Saturday, June 7, 2014

Musings from author and deep thinker Verwayne Greenhoe. I love this guy.

Verne: If you read what Verwayne has written here, you will know that this man is a gifted writer. An author, in fact. He'll ill, but vital and vigorous, quick-witted, and cantankerous. Even in this brief piece, I am aware of the beautiful cadence of the words, and the beauty of the words themselves. I want to be like Verwayne when I grow up. God bless you, buddy.




A quick story of personal inner redemption but to get to it, ya got to wade through some nasty stuff. My wife had to have a lumbar puncture to finally confirm or deny her tentative diagnosis of Multiple Sclerosis early Thursday morning and during the procedure, she had some pretty decent seizures.

It wasn't anything the doctor did, it was just part of the problems she has been having since last September and this situation has rapidly escalated in the past three weeks. She was sent home from work last Thursday night when she suddenly had problems walking. She ended up staying overnight today and I was left to my own thoughts and devices.

For several hours, I felt like I had reached the very end of my rope. Things have been very rough in our household the past couple months. If you've read here much, you know about my issues. If that wasn't bad enough, the IRS has, for the SIXTH time, has cleaned out my bank account, such as it was, and left us literally penniless. I've proven each time prior to this that we don't owe them spit so hopefully, the sixth time is the charm. Thanks to a few of my friends, we've managed to stay slightly above water food-wise. I can never explain to them how much this has meant to us.

There are other issues but I didn't come here to cry. As I sat alone, I was contemplating the future and what more could be heaped on us, I heard the inner voice of my heart begin to talk to me as it reminded me of things past. "Don't worry about your death, worry about your Life." I remembered that from a long time ago from a man who had lived 15 months in a German concentration camp, 1944 - 1945.

"Be generous. With your time. With your love. With your life. Be generous. Always." The dying words of the ER physician character, Dr. Mark Greene. The season long story of his transformation of a man questioning to a man accepting had struck me deeply back when it was shown and those words reminded me of what my Father, who by the way, died 20 years ago today, always told me. I've tried to live by those words and that concept. I've failed many times but I also know I've succeeded a time or three as well.

As my heart began to overwhelm the hurt in my emotions (it has been a long, long, LONG time since I've been this low) another thing came to mind. 'The thing about life that I have noticed most is that the view going out is different that the view coming in. Good lives, fully lived, cast long shadows.' Not an original thought but still profound on and of its own... at least to me.

When I had sat down, I felt as if I was being crushed by Life. After several hours of thought and remembering that our burden is light in comparison to that of others, I realized that my grip on the rope was a lot tighter than I had originally thought. It was dead still in the house and I heard my father whispering to me, "Doc... get up and dust yourself off. You have things to do. If you sit there much longer, you'll be buried in your own pity. Get up Doc, get up."

Things are still very very rough here. Things are very very tight here but I was raised to look for the stars. We'll be alright and maybe, I'll be able to do something tonight that I haven't been able to do in a couple weeks... sleep. Twenty years gone today and my Father is still motivating me.

Thanks Dad. I love you and I miss you but I know you are right here, making me see that when it is all said and done, my path is being guided by a higher power. When this is all said and done, I know we will win the game.

Take care,
V