Life is hard. We all have our daily struggles to deal with, and we do. We get up, we put on our ass-kicking boots, and we live. But every once in a while the universe squares up and really kicks you in the nuts. And when it does, it's not some glancing, clip-the-sack blow either. I'm talking about one of those full-frontal, stars in the eyes, vomit inducing kicks in the nuts. The kind of kick that makes you wish you were dead just so the pain would stop. The kind of kick that, if you survive, will make you appreciate every pain-free breath for the rest of your life.

That's the tricky part right there: surviving. We've all got our ways and means, but every one of us needs time, and my time is up. I still hurt, but my ass-kicking boots are calling.

In the mania of my recovery I've cleaned, organized, and simplified anything and everything I could get my hands on. This blog was the last little bit of clutter left in my life that needed a good bleaching, so I've taken a wire brush to the code and this is the result. Nothing special, it just is.

I'm not sure yet what direction “rapid dissent” will take from here on out. Ranting about politics and indulging in the odd conspiracy theory is great fun, don't get me wrong, but I'm not sure I've got the energy to continue screaming into the ether.

For the time being, my only dissent will be against urge to say nothing at all.

Happy New Year.

Labels: bloggers, blogging, family

Last week I almost lost my father to a pain in the neck. Dad did what any of us would do: He took some aspirin. But the pain got worse. He saw a doctor. The pain got worse. In two weeks he couldn’t hold a coffee cup to his lips; Walking was agony.

Despite repeated pleas to his doctor, he had to wait for an appointment for the MRI necessary to diagnose his condition. The results, his doctor’s office told him, would be back in two weeks. That was Wednesday.

By the time got to Rhode Island on Friday, dad was unconscious in a neck brace on a gurney in the emergency room of a local hospital. The rest of my family, already there, told me they were waiting for an ambulance to take him to the trauma unit of another, larger hospital. It was 15 minutes away. We waited an hour-and-a-half.

Another hour after getting to the second hospital – at which I arrived before the ambulance – a neurosurgeon told us that “time is of the essence.” He also told us dad’s chances were less than 50/50.

A small tumor had lodged itself inside one of the disks in dad’s neck. The mass was growing inside the cavity his spinal cord passed through, and was slowly crushing it.

When dad woke-up from the “extraordinary” surgery, he felt no more pain. He didn’t feel a lot of things. As I type this, dad is in a hospital bed hundreds of miles away barely able to breathe without a respirator. He can move his head, and his right arm – somewhat. As for the rest, we’ll have to wait and see.

Dad’s spirits are good. He’s glad to be alive. The rest of us are each dealing with it in our own way. Mom goes to the hospital every morning at 8, and stays for twelve hours or so. She’s the strongest woman I’ve ever met.

My sister comes in a close second. She works third shift, then goes straight to the hospital. No one can survive long on 2 or 3 hours of sleep a day, but that hasn’t stopped her yet.

My brother, the eldest, is there every day. Managing a small business and raising a family of his own hasn’t prevented him from making the daily trek from Cape Cod to see mom and dad.

My wife, brother-, and sister-in-law have been the glue holding the rest of us together. They’ve hung back in the wings; There with unflinching support, but also aware that each of us tends to prefer solitude in times of crisis. We’re an introspective bunch, and I don’t envy them for having married into our odd little family, but I’m damn glad they did.

Thanks to everyone out there for all the support and well wishes. Please keep them coming. Check back here for updates as this blog returns to its regularly scheduled programming.

Labels: bloggers, blogging, family, Rhode Island