The Kind-Hearted Smart Aleck

I just received this comment on a blog I released a little over a year ago, entitled, "How Music Saved My Life": - "Your story is heartbreaking, honest and will be healing to others who have a similar story. Thank you for sharing your healing through music. What an incredible journey to where you are today. 💗" The piece can be found and read at this link: https://thekind-heartedsmartaleck.blogspot.com/2021/01/how-music-saved-my-life.html

A little over a month ago, on August 24th, I posted this blog in reference to my friend, whom had just recently passed ((http://thekind-heartedsmartaleck.blogspot.com/2015/08/rip-my-friend.html): " It's very sad for me to report that I lost a friend over the weekend. As I'm sure is common amongst a majority of people, whenever someone I know passes on, I start reflecting on my own life and life in general. My friend, Gary, led quite a life. Having fun seemed to be easy for him throughout most of his 64 years, but then when he was diagnosed with cancer 7 years ago and given 6 months to live, he proved time and time again he was the ultimate fighter too. Throughout it all, he continued to live life on his terms, much to the dismay of his doctors, for if he was going to die, he was going to die with a smile on his face. While I probably wouldn't advise people with a similar condition to do this, my friend wasn't about following rules; he was about simultaneously...

Over the past 3 years, I've been told, "You need to learn how to relax," more times than I care to count. While it's true that I've worked myself to the brink of insanity on a number of occasions, I've at least found the focus necessary to provide my mind a mini-vacation from around 5 pm on Friday nights through most of Sundays. While I believe relaxation and some semblance of balance in one's life are critically important, I simply now see the weekends as the means to at least somewhat accomplish that. While a lengthier vacation (Hawaii, anyone?) sounds lovely, I just don't have the funds necessary to provide myself with such a thing. Also, while some people may deplore work and crave relaxation every evening following a long workday, I have a hard time seeing things from such a vantage point anymore. Just before I started college, in August of '99, I suffered my first grand mal seizure. Upon regaining consciousness and being carried onto a st...

Since I have battled epilepsy for approximately 26 of my 30 years (who knows, perhaps longer), perhaps I'm a bit more sensitive to this condition than most other people. However, I can't for the life of me understand why some people think that seizures or epilepsy in general are funny. I can sometimes understand cracking jokes about certain conditions, such as attention-deficit disorder. I saw a t-shirt which states, "They say I have A.D.D., which I don't understand. Oh, look! A chicken!" I admit, I find that pretty funny and while I don't necessarily find the condition itself to be at all humorous, I also think it's less sensitive a subject than many other conditions, given the fact it's not going to be fatal. That's the crossing line for me between what could potentially be funny without being offensive and going a bit too far and likely hurting others' feelings due to their sensitivities on the condition. I don't hear many jokes re...

A Temporary Vegetative State A sudden fear comes over me, A knot forms in my stomach, My eyes then close, As I know what’s coming, A head sensation unlike the rest, Fear being prevalent, Thoughts seemingly slow down, Continually becoming more intense, Praying the sensations will dissipate, That it’s only a dream, Until I feel them evolve, No longer do I feel free, I stare straight into nothingness, Unable to speak or move, Words non-comprehendible, To others just appearing spaced, Cognizant of what’s occurring, Yet unable to act, Helpless to others, Helpless to myself, I scream for the world to hear me, But not a word is uttered, In a temporary vegetative state, Trapped in myself, Paranoid others will notice, That it will forever remain this way, Terrified of this out-of-body experience, Until the seizure finally fades.

Here's a poem I wrote, entitled "Helpless," which can be found on pages 36-37 of my book, "Seasons Come, People Grow: A Poetic Journey" (2006). This poem revolves around my lifelong battle with epilepsy and attempts to give the reader a sense of what it's like to endure a seizure. Living on a timeline, Every sixty seconds in a minute, Every sixty minutes in an hour, Never knowing when it'll come, I try to go about life as I typically would, Relax, smile, and have fun, But tense and saddening emotions come over me, As I'm taken over by someone, I feel it in my head, Everywhere in my body, Wanting it to pass, But knowing what lies ahead of me, My eyes close tightly, My hands clench, Sweat dripping off my face, Feeling like an out-of-body experience, My mind has lost all consciousness, All focus, All concentration, All responsiveness, I lay there like a vegetable, Unable to think, Even though I'm breathing, And am wide ...

I heard the unfortunate news that a friend of mine had a seizure the other day. It's also unfortunate that I've had my share of seizures in my day. The first one I remember was back when I was 6-years old. I guess I had them before that, but I can't remember any of those. It was bizarre talking to my friend after she had her seizure, because no one truly understands what you're talking about if they've never had a seizure before. It's not like stubbing a toe, getting a cold or being rejected by someone or something. We've all gone through those instances and know what they feel like. If I stub my toe in front of someone, they notice it and say, "Gosh, I hate it when that happens," then, they're probably being honest. They probably do know what it feels like, so they can relate. But, seizures are a different ball game altogether. It's so difficult to describe seizures, even to doctors. The descriptions and details are so vague, that some...