Only the Good Friday, December 4, 2009

Let's get started.

This week has had some extreme challenges to deal with. I had to dig deep to find the “Good”. With all this practice I’ve had with Shelly’s Only the Good Friday posting, you’d think it would be easy to stay positive and put a “Good” spin on things, but this one was a pressure cooker type of deal. Even Shelly has had some dealings this past week and she writes about it in her post today on her This Eclectic Life blog.

You see, I went to my primary care physician at the VA hospital this week, last Tuesday. It was a regular appointment for him to check me over, take blood and all that. Last time I saw him was in April. I was supposed to see him in July, but I kept calling and canceling appointments because I knew the blood numbers weren’t going to be good. I was trying to avoid the lecture and the inevitable changes that I knew he’d make in my medication.

I have been a diabetic for quite some time and I’ve skated through it all up until now. I’ve had plenty opportunity to arrest this beast, and at times, I have been very successful at losing just a few pounds and adding a regular form of exercise to my daily routine. These two things have given me blood glucose levels in the range that would be considered normal, especially for someone with diabetes.

After my latest disregard for my own health and by staying away from the doctor for so long, it was time to make the change I’ve dreaded for years. I start using a needle and insulin injections this week. This news, inevitable as I knew it was, still devastated me. Hard to find some “Good” in it, but I’ll try.

I also took a fall when I slipped on the frost one cold morning that was on the deck. I was just going out to fill the bird feeders when I went down. I weigh 220 pounds and the impact crushed my elbow and shoulder. The pain radiates down from my shoulder through the bicep and my back. More “Good” to look for as I writhe in pain.

Even amidst these personal setbacks, I was able to walk the kids to the bus stop every day this week. And I will this morning at 7:57 a.m., that’s when we leave the house for the 120 yard trip to the corner of Griffey and Short. Donna, a neighbor and resident of the town house apartment that sits right on that corner, is usually always there. She has a son that gets the bus and is there to supervise the 16 or so kids that get on the elementary school bus. I’m just another adult who watches over the kids.

The weather is getting colder each day. The Winter winds are blowing here in the Northland and we’ve even had a dusting of snow one morning. While I was sitting on the telephone companies big green box that sits on that corner, I watched the children playing. One girl in particular kept trying to zip up her jacket. A jacket way too slight for this cold snap. She had to be about six years old.

Now these kids see me there every morning and have since Labor Day. I asked her if she wanted me to help her zip up her jacket. It was the first time I had ever directed words to her. The only time I speak at all is when I hear the diesel rumble of the bus and in my deep manly voice direct the attention to the “Bus is coming”.

This day, the little girl looked at me, said nothing, and went to Donna and asked her to help her zip her jacket. I knew it wasn’t easy for little boys and girls to want to be around a mean old gnarly man with a deep voice. After all, I wasn’t their Grandpa. They didn’t know how kind and gentle I really am. I felt a little saddened by this, but I came away wanting to be seen as a kinder gentler old man to people, especially kids.

I thought of how I should be carrying myself. How I must attempt to stay humble, yet let people know I can be trusted. Geez, my body shape alone is intrusive. Barrel chested, large arms and legs, powerful voice. Even my walking gait is formidable.

Yesterday, I was on the corner, sitting in my usual spot. The same little girl was there, her jacket, too thin and light for the weather, unzipped and flying off her little kid shoulders needed to be zipped. Donna was no where to be seen yesterday. I was the only adult there in person. I know there are a few that watch out the window.

I asked her if she wanted me to help her zip her jacket. She looked at me and said, “No.”
Then, in a matter of seconds, came to me and held the bottom edges of her jacket up to me. Her body language asked the question better than any words. I grasped the ends of the zipper and put them together and zipped her into some warmth. I handed her the powder blue scarf that she had dropped and put it around her neck. She smiled and ran away to play. I tell you that was the best thing that has happened to me in a long time. A child gave me their trust. That is a “Good” thing. And even though I have this monster to tame in my own blood, even though my arm throbs constantly in the cold bitter wind of December here in Wisconsin, It felt “Good”.

Sure, I get hugs and kisses from my own Grandkids all the time, and believe me, I never take that for granted. I have to make sure I shave my pokies off or the little girls won’t kiss my scratchy face. I need to earn those hugs and lap sitting sessions. They are worth it and make me feel real “Good”.

Another “Good” I know of is the local jacket drive going on in the schools. Little kids, like my unzippered friend, will probably get a warmer thicker jacket, more in keeping with the weather we have here, at the coat drive. That’s a very “Good” thing. In fact, Mrs. Spadoman has been sewing Polarplus hats and mittens for weeks now, all for the drive to clothe those that need it. That’s “Good” too!

I know, kind of lame for the Good on Friday post, but that’s what it is today. I feel “Good” about finding some joy in Mudville. I feel “Good” when I visit other blogs and read “Good” things happening here and there. I feel ”Good” getting an e-mail from an old friend in Southern California. I am still looking for the “Good” in starting insulin injections, but maybe that straw is the one that will prompt me into action to finally get serious about taking better care of myself so I can be around just a little longer to zip up little kids jackets and be trusted by the innocent. So I can live until I die.

Lastly, I feel “Good” about a post at one of my friend’s blogs. susan, (non capitalized as she writes it), had a post this week that talks about kindness in everyday people. Her blog is called Phantsythat. Go take a look and read the comments. A lot of “Good” people still on the planet. One of the things that her post brought to my mind was my recent visit to the VA. I watched a lot of episodes of people getting up off their chairs to help others with simple tasks. Getting someone a glass of water, pushing a wheel chair through a crowded doorway, helping one man get his battery powered scooter out of his pickup truck, a volunteer smiling and handing out coffee to anyone that wants a cup, always with a smile and a cheerful greeting. All “Good”, all in the everyday. Someone even helped me with my jacket as I grimaced in pain twisting my painful arm and shoulder trying to get the darned thing on.



We can be “Good” and do “Good things, even when we are suffering and struggling to find the “Good” in a situation. This is the Spirit of “Good”. I see the Red Buckets are out. I’ll check that out and see if I can do some “Good” over there where the bells are ringing.

Peace to you. “Good”ness to you as well.

One of my most wonderful daughters.


Number 5


Number 2


Number 6


Youngest of my offspring


Number 3


Number 4


Number 1


The one we miss.


Saving the best for last