It Truly Is a Wonderful Life

I'll explain later, but I need to begin with the following disclaimer: Author shall not be held liable or responsible for any misspelled words, typos or incorrect wording that may occur in the transcribing of this post. Now that I've taken care of that important information, let's begin, shall we?

In 2017, I posted 35 entries to this blog ... a pretty substantial decrease from the previous seven years, which included an all-time high of 266 in 2013. And this year? Well, if you include the post I'm penning right now, I'll be up to a whopping 12 entries for the entire year. That such a prolific and fairly well-followed writer as myself could relatively disappear from the literary world with nary a mention from "Entertainment Tonight" or "Good Morning America" or, gasp, "The Ellen Show," boggles the mind. Thankfully, so many of you from my loyal and unwavering fan base have written and continue to write expressing your desire for me to get back to it ... to pick up the pen, so to speak, and share my thoughts, stories, struggles and victories with you once again. You never gave up on me and for all your words of encouragement and support, I thank you, truly and deeply, from the bottom of my heart.

I can offer no valid reason for why I stopped writing, but rather only an excuse, and some of you most probably will consider it a flimsy one at that, for my departure from the thing I once so deeply loved. As much as I hate to admit it, I allowed the words and actions of a few other people to ... well ... to put it bluntly ... knock the living crap out of my heart and cause me to lose the tenuous sense I had of self-worth. It made me doubt the goodness of my heart and obliterated my ability to believe I could contribute to the greater good of anyone. I distanced myself from everyone, afraid to trust or open up to others, fearing not just being hurt again, but of not being able to survive the pain if I was. Well, guess what? I'm not afraid anymore. Nope, I'm not afraid and I sure hope I won't ever be again. At least not afraid of getting hurt by other people anyway ... I will always, always, always be afraid of thunderstorms. I'm not afraid anymore because even if other people try to make me believe otherwise, I know I have a good heart. I know I'm a good person. I know there are lots of people who love and appreciate me. And most important of all? I know there are plenty of folks in the world for me to help. Whether that's handing out PB&Js to my homeless friends under the bridge or writing something that might make a difference in someone's life or being a listening ear to a young person who's struggling or telling my wonderful grandchildren how very much I love them ... I know there are plenty of people in the world for me to help. As a dear friend so kindly reminded me recently ... I'm one of the good guys and the good guys team needs me to get off the bench and get back in the game.

Having said all of that ... and yes, I know it was a lot ... I'm not saying I'll be back to writing hundreds of posts next year. What I'm saying is that I'm hoping and planning to write more next year than I have for the last couple of years. I'm saying that I'm hoping and planning to not let the naysayers get to me the way I have in the past. I'm saying I'm hoping and planning to be better ... to do more ... to help more ... to see more ... to laugh more ... to love more ... to live more. Which leads me to the reason for my disclaimer at the beginning of this post, along with at least a partial explanation as to my newfound perspective on ... well ... on life in general.

Instead of shopping on Black Friday as I had planned, I ended up spending a couple of days in the hospital. After running several tests, including snapping some illuminating photos of the inside of my noggin', the doctors told me I'd had a small stroke in the lower right occipital lobe of my brain. I know stroke is a scary word ... I know it scared me when the doctors told me that's what had happened to me ... but I assure you that I can walk and talk and laugh and cry and think and crack jokes and give hugs and bake amazing chocolate chip cookies just like I always have. Other than getting tired much faster than I did before, I only have one lingering aftereffect from the stroke and that involves my vision. It's improved a great deal in the last few weeks, though, and the neuro ophthalmologist is confident that time and brain retraining therapy will have me back to seeing clearly in no time. The glitch between my brain and my eyes continues, however, to make typing and reading a bit hard for me so I'm using the newfangled talk to text technology to "write" tonight's post ... hence the reason for my disclaimer.

As far as the partial explanation for my new outlook on life, simply put ... strokes kill people every day, and I'm still alive. If my stroke was caused by a blood clot that traveled from another area of my body, I could have easily died from a heart attack or a pulmonary embolism. But for a reason or reasons I may never know this side of heaven, I'm still here. And if I haven't learned one other thing in the last four weeks, I've learned this ... life is a blessing and I deserve to have my butt squarely kicked for taking even one moment of it for granted. Life is precious ... life is a gift ... life is something to never ever be wasted. God has granted me another chance at life, and I intend to spend the rest of my time on earth ... however many days or months or years that may be ... being thankful for every second, every breath, every person. I am beyond blessed to be alive, my friends. I have the most amazing kids, grandkids and extended family who love me to the moon and back again. I have friends who will be there for me through thick and thin. I am indeed beyond blessed to be alive.

Yesterday was my 59th birthday, and without a doubt I can promise you this ... it truly is a wonderful life. Without even the tiniest shred of doubt, my dear friends, I can promise you this ... it truly is a wonderful, wonderful life.