TheBanyanTree: I Have Issues

[Jim Miller]

What do you feel when I tell you; I have issues? I sense your judgment. I
want to shout out, like the woman in the commercial, “Don’t hate me because
I’m beautiful.” Now, I don’t expect you to think me beautiful. I don’t
think me beautiful, well maybe modestly handsome, but I digress. The truth
is, most will run from a relationship with a person who has issues. Those
people tend to be oppressive and overbearing. We rush to judgment because
our cultural conditioning persuades us to assume that persons with issues
are mentally unstable. Of course, that’s what I’ve always understood. I was
wrong; . . . . . . . some of the time anyway.



I began having these thoughts a week ago. Today, my thoughts are unusually
heavy. I don’t know why. Maybe it has something to do with being
exceptionally happy about life yesterday, as I used the Thanksgiving
Holiday to count my blessing. Yin and yang; give and take; for every
action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. Today it’s issues. ALL my
issues.



The day dawned in a shroud of battleship gray, laced with frost, and tinged
in an eerie mist. No, I wasn’t awake to see it. Now it’s later in the day,
and nothing has changed. I slept late due to a late night; or rather, an
early morning. I was passionately engrossed in the lives of elite
assassins, brutal drug cartel psychopaths, despicable and corrupt
politicians, lazy and worthless bureaucrats, a handful of incorruptible
federales, and beautiful women. All good stories have beautiful women. Not
all of them nice ladies, but all beautiful. I’m quite fond of beautiful
women.



OK, I confess, I was also awake because, even with all the tryptophan I
consumed, I indulged my weakness for hot caffeinated beverage late in the
day. The earthy sweet nectar resulting from the rare convergence of the
finest Indonesian Sumatra coffee beans from one of the most ideal growing
regions on the high plateau, dark roasted to just the appropriate acidity,
fresh ground, perfectly brewed at precisely 196 degrees Fahrenheit, and
served immediately. I drank more than a quart, and savored every drop.
Coffee doesn’t get better than that.



Back to my issues. Are you still with me, or have you run off? I AM NOT
mentally unstable. Whether I’m engaged in blissful denial or not, it is my
reality and I will remain in this reality until my final breath. Let’s move
on. My reality is that I’m getting old. I’m finding it difficult to accept,
but I have mirrors and I’m not blind. Maybe a little blind. Then, I
continue to receive these disparaging emails, like I should relate. How can
I relate when I have all my teeth. Ya Ya, a mouth full of porcelain crowns
with a smattering of implants, but that has nothing to do with my issues. I
paid a lot for this smile and I like it. Where do I start?



Maybe I should just start at the top of my issue priority list and work
down. Would you prefer that I start with the major issues, working through
to the trivia; or take trivial first? Trivial wins.

1.     1. I have dry scalp. I know; nothing to you, but it’s driving me
nuts. The dermatologist says, “Use this once a day for a month.” My scalp
turns bright red, burns like fire, and three months late flakes again. This
has been going on for 4 years.

2.     2. I have toenail fungus. The podiatrist says, “50% of you (unspoken
“elderly”) have it. I could give you an oral medication that works about
35% of the time. You don’t want to know what it does to your liver. Or you
can just ignore it.” Will beautiful women notice my yellow toenails at the
beach?

3.      3. My hair is getting thinner by the day. I had great hair. This
wasn’t supposed to happen.

4.      4. Every time I visit the dermatologist, he attempts to keep a
straight face, but I can see through the façade. The glee is there, in the
wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. Looking through his jeweler’s loop he
says, “We’ll need to remove this growth . . . . . . and that one, and we’ll
just burn off these 11 pre-cancerous spots.”  Ka-ching, ka-ching.  What is
this WE? I’m the one who looks like they went through a back room
interrogation and the other guy had a lit cigarette.



Do you believe me? I have issues. There are bigger issues.



5.      5. My thyroid and gall bladder have been taken and I was completely
in the dark. Anesthesia will do that I’m told.

6.      6. My right shoulder droops. We don’t know if that’s because I
carried a heavy instrument in the 5th grade, or the surgeon nicked a nerve
during the 2007 cancer surgery when everything on the right side went numb.
I’m not really uptight about this issue. The physical therapist is working
on it, although I opened a car door the other day, at the wrong angle,
something snapped, and now everything hurts.

7.      7. Six weeks ago, I had surgery on my right foot, to remove a
bunion and fix a hammer toe. I couldn’t drive for 4 weeks. Now everything
is swollen, one toe no longer bends and it’s still sore. Maybe prescription
shoes would have been a wiser choice.

8.      8. I breathe through a hole in my neck. Adults are freaked and kids
are curious. Blowing your neck instead of your nose is a little weird. I
don’t smell odors well. (which has its advantages) Vocal cords are gone,
but I’ve learned to talk. You don’t want to know how, although it’s not how
some people think. Now I sound like The Donald. NOT Donald Trump; Donald
Duck. I have a mechanical voice for a backup. The kids love to play with
it. I have to keep buying batteries.

9.      9. Then, of course there is The Heart. It’s on loan from someone
else. Lucky me; it’s a good one. People say, “Do you notice that some
things are different now?” I don’t put much stock in ‘Cell Memory’,
although proponents swear it’s real. I don’t believe I act or think
differently, but I have issues. Who am I to judge me?

10.    10. Finally, I have eye issues. I’ve always had great eyes. I have
used mild reading glasses only for twenty five years, and I finally got
glasses with a little correction. This is a new issue. It’s called
Posterior Vitreous Separation. Apparently 50% of those over 50 experience
it. The worry is in tearing the retina. I’m good so far, but I now have
what appears to be an apparition floating center stage in my left eye.
Actually it more closely resembles a constantly changing, transparent,
Rorschach image. I find myself sitting staring at it wondering what I’d
tell a shrink I see. Sooo Much Sexxxx. (That should perk him/her up.) I did
see a turkey, a shrinking galaxy, a tornado, rabbit on a log. Then there
were the disembodied heads with scorpion tails dangling out of their
mouths. That’s the Sinaloa Cartel’s calling card. I’d better quit reading
such gruesome fiction. I’m told this issue may remain for the rest of my
life.



Good Grief, I have issues. What am I going to do? I’m never sure how much
longer I’ll have to deal with these issues. Fifteen years ago, Linda and I
had our 35th anniversary. The goal was to make it to 50. We celebrated 50
last Saturday. At times I feel like a cat with nine lives and I’ve used at
least 4 of them. I’m not counting the close calls where an angel had to
interven. Like the time I scrambled off the mountain in the dark, over
giant boulders with lightning dancing off the rocks ALL around me. Or the
time I slid my car in the snow within 6 inches of an 85 foot drop into the
icy St Joe River. The time I tripped at a construction site and missed
piercing my heart with rebar by inches. Then just a few months ago, I was
returning from a cross state conference. It was midnight when I woke up
doing 100 kph clearing brush on the side of the road. By reflex I pulled
back and lost it. I was reasonably certain that I was the main character in
a one car roll over show; over and over, and over. I knew there was no
possibility of recovery, and just like that, the car corrected and settled
into straight line. Maybe I’d better count Angel interventions. I’m
probably on auxiliary lives by now. Well, what the heck. So I have issues.
No point in giving in and slowing now. On the other hand; should I hire a
driver.



In 1996, I wrote a rant about listening for God to talk to me. I think that
I worried Janice. She wrote that she would be happy to listen if I wanted
to talk. Janice, I still haven’t had an audible rap with God.  I have loads
of issues. Are you still ready to talk?


Jim