That’s nice, great…

Before we start with today’s blog, let me give you a brief update on the war between me and my body.  Yesterday, my body gained an unexpected ally in the battle…my wife.  Much like America, in 1941, bombed at Pearly Harbor, they enter the fray to assist the crippled Brits (my body), who I had on the run.

Actually, not.  Yesterday was a set back with little sleep Sunday night, the clogging of the left ear and a general sense of, “Who am I and what place is this?”  The Americans sent my body to the doctor Monday and now I’m not only not taking meds, I’m taking more medicine than I ever have been at any time of my life.  There’s the antibiotics, as a result of a double spy at the doctor’s office who suggested a, “low level pneumonia” thing taking place.  Back on the Mucinex for the mucus and the cough, Sudafed for the stuffiness and now, Afrin nasal spray, also for the stuffiness.  Not to mention Advil PM at night to help me sleep.

Last night I did sleep 8 hours, so okay, although you can’t see it, here is my white flag!  Give me 8 good hours of sleep a night and I’ll sign whatever you want me to!  Name, rank, serial number, names and locations of out spies, secret battle plans, you can have it all!

My wife is not gloating about being on the winning team.  Nor should she be since this illness started with her, and before her one of our darling maniac grand kids, aka, Milo and the Germiacs.

Mom, the Big L, was pleased, even though she has directed me to basically do nothing but breathe until I am declared better.  And with mom, even the doctors statement that I am healed will not be enough.  I’ve heard many a, “How do they know you’re cured?” in the past.

By the way, mom’s current cure for anything, and everything, is food.  Eat.  No matter what it is.  Eat and the miracle of non-organic food products will make you better.  This is in direct contrast to when we were young and on a very tight budget.  Four kids, one parent.  Back then the battle cry was, “Starve a cold, starve a fever”.  And for that matter…”Starve insecurity…starve poor behavior…starve whining…starve bad grades…”  Okay, you get the picture.  So those of you who have known me might suggest, Mike, those pictures of you growing up, you seem to be…pretty healthy?  Big boned.  Husky.  Living along the border of Chunkytown and Fatville.

Remember, I did have quick hands and a flexible ethic with the truth.  Enough said.

Luckily, for most of you, I haven’t figured out a way to attach photos to this blog yet.  I was going to show a bit fat glob of coughed up mucus.  I’ll save it in a jar for anyone of you brave enough to come visit (see Sweetie, that’s enough to keep people away at least through mid-April).

That was a long way leading to today’s topic.  And as you read, this isn’t something I am down about, just clear-headed in thought.

Most people…simply don’t care.  There are rat’s rectums that they care about more.  Sorry, the truth hurts.

Okay, let me say, the people we love, who love us, there is a bond there that is strong, and good, and helps define who we are.  You announce news of some sort, and the response is, “That’s nice…great”.  Then, about two weeks later, you might mention it and the general reply is often, “Oh, sorry, haven’t had time to check that out”.  Or, “Oh, is that cancer thing STILL going on?”

It’s not their fault.  As a society we have been conditioned not to care…or to care all that much, anyway.  We all have our own lives, our own issues and we rarely step outside of our bubble without it being popped for us.  The people close to us love us.  If we end up in the hospital, they will visit.  If we’re sick, flowers and food will come.  If we’re arrested, they will testify in our defense (depending on the charge of course).

But most people are, what I now refer to as, “Wavers”.  They get caught up in the tidal wave of the worlds issues and their daily problems and concerns.  “We love you”, but we have to take care of ours.  And you…we love you…good luck.  And they mean good luck.  Most people are doing the best they can out there in the everyday world.  But their center has no base.  The core of who they are, has nothing to attach itself to.  And the wave is going to toss them about and they have no choice but to go with it.  The sooner we realize this the less we are disappointed daily.  Geez, this sounds darker than it really is.

Example, I know people in my own family who never read my book.  And no, my mother reading it 124 times does not even that out.  Even if I didn’t like the person I think I’d take a peek just for potential legal purposes.  But it’s things like that that allow us to separate ourselves, as we grow older, from the people who truly matter, and those who don’t matter anymore.  Who will always be a face in a photo, a voice in a video and some scribbling in a card with dancing dogs on the front.

Unlike most people, I am not concerned about the number of people who show up at my funeral.  First off, I won’t be having one, so they can invite all of them to the non-event.  Seems appropriate anyway, right?  My goal, by the time I pass, to have only the people in my daily life that mean the world to me, and vice-versa.  If that’s 5 people, or 10, better that 100 or 200 wavers.

I don’t consider myself to be better than anyone else, certainly not as evolved as others, and definitely I will never be as wealthy as most of the people I know.  I have no desires for the, “latest model of”, or the, “wireless version of”, or any of that.  And I don’t care to ask Alexa anything.  For the people who do, if that makes you happy, that is all that matters.  I’m not trying to pis on what makes you tick.  End of point.

But I know that my center will never shift.  I don’t have a lot.  I don’t need a lot.  But I have a wife I love very much.  A family I adore.  Good friends who stimulate and entertain me (some without even trying).  A happy home that I love.  A great job I enjoy.  Good health (okay I’ll give my body that one for the sake of article).  So even if I have no idea what I’m doing, I’m doing okay.

Just be on the lookout for the wavers in your life.  And try not to morph into a waver.  And if you’re worried you’re already there here’s a quick exercise to remedy that.  Tell yourself that you have 24 hours to live.  That’s it.  Now make a list of who you want to see, where you want to go, and what you want to say.  The rest is just waving.