“Come Monday…” is a
weekly series that will involve a review of, or commentary about, websites, movies, documentaries, television
shows, sports, music, and whatever else may tickle my fancy at the time. Be assured that these reviews will be
generally positive, as in accordance to the Jimmy Buffett song “Come
Monday.” This is subject to change,
however. In fact, I would be most derelict
in my duties to neglect going on a rant every once in a while. For rants promote change, and change can be
good—right? Therefore, since good is
generally considered as being a positive force in 99.3% of the parallel
universes that I am aware of, even a rant could be considered as being
something positive, and a genuine hissy-fit would be even better (so I’m told).
Last
week started off with my wife, Arlynda, receiving notice on Monday that her
employment with [UHC] had been terminated, and it ended on Friday with her
being diagnosed with [cirrhosis] of the liver.
Yeah, I know that there are a couple more days in there somewhere, but I
am invoking the right of artistic license to depict an appearance of symmetry.
Be
assured that it was not the same with her cirrhosis diagnosis as it was with
her losing her job (and supplemented health insurance coverage). For we had been expecting her to lose her job
on account of failing health for several months, but that cirrhosis diagnosis snuck
right up on us.
As
just indicated, we knew that there was something going on. Although, her failing health was attributed
to a cornucopia of other delights, such as various diabetic complications,
sleep apnea and you can just about name it.
Nonetheless,
Arlynda got real serious about what we originally thought was her retaining
fluid a couple of months ago, which was diagnosed as the result of [ascites]. I haven’t kept accurate records, but I think
they have drained close to 200 pounds of fluid (seriously) out of her abdomen so far, which
is usually a very pleasant procedure to undergo (being sarcastic here). It took a new doctor to the area to figure
out that the ascites was a result of the cirrhosis, and she is supposed to go
see a liver specialist/transplant surgeon in St. Louis next month.
Oh,
the title to this edition is in reference to the fact that I have apparently lost
my last marble. For instead of being curled
up in a fetal position under the bed, here I am trying real hard to make light
of a very grave situation. In fact,
there is not a hint of worry in my naturally completely paranoid mind!
No,
I have not fallen prey to the devil’s game of getting a Christian to think that
the Lord is always there to save the day for those who will but have enough
faith in Him. For I have no doubt that
Ezekiel was as fine of a servant as He ever called, and you can read about what
He did to him [here].
Just
to be clear, I know that our Heavenly Father really is there for me. For a few months ago, He specifically told me
in an audible voice (as opposed to just communicating through a thought in my
mind) that He would take care of me, but the absolute truth of the matter truly
is that I may have to wait awhile longer for my rescue from this miserable life
that I have been given to live.
On
the other hand, I am also told that taking care of someone can have more than
one meaning, but I am fairly sure where that is coming from. No, the devil and his demons do not always
have sweet nothings to whisper in our ears.
Getting
back to my missing marble, I’m not sure if I want it found. For I am rather enjoying being a
light-hearted lunatic for a change.
Don’t
worry, I should be back to my absolutely miserable old self soon enough. For I wouldn’t be living such a miserable
life as a light-hearted lunatic—now, would I?
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