I've been holding out on posting for a while because I'm not really in the frame of mind to be funny. While I see nothing wrong with posting serious things from time to time, there is such a thing as overkill, and I don't really believe that the stuff I'm dealing with would do anything other than depress you. Perhaps there is a slight possibility that it could serve as a PSA to make you appreciate what you have, but you could watch one of those commercials with the hungry children for that. But the number of people emailing, calling, texting and IM'ing me to see if I'm alive is increasing so here I am.
As a child, I often thought that instead of siblings to talk to God gave me the ability to talk to myself. I have a weird mind that remembers a lot of stuff in intricate detail and just a very strange way of processing things. Lately I've been down in the dumps and I had a really bad day last week. I'd go so far as to say I hit rock bottom. This admission is not a cry for help and certainly not a telethon where I have operators standing by for people to call me to cheer me up...But if you do want to call and make a financial donation starting somewhere in the $20-50 range, operators are standing by and we will mail you this limited edition autographed Ordale J Allen styrofoam cup--The Official Cup of Ordale J Allen.
No rock bottom, for me, is a good thing. There's no way to go but up. The realization that you've fallen as far as you could, slammed into the ground and you didn't die from the impact. So now, climb up and out of this hole. But that's not the "special" way that I view it nor the subject of today's post.
Last week, as I said, I hit rock bottom. I woke up the next morning and had this analogy where I saw myself as Bruce Willis in the back of the ambulance. (Huh?) You know how the old action movies from the 90s always ended with Schwarzenegger or Stallone sitting in the back of the ambulance. They were banged up and bruised to high hell and the chief of police/Army General/Whoever would come over and thank them for a job well done while the EMTs treated their wounds. They'd share some laugh or kiss the girl or whatever and the credits would roll. Well, as a kid I used to be fascinated by that scene because I'd think about how they barely made it through. A minute longer or one extra bad guy and they'd be toast, but they made it. I also used to think that now would be the perfect time for the bad guy from the impending sequel strike, but that's another story. They made it and that's all that counted. Well, that's how I saw myself last week. Rock bottom, but I made it!
Sadly, that's not how my life is going right now. About a day later after Rock Bottom Day, I got a call from my doctor with my lab results from my annual physical. Test results confirm that I'm still beautiful, but there is something wrong with some levels in my blood that make her a little concerned. She started explaining it, but doctors speak in a language that's just a few vowels short of being that Elfin language from The Lord of the Rings. All I know is that she gave me a phone number to call to schedule a follow up and the person answered the phone with, "Oncology Department." She spoke in her gibberish and the earliest they could see me is in two weeks. For those of you following at home, this is the SECOND time someone has mentioned cancer gradually in passing to me and told me to wait two weeks to find out more. (Worst. TV. Show. Ever.)
Now normally, I don't share this kind of stuff with people. I don't like pity and I keep my cards close to the chest, but I'm tired. Remember that strange analogy about sitting in the ambulance and the credits rolling? I want my credits. I don't want the sequel to start right now. The hero needs to go home and heal and put on some Ben-Gay. I need a breather. But life has other plans apparently. Now, I assume/choose to hope that because they want to see me in two weeks rather than the next day that I'm not too bad, but still. I got enough going on. I'm mentally and emotionally bankrupt right now.
But my brain is strange, as I said before. I remembered an interview with Muhammad Ali that I saw a long, long time ago in high school. He talked about how he trained for fights. I'm butchering this, but he said something along the lines of, "I run for miles and miles until my legs feel like I'm going to collapse and then I run some more. When I absolutely can't go any further, I stop. And THEN I begin my workout, my sparring and my training for the fight."
The true tests in life will come at you when you are least prepared and at your lowest. I mean, if you're in shape and ready then how can it really be considered a test? It's when you have nothing left in the tank...when you have no fight left in you...when you feel that you can't go on...that's when your challenge begins.
I remember a track meet years ago. It was the last one of the summer and my coach decided to sign me up for 5 races instead of my usual 3. Since I had to run each one twice (qualifying and actual race) that was a lot of running. I was dead tired by the end of the day. Hell, I was dead tired once I passed what would've been my usual last race (the third one) but I narrowly finished. Then this S.O.B. tells me he signed me up for one last race, my sixth! Are you kidding me? I could barely stand up. I had been out there since 8 that morning and it was like 10 at night with no food the whole day.
I lined up in the blocks and could barely hold myself up and then this stupid memory of one of those old Army commercials came on with the black guy flying the chopper saying, "This is for Mr ____ who told me to never give up. (Be ALL THAT YOU CAAAAN BE! GET AN EDGE ON LIFE IN THE AAARRMY!)" I don't know why, but I sprang out of those damn blocks at full speed. I was halfway through the race when I realized that I was supposed to be tired. I had a cramp in my abs, my legs were locking up but I felt no pain. I was coasting. I didn't win. lol Let me not build up your hopes of where this story is going, but I actually finished higher in that race (fourth, I think) than I ever did before. I killed my old time. I later died at home. LOL But I'll never forget that.
That's how I feel now. I'm not depressed. I'm not sad. I'm tired. I sure as hell am not happy, but I'm kinda cruising on autopilot I guess you could say. I've since gotten more bad news about someone other than myself that I won't go into (when it rains it pours), but I'm dealing with it. So...there may be some more extended breaks, but now you know what's going on (vaguely, at least).
When this all works out, it'll be a hell of a funny story (I hope).
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