SANDS OF TIME PASSING BELOW MY FEET

In my senior year, the only core classes required were Language Arts and Government/Economics and the remainder were electives. I opted to take British Literature to fulfill my Language Arts requirement. I, probably the only one, to my knowledge, truly looked forward to having this class first period and even can empathetically say I liked the teacher. Mrs. Schott was one of those teachers who rarely cracked a smile but cracked nothing more than her whip and worked you to earn your grade. Her mighty red pen, much like a sharp sword, slashed apart my writings with a barrage of comments. From suggestions, lessons, corrections, queries, expand upon and with the grand finale – rewrite. More often, I saw more red ink than my own blue ink on my paper conveying my interpretation of an assignment. Little did I know is she was preparing me with the right tools to tackle college writing.

In class we studied the structure of a Shakespearean sonnet. It had to have 14 lines and is written in iambic pentameter or 3 quatrains (4 line sections) and one heroic couplet. The rhyme scheme followed ABAB (quatrain 1), CDCD (quatrain 2), EFEF (quatrain 3), and GG (heroic couplet) or some close variation of it. As a part of the lesson was for us to write our own Shakespearean sonnet, following the aforementioned guidelines with an added theme or problem and which in the final two lines is resolved. Challenge accepted and with my favorite blue pen, I began to compose my draft and eventually produced the final written sonnet. I ended up writing about my high school as if it were one of my closest friends. This was the first time I submitted an assignment to Mrs. Schott which was returned to me with more blue ink than the expected red ink and with the comments, “Well done!” and with very few staggered queries why I opted to write something a certain way or chose the less simplified word to express my thoughts.

In my best Sofia from “Golden Girls” voice, picture it, South Broward High School, somewhere in before graduation in 1988… what was then…

Good-Bye, So Long Class of '88
Its time to move past the alma mater
Of South Broward High School and go our ways.
Once we walked the halls with Bulldog spirit –
Now we walk horizons to the future.
No time in life again will be greater
Than the cheerful, fearful and tearful days.
Left behind are memories and that’s it.
The time I met you I knew the future,
Would bring us a new forever friendship
That won’t be forgotten too easily.
In the course of life’s pleasure or hardship,
Your friendship with me will be missed deeply.
Good-bye and so long South Broward High School,
The class of ’88 will forever rule.

At the blink of an eye, it seems like only yesterday, when I was in the last days of aimlessly wandering the halls of South Broward High School. Here I am, 30 years later, it puzzles me how the many years escaped me as vivid memories still play in my mind like an endless video loop or binge marathon of my favorite television series. I attempted to write another Shakespearean sonnet to not only as a comparison but what the present day brought us and as a tribute to Mrs. Schott who drilled proper form, technique and voice while allowing to develop my own unique writing style. Her determination and patience, successfully rewarded me in my undergraduate and graduate courses where writing was the primary focus to earn a grade and eventually played a pivotal role in a portion of my career, when I was a grant writer. This position provided me opportunities to story tell on how funders partnering with my non profit organization can have an advantageous relationship when they join together to rally for the same causes and desired outcomes.

This time, my deep radio voice narrates as I share the passing of years… as this, is now…

Sands of Time Passing Below My Feet
Standing in the sand as each passing wave comes in,
I feel each year passing by quicker than the last.
Names can no longer can be put on a friend’s face,
Without help of a once shared high school memory.
Quickly, reflection fades and the present is within,
Reminiscing the best of times from the years past.
Only to see what was once our friendship’s birthplace,
Nothing more than a milestone accessory.
As the waves wash away the sand below my feet,
I lose my balance as I gaze further outward.
Knowing very well, our paths will cross once again,
When it’s time to cross yet another milestone.
Cheers to those of us getting our feet wet again,
Allowing one more chance to celebrate years past.

There are hidden jewels amongst the words I write in which I still hear, Mrs. Schott’s writing lessons each time I take to my Macbook Air to post another entry into my blog. Her succinct reminders to write in active voice, use simpler words, find your inner voice to personify and convey your thoughts, lead the introduction and tie it all up in your final words.

Many of my classmates had known each other since middle school and for many elementary school, which afforded a nice niche of friendships to be formed. As the introverted, newbie and outsider, I was unable to build the closeness of friendships which many of as my classmates enjoyed. I also spent most of my after school time working a part-time job and rarely had a chance to participate in the diverse extra-curricular activities my high school offered. However; this never stopped me from building my own circle of friends, participating the best way I was able to and to still have a quality high school experience. I still keep in touch with most of my small circle of friends today and feel we became stronger friends with each passing year. There are times when I reflect back on those carefree years and remember watching at people my current age, wondering when I become old, will I look back with nostalgic memories of my high school years, as truly years I will always treasure. Without a doubt, my high school years defined who I was becoming without much fanfare to me.

As I write, my surreal thoughts take me back to what only seemed like yesterday. I question, how could 30 short years have passed since I last meandered by the 700 hallway at South Broward High School. Passing time altered my memories into nostalgic recollections, all taking me back to what it once was and not the present moment I am in today. In a few short days, the next generation of freshman are being welcomed and emotionally overwhelmed by their new experience, high school; while in a few short couple weeks, my class of 1988 will be preparing to attend our high school reunion. A weekend of celebrations, reminiscing and rekindling friendships lost, which too will fade away too soon. Just like our high school years, the time will slip by as we return to our balancing our own lives and the reunion becomes a distant memory of yet another milestone past. It appears to me the only remaining signs of graduating classes and faculty of those years past are the bygone generation’s yearbooks. The alma mater, bulldog mascot and the waving colors of red and gold will prevail, once more, welcoming another freshman class, as they too, will leave their footprint in the sand with hopes it won’t wash away and throw them off balance with each passing wave.

IT’S A MATTER OF JUGGLING WHILE YOU BALANCE LIFE

Before camp ended, I made my annual appointment for a complete check up to meet the requirements for working in a State of Florida licensed child care facility. This consisted of an annual physical, annual bloodwork and annual TB test. Upon knowing my family history of diabetes and the results of my bloodwork, my primary physician referred me to an endocrinologist immediately. The endocrinologist further tested me and eventually diagnosed me as a person with Type 2 diabetes and began the fight to put the angry monster in control. At the time of diagnosis my A1c was just above 8.50%. If you are not a diabetic, these number readings hold no value until I share with you a non-diabetic should be less than 6.00% but ideally less than 5.70%. A hemoglobin A1c test tells you your average level of blood glucose over the past 2 to 3 months. It's also called HbA1c, glycated hemoglobin test, and glycohemoglobin. Persons with diabetes test regularly to see if their levels are staying within range and if there is a need to adjust or even change diabetes medicines and treatment plans.

As of July 2018, I mark 20 years being diagnosed as a person with T2D. Have you not heard of this newly recognized vanity, chronic disease? It is Type 2 Diabetes, once called adult on-set diabetes, but basically it means my body has stopped using insulin properly. For most of us, we fight and battle this angry monster through lifestyle changes of diet, exercise and weight loss help keep them within a safe distance from attacking the rest of our bodies. Some may need a little extra defense with medical intervention with oral medication or self-injectables which may or may not include insulin. Yes, I could lose some weight and reduce my stress load but considering I eat overall rather healthy and exercise at least three days a week for a minimum of 45 minutes, I am doing the prescribed right things in trying to keep the monster a safe distance from harming me, but he seems to always sneak back into my life.

My endocrinologist, after reviewing family medical history, a definitive linkage prevailed, all males on my father’s side who had access to routine medical care were being diagnosed with T2D. Let me clarify, in rural Hungary, access to routine medical care is not always as readily available and people don’t make preventative care as a high priority. A small team of medical professionals believe there is the strong possibility of a diabetes diagnosis such as mine, believe taking in account heredity to a greater degree than previous train of thought. Although some of the commonly known indicators and signs of diabetes were present, the monster was not fully awake and screaming loudly to announce their presence. My endocrinologist took in consideration me as the whole person and the entire diabetes spectrum of symptoms and indicators and seeing the similarities and some of the striking unique differences paralleling other family members facing the same demon. The hereditary symptoms can hide behind shadows of the typical symptoms to a lesser degree. One of mine included varying degrees of hunger and thirst. The other is being exhausted, for more times than not, despite thinking I had a good night’s sleep. I attributed both to the long hours I worked outdoors in the Florida heat and humidity running summer camp programs. In this case the medical team plays more of a role of a gumshoe trying to determine if the symptoms are truly diabetes or something else and perform various checks: glucose tolerance tests, continuous blood glucose sensors, food and activity diary, to name a few and some are repeated to compare to the previous readings.

I digressed quite a ways off the intent of this post, but felt it was important to give you a general overview of diabetes and my story.

The difficulty in battling this monster of diabetes is not necessarily the balancing of food choices, checking blood glucose levels, taking medicines properly and having regular medical checkups but dealing with people and their naivety and their inconsiderate comments and actions. For me, the best conversations and actions that can reduce or even eliminate uncomfortable situations from arising is simply asking what can they do to help me slay the monster within me. Don’t judge my choices based on my actions or decide to discipline me in front of others on my food choices. Trust me. I know what I’m able to handle or not handle as necessary. Those comments “Are you crazy, you can’t eat that!”, “My friend who had diabetes had his leg amputated.”, “You look darn healthy to me.”, “You really shouldn’t be eating that!” and the list continues to grow. Many thinking they’re helping me, when in practicality you are angering me by subliminally telling me rather than guiding me with the challenges I face.

The need to be discrete when I take my blood glucose to avoiding the inevitable stares and off comments whether it is necessary for me to “do that” in view of others is not easy. The juggling of timing to take medicines, blood sugar checks and watching what you eat. Augmented by balancing stress from work; with deadlines to meet and projects to complete, finding time to meet home life responsibilities and somewhere to find time for yourself; to exercise, to relax and have some downtime before calling it a day. Being a T2D is not always about watching your blood glucose numbers and the foods you eat but how well you succeed in seeking balance in all that you face and do not just every but every part of your day.

Social situations often put your mind, body and spirit of an occasion can be damper even the best laid out plans. I am ready to go out and enjoy my festivities and my mind tells me to make sure I eat balanced, check my blood glucose on schedule and take my medications as close to schedule time as possible then the body decides to activated all its senses. The smells of fragrant spices filling the venue, the sights of all the food and the one more taste win out then at the end of the event, the curse of indulgence leaves me feeling regretting the choice to participate. Eating outside of my normal situation often creates the dueling dynamics, “can I have a beer with my wings?”, “may just a small slice of cake?” or “if I limit the carbs now can I save them for later?” – easy questions with more difficult answers. A diabetic educator once told me you can eat whatever you want within moderation and knowing what and how much of something you can have, otherwise; you will fail by over indulging when continually denying an occasional treat.

The complications of the monster hibernating deep within the internal realms often lead to those around you thinking this is just a figment of your imagination. The restless nights, the lack of quality sleep, insomnia and the lack of energy to perform to do what was most often taken for granted in pre-diabetes days. Joined with emotions not always in sync with what blood glucose readings may read create times of unexplained melancholy, lazy lethargy and maddening irritability where all you want is to be left alone. Learning to check your body for sores not healing timely, not over scratching itchy and dry skin, understanding headaches and tingling are not always an alarm sounding off and realizing all of this became your new everyday normal. These are the times you fake it to make it, put on your best clown face and dance through the day as if everything is all ok in your world. Only those closest to you know the truth and are able to offer some consolation, if any, once you gain your stability back. Left untreated, the monster takes on systems and organs, little by little, destructing each by taking away your life one piece at a time.

The latest challenge I am dealing with is health insurance. Most, if not all insurance companies realign their pharmaceutical formularies (a list of prescription drugs, both generic and brand name, used by practitioners to identify drugs that offer the greatest overall value) to be effective January 1 annually. A committee of physicians, nurse practitioners, pharmacists and others decide on what is best economically speaking for the insurance company to meet its financial targets yet still provide drug options for the health seeker. There is a possibility the drug you were taking prior to January 1 will no longer be covered by your current policy or worse at your organization’s open enrollment you find out your insurance carrier has changed and a new formulary will likely be in effect. With the formulary change on January 1, it often brings the strong possibility of taking prescription for the first three months of the year and then on April 1 when insurance policies and/or carriers change. If it’s an insurance carrier change, I end up having to work with my primary physician (with hopes that doesn’t have to change) to go through endless bureaucratic forms, tireless phone calls to continue the medicine I am on or find a new similar classed medication. Then physicians wonder why the body has trouble adjusting to medication as it changed 3 times in a relatively short period of time.

I am the face of diabetes. Slaying the monster, one moment at a time with whatever weapon I have at hand and keep moving forward to fight the next one. I’ve shared what makes being a person with diabetes a daily challenge; and how it’s not always about the superficial symptoms, exaggerated expressions and counting carbs but all the unseen challenges that only experience can teach the lesson. There’s an apothegm, don’t be quick to judge people as you never know what kind of battle (or in my case, the monster) they’re fighting. Bingo!, this statement encapsulates the perpetual slaying of the monster every diabetic battles every moment of their life. As another awkward anniversary passes, I am frequently reminded, it’s a matter of juggling while I balance life and the relentless fight in keeping the monster at a distance, even when there is always more to my life than just my numbers.

THE ASSIGNMENT - LIFE

“Ladies and Gentlemen for tonight’s homework assignment, please read chapter 13 with particular attention to section N and O. Be prepared to discuss the questions at the end of the chapter. You are to turn in a minimum 500 word exposition of the chapter with your interpretation of the facts as it relates to your life’s lessons learned.”

How many times have you been told a line similar to the one above and all you kept thinking is you have five other classes, with professors who thought their class is the only one you are taking? Or worse, thinking they are the only professor giving you assignments and are you’re only thinking of their class throughout the day?

Or…

The infamous, most eluded, essay question, which you already procrastinated far too long, that you must answer for the admission application of your most coveted first choice university.

You read, re-read and hoped it would read different. But no matter, what, the words still asked the same question and you were left with the gut wrenching thought, where do I begin, answer all that in 500 words or less and still convey the answer with robustness to stand out from the other thousands who completed their admission application for the same university.

Unfortunately, as we were taught at a very young age, life is not fair, nor is it a cakewalk to get through life. Remember, the television show, “Highway to Heaven”? starring Michael Landon as (Jonathan Smith), an angel on probation whose job was to help people in order to earn his wings and Victor French (Mark Gordon), a retired policeman, now bouncing from job to job. Once Gordon realizes and accepts Smith is an angel, Smith offers a job to Gordon, to work on assignments by “The Boss” (God). Both use their humanity to help various troubled souls overcome their problems, allowing Smith to earn his angelic wings back one story at time. The storylines are corny at best, always conclude with a sappy feel-good finale that often puts reality into suspense, at least for the duration of the show.

I don’t intend to put my readers into suspense for the duration of their read or even to bore them with my life, but I find ways to connect their life’s journey as I tell stories of my own journey, through various allegories, parables and morals. What became a question from a former supervisor, why don’t I write my YMCA career into snippets as my writing would invite readers into my journey, hence the writings took to blogging, YMEJOURNEY. Originally, it started out to be my journey in my YMCA career but has ventured beyond the realm of my life. Not that my YMCA career doesn’t have enough stories in itself, but I often say to myself, if I didn’t live this life, I couldn’t possibly imagine it being real.

As the mortal beings we are on Earth, the beliefs of God vary amongst the human species and our various degrees of beliefs or their lack of. Now, complicate it with the dynamic opinions of the existence of heaven and hell, you have all the ingredients of a never ending tale of biblical proportion. I’m not here to debate, persuade or validate your beliefs but to share that each and every living human has assignments to complete in their journey. Every step along this journey in life has been an assignment and with each decision or consequence or is the final exam before taking on the next assignment. Only in life, there are no quizzes, practice exams or retakes for a failure as often provided for in the television and motion picture industry. Many of these assignments have cyclical themes to keep you on task. It is these lessons from the assignments which help us prepare for the final examination.

There really is no resemblance to a traditional classroom in this class; as it is filled with no homework assignments, no mandatory attendance or participation requirements and doesn’t end when the period bell sounds to let you know it’s time to switch class. However; one too many pop quizzes along the journey, with just a pass or fail grade given. Even with a fail, you must move on despite not grasping the foundational knowledge before the next pop quiz. At this point you can only hope you gained adequate foundational knowledge and be ready to wrestle the next one, when it may popup once again.

Life is filled with plenty of assignments and these damn pop quizzes… some of the ones thrown at me, I am still unsure whether I passed or failed, I do realize the only thing constant is time does keep us moving forward, regardless of the grade earned on any particular assignment. The boss makes no promises what your assignments will be, but guaranteed it will be the one made just for you.

Learning etiquette of a faith other than my own; what is a Bar Mitzvah? how do you show your sympathy at a funeral and offer condolences at Shiva? How to prepare for being a groomsmen and know how to recite a proper Hebrew toast? Though I forgot how to say the Hebrew toast and how to wear a yamaka or kippot properly without stabbing my forehead with bobby pins, I became to better understand the Jewish faith to a greater degree than much of my Jewish friends. How do you participate in activities when you are the only one not speaking the native tongue? Do you properly decline the invite because you will feel uncomfortable outside the securities of your own realm? Am I open-minded to trying new foods and beverages or worse for attempting to sing, and now sing in a foreign language? Etiquette is merely just being polite, putting on your best manners forward when you would rather flee and retreat to your happy place as quick as your feet can carry you.

Understanding the importance of education and putting my priorities first; being the first in my family to attend college and onward for a graduate degree. For me personally, the entire formality of walking the stage to receive my degree in an outfit not conducive for south Florida’s heat and humidity, unsuccessfully captured my interest. My parents were just as proud of my accomplishments without walking to get my degree as I found more joy in yearning to be with my campers. First for my bachelor’s degree ceremony, at the time of commencement I was at the Miami Seaquarium getting splashed on by whale juice and for my master’s degree, I was on a tour at Metro Zoo listening to a curator discuss the eating and bathroom habits of the African elephant. Perhaps the amount of waste an African elephant produces in one day is not near the amount of biased bullshit I heard in lectures and is the main reason I wanted to avoid the graduation ceremony. Again, I have no regrets on not attending, just placing a higher priority on my own life and not necessarily what society calls its traditions or expected standards. Keep your eye on your priorities, live your life on your terms and focus on what brings serenity to your soul, not what others may want from you to fulfill their own selfish priorities, dreams and serenity.

Being respectful we all can hear the same stories and still be filled with vast differences of opinion and perspectives in various highly volatile conversations involving religion, politics and other topics raising the dander of those involved. In the end, being man enough to agree to disagree with my closest friends and remaining friends afterwards, speaks volumes of the maturity and respect tying the knot of friendship for life. Do I express my belief in Christianity is it one of I have more of a simply spiritual belief than fanatical faithful or even evangelical? How about adding my education doesn’t necessarily throw out my beliefs as much as it opens more questions of the depth of religion? Can I perhaps be zealous in my views and disagree without belittling to personal attacks? Politically, I find myself more center-right than being overly conservative or liberal. I tend to vote on issues not people, creating a mistaken maelstrom of what I believe in. Am I ok to say I am pro-choice when I really believe in pro-life? Yes, because what’s right for me is not necessarily right for you. I do believe in less federal control and more power to states, but is it possible to say the federal government should set guidelines and boundaries when spending my hard earned tax dollars? Our own individual identity is composed of experiences and education, it may not be right or wrong but it is who I am. The strength of our nation has come through the many assimilated cultures we have in our great country as the saying goes, united we stand tall – divided we will fall.

Accepting defeat doesn’t make you less of a man. I never felt the loss of someone as painful as losing my Dad in 2016. My Dad was the first person family or otherwise I experienced emotional grief with. Certainly, there were family and friends who’ve passed away before, but their loss didn’t hit me anywhere near as hard. I thought honoring his choices was making the transition easier, armed with Dad’s living will and advanced medical directive, I wasn’t prepared for what I was about to get into. The elevated urgency to answer questions bombarding you by doctors and nurses helping to treat him only casted a doubt on if I was doing things to honor his wishes. The frequency of multiple tests to see what is happening on the inside, being told Dad is really ill. I really had no clue what the doctors and nurses were saying because all the distractions in my mind and the everyday noises of an emergency room and critical care unit just created more questions in my mind than answers. Being asked, do I agree to Dad’s advanced medical directive to allow for no resuscitation or interference to prolong life or do I wish to override it? I asked myself, is it OK to hold his hand through this ordeal? is it OK to talk to him and express our love and tell him its OK to let go? Do I allow the nurse to provide drugs to bring comfort and sedation to Dad, knowing very well that its time to say “good-bye” sooner than later. How long do I stay with his body after his spirit has departed? Is it OK to thank the medical team for providing comfort to him in his last moments and providing you an extra shoulder to cry on? It’s only with hindsight we discerned whether or not we did the right thing. The ultimate question and answer remained “it’s OK” to have answers, to not have answers and to not justify whether you did the right or wrong thing, but to be there.

Swallowing your pride, where sometimes it’s easier to give in and wave the white flag of surrender than the proudly wave the home flag of victory. Do I admit to have greater knowledge in a particular are than my own supervisor? When do I pretend I really don’t know when I really do? Or contrarily, when do I fake it until I can make it? Sometimes it’s easier to just allow myself to step back a couple steps, sometimes a couple leaps and more often than not, to even rewind to a previous period in life to give myself the opportunity to be humbled. Time has a way of deceiving memories and allows you to grow from such experiences. Some of us are destined to be leaders beating to our own drum beat rather than play one drum of several in a rather large orchestra ensemble which continues to play on long after our drum beat stopped. I’d rather be my own drum, beating to the words of my own song, letting its deep-toned beat, much like my own voice, convey its message on my terms.

The above five assignments (leaning etiquette, understanding priorities, being respectful, accepting defeat and swallowing pride) I’ve been challenged with. Though I don’t recall having an opportunity to study for any of these pop quizzes thrown at me, each assignment helped broaden my experiences and to become the adult I am today. I only shared one brief lesson, of many, in each assignment. These five assignments seem to bring frequent random recurring pop quizzes, each possessing a greater challenge than the previous one before. The anticipation of the pop quiz at me at the very moment I am least prepared, knowing very well time will continue to move forward and the only constant in life is change. It is when I close my eyes for the very last time, I will know, I successfully completed all the assignments assigned, passed the pop quizzes, realized I have passed my final examination and ultimately I’ve made the boss proud of my assignment he calls life, or as I have called it, my journey.