Catch up…#2

Lately, I’ve been walking a lot more. Why you ask? Clearly you haven’t been paying attention to my Facebook feed. I did promise to talk more about it here though. So, here goes…

After my stint in the local Marian Hospital, I had a very soon appointment at UCLA, in the clinic. Well, the night before, I left too late, in my truck, with a bad alignment pulling to the right. It was dark, late, or actually early, and raining. Bad recipe all together. Complete failure on my part. Somewhere just into Goleta, which is basically the normal part of town, north of Santa Barbara, I woke to the righthand most guardrail. Yep, I fell asleep and had an accident. Basically, with the cruise set at 65, for the good MPG, I went from listening to music off my iPhone, to being jarred awake by my very first airbag deployment.

The most important things happened. NO ONE WAS HURT. Thank the Lord. That would have weighed on me more than I can imagine. My only injury was my pride and a little scratch on my right cheek. I hit the guardrail, and knocked down about 30 of the plastic markers that extend above it. Oh, and my entire right front wheel, suspension, and assembly came off. It was 30-40 feet behind me on the shoulder.

But it’s just stuff! No one was hurt. I immediately dialed 911, and reported what happened. They were able to locate me via the GPS on my phone, and a pair of CHP officers were there within minutes. The gases from the airbag weren’t too good to smell, and I had enough shoulder to get out, so I did.

Before I knew it, the CHP officers were there. They did their job well and professionally, checking me for possible DUI, or being under the influence, etc. They’re adept enough to figure out sketchy situations quick, and determined that I was simply another dork who fell asleep and crashed. Quickly they picked up on my professional description of what happened, and asked what agency I worked for, and showed them my ID. It quickly turned into 3 brothers chatting it up until the tow truck arrived.

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Yeah, it’s totaled.

Because I was headed south to stay with my parents’ for the night, for the following day’s clinic appointment, I called them. They were worried, but I tried to calm them. They met us at the garage, where the truck was towed, in Goleta. Unfortunately, the sight of my completely whacked truck didn’t help, but they quickly agreed, at least I wasn’t hurt, nor was anyone else. And all of us us agree, it’s just stuff.

On the truck part, all is well. It was obviously totaled, I hoped and hoped, but knew it would be. Insurance is paying it off, and I was wise enough to get GAP insurance when I bought it, so there’s no money out of my pocket to replace it.

Now, back to the Leukemia Journey. I’m purposefully leaving out some stuff that is honestly, not for this audience. To say the least, I’ve been suffering from some cognitive issues that have manifested themselves in unhealthy ways. Ways that have at the very least put others on guard around me. I understand, and am seeking not just the Lord’s direction and Spirit on this one, but also depending on some really good Psychiatric and Psychological care. For those who have known me for a long time, this may be shocking, that I’m seeking this care, but I need it, and it is helping…a lot!

So, we headed down to UCLA for my clinic appointment. My cognitive stuff was clearly coming to a head, and for the lack of desire to parse out each step of the way, it was determined that I would be admitted to UCLA, for some extensive testing. Via the ER, I was admitted, and spent the first night in one of the semi-upgraded, non-ER bed rooms. By the next morning or so, I was “home” on 6 East. For about the next week, I underwent a level of testing and evaluation that I’ve yet to experience at my stays in UCLA. At first they looked at the possibility of a seizure disorder. Three and a half days later, of an EEG on my head, that was ruled out. I had lots of blood draws. I had a huge LP/Spinal Tap, taking a massive amount of fluid. All of this was tested for all sorts of things. I had consults with infections disease specialists, neurologists, psychiatrists, and many others of whose speciality I have no idea.

I felt like a patient on the tv show House.

Eventually they began ruling out many of the most scary and unique things. For those who know the intimate details of my extended family, they even tested and ruled out Parkinson’s and the various forms of dementia and Alzheimers.

As these possible explanations decreased to nothing but rejections of possibilities, we were left with the highest likelihood being some sort of cognitive psychologically influenced episode. I had considered this early on, but was letting them do all they could to find the result however they determined.

As of late, my legal case in reference to my disability, worker’s compensation, and ultimate retirement, of which the details I cannot address here, have become a GREAT source of frustration, anger, and even some pent up rage. With my GVHD flaring up, which started all this “2 steps back”, this winter, I have gone from a tiny dose of hydrocortisone back to a massive dose of prednisone. What does this mean. I was chill guy, almost off my steroid, and nearly done with my steroid-induced diabetes. Now, I’m massive dose of prednisone, with insides that feel like “Hulk Smash”!!! Combine that with the anger over my general retirement issues, and I believe that’s a recipe for instability. And my doctors at UCLA agreed fully.

But above it all, God has been good. I’ve not weathered it well, but he sustains men and continues to care for me and keep me moving forward with productivity and health. In my next post, I’m going to talk about some changes I’ve made as a result of some of the decisions my docs made for me. That part, I’ll finish with here.

So, at first, when they thought I had a seizure disorder, they’re bound to tell the DMV, even though they ruled it out days later. But that has ended up being no big deal, because the doctors have said 6 months ain’t gonna cut it anyway. I should expect more like 8 months. Such is life!

The great men around me, in my Gospel Community Group, immediately came to my side, and listened to my situation, and gave me the most sage and wonderful wisdom. They said, “Don’t replace the truck! You can’t drive, save the money.” It was a no-brainer for me. I took their wisdom, and let the insurance and GAP insurance simply take it away. Now, since I can’t drive, I have no truck payment, no car insurance to pay, and zero fuel costs. I just reclaimed a ton of money into my monthly budget!

More to follow in the next post…

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Author: TREVOR

Leukemia survivor. Son of The Most High. Father. Man.