Let me come clean.
That brief mental vacation I told you I was taking from this space nearly two months ago was a Trumpian-like figment of my imagination. Put another way, I lied.
Not wanting to overshare boring details of what seemed like a minor health matter, I borrowed a concept that frequently pops up on Facebook these days, something to the effect that: “I’m sick of all the politics and will take a break for a while.”
At the time, it seemed almost noble to be temporarily hobbled by the blathering punditry class and its inane obsession with spinning every ubiquitous blip into a narrative of doom. These political prognosticators declare the Biden presidency dead at least once week. They saw the less-than-elegant exit from Afghanistan as a fatal flaw. They are sure Biden’s inability to shutdown COVID in its tracks will ruin him, despite the fact that the biggest impediment to herd immunity is the MAGA crowd’s refusal to mask up and get vaccinated. Now they are warning that Biden will tarnish his image for all time by giving up on spending programs he campaigned on, all in order to get a compromise package through one of the most closely divided and divisive Congresses in recent history. Can you imagine what a dismal, chaotic mess the theatre world would be in if Shakespeare had treated every mundane action as an arc to the final act?
The truth is that I am a committed political junkie. Tortured journalism is annoying, but it’s not going to push me away from my daily fix. So I lied. My defense is one of mitigation. I refer you to that noted tome on prevarication, The Oxford Handbook of Lying, by Simone Dietz. Although my fib would be heavily sanctioned by the “absolute-moralist” faction of serious thinkers on this subject, there is a more utilitarian caucus that would spare me the gallows. This reformist movement notes that lies that are socially harmless or based on benevolent motives or consequences, fall short of evil. Obviously, Donald Trump never read the memo on this subject.
Here’s the real deal: I’ve dealt with respiratory issues for some time, mostly the result of collateral damage to my lungs from successful cancer surgery and radiation 10 years ago. It was all quite manageable until this summer when my symptoms worsened. I was scheduled for a mind-boggling round of appointments within the ever-expanding universe of Johns Hopkins Medicine. I thought it best to let the blog go dark for a bit in order to focus on my medical adventure. I figured I’d be back on the keyboard by mid-September.
Well, the best laid plans and all of that stuff. It turns out that I have a rare and stubborn lung infection known as Mycobacterium Avium Complex, MAC for short. The treatment consists of four heavy duty antibiotics, one of them administered intravenously. I’m told that it could take several months to eradicate the bacteria. Once that happens, I will continue taking at least some of the antibiotics for as long as another year, to guard against a return of the offending organisms.
I have so missed researching and writing this blog. I didn’t realize how important it was to me until I took my so-called break. Unlike many retirees, I neither build nor fix things. I don’t like crossword or jigsaw puzzles. I’ve never had much interest in sports. But reading the news, thinking about issues, and trying to figure out what it all means has kept me fairly sane these past five years. Unfortunately, the side effects of my antibiotics have made it far more difficult to sort it all out. A cognitive haze has definitely settled in. My doctors tell me that it will likely lift once my body becomes accustomed to the antibiotic regimen.
So there you have it, as the TV news folks like to say. My story is neither compelling nor poignant; neither riveting nor amusing. In fact, it’s not even interesting.
But I can assure you of this: It is the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.
You can also believe me when I say, I look forward to returning to this space as soon as the medicinal cobwebs leave my prefrontal cortex.
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My husband Bruce, the master of understatement, is on a medical odyssey that includes a major antibiotic cocktail coupled with therapies and research studies. All aimed at eradicating a rare and debilitating lung bacteria. He is my hero.
Thanks, Honey! Couldn’t do this without you.
Welcome back Bruce! I missed your blog which is always so enlightening. I hope your health concerns will disappear soon. Take care.
Thanks, Dominique! I look forward to seeking enlightenment in this space soon.
I don’t have your writing gifts, so I’ll just say, well, that sucks! I’m glad you’re able to write again, even without being up to doing the research. Take care of yourself, and I look forward to reading your opinions when the antibiotics stop wreaking havoc. Maybe start with Zuckerberg. He deserves to be raked over the coals!
Thanks, Laura. You greatly undervalue your writing skills. “That sucks” perfectly captures my medical condition, and does so with a succinctness and clarity that rivals every explanation I’ve heard from my doctors. And I totally agree with you on Zuckerberg. He should never have left his Harvard dorm room.
It’s always a treat to get your blog, Bruce. Thank you for sharing your odyssey with us.
And I’m very sorry to hear about this nasty infection you’re experiencing. It sounds like a very nasty bug. Sending you best wishes as you fight this. Hope the “coctail” your wife talks about works, so you’re back to full health soon!
Regards.
Hey Laura! Thanks for your kind and encouraging words. And thanks for reading my thoughts here. Really look forward to resuming that ritual soon.
Oh, you bad man, Bruce!
You are still funny.
It must be tough to go through such stuff and not be able to do the things you love.
I’m sure everyone forgives your fib and we wish you a quick recovery.
Thanks, Tom! I never looked to the Readers Digest for inspiration, but they had one thing right: Laughter is the Best Medicine. It’s also the best coping mechanism. Really appreciate your support, my friend.
I was pretty sure your cover story was a cover story, so no worries. You’re not a liar, you’re a normal human being. I know this has been and will continue to be a tough recovery period, and my thoughts are with you. I can hardly wait to see your next regular post!
Oh yes, one more point: Stay far, far away from the mean-spirited, anti-social Drumpf death cultists who no longer have the brains they were born with. They’re out to kill all of us (themselves by suicide, their children by child abuse, their parents and grandparents by negligent homicide, and perfect strangers by gladly coughing all over us at close range.
Thanks, Cousin Tom! Leave it to the only counseling psychology Phd on the family tree to see through my cover story. Thanks, too, for your kindness, empathy and support. Most of all, thanks for your delicious depiction of the anti-social Drumpf death cultists. Such a perfect capture!
Your confession here still shows your intellect, writing skills and humor thru the cobwebs. And, it relays your highest priority…your health. Missed your blog, but not as much as missing you should you compromise it with anything less than full attention to this disease and its recovery regimen. There is nothing to forgive here. There is only the warmest of regards in your journey. Regards, Anna
Thanks, Anna! Really loved your sweet note. Your warmth and kindness came through loud and clear, and meant a lot to me. Look forward to the days ahead without any cobwebs to block the way.