Update

I had occasion to see my family doctor today. She has not seen a report from the neurologist yet, but she was taken aback when we told her his assessment. Her jaw almost hit the floor. She waved it off simply and said that we would just ignore him and look for answers on our own. While she tried to minimize her reaction, I could see that she was rather surprised and disappointed in her colleague.

When Sandra was telling her about our visit to Kemptville, she took her blood pressure. The machine malfunctioned half of the time, but her pressure was obviously elevated.

On our way home, we stopped in and visited my parents. My mother had been out, but came back while we were still there. I told her about this doctor and his conclusion. I thought she was going to go out and look for the guy! I have seldom seen her so angry at a professional. She was upset enough with my previous general practitioner when she thought that it was her who fumbled the ball on catching my problem.

Anyway, I have been assured by everyone that my condition is definitely not in my head.

All in my mind?

It's been ages since I last posted anything to this blog. I don't know if anyone even checks it anymore. At the moment, I have to get something off of my mind, or I'm going to go insane. I think that's the ultimate purpose of blogging. A kind of release valve.

Anyhow, I have been dealing with a problem since November of 2001. My legs suddenly started getting weaker and weaker.

I went to my family doctor, who sent me to a variety of specialists. None were ever able to come up with a diagnosis. EMGs, blood work, poking and prodding and a biopsy, all for nothing. In the end, my doctor came to the conclusion that I must have what was an unspecified variety of Muscular Dystrophy. She had insisted from the day that I went to her that I needed to get on a disability pension until I could think of something else to do for a living. I certainly couldn't deliver pizzas anymore.

For the first two year, without any real diagnosis, I kept asking myself if maybe it was all in my head. Was I maybe just out of shape and being a wimp about it? Two years, I felt guilty about not holding down a job. Two years, I felt that I wasn't worth anything.

Finally, I started listening to my doctor, and accepting that there was something wrong with me, that we just couldn't put a name to it.

I had to switch family doctors a while back. In that time, I experienced an extreme tired spell. I was having to use a walker, rather than just a cane. She was alarmed when she examined me, and arranged for yet another EMG, some more blood work and an appointment with a neurologist.

I saw that neurologist today. He asked me to describe my problem as best I was able. Then he asked me if I was working. I replied in the negative, and that I was on a disability pension. The doctor then proceeded to examine me, in the conventional manner.

What he said has me back to square one. He asked if I had seen a psychiatric specialist. All of the tests he and his colleagues had done were negative, and his observations were, well contradictory. Essentially, he told me it must all be in my head.

Six years of accepting that something is actually wrong with me is now in question. Am I just a wimp, not working hard enough? Am I subconsciously just making a mountain out of a mole hill?

I have spoken with my wife, and my niece. They think that the doctor is either stupid or just plain insane, that it isn't in my nature to fake something like this, even to myself. My wife even pointed out to me that I had taken a job I had no business doing, because I needed to be doing something. Are they right, or just seeing something in me that isn't really there?

At this point, I'm ready to give up. So what if I don't know what is wrong with me? I will find something I can do to be useful. Time enough to worry about what is making my legs weak when they no longer work at all.

It's just that, now the seed is sown. There is a doubt at the back of my mind, and it's nibbling at the front.

Dangers of choosing one's own name.

On a lot of Internet sites, you choose the name that you will go by. As a rule, you use a favored nickname, or something random.

On a particular site, I chose to use the name Thomas Linquist. It was the name of a fictitious captain I had planned to use in a story. It's simple, believable and unoffensive. Or so I thought. I just googled my pen name, just for the fun of it, in images mode.

It turns out that I have chosen as my nom de plume the name of a convicted sex offender!

This is rather disturbing, as the site that I use this name in is a forum that is frequented by young girls, this man's preferred target. What happens if one of the parents of these young ladies does the same research that I just did? Any responsible parent would. If they don't check a little deeper, they might assume that this creep is me!

Maybe I should have gone a little more random.

Priorities and Boundaries

Recently, I have had to spell out on paper what hours tenants in the building I live in as Superintendent can contact me. It was getting to the point that I never knew who would be at my door, and what for. Most of the time, it is for something that is not even in my job description to handle.

Sometimes, we all have to sit down and think about what is most important to us, and set boundaries as to how much one item on the list can impinge on another. Our lives have become so full, with work, scheduled activities and other commitments, that we forget to take stock of just what really means anything to us.

We've started at a much younger age too. There are children as young as six who live their lives by a calendar posted on the kitchen wall. Hockey, soccer, piano... the list is endless. By the time these kids reach their mid teens, they are already burnt out. Is it really any wonder that so many turn to lives of drugs and/or addiction to video games? When do we start to rethink just how involved we really need to be?

Only a generation ago, families had a lot more time together. Even if both parents had to be working to make ends meet, it seems like there was more time spent talking, rather than each person in his/her room on a computer or in front of a television screen. Most homes only had one or two of either to begin with.

Maybe it's time we all stepped back, one or two days out of the week. Leave the work on the desk for a few hours. Don't plan, just do. It doesn't even have to be anything big and exciting. Maybe just a favorite meal, sitting around the table and finding out what everyone has been up to over the week.

That used to be what Sunday suppers were for. The family sat together and summed up their lives for the week, and looked ahead to what needed to be done in the week ahead, and what could be put off.

I have not even reached middle age, and sometimes I long for something as simple as sitting at a table with the people that mean something to me and just finding out where they have been and where they are going. Norman Rockwell, eat your heart out.

V Day Invasion

Ladies, gentlemen and others, (You know who you are!) the day is nigh! The day when those of us who don't think to prepare make that mad dash and scramble for the perfect piece of paper. No, I'm not referring to taxes. (Though you might want to make a note of those too.) I'm talking about Valentines Day, and the card that expresses just how you feel about your significant other.

Last year, I was well prepared, and purchased a lovely card before the groundhog even poked his nose out of his burrow. This time, I've left it down to the wire. Now I have to go into the stores, find out what remains of the stock, and try to find something that can even come close to matching how much I love my wife.

A television character once said, "You can't spell inspiration without procrastination. Well, at least the 'ation' part." If necessity is the mother of invention, I think that procrastination is the mother of desperation. Let's face it, when you keep saying "tomorrow", one of these days it's going to turn out to be yesterday.

On the other hand, my wife and I have opted not to do gifts this year, in favor of a short vacation at the end of the month. This doesn't get me off the hook for the card, but at least I'm not wandering around the mall, like so many of us males, looking for something that says "romantic". Just wait until tomorrow morning. The sheep will inundate the stores with varying degrees of panic on their faces. It's the invasion of the last minute shoppers. Happens every holiday, like clockwork.

If you will excuse me, I have to get out and find a card.

All I can say is, WOW!

As some of you may know, I have an account at www.fanfiction.net. I write short stories there under the pen name of Thomas Linquist.

I was introduced to the site by my niece. She had left it up on my computer, just over a year ago. Being the curious person that I am, I just had to check it out. Glancing through the stories led me to create an account last year. From there, I have made friends, told jokes that were better left untold, and been bitten by what we fan fiction writers call plot bunnies.

At about the same time that I began with the site, I was also fascinated by a Disney cartoon. Naturally, there was a section of fan fiction devoted to the stories of Kim Possible and her best friend Ron Stoppable. Before you mention it, yes, I am rather old to be so interested by a television show marketed to the "tweens" generation. Naturally, that doesn't stop me.

For the past year, I have been part of what we call the "Kimmunity". That is a group of writers on the site that have dedicated themselves to this particular niche. I have written stories for and, in one case, about these new friends.

Each year, one of the established writers hosts an online contest, where authors vote for one another in a number of categories. This little tribute is affectionately referred to as the "Fannies".

I am honored this year to have been nominated six times in four categories. For a first time writer, this is just mind boggling. I had hoped for a single nomination. While I do not expect to make the second round, it is thrilling to know that so many people have taken an interest in anything I've done.

This post probably falls under the category of tooting my own horn, but I'm just so excited, I thought I would share.

When fear is left behind.

It's an odd thing, but for some time now, I have just not been easily intimidated.

What brings this up is a matter that I can't go into for legal and ethical reasons, but suffice it to say, somebody tried to get all up in my face, and it didn't work. I just stood there, staring at the guy in disbelief at how foolish he looked.

At an earlier time in my life, any kind of confrontation would send me cowering into my self, turning and looking for cover. I even avoided the arguments of others, because the feeling of anger bothered me. Some people liked to bully me, just to see my reaction. Somewhere along the line, I lost that.

Which isn't to say that I've gotten brave. Heck, confrontation is still a last resort for me. Diplomacy and logical negotiation are still my preferred means of resolution. All I'm saying is that another person ranting and raving is more a source of bemusement for me than something to be feared.

Last summer, a very large man confronted me at my apartment door. He glared down at me and ranted and raved. He was hoping to get me to be afraid and say something stupid. Instead, I was just staring up at him, watching the veins in his neck, wondering if they would pop.

That's another thing. Size doesn't matter anymore. So a guy stands over six feet tall, and I'm only five foot three. All it means is that I'm staring up at him. Nothing confuses a big man more than a short, chubby (let's call a spade a spade, fat) man staring up at him without fear. It just doesn't make sense to them. It goes against all of their experience. Little guys like me are supposed to be afraid. It's the natural order of things.

Somewhere along the line, my mind gave up on that order. Now, when somebody comes at me with so much anger and irrationality, I go into amusement mode. People say the strangest (and dumbest) things when they are angry. In fact, if you let them go on long enough, they begin to realize just how foolish they look, and they back away. They may be yelling and cursing the whole time, but they are backing down.

Cast out fear. When you stop fearing others, you can see a situation for what it truly is. You might be afraid, but if you control that fear, and get beyond it, solutions present themselves. So does the generally insane nature of the universe we live in. Sometimes you just have to give in and laugh.

Nothing infuriates a bully more.

OC Transpo Strike

I just want to weigh in here on the current strike by members of the Ottawa Transit workers union. My opinions will not make me popular with many. However, they are mine, and I hold them without real malice for any.

It is my opinion that the union is making life for the people of Ottawa unnecessarily difficult, and in some cases perilous. They have made their point, that they are unhappy with the contract offered by the city. If neither side is able or willing to move, there is no point in continuing in this action. There are alternatives. If the union wanted to get their message out, mission accomplished. Move on.

The sticking point, as I understand it, is the scheduling of drivers. This is very much a safety issue. Quality of life for the drivers is important, but not at the expense of safety on the road. The system of shift scheduling that the union wants would allow drivers to work unsafe numbers of hours without thought for what is best for the riders.

The rest of us have to work hours that are not necessarily convenient for us. We are not allowing truck drivers to work more than 14 hours at a stretch, without an 8 hour rest period. Should people carrying the lives of people not be as responsible as those carrying canned goods?

Most importantly, it's time to move away from the chaos that has been caused by this strike. Lives have been disrupted enough already.

Go to binding arbitration. If neither the city nor the union can be adult enough to compromise in some way, then it's time for somebody to decide what is best for the public that both sides claim to be serving. If the drivers are unhappy during this process, they can still picket, in a safe way, but on their own time. They will be seen and heard.

Students have lost time. They might lose the work of a whole semester. Some university and college students were held at picket lines, with the union members knowing fully that it would cause them to possibly fail entire courses. If I were those students, I would seriously consider a class action suit against the union and the city for the cost of tuition for the semester lost.

The same thought applies to those who lost their jobs, their livelihoods, because one group is so determined to get what it believes is its prerogatives, and another would not compromise, or put forth a new proposal. Daycare, lost wages, lost business and lost security. The tally is mind-boggling.

Like it or not, Transit is an essential service. Get it together people, and get things moving.

Resolutions, but little resolve.

Okay, so I haven't exactly been keeping up with posting. I do promise to try.

This is why I never make New Years resolutions. I know that within a week, they will be out the window, down the street, and thumbing their way to who knows where. It's been that way since time immemorial with me. I can make all kinds of vows, and mean every word of them. When it comes to will power... Let's just say, I'm a little lacking.

I'm not alone in this either. Studies and surveys show that more than 60 percent of all New Years resolutions are broken within three months. After six months, another 10 percent might go by the wayside.

We all feel the need to improve ourselves in one way or another. Unfortunately, we tend to fall short in just how much we are willing to do to make those changes.

Experts say that the key to keeping resolutions is to have reasonable expectations. No point trying to change something that you physically cannot. Another important thing is to put those promises to yourself in writing somewhere. Preferably where it has to be looked at once a day or more. After that, the usual self-help rules apply. Get support, and don't be afraid to ask for help when things are tough.

Here's hoping I can keep my promise to post here more often. You, obviously, will be the judges.