placing man into a place of control. It isn't giving a man permission to dictate that his wife waits on him day and night. It is placing responsibility on the man. It is saying, "Listen, you man, you...straighten up. You have a responsibility, so you'd better take heed."

Imagine a business where the man running the company doesn't actually do work. He simply orders people around. Sure, he is the man in charge, but that kind of behavior isn't really being the head of a company, is it? And if he keeps it up, all he'll accomplish is annoying his employees. The company will go nowhere.

A marriage works the same way. A husband must lead by example. Just as the company president leads by example. He has moved up through the ranks, learning as he went.

Which brings us to that little issue of submission. See, the problem is that the Bible doesn't just say wives should submit to their husbands. It actually says everyone should submit to each other. Not only that, but in the original Greek, it doesn't actually say, "Wives, submit to your husbands." Rather, it is a continuation from the previous sentence that should read more like this:

Submit one to another. Wives, to your husbands...

Wives had the unfortuate honor of being the first example given of that "submitting". But jump down a paragraph, and you get to the next example. Husbands. Yep. Husbands are to submit to their wives. Not only so, but the explanation of how a husband is to submit is actually more severe. It alludes to a self-sacrificial love. It talks about that responsibility with being the head. The one who will face the consequences of choices made, even to the point of death.

Nowhere in the scripture do we see husbands ordering wives around, being controlling, etc. And nowhere is submission a one-way street.

It ails me when I hear about relationships that justify all kinds of power struggles, or wives being squashed under the thumbs of their husbands. Come on, men. Step up. Be a man. If you aren't loving your wife every day, being self-sacrificial on her behalf, being responsible enough to ensure your marriage is stronger today than it was yesterday, then you risk jeopardizing the truly beautiful relationship you should be having.

And, of course, it goes beyond the husband/wife relationship. The Bible seems to recognize the struggle with power men have, even with their own children. It talks about fathers not exasperating their children. Exasperate. I cringe when I think about that, because I can't help but think to times in my own life where I'm certain I've exasperated them, when I briefly lose sight of the fact that I'm dealing with little people, not just "kids".

Listen to your wives and children, men. Listen to them, love them, encourage them. Help them to grow, to be stronger people. When you are doing that is when you are being the "head" of the household.

Matters of Health

Well, yesterday I had my four-month check-up with my endocronologist. Yes, four months, not three. Thing is, I go to my endo for two main reasons. First, to get my A1c and other lab work done on schedule, and second, to get my prescriptions. I don't really need my endo for matters of improving my control. I pretty much handle all that on my own...and frankly, anytime my endo gives me advice on what I might try to improve things, it usually ends up not working.

Take, for example, the "formula" that 50% of your daily insulin intake should be basal insulin. For me, it is more like 25%. His advice is to increase my basals and decrease my bolus factors. Only problem with that is then if I don't eat on a certain schedule, I'll end up low. My way, I can go all day and never eat a bite and my BGLs stay in range. I'm guessing the whole 50% rule comes from people coming off of a old-school diet for Type 1 diabetics who have traditionally had set times they ate with set exchanges or carbs.

So, I handle it myself. I've managed to keep my A1c's at or below 7.0 now for quite a while. This time was no different. A1c was 7.0. Woohoo!

And this time around, my endo decided not to schedule my appointment for five months out instead of four (which was instead of the usual three). I'm glad about that.

He still pushed statins on me, which I declined. I've been trying to stick to a low saturated/trans fat diet, etc., so I think my next cholesterol test for LDLs will be even lower. In the meantime, he did tell me that I should at least start taking 81 mg asperin a day. Good for the heart, even at my age. I can handle that. (And don't you just love the taste of baby asperin?)

In other health matters, however, I'm falling apart. Well, not really. But I think my age is starting to catch up to me. For the past couple months, I've been experiencing joint pain in the hips, and this weird, apparently related, "burning" pain in the top of my leg just above the knee. It doesn't hurt for most normal movement, but if I move my leg just the right (or wrong?) way, it is painful.

My first thought is that it is cancer. Then arthritis. Then I think it is an injury from me walking up and down the steps constantly at work. (I avoid the elevator in the name of exercise.) Then I go back to thinking cancer, and then I think it is gone, but then it is back and I have no idea what it is. But whatever it is, it has grown to the point where I'm pretty sure it isn't just a temporary injury that will heal itself. So, I'm forced to make myself a doctor appointment. I didn't raise the matter with my endo because despite the fact my endo is a medical doctor, typically he doesn't like to deal with anything that isn't diabetes-related.

It is funny, because my "primary care physician" I see maybe once every few years. So infrequent, in fact, that the last time I saw him he shook my hand and said, "Pleased to meet you." Nevermind I've been seeing him for about fifteen years! So, it'll be interesting to know how it goes this time around. I'm expecting the whole, "Take some ibuprofen for the pain," routine. But ibuprofen nor Tylenol seem to do much for the pain, so I'll have to press for more.

What then? I've been watching too much House, MD lately, because I imagine having to strip naked and they'll run me through one of those MRI machines. Then I imagine I'll have forgotten to take off my Medic Alert bracelet, and the MRI machine will rip it from my arm, and I'll have lost my right hand as a result. Or maybe they'll have to do X-rays, find nothing, admit me, and I'll be on the verge of death twice before they finally realize that it was a reaction to a change in our laundry detergent or something.

Nah, I know. That's not really how it will go, I know. I'll keep you updated as to what I find out. First I have to make an appointment though, which means making a phone call. I hate making phone calls!

Okay...finally, another reminder. E. J. Knapp still needs your help. He is partway to his goal of $3000 to get his car back. (See my "Down, but not Out" thread below.) So if you haven't already, go buy a story. And just to make it more enticing, more personal...there are a lot of stories there. But one of those stories is mine. [i]Butter Knives and Sun Spots[/i]. Very different from anything I've posted on my website. More literary, I suppose. So go buy my story. Or buy someone else's story. I don't really care! He only has a few weeks before he loses any chance of getting his car back.

Keep Trying

We have a pool where I live. A fairly decent pool, as well. Thing is, we rarely use it, despite all the times my sons say, "Can we go swimming?"

My response is usually, "Maybe." And, of course, we never do. Trouble is, neither of my boys know how to swim, and the pool is four feet deep at the shallowest point. So, until they learn how to swim, I don't see a lot of point.

Ah, yes. I know. They'll never learn to swim if I don't take them down to the pool, so stop getting technical with me! If I told you that I took them swimming yesterday, will you leave me alone?

Good, becaue I took them swimming yesterday. My oldest claimed he had learned to swim in the three foot pool that some friends of ours own. Turns out, that was only half true. He knows how to swim underwater. But when it comes to staying above water, he floundered. So, we spent 45 minutes holding onto the edge of the pool practicing kicking techniques and eventually how to do the doggie paddle. By the time we left, he was doing pretty good, able to swim unaided across the short length of the pool.

But it is my second son that is truly fascinating. Or frustrating. Or maybe infuriating. My second son is the emotional one in the family. He wants to do everything as well or better than his brother, despite being more than a year younger, and he beats himself up if he can't.

So, after nearly drowning three times in a desperate attempt to swim by himself, he finally decided to listen to me and hang onto the edge. Then, for the next 40 minutes he spent the entire time crying... or on the verge of crying. I'd ask him why, and he'd say he wanted to learn to swim. I tried to tell him that he shouldn't expect to learn to swim in one day, it wasn't like riding a bike. (And yes, he actually learned to ride a bike without training wheels in a day. In under an hour, actually, from start to finish.)

But that wasn't good enough. He kept getting frustrated that he could kick his legs and paddle with his arms at the same time, or that he couldn't tread water, or that when I held him on his back to try to float, he couldn't let go of my neck so that I could actually breathe. Of course, by the time we left, he had learned to kick pretty good, but it didn't matter. He couldn't swim, so he was a failure. At least in his own eyes.

Failure, however, is not trying but failing to achieve some preconceived expectation or level of proficiency. Failure is trying and giving up.

My oldest son does the same in other areas. He is used to things being easy for him, especially academically. So if something is hard. If something takes work, such as learning a particularly difficult passage in a piano piece he is working on, he wants to give up after just a few tries.

I think everyone has some area of their life they do this. But think how much more successful we could be, how much more self-esteem we would have, if we recognized the attempt as a step forward. If we could look at our "failures" and say, "Hey, perhaps it isn't good enough yet, but I'm learning, and I'm better today than I was yesterday." I think any highly successful person will tell you that they didn't get there because everything was easy for them. They got there because they worked hard at it.

Sure, for some, certain things are easier than for others. God gave each of us unique strengths and weaknesses. It isn't necessarily because we are to only work with our strengths and avoid our weaknesses, but because it is through overcoming those weaknesses that we are tested and refined.

So go on. Try something difficult. Try something you have to work at. And when you fail, look at what you learned...then keep trying!

By the way, don't forget to stop by E. J. Knapp's page and buy a story or two to help him get back on his feet. (See my previous blog entry on "Down, But Not Out" for details.)