Two Months Overdue!!

Wow, oh wow!! It's been two months since I've written anything!!!

Well, it's just been...strange, lately. September just sort of got away from me, and October was Health Issues Month, with two stays in the hospital because of heart flutter (I think that's a less severe version of atrial fibrillation, but I'm not sure). AND dealing with a strained arm and a knee that hurt so badly I couldn't walk on it at all. Non-steroidal anti-inflammatories (NSAIDs) to the rescue -- but those drugs are kind of bad for me.

So now I'm on blood thinners until the cardiologist can do an ablation procedure on me -- zapping tissue in the heart to cut off some misfiring nerve impulses that are causing the flutter.

I've also been finding that some of the meds I take -- like for high blood pressure --  must be the cause of the fatigue I feel constantly. (I suspect the after-effects of taking OTC sleeping pills was doing that, too -- I'm giving those up!)

But I need to get going somehow because there's an art show next May I'd like to enter. It's near Pasadena, CA, where blurry-looking paintings are more popular than the detailed works I do. I'm trying to come up with a good compromise -- maybe a scene with fog or something. Haven't decided yet.

So -- I hope I can put out some good paintings that will work in the Pasadena environment and that will still be true to the style I love.

Stay tuned. I'm sure gonna try to write more often!

SouthwestSpaces.com
MarkJunge.com

 

"All Is Vanity"

^"Vanity of vanities, saith the Preacher, vanity of vanities; all is vanity. What profit hath a man of all his labour which he taketh under the sun?"

This comment appears in the Bible (King James Version in this case), Ecclesiastes 1. The writer spoke of the utter hopelessness of his life -- all based on things and actions of which God would not approve.

I don't think I have much of a problem in that area, but the verses (and the ones that follow -- look 'em up in your Bible if you're so inclined) seem to be ringing especially true for me lately.

I'm getting old...OK, I AM old, and have been for a while. When loved ones around you die and the things/careers/educational goals we work so hard at just don't do what they're supposed to do, then we look at what we've really accomplished, it's possible to get to a point where everything feels worthless. Like -- what's the point? We get old, do stuff in the meantime, then die, and the world goes on without us.

What's it all for? What's the point?

Some people want to leave a legacy behind to be remembered by -- the closest to immortality we'll ever achieve here in this lifetime. But maybe we're fooling ourselves. I've often thought if I were incredibly rich and I could fund a new addition to a hospital, I would resist calling it The Mark Junge Center for Really Important Medical Stuff. No one would know how to pronounce my last name, and anyway, who cares whose name appears on the building. The Really Important Medical Stuff is all people want and need

In my head, I know whats really important and what isn't. But there's something depressing about reaching a stage where "all is vanity" is what it was all about.

Supposedly, painting was going to be my legacy of sorts...or, at least, a way to earn a living. In fact, the gift of knowing how to make money by any method seems to be a skill I never picked up along the way. I certainly worked hard at a number of skills -- science and art were the two at the top.

But it never really worked out financially, and now I'm just tired. The motivation to work at something seems to be gone. I could have a number of reasons for feeling that way, but I can't discount the sheer frustration of working hard for a long LONG period of time and being no better off now than I was many years ago.

So, that's it. At least now that I've been collecting Social Security, I can paint what I want to paint without even wondering if it would sell or not.

At least THAT thought is freeing!  ☺


         *************************************

Oh, and don't forget -- you can still find me at:
    http://www.SouthwestSpaces.com
    http://www.MarkJunge.com

 

When Food Is the Enemy

Alright, I'll admit it: food has always been my drug-of-choice when I think I need a pick-me-pick. And if you're trying to lose weight, a little excess (aka "cheating"), on occasion, isn't such a bad thing.

But if you're a diabetic, it can be dangerous. Or deadly.

I'm one of the many Type 2 diabetics in this country. We don't have to shoot up insulin -- that's a "privilege" normally reserved for the Type I folks. We make insulin, but for various reasons, we're "insulin-resistant" -- meaning, the insulin doesn't work as well as it should. Being overweight is one of those reasons -- as I understand it, the fat around our cells literally gets in the way of the insulin, which is needed to get the sugars into our cells. (That's why we're supposed to get our weight down and keep it down).

Well, last night I cheated. The Wiffee came home from her sister's around dinnertime and wasn't hungry yet. So I snacked on a little leftover macaroni salad. And a bite-sized Snickers bar. Then The Wiffee got hungry and Carls Jr hamburgers sounded good.

Now -- one each of any of the fastfood burgers has my maximum number of carbohydrates for one of the three major meals: around 45 grams of carbs. But my snack had carbs too, and I ate it thinking The Wiffee might not get hungry for anouther two hours, when it would have been OK to eat again.

But nope! I went right over to get the burgers -- three of them -- and we split one of them. That probably put me up to around 66g of carbs, plus the macaroni salad and the candy bar. Then we had dessert -- a bowl of ice cream. I'm already had too many carbs, and now I added even more. Bad mistake for a dude like me.

First came the headache. Even before I was diagnosed with diabetes, I would often get bad headaches if I ate too many Christmas goodies. Untreatable headaches. Very painful headaches. And I sure got one last night. And it went downhill from there.

Briefly: nausea. Profuse sweating and feeling like I was burning up. And on the verge of passing out.

I should have tested my blood sugar while all of this was going on. But I wasn't up to it. But I did check it when I was feeling a bit better, and you know what? It wasn't that high. It was only a few points higher than what it normally is before having breakfast after I wake up in the morning.

I suspect my blood sugar was too high, and then dropped quickly. I crashed.

In the end, I'm still alive and functional this morning, although I still feel a little drained. And icky from all that sweating last night.

Food feels like a friend, and most of the time it is. But sometimes food is the enemy. It's an unregulated drug. I believe in "all things things in moderation," but I'm not moderate enough about food. It tastes too good, especially when chocolate is involved!

Even Confucius advised against making food too tasty, less we're tempted to eat too much of it.

Ahem, bro!

It's Been Strange

Still chuggin' along as I continue to heal from surgery and deal with the loss of Gracie the guinea piggy a week ago today.

It's been strange ever since I was in the hospital. While there, I had some very vivid, colorful dreams. My dreams never really make sense, and that was the case then, too. But for some reason, one of those dreams bothered me, although the dream itself didn't have any nightmarish imagery or anything I could define as bad. In the dream, I missed out on an opportunity. I've had dreams like that before, but this one...well, I don't know why it continues to haunt and bother me, but it does.

In addition, I've had operations before, but this is the first one where a piece of me -- not just a growth -- was removed. And it was a piece of me where a small part was cancer.

This last point is especially significant. It was the first time a part of me had turned into the bad guy, to the extent where if I hadn't caught it, it could have killed me. Maybe that's all part of the mental issues I've been having: the death of our pet plus the fact I narrowly skirted death myself are sobering thoughts. I know I'm not gonna live forever. Of course I know we're all going to die, but OMG! This time it isn't just an academic reflection of our futures. I'm really going to die some day!

My Christian faith is supposed to comfort me during times like this. But it doesn't. Something's changed in me, and I don't know if it'll go away in time or not. I still feel tired a lot, and I know major surgery does that to patients. Maybe when I'm up and around more and I can become involved with life again, I'll feel better about things. Or maybe not.

I guess you'd have to be a surgery patient yourself to appreciate this; otherwise, the previous paragraph could be explained away by the lingering effects of the morphine and, later, the Pergocet I was given for pain.

Think I'd buy that explanation? What do you think?

It's been strange ever since I've been in the hospital.

Some Thanksgiving THAT Was!

Uhh-h-h-h-h-h...

This year's Thanksgiving left a little to be desired. Dinner for me was broth and clear liquids, followed by drinking a liter of very salty water with no flavoring added.

Y'see, my wife was laid off from her job in early November. That means our medical insurance would expire by month's end. So I knew I had to get catch up on the various tests I needed.

One of these was the fecal occult blood test, a screening for colon cancer. Unfortunately, I tested positive, which meant I had to submit to a colonoscopy to determine the cause of the bleeding.

Turns out I had some cancer cells, and I was quickly scheduled for surgery. On the day after Thanksgiving.

So now I'm recovering from surgery and doing quite well considering they removed most of my ascending colon. The cancer (adenocarcinoma, a rather aggressive form of cancer) was Stage 1 -- it didn't appear to have spread outside of a 20mm (3/4")-wide tumor. I should be OK -- for now.

The whole event was surreal -- actually getting cancer, having a piece of me removed (not just a growth, as in surgeries past) and knowing I have to be better in time to resume teaching my microbiology class in mid-January.

Also, I never felt as close to death as I did during this time. I had thoughts that I might not survive the surgery itself, and I made sure The Wiffee was up-to-date on all of the passwords I use when I pay bills online. And, of course, I didn't know what they would find after they ripped my colon out of my body.

Well, obviously I survived, I feel very little pain, and I'm mostly just tired and find I don't focus on things well right now -- like I kinda don't give a rip about anything. I'm sure that will go away in time, and I have to remember to take it easy on myself as I continue to heal from this trauma to my body.

Meanwhile, I'm still looking forward to Christmas, although I won't be physically active in going around visiting, shopping or attending events. But I'm glad to be alive, glad I didn't procrastinate any more than I did (or I could have had a very different ending to this story) and glad that God apparently wants me alive for a bit longer, to do whatever it is He wants me to do.

Maybe there's a painting I'm meant to do -- and I have to be here long enough to do it!

Beginning a Life's Change

If you were to check back to my post on 6 October 2010, you'd read about my sleep apnea diagnosis. Well, earlier this week I received a CPAP machine -- and the beginning of my life's change.

It takes some getting used to. The mask I wear looks like the ones fighter pilots wear. The sensation of having air blown into me is ... different: I can't exactly describe it. If I open my mouth when the mask and machine are on, my cheeks actually inflate and puff out like a balloon! The worst part, other than the discomfort of the mask itself (which I've heard I'll get used to), is when the seal isn't fitting tightly against my face. Then air leaks through the tiny gap and makes a sound that's similar to ... um ... "cutting the cheese." It's funny in a way, but it also wakes me up -- and keeps me awake until I mess with the thing until the sound stops.

I haven't had a full eight hours of sleep a night this week, but I've noticed I already have more energy, even if I'm a little sleepy. I'm been doing things again, including working on a painting after a significant break. (I hope to finish it tomorrow). And I have more in mind that I want to do.

The change has begun. For a long time, I thought I was too burned out to make art anymore. Turns out I'm not that burned out after all -- just sleep deprived. The machine is helping even though I'm still adjusting to using it.

What a difference.

I just may survive yet!

Sleep and Nature at Its Best

Ah...some good news since my last post: apparently I'll be getting a CPAP machine (100% covered by insurance) to treat my sleep apnea problem. HURRAY!!! I know it'll be an adjustment at first, getting used to having a mask on my face. But I've heard from other artists I know that once the patient gets used to it, they won't go back to sleeping without it. It'll be interesting.

Meanwhile, The Wiffee and I took a trip around SoCal this week, although it rained a good part of the week. It figures. But at least I was able to take a few worthwhile pictures to use in painting some artwork. Some of these were plants like tree ferns and cycads, which will appear in any additional dinosaur paintings that I make. And then there are views like this desert mountain west of Palm Springs, CA. No comments needed:

Asleep at the Easel - Literally

Ya know -- it's been a busy and tough year. January through May I was working hard trying to stay ahead of my students to teach microbiology at the local community college. After the semester ended, I felt wiped out. All I really wanted to do was rest -- and definitely not paint. I'd sit in front of a new canvas or panel, or in front of a piece I had already started, and mostly just -- sit. Painting had become an unbelievably difficult activity, and I assumed it was from working so hard at art over the years and from feeling a tad discouraged about the slow sales. Those still could be factors, but another factor came into play:

I was diagnosed with sleep apnea.

Apnea is a condition (if you don't already know) in which parts of the throat and roof of the mouth collapse during sleep, partially or completely blocking the air passage. This results in a slight arousal with each blocking episode, and apnea patients don't get the really deep sleep we need to function.

I always suspected I had this condition but never knew for sure. But so much makes sense now -- the lack of energy and motivation, the sleepy feeling I have all day (no matter how many hours I slept the night before), and falling asleep in front of the computer and even finding myself asleep at the easel when I do paint!

I'll be meeting with my doctor tomorrow to find out what's next (and, on another note, to find out why my sinusitis issues have become so painfully headachey this week). Unfortuantely, I had trouble sleeping at the sleep center (kind of ironic, huh?) -- the idea was to sleep for three hours -- the time it takes to get measurements -- and another three hours of sleeping while being hooked up to a CPAP (let's see -- that's Continuous Positive Airway Pressure) machine, which inflates the throat area and keeps it open. Unfortunately, I only slept for three hours that night. The tech got the readings (and told me it looks like apnea), but we weren't able to do the CPAP machine during which the tech would have determined the optimal settings for the gizmo and increase the likihood that my insurance would pay for the danged thing.

I know apnea patients who swear starting on a CPAP machine was a life-changing experience: more energy, better sleep at night, and less at risk for health problems caused by longterm sleep deprivation. The idea of having a mask strapped on my head seems like something that would keep me awake -- but I've heard sleep comes more easily, and it's better sleep.

I should get some guidance tomorrow. Wish me luck. And more energy to paint again.