Tuesday, April 28, 2009

Future

So, I'm trying to be a bit better with posting. I have an unfinished story of Presidents to tell, when that will complete I have no idea.

A couple weeks ago I visited the doctor for my monthly. Dr Jain (Pain Medicine) is my doc. I've been seeing him for assistance with PNE (Pudendal Nerve Entrapment.) He's wonderful. As you may or may not know, I was diagnosed with Rheuma Arth in 1998. This came at a point when my lifestyle and activity level was off the charts. I was mountain biking 11 miles a day, every 2nd day I was doing a soft beach sand sprint on the bike, typically yielding about a mile at a clip. 20 minutes of full out leg pumping, non-stop, on soft beach sand. I was also competing locally in various biking events as they would pop up. I was at my fighting weight of about 265 at that time (I'm 6'5").

One day I fell a couple of times which eventually led to me being bedridden within a few days, and subsequently diagnosed with RA about 14 months later.

I'd finished a hard bike trail one day out at the Pilgrim State grounds in Brentwood. Some great trails in there for daily exercise. I'd come up short on one turn, bounced off a tree, into 3 others and fell. I got up, wiped myself off, and hopped back on the bike. Finished another mile on a new trail to find that someone had layed a 28" felled tree into the trail. I hopped it mid-stride, immediately got off balance and rammed a tree head on. I got thrown again, bending a wheel badly enough to need to carry my Trek out on shoulder. I awoke the next day to find that my right hand had two middle fingers showing signs of contraction and stiff pain in the palm area. I tried rubbing the pain out, stretching the fingers back to useful and went about my day with a heavy ache. I tried to attribute the pain to blind-siding the trees.

The following day, a little more progression in the contracture. My two fingers had contracted to 50% over-night. I also could not get them straight. So I masked the affliction throughout the day. I was also doing night tours for various EMS agencies at the time, and releasing the stretcher was becoming a burden. Next day I awoke to find full contracture of the 3 middle fingers of my right hand and two fingers on my left hand. I knew immediately something systemic was happening. I banged in sick and went to the doctor. He said, muscle fatigue, and sent me on my way. I immediately left his office after fighting for a referral to Stony Brook University and went to a Rheuma specialist. He made the initial impression diagnosis on the spot, completed the first round of titer/parvo-virus blood work and gave me a script for Prednisone.

The following day I had flared in all joints in my upper torso and my right foot. The day after I became bedridden, awaiting the Prednisone to fully kick in. I began seeing the Rheuma specialist weekly. More titers, virus checks. I'd been on Prednisone for 3 weeks when my labs came back, off. I had to withdraw from steroids because my systems were experiencing detrimental effects. During this time I was fully bedridden. The pain so bad that I needed to mentally plan bathroom visits 2 hours in advance. My life had been changed, forever(?). The flares finally subsided after about 6 months when I returned to work. I wasn't though doing any emergency medicine, my favorite thing in life, during this time.

Since then I've tried various medications for RA, without success. One experimental drug actually lysed my liver and lidneys before being pulled for such by the program. I'd lived, daily, with 5-7/10 pain, and just deal with it on OTC Aleve, or Excedrin Migraine. The last hope for me to gain some life quality back was to try and gain about 80lbs. (Found effective in a study group.) That has provided me a quality of life where I could enjoy things and limited activities again, and reconnect with a host of various friends and relatives. Then recently I was prescribed Celebrex, through the pain management doctor for PNE I began experincing last summer. Since then the change in me has been miraculous. In the last 3 weeks I've dropped about 20lbs, on my way back to fighting weight of 265. I'm planning to begin, this week, a great deal of biking, and hoping to train enough to include myself in the distance road bike ride for EMS awareness from NYC to WDC in June 2010.

The world had better watchout.

Montreal

Quick post.

Just went on a small family vacation to Montreal this past weekend. It was fun. Was supposed to be one day to Rochester, NY to pick-up and see family. Then on to Montreal. Catch a new Cirque show on its Grand Opening night (OvO). Spend a day in Montreal, then drive back to Rochseter and finally home again.

With us we took Mary's eldest brother Tom and his wife, and Mary's Mom and Dad. It's always nice to see family, especially those so far away whom are loved so much.

Got into Montreal and stayed at an Embassy Suites. Nice place, modern, spacious. A block from the Notre Dam. A couple blocks from the Grand Chapiteau. The people though, of Montreal, are different. My memories of past trips to Montreal always found pleasant people, a nice atmosphere, accomodating. Today though, the roads are beat up, people less concerned, and certainly not as friendly.

I tried to park the family beast in an open lot for the evening when the owner of the lot came up to me and advised against it. He said the night brings out bad people. With a diesel vehicle being a prime focus for theives. He advised to park inside. I found a basement lot big enough to house the beast. Attendants were typical Montreans, not very friendly.

The City is beautiful in areas. If I were a woman though, I would not feel safe.

Finally, I believe they're feeling their French oats. The general population from taxi drivers to cops, not friendly at all.

Sunday, April 26, 2009

Relationships - cont'd - 2

......

Megan and I had begun our remaining days together reinforcing statements she'd already made...."I shouldn't be in a place like this. They were bad for me, bad for us." The latter certainly proved true enough seeing the eventualities and what Megan's final reaction was. The very essence of this new beast inside me was a detraction for us. Took much of the time I previously had to spend with Megan, away, and replaced it with training and classes. It was an awful adjustment to expect her to assume, or tolerate. After the first couple of weeks, we'd discussed, at length, what was taking place. Further, what accommodations could be made to buttress our relationship.

Let me now jump on this time warp contraption and bring you to present for an explanation.

What has brought me to start thinking so heavily in Megan, now, at this time? Well, as explained, I'd been hearing the occasional anecdote coming back from family and friend about having seen Megan in passing. Last year, my bud Doug had a party catered at his house by RS Jones. He stated that he specifically asked if Megan would be there. He went out of his way to tell me about this, either out of concern for me and what I might feel, or in a deeper sense, maybe he too understood what Megan had been to me, and possibly might be in present day. I may be over-analyzing this as well. In the back of my mind I'd hoped she would be there so we could, for lack of anything else, say hi in passing. Possibly allow me to blurt out those feelings cooped up inside me for so many years of words never heard but needing to be said. She ended up not being there. This year on a few occasions, stories were related back to me of additional encounters with Megan. My sister recently related that she and her family were eating at 'Jones.' They frequent the place. The owners came over and sat down with them, chatting. Megan wasn't their waitress but then came over and said hi. With that she then started, again, relating how I'd broken her heart. My sisters husband Brian became animated in his astonishment that the conversation once again returned to me and our relationship and further how I'd then set the stage in her life for failed relationships then on. Other details were related as well, but I'll suspend the nity-gritty. This last detail was intriguing because it was another tidbit of information I'd not previously heard. My sister then encouraged me to reach out for her. She thought it would be readily accepted and make Megan happy.

The thought, again, of seeing Megan is both comforting, established, and similarly frightful. Obviously the raw boyish feelings within rear up and expose themselves. The feeling of impending conversations, discussions of the mundane or intense. Establishing closure, and hopefully, reestablishing a long lost friendship. Feelings of adolescence, intrigue, overwhelming nerves, etc. All wrapped up into one continuous emotion. I haven't felt this way in more than a decade. As always I discuss everything with my wife. Involvement with my emotions is critical to our relationship. My emotions run as an undercurrent to who I am, maybe to a fault at times. I've learned self preservation by involving others close to me, in my life. Therein, I am able to get assistance in understanding life's challenges and triumphs. Perspective also plays a heavy roll as well. I've died three times during this half of my life. Once at the derogatory hands of another. The others by the hand of professionals during mundane surgery (the second of which left me in the hospital for weeks.) I don't have a very positive view of anesthesiologists after this experience. These episodes have galvanized my view of carpe diem. Each and every day is a great one. Icing on the cake of my life. I've said for years now that if I died today, I'd have been the happiest man I could have ever hoped. I've had relationships with my family that I am quite content over. I've said all of the things I've wanted to say to those closest to me. I say I love you and mean it, from my heart. I understand my emotions, and am unafraid, relatively as you see, to express them. I will take the road unknown, for the sake of learning or experiencing something new about myself.

So in speaking to my wife, I asked her advice. What should I do with this information, if anything. Do I leave doors now closed be, or do I knock and try and open them to see where those hallways lead. She asked me to try and reconnect. That I, for one, would find much joy in those past friendships I'd lost by time or distance. She also stated that the words and emotions of the time, not expressed, are ones that should be expressed. Words and feelings like those should never be hidden or buried away, always released into consciousness so they can be appreciated. She on the other hand would take comfort and resolve from being able to potentially have conversation(s) with Megan as well. Find out who her husband was at the time of the beginning of what she has come to know as my passion for service and commitment. Volunteerism, professionalism, and samaritan. She knows to the extents I go in life. Knows the trials and travels that have and do make me who I am. Knows of me spending better portions of my life trying to save life and property. Within fire, earthquakes, wild-land fire, hurricane, 2AM at bedside, etc. She doesn't have the ability to have experienced me in my teens, during high school. At a time when my emotions and maturity were undeveloped. She also realizes, and has been told, what and who Megan was to me. (I think she also finds it a new avenue to 'compare notes' on me with someone else who'd once had my heart so deeply, and possibly remotely, still does. This to my obvious delight - can you sense my sarcasm in this prospect of having the only two women closest to me in my life, in the same room at the same time, TALKING?)

I didn't stop at just my wife. I also involved our friends as well. Loralee, Cathy, Mike, Doug (obviously- though not to the same extent since he's had other issues on his mind of late, though I think he understands.) They all were like, bring it on. We want to know Doug, and possibly share in the delight of his squirming in front of us. Imagine the possibilities. (I have some wonderful friends.) Then with this new Facebook thing, I've reconnected with some high school friends again. Rob Foster and Suzzie Ringwald, specifically. Told of this they were amazed at my wife's acceptance and prodding. Rob was like, whoa, way to go man. Suzzie suggested she would drive down to help Mary kick Megan's butt, if that's what Mary decided and needed - it's not.

All around, these past few weeks have been a flurry of new connections, reconnection's and reflection of days gone by. Mid-life crisis maybe? Nah, been there, done that. In reality not worth the time and effort. So, with all of these happenstances arriving within a month or so of each other, the psyche becomes atuned to them. They're currently at my forefront, welling under the surface, turbulent and fresh. Then, the biggest assault on my senses came last week at our friend Loralee's daughter's birthday. We go over to their house and are sitting off to one side, five of us enjoying conversation about this and that (and also about Megan), when Loralee's brother in-law walks up with his daughter. She's going through a period of terrible teenage angst. She is standing over me while the 'adults' are talking. Then a fragrance smacks me in the face. At first blind, casual and then I realize I know that fragrance. I used to enjoy, LOVE, that scent. What in gods name is it. The mind racing for a minute or so when it finally hits me. That's the perfume Megan used to wear. I haven't smelled that since....well, Megan. It had been my favorite woman's scent until Organsa arrived. (truth be told, it always pleasurably reminded me of Megan and being with someone who smelled and reminded me of someone Megan, is not conducive to my life, or mental health because of those inner feelings of loss.) I was stunned. Dumbfounded. I guess I was perceptively processing these complex thoughts, memories, emotions, heartache. Everything.

I looked up and realized that the conversation at the table had stopped. Cathy looked at me, and then asked, 'Doug, you okay?' I guess the blood had rushed from my face, instead racing to where it was needed most, my brain. I blinked away the cobwebs and said, "umm, yeah." Cathy persisted. (Cathy and Loralee have, over the years, made a game of trying to get me to blush or react to their challenges or Wiley ways. Friends alike, they take great pride in feeling they've pushed my boundaries, my moral essence as it were. (Loralee famously pinched my butt in Church, at her daughters Christening. Though outwardly appears to be the most chasted of the group.) Either through a seductive hug between them, licking opposite sides of a spoon at the same time, suggestive talk, whatever, they 'get' me and have fun with it. (If they only knew who they were trying to play with.)) Cathy asked, 'Doug, you've now flushed, what the heck is going on.' They too know of my deathly allergic reaction to processed sweetener (the likes of saccharine.) Their immediate concern was that I might have ingested something akin to death. I immediately recovered and said, "no, no, I'm fine. Just had a sensory overload." They asked me to explain and I did. Cathy said, its an 'Omen. Something to be done about it.' Loralee, seeing yet another opportunity, just wanted to continue in another chance to make fun of me. The conversation ended with Cathy asking, 'so what are you going to do about it Doug?' I answered I was unsure and like Mary, she said, 'go for it. We got your back.'

So, with this sensory overload bringing a swirl of emotion and memory to my life, I've resolved to give it a go. What's the worst that can happen....that she doesn't return the call. I'll know then that I've made another effort to reconnect, almost at her urging (if you read the tea leaves correctly. Though I've never been adept at reading such things.) I guess I want to set the record straight. Provide context for choices made and defined by circumstances too complex at the time to understand as an adolescent, or better, communicate properly. Typical arguments in life establish themselves by creating extreme boundaries, measures of excess, flourish of position. Like a fencers parry, or the positioning of themselves before the first blow. In opposition, what's the best that can happen. Well, such things may be destined to play themselves out, opportunity and emotion confined or released into consciousness. Close friends, occasional acquaintances, tear filled days and discussions, connection, who knows. This takes two to make anything work. She may not be as mature, accepting, tolerant, or engaging as I might be. That, though, wouldn't be the 'typical' response of the girl I once knew and loved. Her heart had been larger than that, larger than my life.

Back to the downfall. Megan began episodes of hypothesis on what would be our downfall. I on the other hand was thinking quite the opposite. What would make us work. I was, for all intensive purposes, planning to marry this girl. I was trying to merge the current strife with what my mind was set for, the long term. Then, abruptly, came a demarcation point. The declaration. The "I can't's." Megan was determining her boundaries, our boundaries for that matter. For a while she began saying things like, "I can't see us together through this chapter of your life." This shook me to my foundation. The girl who professed, so completely, her love and devotion to me and us. Who literally gave every sense of herself to me, for me. Yes, in retrospect these too were adolescent protestations. The immaturity time had not yet given perspective to. Megan was, after all, 17. She didn't yet know I wanted to set a date certain for us. 1984. She didn't see my building inner desire to let out those words from my heart. Was that realistic, was that placing too much of a burden upon a fledgling relationship? In 1982 maybe. Though I was a very ritualistic person. My discussions with my mother galvanized my determination. I was a new person, alive, headstrong. I was doing the things in life that had finally made me happy, for myself. My mother stated that she and my father got married very young. If love was there, explore it, embrace it, to others be damned. The family would support us in our relationship and life. I could be a husband.

My head hurt. My heart began to hurt. I'd realized I was breaking Megan's heart and that she didn't understand the larger picture. I finally decided it was time to involve her in my mothers discussion with me. Start anew and begin buttressing us and the relationship. Try and express my deep love for her now and for the future together. Nervously, I set alone time for us. I made plans, arranged for dinner out and a movie. Then a place for a long walk and deep honest discussion. It was time for me to talk with her, and hopefully it would end in the right time for me to ask her to marry me. Time, conditions, and emotions though didn't let the conversation go where I wanted it to. As I was talking, trying to make verbal strides to build up our position in life together, she was reading these signs as opposite. Two people speaking the same words, but hearing the opposite. I'd started out by describing who we were together. The people who experienced the first of everything with the other. In turn she began reading this as run up to breakup. I saw it happening in front of me, unable to recover. I tried many times to stop the conversation and ask to restart it. I'd get a couple words out and she would dive back into the devolvement of us. What was happening here. Why was this happening. Her comments became harder, more pointed. She laced some of her words with invectives and insult. Try as I might, I realized I couldn't recover, on this day at least, from this onslaught. It was a difficult night. The first of which I remember that made me question 'us.' It also made me see a side of Megan I had never seen before. Pain. I realized, horrifically, I was hurting this perfect woman, The perfect woman. The person in my life that I'd vowed to take adversity for, give my life for, offer my soul for, I was now making hurt, cry. My actions were making her an emotional wreck. How could one person do this to another. For the love of pete, what had I done. What were my actions doing.

That was the day of change. Why did I love Megan the way I did? Why would she accept, ever, to be my wife? Everything was in turmoil. With that, I turned to that thing in life that had newly, now, made sense. Emergency Medicine. I dove in head first, with both feet. This predictably, placed a new level of stress on our relationship. Every date, every spare moment we had together, was filled with strife. I was also preparing for college and leaving in a few weeks. How, if our relationship couldn't handle medicine, would it handle relative distance. I perceived this as yet again burdening Megan's heart with new ache. I was literally hurting her. Who could I talk to. So, I started with my mother. She urged me to keep trying. Offered to speak with Megan directly. Also, and somewhat predictably, the other who was Lauren. I say predictably because its almost a cliche. Lauren too was a new member in the vac. She and I spoke often during training. I let her into my life and problems, and she was very sympathetic with my plight. She gave me insight into the female psyche. Similarly a woman with deep emotion, deep thought and consideration, she too in a failing relationship. I, at the time, didn't see things progressing as they would eventually. What they might, could or would become. Lauren and I didn't become a 'we' until much later, many many months later.

Lauren had opened the topic of a mutual 'time out' as it were. My mother similarly suggested something akin to this. To give time and some distance a chance to let the roiling waters calm themselves. Allow perspective back in to the relationship. I considered this and went with it the best I knew how. Megan was not receptive. Megan asked if there was another girl involved with this new 'insight.' I answered honestly and said I had made new friends and one of them was Lauren who was helping me. I also stated that my mother was involved as well, hoping to be in a position to blurt forth my inner desires for a future life together. Megan's dark side reared up and struck about, wildly. Things for us were over.

My heart split that day. Broken, strewn about in portions of my life. Never to return to its previous state of bliss. Relationships were far more complicated than I knew at the time, or finally knew they actually weren't. I didn't want to let go. I gave it 2 weeks. I then called Megan's home. Spoke with her mother who advised me that it wasn't a good idea for me to be calling. I tried to explain that I wanted to talk, to reconcile, straighten things out. She stated she'd pass the message along. I waited a day and called again. I got her father. Left a message. I waited 2 more days, called again. Her mother answered and cut me off "Doug, dear, she's heart broken, don't ever call here again." She hung up on me. I then took to sitting in my car out on the street where I could see her house. I saw her room, 2nd floor window. Sometimes lit, others not. I'd wait hours on end hoping to catch a glimpse of her. I knew I could explain my heart and observations and ask forgiveness and the new chance at life together that could be afforded. I was willingly subverting my college to try and get back together. A month went by, I was at school and couldn't stand it anymore. I drove home. I called again and got her mother, who simply hung up. I penned 2 letters. Sent them in the mail. Nothing. I was coming home weekly to try and see her, catch sight of her. Nothing. I started coming back every other day. All for naught.

As loneliness set in and took hold, Lauren was in the periphery. Ever present once or twice a week. I met Lauren's mother one day when Lauren was weepy from her failed relationship. Her mom was extremely nice and concerned. Lauren walked out of the room and her mother said that I was making her happy, and thanked me. "You're good for her, a nice friend." I just muttered a 'Thanks." Lauren and I would eventually become a couple months later.

My mother sought to provide advice to me during this breakup. She knew how heavy a heart I had. Saw the tears and anxiety. She'd advised me to keep trying. Try to find and reach out to this wonderful person, the oncoming daughter-in-law. All of those efforts failed, until one day the memories were sufficiently suppressed for me to be happy again.

I did try to reconnect those few years later on that train. Failed as they were, I'm confident in myself in knowing I gave it a go. Time, people, circumstance, immaturity, protection by others, mother hens, all intervened to play a roll in keeping us apart. Maybe that's what should have happened, maybe it is not. I still wonder heavily, deeply. I know though, time has healed many wounds within me. Time has provided me with maturity and perspective. The ability to reflect on things I did wrong, and there were many, many of those. My view is but 50% of this story. I do hope that one day I have the ability to publish the other 50%, or have someone allow me to publish their words, her words, here, so a full perspective can be gleaned. I feel I owe her that. I owe myself that. I can only learn and become a better person through true perspective, 100% accuracy. It will make me a better man.

To what end do I write these things? Obviously this blog offers my thoughts and perspectives on life and the trials I've had and joys I've experienced. From a great friendship with Doug, which continues to evolve and deepen, to my relationship with my sister and her family. To my relationship with my wife Mary. I'm an open book with most things. Life is just, simply, too short to not live to its fullest and experience all that can or would be. These meanderings of my life, through written word are also genuine to my spirit and helpful. They provide perspective into my psyche that I might not have otherwise explored. They provide catharsis, support and a record for my family, its future, and otherwise. To understand their friend, acquaintance, father, husband, sibling, etc. In the end, these words are me, for me, by me of my own hand.
Life is precious, fleeting, complicated. Live for today. Understand the past. Accept failings. Move past them, learn by them, understand them. I'm better for it.

Postscript.

Through all of the above, I have done it. I've spoken to wife and family, friends near and far. I've received mostly encouragement (and one offer of violence.) I stumbled by the RS Jone's website and found a few pictures of classic Megan, smiling in that familiar way I remember. With that, I took the step. So, on Friday I reached out yet again. I sent a message that I know has now been delivered. I provided my numbers cell and work and the desire to say hi. I await the call. I will always await this call. My hand is extended hoping to explain, reconnect, laugh, maybe cry, to catch up. Hopefully, in the end, become friends again.

Time will tell.

Saturday, April 25, 2009

Relationships - cont'd

(cont'd)

Obviously, this is written in 2009. Many, too many, years have gone by. Unknowingly, Megan and I have been separated by miles, and time. My journeys have taken me across Nassau, NY to other States, to other counties (currently Suffolk, NY.) Unfortunately, REALLY unfortunately, what it now boils down to is 1 mile and 30 years. I work within a mile of where she works, now time is the detraction. So many years, in just one mile. I consider these hindrances the dearth of life.

As I've stated, Megan and I were doing everything together. Hey, I'd had my first dinner with the family, at her house. Her dad even acknowledged me with more than a grunt. (Her Dad, if memory serves was a carpenter.) Her brother Jack said hi to me - when I was someone to be acknowledged or seen. Met her sister Jane a time or two as well. Her brother Patrick, he was another story. A couple years younger than Megan. He was growing into and through his teens at the time. Full or energy and need. We talked. WE became friends and I joked around with him a great deal. I thought we hit it off and thought I'd broken down some of the barriers between siblings and the strange, fleeting people brought into homes at times. I remember one day waiting for Megan to get home when Patrick and I sat and talked. Almost brother to brother. I'd gotten the sense that he'd finally accepted me, where others in the house may not have. It was a nice first family to be involved with. Irish to the core, and accepting.

Since I'd never before been in this type of relationship with a girl, I took Megan at her word. I never, ever, knew anything different. Obviously I knew people, friends and schoolmates, and how shallow, manipulating or perverse they could be. The couple of girls I'd dated in the past, I really never got to know. Those relationships were born of alignment of time or convenience. Never really meaning anything more than a friendship. Megan had become my prime focus. Life just revolved around her. I hadn't yet experienced death or dying in my life, the likes which I have since, other than close family members. I make this statement because seeing and interacting with the amount of death and dying I have, beating back (sometimes) the grim reaper with my own hands, both calms and chills the soul. I guess this has hardened me, made me more actualistic, more apt to live in the moment, enjoy life with fervent regard to time, and try to never pass up connecting with people.

So, Megan was my world. As I've stated, she was gorgeous. The most beautiful girl in school, in town in the world. She was intelligent, could hold a conversation and NEVER backed away from an entrenched position without a fight. She was sparky, flirtive, full of life, never one to look back or be dragged down by adversity. Took to challenges and surmounted every one of them I'd seen come her way.........except one.

I'd never spoken to Megan about the conversation my mother and I had had at that kitchen table late that one night. Of my immediate perception, I didn't need to. We'd already hypothesized the future. What were were going to do, how the relationship would further develop, and how it would last. I'd written note after note to her, love letter or inane description of activities of the coming week or day. I liked to write to Megan. Liked to get her a flower, pass her friend a note to give her, or doodle hearts with initials and names. I found her similarly, I think by accident, doodling 'Megan Metzger.' It was cute, heart warming and visionary at the time.

The signs of our physical closeness could be seen by some in her family. Megan had spoken to her sister about it and the conversation was 'concerning' enough that her sister took her to her first Gyn appt and obtained an rx for the pill. We were safe, but her sister saw reality. Her aunt/uncle also noticed. One day we helped them move into a new house in Baldwin. Her aunt looked at us and said, if you ever need your privacy and a night to yourselves, you're welcome to come over here and use our spare rooms. (I blushed at that one.) Megan kept some things close to the vest though. Referring back to her sister and the gyn appt. Megan had been deceptive with me about her exploits with her sister, which led to a melt down later in the relationship, my hormonal and emotional immaturity. I couldn't yet wrap my head around the invasivness of what Megan had done for 'us,' or actually me.

All of my memories of Megan, as explained, are true and just. Any man in the world would be, should be, must be, blessed by being involved with her, married to her. The lengths she would go, straights she would forge for them, in the name of love, boundless. Just first rate all around. Intelligent, beautiful, caring, honest, supplanting at times, self-deprecatory, but most of all, grounded and not self-righteous.

Our demise.

My mind had been on one thing, relationship. I knew I was going to marry her. Mom told me I should, I agreed and was focused on getting through the summer and my first year in college with that in mind. Megan was Megan. She'd shown every indication that she would be right there with me every step of the way. When the time came and I'd gotten the chance to propose, she'd leap for joy, take it in stride and continue focusing on us, her education and needs, family, etc. I thought I could predict Megan. My mother was excited at the prospect of my relationship with Megan. She'd secreted me off one day, down to the 'safe' in our house. She'd opened it and showed me the engagement ring I should use. It had been my father's aunts ring. Created around the turn of the century, antique in every sense, a slightly less brilliant stone than those of today, a bit of amber color in it, wonderful setting, with Megan written all over it. It was going to be her ring. I just needed time to pass in order to ask her. The need within me though was building exponentially by the day.

Skipping forward. My relationships since Megan have been plenty, varied, complex, trying and satisfying beyond explanation. Megan gave me my legs. Made me believe in the person I was. She validated the man in me, helped to support the confidence I'd been developing since I was 16. (Before 16 I was a mess. Introverted, non-exploratory, home body, limited. With a friend of mine, the two of us had packed off for Europe during the summer of 1980. 12 weeks we spent by ourselves, exploring, learning, fending for ourselves. Learning about the world. This was the best thing my parents could have ever let me do at that time. Not really my idea, but still, just a great thing.) The girls I'd dated since were beautiful, worldly, living for the moment, aggressive, self-centered, caring, earnest, hot-headed, foreign, animalistic, bi-polar, sexual, attempted murderers (VERY true - at my expense), miscreants, thieves, generous, adoring, etc etc. All types, shapes, kinds, ages, situations. I'd dated for as little as 2 days and as long as years. In my heart and my I'd been trying to find a new Megan. Just never getting there. So, I'd move from one girl to another to see if we 'fit' or if a match was made. I guess I was unknowingly on a wife hunt, begun with, and in the image of, Megan. The most adoring girl I'd ever at the time known. I'd realized, finally, that girls found me attractive. Whether for my composure, hulk, intellect, care, passion, features, whatever, I'd found my mojo, as it were. I finally settled down in 1992.

I last saw Megan, in other than photo's, in 1986/87. At the time I was commuting daily to the city where my new company, started with my father, was located. The Long Island Railroad. I was dressed in jacket and trench coat, sitting with my father on the commute home. In Penn, a woman walks over and says hi. Its Megan. We spent the next 45 minutes talking of goals and rights of passage, a great deal of small talk. At that time she stated she was studying for her Series 7 exams. Didn't really state what she was planing to do with it other than securities. The trip was woefully short. That ride had triggered something in me. I figured I'd try and sit down, establish bygone times and see what happened. Try and redevelop, at the least, the close friendship I'd once known. Someone I remember as being my 2nd closest friend. For no other reason than being friends, I wanted to try. If that led to a relationship, sobeit. If not, I'd be happy with that as well. So, after parting ways and with much consideration I sat down and composed my 2nd lengthy letter to Megan. The first a diatribe of cowering lost memories and desires, apologies, etc completed within days of our first breakup. I finished it and delivered it to Megan's house. Knocked on the door and spoke with her mother. I handed her the envelope and asked it to be given to Megan. Mom did not seem to be a fan of mine at that time, (understandably.) I'd hoped it would be delivered. Never though heard word back.

Time warp machine to the beginning of the end.

With our girlfriends in toe, Doug and I had left boating and the beach and were driving home. Traffic was a bit heavy on Sunrise Highway coming from Wantagh, so I made a turn onto Bellmore Ave. We stopped at a traffic light in front of a volunteer ambulance service. The light turned green and Doug looked at me "wanna do it?," motioning with his head. I looked over and without any further thought said "what the heck." I spun the car around, girls dumbfounded in my actions. We pulled into the place and filled out applications for membership, then left. About a week later we were members. For me it was the beginning of a 20+ year life of public and private service to those in need.

I'd been a Boy Scout. My father was a Boy Scout, as was his father, and his fathers' before. The family had a history of starting volunteer fire company's in areas that didn't have them. Concerned for those without had been an established family mantra going back generation after generation. I'd been chasing fires with my friend Doug since I was 13. Initially on bikes, and then in cars. Scanners adorned our rooms and now cars. We loved the thrill of it all. This was again, another generations progression of service to the community. It was destiny for me, realized or not at the time. It was in my bloodline.

In the 70's, I'd lost some people in my family to disease and age. Too young to develop any deep emotional scars, but old enough to begin appreciating them. I'd seen my mother drawn from the house on a stretcher. I'd seen the same of my grandmother. My sense helplessness and desire to be able to do something about their pain and suffering, or try to assist in their, or their families comfort ran as an undercurrent to my personality. Something about being in emergency medicine clicked with me. Lit that flame of desire and purpose. Filled a void in me. I was now, unknowingly, feeding a beast within.

With acceptance, I immediately began to take classes. First CPR, then AFA (advanced first aid) then EMT, Medic, teaching, training, writing, authoring, designing systems, etc etc. This beast inside still exists to this day, beginning, again, to rear its turbulent head. Within me is an endless passion and charge of desire and aptitude. This training placed me on the fast track of my inner personal need. I was accomplishing something that could help the sickly in my family, and friends, at a time of their urgent need. Obviously, this training took time away from Megan. She showed signs of discomfort in me being in the service from the start. We spoke of, and sometimes fought, about it. Her view was that the place was like the fire departments. Beer swilling, hanging out at the departments basement bar on Friday nights just getting drunk. Megan had an aversion to drinking. Some in her family were or had been alcoholics of some variety or type. Her concerns, in me though, were never realized. I tried to assist her in her understanding. I asked to bring her to the vac (volunteer ambulance company) on a few occasions. She declined. Then, I rode my first emergency call as an observer. A Cardiac Arrest. It was thrilling. I was pulled into the fray of this call to assist a short crew in the back. I was performing CPR for the first time. It was a save. My first. They though come all too infrequently. It was filling those very voids within me that I'd wanted closed for some time.

Megan did not get it. She couldn't see the good in me, the good I was in need of. The destined person I would become. Didn't see the passion I had, or would have for this. I knew from that first emergency call that I had found my life's passion, the thing I am most attuned to, the very part of me that works, has always worked so well. Emergency services. Emergency diagnostics. Understanding body systems and mechanisms. My world was now on two very distinct and divergent pathways. Marrying Megan and doing what would become the very essence of me and driving force. I was being torn in two, by these two internal beasts. One would win, the other would, woefully and unfortunately, lose.

.....tbc....

Tuesday, April 21, 2009

Relationships

So, here's a goody. Relationships.


Through the prodding of a 'buddy' of mine, I joined Facebook. It was a few months ago. At first, I just saw it as a blathering site of neanderthals and young'ins looking to connect or 'hook up' (what a generation time lapse has done to that expression. Totaly different today than 20 years ago.') More recently I started getting 'friended' by people I have not spoken to in 30 years. 30 years. Wow. Its been a trip ever since. As my friend base grows, so does my intrigue.


Then a few weeks ago, Mom convinced me to start a family tree. Yeah, I know, boring, tasteless mash. But, after a few days of laptop time I began making progress, downloading and storing Census data, birth certs, death certs, house deeds, etc etc. I'm now over 100 strong in the family, traced to such places as Germany, England, Canada. This is but one side of the family. Its actually intriguing as long as you have the time to spend. Way off topic now.


So, during the research above, I started scanning some photo albums of my family, along with critical documents. I'll compile all of this material and then distribute copies to whomever wishes. Maybe the kids will have a desire to understand their history. Who knows. During my scanning/digitizing efforts, I open a Pendaflex file folder and low and behold I find a couple pictures from my Prom season in 1982. In these pics are my bud Doug Mills, his girlfriend at the time Marianne Hendel, and my girlfriend at the time Megan Barratt (photo on right.) S.H. Calhoun's best byproducts. Wow, was that a toss back and shock to the psyche.


Now for context, this is the 3rd or 4th time Megan's name has popped up in the recent year or so. It began a while ago with my sister, Tammy, stating that she'd visited a restaurant in Merrick (R.S. Jones,) and low and behold who is a waitress there, Megan. Tammy stated that Megan made a point to walk over and say hi, ask about the family, and then casually begin talking about me, asking how I was doing while also proving ending statements of 'He broke my heart.' (This last statement is true, to a point. I admit it.)

It'd been a very long time since I'd last thought about Megan, even longer since we'd last spoke, fleetingly. The mind instantly resolves those various memories, 30 years worth, and studies each one. Looking for reason behind action and anything that can be gleaned from years of mental gymnastics, trials and tribulations. Such as, 'This is what we did on this day, which caused this to happen, which finally resulted in....breakup.' Hmm. Or, 'we did this on this day, argued, made-up, argued a bit more which eventually resulted in...breakup.' Don't get me wrong, the overwhelming majority of the memories are good, true and pure, resulting in some of the best memories of my life. Some of the most important memories of my life. First love. First PDA. First girl home to the family. First, first, first. These firsts will forever be the penultimate in my heart and mind because the first relationship is/was, for me at least, so formative. As I've stated to my wife in the past (and also recently) Megan was anything and everything a good guy could have hoped to be involved with. Special in every way. We spent the better part of a year together, almost always smiling, laughing, holding hands, being there for each other, etc. Sometimes we'd cry and scream in each others arms, but for the 'right' reasons. Just an all around wonderful girl. I have no qualms about saying those things, she was first rate, all the way. She may still be this way, almost thirty years later, I do not know, yet.


Now, here's where I start jumping back and forth, decades between, so fasten the seat belt and hang on.


Megan Barratt. Grew up in Merrick, NY. Lived a couple doors up the street from a Methodist Church. A few blocks from my boyhood home. She was a middle child with an older brother and sister, and also a younger brother. She was 1 year, basically, my junior. I met her in High School. She was helping the school redo display cases in the hallways. I, at the time, was trying to establish a Swim team display case (I was Captain of the team.) We met, talked, I was intrigued, asked her if she wanted to help manage a swim team, she said yes. She started helping and within a week or so, we were double 'dating' with Doug Mills and one of his girls (not sure if Marianne was in the picture yet.) This date consisted of a Friday night trip to Levittown Skates, on Hempstead Turnpike. I was wearing a heavier jacket at the time (November.) Megan dressed to kill, but still conservatively fitted. The night was colder and her jacket light. Being the polite chivalrous guy I am, I offered my jacket, she declined. A few minutes went by and she was still shivering. This was crazy. With that I opened my jacket and pulled her towards me, letting her snuggle in for some warmth. I wrapped my arms around her and we stood, cued in line, waiting to get into the rink. (Hey first time I'd had a girl this close.) 20 minutes pass and one of my friends sees me and asks if Megan was my girlfriend. I was tongue tied. Not even a first 'official' date, not even on my mind really because I was still so clumsy with women-folk, and still a babbling fool. Plus why would THIS girl, beautiful, smart, witty, full of life, want to date me? With that she turns around, looks me in the eyes, instantly melting me mind you, and asks, "well, are we?" I tried to gather the racing thoughts of delight at that prospect and said, "Yes, (a hint of a stammer) we are." That was how I 'asked' Megan Barratt out. ;)

She was beautiful, is still beautiful (from photo's). I'd had a couple of fake girlfriends before, for a week at a time, or not more than a month, to which the most I'd done was held hands, or the occasional kiss. This was totally different. Megan was H.O.T. She laughed at my stupid jokes, looked me in the eye and actually listened to what I was saying (or trying to say because I was still so nervous.) We then began doing everything together. Mills found a steady girlfriend, finally, so we double dated every week. Every week. I got to see Megan both in school and after school, during swim meets. I dragged her to a Monday afternoon swim practice (the only one held after school, the rest were at 5AM.) Coach LaRossa liked her, Loved her as a matter of fact. We went skating, to the movies, boating, to the beach, long drives. Everywhere.

She was my girl, I was her guy. I gave her my class ring, and another very special ring to me, one my grandfather had given me. She wore it on a chain around her neck. We joined track together. Went to parties. All of the things couples typically do. Things started heating up. Describing it kindly, in the haze of 30 years, it was our time. We were each others first. Awkward, deliberate, heavy handed, startling. We were one, together.


A few months had gone by when I came down with Mono. I was home for a week, just before
Easter. Sick as a dog, so we were just talking on the phone. This was a strange interruption in our schedule. Then Easter Sunday comes and there's a knock on the front door, I'm sick, barely existing, convalescing in the living room and in walks this 5' nothing yellow - skin tight Rabbit costumed - Megan (floppy ears, button tassel tail and all.) As I stated, Megan was hot. She filled out every portion of clothing she wore. She didn't due this costume any disservice. I was embarrassed. Me sitting sickly in my home with Megan all chipper and fitted out. She was, frankly, making me all hot and bothered. My father was in the room and I didn't want him to be experiencing all these yellow curves. I was a typical slow thinking, hormonal and emotional teenager. I hadn't showered or shaved (1x per week at that point in my life) and looked a mess. I kept asking myself why would this cover girl want to come see me, or even be dating me for that matter, when I was looking and acting like I did. She pressed on with her task. She wanted me to smile and to brighten my day, my week, my year (my life - wait for it.) I relented. She blew me a kiss and left. That was Megan. She was just a fine fine girl. Had my heart and soul from that first look.

We'd been dating for 6 months at this time. Things returned back to normal from my illness and my mental imperfections. Within a week or so I was invited up to her house for a family dinner. With her father, no less. I'd met her mother, a very nice woman. Not opposed to speaking her mind at all. Me, the boyfriend, could be her best friend at times or the worst enemy the U.S. had ever seen, changing in a split second (depending on conditions, as they were ;0)

I'd left Megan's house late and got home. In the house I'd found my mother sitting at the kitchen table. This was typically our time talk. We just talked about this and that. She asked how Megan was and how the important dinner went. Prophetically, she then began describing to me what Love was. She asked me what I now come to understand as 'Life' questions. She kept commenting on how great Megan was. I said 'yes Mom, I'd stepped into this one by chance and was going to hang on with both hands.' She said 'good choice' for me. I looked up at mom knowing there was something more she wanted to say. I prodded her a bit and she said, "you're young, graduating school, moving on to college and beyond. You should stay with this girl." 'I know Mom, I plan to.' She said 'good.' She then asked if I loved her. "Yes, Mom, I really did." She asked a few questions about those feelings I was experiencing for the first time in my life. Then, in possibly a slip or a calculated statement she said, 'are you thinking about marrying her? If you are, you should.' I stopped and looked hard, mind racing about this. Has my mother the ability to read my thoughts? She said, 'what you've found in Megan, most people do not ever get to experience even once in a lifetime.' She said, 'think about it. Not for today, tomorrow, or next year, but do marry her.' Thinking about it, the hard answers seemed to come quickly, naturally and very easily. After a minute or so of silence I said "I will Mom." She hugged me with a tear in her eye and spirited off to bed.

From that day on, I had that end result in mind. I was going to marry Megan Barratt. Mrs. Megan Metzger. Girls, other girls, didn't exist. The intensity of being with her continued to grow. I couldn't believe anything I was feeling could run so deep, be so natural. I was looking at her as my future wife. I could barely contain my enthusiasm at times. We talked of life plans. We talked of kids. Houses. Towns. Friends. Paint colors. Furniture styles. And, all the future things couples would do together in a life bound in marriage.

....TBC