What's on tap for 2020?

As I sit down to start this post, we are in the waning minutes of 2019. I don't know what 2020 will bring, but I am hopeful it will bring some new things and perhaps a new, sustainable career, or at least a job that will help me cover the basic costs of living.

The year 2019 as least led me to a more-or-less full-time job, but it's frankly not covering all my basic costs. I'm behind on several bills and digging a deeper hole all the time. But I hope we will be able to get my dad's estate settled in 2020. It's been a long couple of years since dad died in May 2017, just 9 months after mom died.

I can't believe I haven't covered that on here yet, but then I haven't posted much of anything here in recent years. Not about my parents. Not about my brothers. Not about my daughter. Not about my abrupt career derailment. 

There's a lot to get people, or the blog at least, caught up on.

In recent weeks/months, I've had a few people in my life as me why I don't write anymore. I have avoided answering that question with friends, and I've avoided asking it of and answering it for myself.

There are many reasons why I haven't ventured in to writing, even here. A significant reason is that my confidence in myself and my "skills" has been shaken by being tossed out of journalism, in spite of a few attempts to get back in. On top of that, I haven't been a reporter/writer in a long time, although I have written throughout a 28-29 year career in journalism. 

I certainly want/need a creative outlet of some sort, whether writing or photography or both, or some new creative pursuit. In my head, I blame lack of funds and equipment for avoiding the photography angle. But the lack of writing? I'm not sure what to blame there, beyong like of confidence or drive. What if I have nothing to say? My past writing has been either 1) work related and based on interviews and facts based on some news or human interest angle; or 2) journal-like either in the form of writing in a notebook or one of a couple of older blogs; or 3) short social media posts on Twitter or Facebook.

I have no "great American novel" dying to get out locked up inside me. At least I don't think I do, as it has not made itself known to my conscious mind. I have no compelling true-life story I'm dying to tell. And I don't think I have any particular wisdom to share from which I think others may draw inspiration. I just have questions and doubts and fears and foibles and failings spilling out all over my life.

So, I don't know what to write. And outside of creative pursuits, I need a job that challenges me again intellectually and even creatively. But I don't know what that might be, in spite of applying for multiple jobs in multiple fields.

I have got some experience working in food service and retail fields, in untrained fields. I'm kind of living my work-life backwards, working in unskilled areas now in my 50s like many of my (former) peers did in their teens and 20s.

It's an interesting time in life, and not interesting in a good way. I wish I knew how this particular story will end. I would like to get to the next chapter as quickly as possible, instead of slogging through this interminably dull and painful chapter.

Pressure to change

Until recently, I have not been good about making regular visits for medical care or checkups. Two years ago, after a period of not feeling well, I decided it was time to find a local primary care provider. Plus, my boss at the time had been a nurse practitioner and more or less ordered me to go see a medical professional.

So, I made an appointment through a local medical clinic and went in for a checkup as a followup to some sever and ongoing bouts of dizziness and nausea I had been experiencing. As my appointment began, a nurse made me get on a scale and got my weight, then took me into an examination room to take other vitals. She took my blood pressure, but it took a couple of attempts to get a reading and the expression on her face was not reassuring. She didn't tell me what she was thinking, or what she knew, but I knew it was not good.

I thought perhaps my blood pressure was a bit high because I was nervous about seeing a medical professional for the first time in many years. And the primary care provider I had been assigned was a woman, as well, which made me nervous because I had never had a female doctor/care provider.

I few minutes later the nurse practitioner came in and took my blood pressure again. Then she told me she was cutting my initial examination short because she was going to send me down the hall to the attached hospital and to the emergency room. My blood pressure was too high and needed immediate attention. As I was preparing to get up to walk over the the hospital, she instructed me to wait because they were going to send me over in a wheel chair.

That news did not help me relax or ease my anxiety.

I soon found myself in an exam room in the ER. Staff members were shaving spots of check hair was a dry razor to attach heart monitoring equipment, There were more blood pressure checks, including being attached to a machine that periodically took my blood pressure on its own. Then here was intravenous medication. And a littany of questions. I don't remember them all, but I was asked it I had any check pains several different ways.

After while, when the staff had more confidence I wasn't actively having a heart attack or a stroke, I was left alone in the exam room for periods of time to let the medication do its work. During one of those moments of peace, interupted only by the beating of the heart monitor and the occassional inflation of the blood pressure cuff, I decised I wanted to see what the monitor behind me and above my head was indicating, so I took a picture of it with my cell phone, since I couldn't turn around with all the wires and tubes and equipment securing me to the examination chair. I managed to get a photo that was clear enough for me to read the numbers, but I certainly had no clue what the readings meant.

After several hours, the numbers had improved enough that I was discharged. I don't recall the exact order of events and what directions I got from the ER doctor and which I got from subsequent visits to my new primary care provider.

But over the last 2 years, I have been prescribed medications for blood pressure, cholesteral some pre-diabetic symptoms, had blood drawn for tests multiple times, been assigned to a specialist to make sure my kidneys weren't damaged by the high blood pressure, had follow-up visits with my eye doctor to check for blood pressure related eye damage.

I own my own blood pressure monitor now and take my readings twice a day. I've also lost more than 30 pounds in body weight. I'm keeping my blood pressure under control, generally feeling better physically and keeping up with regular medical visits.

I thought I had made note of the initial BP reading they charted at the medical clinic, but I can't find it right now. But you can see from the picture of the monitor that the reading after I had been receiving IV blood pressure medication -- and the numbers started coming down -- was 186/118. The initial reading I got at home after getting my own blood pressure monitor was 207/119. The website I use that tells me what my number mean tells me those number are "Way too high" and a "hypertensive crisis". This morning, my numbers were 125/76, which the website describes as "ideal" and "normal."

I learned later that the reason I was sent to the ER by wheelchair was that the clinic staff was concerned I might have a stroke at any moment. That shocked me a bit, but I didn't quite know how to gauge that. I got a new perspective on just how dangerous that likely was earlier this year when two high-profile individuals, Luke Perry and John Singleton where were both close to my age, died of stokes. Perry died in March and Singleton died in April following massive strokes.

It's a bit of a dubious anniversary, but it is also the date I began to start paying attention to my health, probably for the first time in my life.

  

Excuse me, Mr. President, but that was my foot you stepped on

I had a strange dream. I was in an auditorium sitting in a row with several members of my family. My brothers were there and my Aunt Barb and Uncle Bill. The auditorium was attached to a local truck stop that's about 2 miles from my house.

Up on the stage President Trump was speaking. I'm not sure what he was talking about. I don't remember any of the details of what he said. But as he finished speaking everyone was getting up to leave, as was I, and I had my foot out into the aisle. I turn toward the stage and find myself face-to-face with the president, who is walking toward me. And he steps on my foot. And then he was gone.

I woke up shortly after that.

I rarely remember dreams, but this one has stuck with me today. Not sure why. It was silly and made so sense. So I thought maybe if I wrote it down it would let go of its hold on me.

We apologize for the delay

This is the first post I've made to this blog in more than 7 years. To be honest, I forgot I even had, or created, this blog. I rediscovered it tonight.

A while back, after posting some photos and posts on Facebook, a friend recommended that I start a blog or something to capture some of those posts and observations somewhere other than Facebook. I wasn't ready to do that at the time, so I didn't look into it. But lately, I've been thinking about it more, and decided maybe I should do something about it.

I used to keep a journal with some regularity, but I haven't done that in a very long time. But there has been a lot going on in my life lately, and it my head, and perhaps I could use an outlet for expression for that ... stuff. And maybe some photos too. Although to be honest, I haven't done much photography lately. So, we'll see what happens.

But it's good to know that I don't have to completely start from scratch. There's some infrastructure in place.

A few hundred words on the worth of a picture blog

So, I have this blog, which has been neglected for months, and I'm thinking about starting a new one.

Crazy.

Perhaps the smarter thing would be to actually start posting on this blog regularly.

That would be the smart thing.

I'm not sure I'm a very smart guy though. But there is a method to my madness.

The reason I'm thinking about starting a new one is twofold. One reason is that the blog could be, in a roundabout way, related to work. One of the hats I wear at work is to do the photo editing, cropping and color correcting of staff photos. I've been trying to share photo tips with the staff to help them improve their photography, but the way I've been doing that, with staffers scattered in four states, has been to write up photo tips. It's not very visual. Photography is sort of a visual medium. So, text-based tips seems just wrong.

The other primary reason I'm thinking about starting a new blog is to start it in WordPress. I've using Blogger for a long time and really know nothing about WordPress, so I was thinking it would be a way to expand my knowledge. I like to stretch my skills and try to make myself learn new things in this whole digital media realm.

I suppose there is actually another reason too, that really isn't about work. It's about returning to a first love. Photography and photojournalism got me in to the newspaper businesses long ago. I have recently been confronted with the reminder that I really do still love still photography. I came to realize it would never pay my wage full time long ago. But maybe a photo blog would get me out shooting some more, even if it was just for my own enjoyment and selfish purposes.

I haven't decided whether to start a new blog, or to include photo posts here or even on a work blog that already exists. But I thought confessing the idea here may push me to made a decision one way or another, sooner, rather than later.

I may be just the push I need.