One of my favorite pictures of my cat, Puck.
We’re a third of the way through October, but it’s only now that I’ve been able to gather my thoughts on the dire events of September.
On September 4, my uncle’s companion of more than 40 years passed away. Uncle Dick and Linda worked together at the Calvert Coat factory for many years before they began dating. I found out on Labor Day, September 7. Her funeral was on September 20. I was not able to afford to fly back to New York for the services.
For those who have been following me or have known me for a long time know that the Day After Labor Day is a day of horrific memories for me. I worked hard in EMDR earlier this year on this particular incident. Normally, I have flashbacks that day. In the past few years, I’ve been able to “kick the can” down the road to sometime on Wednesday, but both days are a struggle to get through. This year, I didn’t struggle at all and the flashback hit the following Tuesday, albeit a much diminished one. It’s a step toward success and is progressing as it should. There’s still more work to do, but the work I have done has resulted in a positive step.
The weekend of September 12, saw me heading up to the Black Hills with my friend, Kayla. I met Kayla when she was a park ranger working for the National Park Service. She was in charge of organizing events in 2019 for the 100th anniversary of the Scotts Bluff National Monument. Interestingly, Kayla grew up in Pennsylvania about 2.5 hours from my hometown in New York. When I was traveling to New York after my mom’s accident, Kayla made the drive over to take me to dinner and provide a few hours of much needed respite from the madness.
Upon returning home, Paul told me that our 17-year-old cat, Puck, was having trouble breathing and that he hadn’t eaten at all on Sunday, September 13. We called the vet first thing Monday morning and had an appointment for 3:30 p.m. I’m working on a full story about Puck, but the short version is he had a tumor crushing his lungs and his heart. We made the heartbreaking decision to let him go. He passed at 3:45 p.m.
Stephanie Wilhelm was my boss at the Youth Shelter. She was one of the kindest people I knew. She was a gentle teacher and always had a shoulder to lean on. Steph was a Type 1 diabetic. Even though I’m a 1.5, we had many conversations about the disease. She had been placed on the kidney donor list, but one did not become available in time. Steph passed away on September 8. Her funeral was on September 17. Another weird connection was she was born five days after my sister in 1968. Her birthday was also the same day my grandmother passed away.
Margaret Eckerberg passed away on September 21. She was also only 58. Fuck cancer. I interviewed Margaret for a story when I worked for Nspire Today Magazine. I know her husband, Phil, better. He’s a Scottsbluff police officer. I interacted with him a lot when I was with the Star-Herald. Paul worked with Margaret at Gering High School and taught most of their children.
I’d appreciate it if you all could stop fucking dying for a while. It’s been a lot to take and I need a little breather before you let death come to your door again. Thanks.
My podcast cohost has decided to take a sabbatical. He said he’d be back sometime in January. Maybe. I’m just planning on continuing without him. I had Douglas Designs in Gering create a new logo. I had planned on getting the video thing sorted in September, but, really, it was hard to focus on anything the entire month. I also need to sort an issue with its SSL certificate, but, whatever. I’ll get it sorted eventually. There is only so much time in a day.
After having this site spammed to hell over August and part of September, I am now using a service to block all that garbage. It’s working well at the moment and a few days ago I put the subscribe box back up on the website. So far, so good.
I got some negative news on my health during September as well. I had four different areas which were trending low and dangerously low. Fatigue is a side effect of all of them. Every day, sometime between 1 p.m., and 3 p.m., I fall asleep. I also have low cortisol levels. As my doctor said, “You’re deep into stage two of three.” There is no four. You’re dead then. The cortisol levels are likely a result of my trauma and PTSD and living my entire life in “flight or fight” mode. It has finally caught up to me. I’m on some new meds, so fingers crossed it all works. My last appointment was on September 30, so I need to be patient. I’m not so good at that.
On a more positive note, the insurance company finally paid our claim. It hailed in June and our roof was totaled. They didn’t want to pay. Paul fought with them. We got our cash. As I’m typing this post on October 11, they are putting the shingles on. They were here yesterday tearing the old bits off and putting some stuff on. The noise made me ill. Sound and smells are my biggest triggers. I’ll leave it at that other than to say I didn’t eat much yesterday and only got about two hours sleep. I hope Lipton never stop making their Cup-a-Soup. It’s gotten me through some tough times. I’ll be glad when they’re done. However, positively, I am able to write this morning.
If you’re not watching Formula 1, you should. Kimi Antonelli could soon become the youngest F1 driver to win the championship. The next race is in Austin on October 25. I’m not sure he’ll win it then, but mathematically he can. I don’t care what the naysayers and nitpickers say. I still enjoy the sport and it’s pretty much the only thing I watch on television.
That’s it for now. Things are starting to pick up and turn toward the positive. I’m trying to keep it all that way as best as I can. I’ve got several fun short stories I want to get finished in the next week or so and then here and on my substack. I try to keep new stuff here and there, but sometimes fail. I am also finished with some more reading for the book for the National Park Service so I can get back to writing it, too.
I hope everyone’s September was a better one than mine. I’m looking forward to the cooler weather, some more hiking, and watching the trees along the North Platte River change colors.