Friday, December 24, 2010

Reality Breeds Dreams Breeding Reality

  I had not slept this well in a long, long time. I cannot explain why. I have learned not to question things that may or may not be real. When I wake up in the mornings I am at a disadvantage. I have to wait and try to verify what ever happened the night before to find out if what happened was real or a dream. As I am lying in bed I start to figure out a way to confirm the reality of the night before. I say reality, singular, this time because sometimes my dreams are reality. Can you imagine starting your day that way. You cannot just get out of bed, make coffee, then plan your day. If you even have to do that. You may be what I call a robotic human. You know the kind. They have a job that consists of repetitive actions until the lunch bell, continue on until time to clock out. Things are probably done on a schedule without deviating very much from the set internal program. I am not saying that this is bad, just predictable. Some people like that style of life. I am happy for them. I even envy them, at times. The days blissfully roll on. Working hard and bring home the bacon. That what makes America great. We have millions of people that live this way. Then we have those people that are risk takers, maybe a wall street banker, or a professional athlete. They are hardwired, differently. That is what They have to have. It is in their DNA. Thank you for being like you are. Others, like myself, enjoy watching you at work. You bring a lot of people satisfaction. Then there are those that have that previously described DNA but lacking the skill to accomplish a way to make a living at whatever exciting thing that you love to do so you settle for a job that allows you to do this on a part time basis. Good for you. Then there are those that do not have a genuine grip on what is happening around you. You try to fulfill a desire to be a part of something and have no way to know how to do it. You try to have a sense of belonging, which I believe we all strive for. Yet, you fall short. It depends on how you handle it whether are not you are accepted or shunned. Then there are those that just do not give a shit. They have been studied more than any other human being. A sociopath. The worst of the worst. For whatever reason they turned out that way. I am not even gonna try and guess why they are that way. Psychiatrists that study them can only give an opinion as to why they are that way so I know I do not know. There are so many personalities that differ it makes everything exciting. It would be boring as hell if we all were alike. I have been  rambling, I know, but my point is I do not have a clear grasp on who or what I am. I mean the reason I exist. I believe I was supposed to be a doctor but someone threw a wrench in that plan. All I want to know is why was my plan thwarted. More than that, I want to know why I am being constantly punished. I am not looking for your sympathy, trust me, I do not care if someone else believes that. I have had my life transformed for a reason. To write about it? To freak my wife out, sometimes, about it. To forget about it? To overcome it? Hell if I know. I wake up and I wonder if I am awake. That is how thin the line of reality, and the line of perception, is in my mind. All I can say is hang on, I think we are about to go on a ride.     theblogmeister

Wednesday, December 22, 2010

Blast From The Past

  While I was in active duty of the Air Force I was extremely lucky to be stationed at the largest base in the States. Eglin A.F.B., located in Ft. Walton Beach, Florida, was the perfect home to hone my skills as a Medical Service Specialist. A medium size hospital afforded me the opportunity to work with some highly skilled medical professionals. My duties involved taking care of patients with orthopedic issues, post operative care, and the care of an occasional isolation patient, only because the unit I worked had one isolation room. I was trained in the art of orthopedic traction, believe me, it is an art. My duties also included starting IV's, insertion of naso-gastric tubes, foley catheters, and total patient care. A friend of mine that worked in the hospital's laboratory gave me the chance to learn how to start IV's. I spent 2 weeks working in the drawing room, where the tech draws blood for testing, and drew blood for 8 hours a day. Needless to say, I was very good at starting IV's. When a nurse had trouble with an IV I was called to complete the task. I became very popular among the nurses on my unit and the other unit on the second floor. A nurse hates to call a doctor at home, late in the evening to say that she could not get an ordered IV in a patient, so I was called, instead. I soaked up knowledge like a sponge. Life was good. The future looked so bright I had to wear shades. I stole that saying. While I was having so much fun I blew out a disc in my lumbar region of my spine. I was young enough to handle it without the need for the services of one of my friends in the orthopedic department. That was then, this is now.
  After I revealed my situation with the Col. and received in-patient treatment for my PTSD I made it to the point of being able to get back into the workforce. With back problems, aggravated by years of framing houses, my opportunities to work were limited. I came home one day and asked my girlfriend, who is now my wife, what she thought about seeing the country by means of an 18-wheeler. The money was very good and we could go to places that otherwise would be impossible. We started driver training in August, 2003, graduating in mid October. We signed on with a company out of Cedar Rapids, Iowa, CRST,Van Expedited. Can you imagine living with your significant other for 24/7? We did every thing together. A team operation. We loved it. It is hard to believe that we seldom argued and had a great time all while getting paid for doing it. We got paid on Tuesday and Thursday and brought home about $1400 each, twice a week. I chose truck driving because there was no heavy lifting, manual labor, and climate controlled. I did not know that I chose the worse possible occupation for someone with a bad lower back. Almost three years of driving took a great toll on my health. I had ruined my back.
  The lumbar region of the back consist of 5 lumbar vertebrae that is used more than any part of your body. My disc, the area between each vertebrae, were mush in between 4 of my 5 lumbar vertebrae. The result was that my sciatic nerve, the large nerve branching off the spinal cord to each leg, was pinched causing excruciating pain and ultimately no feeling in my left leg. My primary care physician sent me to a chiropractor who, after 12 treatments, told my doctor that I had to have surgery to repair my mush before my leg is permanently useless. Introducing a Neurosurgeon to be my new and best friend, I had it surgically repaired by removing 3 disc and using bone grafts, rods and screws to fuse 4 vertebrae together. The master surgeon completed his task and I was to recover for the next year.Then it happened.
  I was wearing a hard brace that went from my neck down to just below my waist. This suit of armor had to be worn constantly with the exception of sleep. I was 4 months post op and I bent over to pick something up and felt a stabbing pain in my lower back. This was not good. With my past medical knowledge of medicine I knew I had to see the doctor pronto. My wife and I were in the process of moving into another home when this happened. What had happened? A titanium surgical screw that was mounting the base of a titanium rod to my sacrum broke. "Hold up, a minute." I told the doctor. "How can a screw, made of a metal stronger than steel, just break?" He had no explanation. His idea about how to fix it was disconcerting. He removed 2 rods and 7 and a half screws. The screw that broke he could not get it out. He gave me another back brace and instructed me to wear it and not to work. Four months was not long enough for the bone grafts to take. I lost my job, along with my insurance, and was forced into filing for my disability. I tried to see the surgeon in his office but could not afford the office visit. I talked with several attorneys about trying to recover damages and was told that the manufacture of the screw was the largest medical supply company in the United States. I requested a copy of my surgical notes because the label of any surgical implant is affixed to the device and peeled off to put on the notes. The label tells what company made the screw, when and where the screw was made, the lot number of the screw, and the batch of screws that were made that day. I researched the screw and found out that there were no recalls pertaining to that specific screw. Hell, if I am sitting on a jury hearing a case as this, those fuckers that made the screw are about to pay, big. The only problem was no attorney had the money that it would cost to try that case. The corporation that made the screw had dozens of lawyers on retainer just for this reason. I asked my lawyer how much money would it cost to try this case. He ask me if I had $50,000 dollars to spare, with no guarantee of winning. So, I suffer on. I did, after getting my disability and medicare, get my spinal fusion done, again. I am telling you this because I have been telling these true stories of my mental problems and you were getting half the story. This half is not much better. When you think you have it rough, I promise you will find someone that has got you beat. I feel the same. I complain about the pains in my back and left leg and I see someone that has no legs. I am a fighter. I will never stop fighting, either. If there is anyone out there who may benefit from something I may know or experienced I will gladly help them out. You would do it for me.     theblogmeister

Tuesday, December 21, 2010

The Pain Goes On.

  I have asked myself too many times why He picked me. I still do not have an answer. I have wanted to believe that He really cared about my well being and that he would not put me in harms way for selfish reasons. I thought of Him as a good man, an honorable man, an honest man. During His life I believe he was all of those. The few months I was a part of his life he acted as such. When it came time for His decision to stop the pain He did not care who He hurt. He wanted two things, a) to end His suffering, and b) to make sure that Bunny would be taken care of after He was gone. He could not do this on His own and chose me to help Him achieve His goals. I ask God why I am being tortured for the sins of another. I know what I did was wrong and I also know that if the Col. had not talked me into doing what I did that my life would be no where near the life that I live, today. I gave up medicine because I could not trust myself to be responsible for someone else's life. I have a problem that was created by my own mind. I do blame the Col. for creating this Monster inside me. I have grown to hate this Demon. I still fear what He can do from the other side. I believe, as I said before, that this is of my own creation but I sometimes wonder if the Col. somehow can haunt me from where He is today. I watch shows about ghosts and how they can enter our realm. Maybe the Col. has that ability. I do not think my sub-conscious mind is that powerful. I have met the Col. in the middle of the night, staring Him down, smelling the rotting breath of a corpse and is my mind creating this? My mind should not choose sides. Do you think living is a primal instinct. Our bodies can do amazing things to stay alive. Then why would the mind ruin its host? There has to be more forces at work. If you bumped into me at the mall you would not sat there goes a crazy man. How can someone change so abruptly? There has to be something outside of myself at war with my self. I am not fighting me. I am fighting with an entity that I can't explain. He knows my weaknesses and exploits them. He is relentless and will not give up. I believe He is out to destroy me. He has already gotten me to fight with myself. This war is continuing every night. I cannot give in. I have a wonderful woman that wants to keep me around. She is worth fighting for, I believe. So, My journey continues. I will not talk any more of the good that was the Col. He has transformed into my enemy. He will not win this war. I am sure I will not see the last of the Col.                  theblogmeister

Monday, December 20, 2010

Reality, Once Again

  I am back to the reality of my relationship with the Col. It can't honestly be thought of as a relationship. I cannot have a relationship with a corpse. Yet, he has affected me as if he were alive. A Demon. I understand that my mind has created this monster inside me. I told a story of Col. DeBarge the way that I wished was his motivation for asking me to do what I did. I have wanted to believe that his intentions were good and honorable but I find that hard to believe. How can you ask a kid that respected you more than you will ever know. Put yourself in his shoes the way I just did. If you could tell his story and explain how it must feel to manipulate someone into taking your life and justify why. I was a kid. I thought the world of Him. I loved Him. Do you think that he believed that I would suffer no mental or legal problems? If I believed that I would not be writing about Him. Waking up in the middle of the night because of terror. I can only conclude that either a, He did not think that I would suffer any problems, or b, he just did not care. That is why I am now, and always have been, of the thinking that he did not care what happened to me. I have had this legally taken care of. When I was admitted into the Tuscaloosa VA Medical Center for treatment of post traumatic stress My therapist was the head of the program. When I started telling him my story he stopped me and asked if I was ready to take this where ever it goes, I said yes. He told me that he was legally bound to report crimes. This PTSD had ruined me. Do you think I am scared of what somebody else may or may not do? He stopped me right there. He said that he would have to get with the Hospital Attorneys, the Chief of Psychiatry, the Head of Administrations, and the Head of the Veterans Administrations. That's a lot of head. It was a little over a week and my therapist gave me the green light to tell my story. I have not stopped, yet. I held this in my mind for 29 years. Making excuses for my psychotic behavior. Taking baby steps. I know what this has done to me and I have reached out to find a way to make it stop. Hell, at least slow down. Only since 2003, I have been able to share my life with a loving woman that knows the truth and is there for me when she finds me in the closet, screaming at the top of my lungs at 2am. I am still telling my story and I communicate with many of my readers through email. If I stop talking, He wins.      theblogmeister

The Angel Of Death Has Arrived

  It took me a little over a month to get airman Riley to agree to my plan. It happens, today. He did give me a few days notice so I could say good-bye to Bunny. He does not know how much I am grateful for this decision. I do not know what I would have done had Riley turn me down. It has really affected his mood and demeanor around me. He is not the same guy, joking around and trying to bring a smile to me. His mood is somber. I think he will go through with it, too. He is a special young man and I hope what I am asking of him, in no way, changes his life. He really believes in the sanctity of life and understands that sometimes a life is not worth living. He gives value to the quality of life. I am sure he wishes there was another way to do this and he thought long and hard to find that alternate route. When he told me that he had decided to help me I began to weep. He wept with me. He has been a Godsend and I believe that God put us, together. I pray that God will take care of him after it is over. I had instructed Bunny to bring my lawyer to amend my will with her blessings and the will was changed, yesterday. Bunny and I have no children and I have made some good investments and we want to make Riley's life easier to become a physician, that is why we decided to leave him $250 thousand dollars. I also wanted him to have my golf clubs, so, when he hits one fat, he will think of me. I will miss my beautiful wife and my buddy Big Riley and will never forget the act of courage that airman Riley has shown.
  My door opens and it is Riley. We do not speak to each other. There is nothing left to say. He takes a large syringe filled with something and puts it in my IV. My vision immediately becomes blurry and can barely see when he took the other syringe and put it in. The last thing that I saw was a tear flowing down the cheek of Riley. My pain is over. I see a brilliant white light. It beckons me to come. I am home.    theblogmeister