Words come relatively easy. Sensible topics, not so much.
As I enter into my 55th year on this planet, I am struggling for relevancy as I work through the continued travails from my childhood birth defects.
Having had a pectus excavatum surgery as a child, the first chest repair was performed at 6 months. The second repair at 5 years. The final surgical adjustment occurred when I was 9. Nothing was ever going to make me whole and unblemished, so I stopped all further repairs when I was about 14. It was a difficult age at which to draw the line impacting my future, but I was tired of endless recuperation and recovery. I was also tired of the financial troubles my expenses caused, even though I wasn’t yet the one getting stuck with the bills.
While my birth defects are largely repaired, my refurbished body leaves a lot to be desired. It works pretty well for the most part, this aging machine of mine. However, it’s begun the long journey toward the scrap heap once more, and I’m busy trying to figure out what it all means.
What does “quality of life” mean to me?
How much time is “enough” time for living in this tired old world?
What do I want to do with however much time I have left?
Where will I get the money to live on?
Do I qualify for disability?
Am I being lazy to seek out disability vs. waiting to be fired due to failure to keep up?
Will I look like a fool if I don’t qualify for disability?
Am I out of my mind, and is this what having a typical mid-life crisis looks like?
These questions and others will be the topic of my musings as I work to find answers in largely uncharted territory. I will be stepping away from the working world and working to create a new life with whatever time I have left. I hope you find some humor or insight in my writing. I can’t promise you quality, but I’ll keep wordsmithing my thoughts until I get it right between my ears in the old noggin, and on this blog.
Feel free to drop by and share your thoughts, too. While I reserve the right to ban all trolls, I appreciate the give and take of other deep thinkers in blogville.
*COPD = chronic obstructed pulmonary disease. I.e., I sound a lot like Darth Vader on a bad day, and otherwise pass for normal on a good day.