Tag Archives: pain

Ubi Has A Peg Leg


It was 4:00 am this past Wednesday night.  Just like the past 3 nights, Ubi was sleeping with me on the couch.  I felt this was safe because my couch is so low to the ground.  The highest point is no more than 2 feet above the ground.  Unlike the past 3 nights, at 4:00 am I woke up to a thud, and then loud screeching.  “Oh no!  Ubi!”, I cried out loud.

I got up and turned on the light and picked him up.  He was shaking violently and yelping.  I comforted him as best I could, stroking him, as he looked up at me with those all too expressive eyes.  I knew he was in severe pain.

Eventually he stopped shaking and squealing though, and I put him on the ground to see if he was limping.  He wasn’t putting any weight on his right rear leg.  He limped over to his crate, stepped inside, and lied down and went to sleep.  I closed the door to his crate, and decided to wait until morning to take him to the vet since he wasn’t complaining anymore and he was resting.

The next morning I called the vet at 7:00 am, right when they opened, and they got me an appointment at 9:00 am.  An x-ray showed a broken tibia in his right rear leg.  I felt so bad.  I felt like I used very poor judgement and I could never forgive myself.

The picture above was from when I picked him up from the vet a little bit later.  You can tell he’s frowning.  My frown is fake, but inside it wasn’t.  I told the vet tech that I just felt horrible.  She reminded me that I’ve never had a puppy before, and sometimes lessons have to be learned the hard way.  She said that she had no hesitation sending him home with me because she and everyone else there knew that I would do right by him.

It turns out that Ubi doesn’t need his cone collar because he can get to the bandage anyway.  A friend at work had a good idea, which was to spray Bitter Apple on it.  Today I am having to slow Ubi down because he doesn’t appear to be in any pain, and he’s flying around my condo like nothing happened.  He has definitely learned how to use his peg leg, and it doesn’t deter him from playing.  It pains me to stop him and slow him down because I know he has a ton of energy and he just wants to play, but the more he puts weight on the peg leg, the longer it will take to heal.

So I’ve learned a big lesson, and as I finish this up with Ubi at my feet barking at me to play with him, all I can think about is that this could have been much worse.  Everyone tells me that he will heal quickly because he is a puppy.  I’m looking forward to the day when he gets the bandage off and is released from bondage.  In the meantime, I will consider this to be a character building exercise.  Not for Ubi, but for me.

I don’t want to operate on your back – Pain Part 2

There’s a good possibility that when someone hears these words spoken by an orthopedic surgeon, this would bring a smile to their face.  After all, perhaps the surgeon is about to suggest another solution to pain they have been experiencing.  Don’t get me wrong.  He did.  But his suggestion was to go back to my pain specialist and try some different techniques.  “They have all sorts of procedures they can perform to help you with the pain!”, he exclaimed loudly as he told me a story of another patient of his who went to the same pain specialist that I’m seeing and had great success.

What I told the surgeon though was that I had already tried everything the pain specialist had to offer, which I thought he already knew given that I was being referred by a pain specialist who saw the MRI of my back and determined their wasn’t much else he could do for me.  He then went on to show me my messed up spine on both the MRI, and the X-Ray he took while I was in his office.  I’ve seen these pictures hundreds of times in my lifetime, and every time I look I feel deformed, and ugly, and things just look worse that they did before, and that’s because they are worse. 

“I can see why you are in pain.”, he said.  He pointed out the “inflamation”, the “degeneration”, the pinched nerves, the arthritis, and how the scoliosis was only complicating matters.  He pointed out that the top of my back was bent forward and that he was afraid if he operated on the bottom of my back I would be hunched over even more than I am now.  He lectured about how correcting the problems I had in my lower back would not fix the pain I’m experiencing because the pain I’m experiencing is in my lower back.  This caught me off guard, but he explained that fixing the lower back helps leg pain, not lower back pain.  I still don’t completely understand, but I’m not an orthopedic surgeon, so I guess I have to trust him.

I then said to him, “So you are confirming that I’m feeling pain.  I already know that.  Is their nothing you can do for me?”  He told me the odds of surgery fixing my problem were too small to risk causing more problems and just distributing the pain to another location.  I understood this.  I was just frustrated.  I told him about the pain medication I was on and explained that I didn’t want to have to take it for the rest of my life.  I had already asked the pain specialist about other things I could do, and I’ve already tried those other things.  Exercises, Chiropractic, physical therapy, massage.  About the only thing I haven’t tried is Accupuncture.  The pain specialist said none of this would help me.  Not with everything that is broken in my back.

The thing is though, this surgeon was just one man.  He gave me the phone number for another surgeon who works in my area, and also at John’s Hopkins hospital.  I’ve already contacted John’s Hopkins on my own and I’m waiting to hear back from them.  I’m not giving up on this until I’ve exhausted all possibilities. 

Today, disappointing news is not devastating news because today I am a much more balanced person emotionally than I used to be.  I am deformed, but I’m not a freak, and in fact I’m a pretty darn good looking guy.  My deformity is hardly noticable until you’ve been staring at me for a long time, and some people have told me they don’t notice it at all.  I’m just a person in pain.  Long term treatment with pain medication is not an option for me, and I’m not going to accept that as the solution.  I hate having to take it!  I hate the stigma associated with it!  I hate the side effects of it, and if you are wondering what I’m talking about, I hate having to take a ton of extra fiber supplements so that I can poop!  I hope that didn’t gross anyone out, but really I don’t care.

The ending to this chapter of the story goes like this.  This is not over until I say it’s over.  I don’t see any fat women around, just one slighly chubby man, so I’m going to keep trudging forward.


Pain comes in many different forms.  At the root level though (no pun intended for those in the medical field), pain is either emotional or physical.  Sometimes one creates, and then perpetuates the other.  For example, sometimes physical pain prevents us from being able to sleep, which in turn not only hurts our bodies further, causing everything from obesity, to problems with our immune systems, but the lack of sleep also interferes with our judgment and reason skills, causing us sometimes to be short tempered, depressed, or anxious.

On the other hand, emotional pain causes stress, or anxiety, or depression, which can take a toll physically on our body.  Causing insomnia, heart problems, digestive problems, cancer.

Sometimes, when dealing with chronic pain, people who are not doctors, or therapists like to think that they are.  To the pain problem they would say, “I take Aleve, and that takes care of all of my pain.  I do acupuncture.  I exercise.  I lost 40 lbs and my pain went away.  I go to a physical therapist.  I go to a chiropractor.  I get a massage every week.”

The advice for the emotional pain may be, everything from, “I use St John’s Wart.” to “Just let it go.  Get over it.  Why are you holding on to this?”

The only fault I can find in this type of advice is that what worked for them may not work for you or for me, and maybe the advice should instead be, I’d see a doctor about that.  It seems to me that the family physician I have today is perfectly capable of assessing my situation and determining whether or not he can help me.  If he can’t help me he will refer me to a specialst, like a chiropractor, or an acupuncturist, or a physical therapist, or a massage therapist, or a personal trainer or a dietician.  In my case though, it was a pain specialst.

The people in our lives offering advice are probably just trying to help though, so don’t be too upset with them.  In my case though, I’m glad I went to the doctor, and I’m glad he referred me to a pain specialist.  For the past 1 1/2 years I’ve had moderate success with my physical pain.  But let’s go back through my history for a moment so that I can illustrate the events leading up to today.  Not so much so you can understand me better, or sympathize with me, but so that maybe you can relate.  Maybe there are others out there who will read this and feel comforted that there is someone out there who knows what they are going through and struggling with, and maybe can relate.  If you are one of those people I’d love to hear your story.

I was born with a rare congenital deformity of my right shoulder.  My parents searched far and wide for a solution, to hear everything from, “It’s just a broken collar bone and will heal on it’s own.” to “There’s nothing we can do.  He’s just going to be deformed, have little use of his right arm.”

But then they found a doctor only 30 miles away at John’s Hopkins hospital in Baltimore, MD.  He knew exactly what the condition was, and was confident he could help.  So at 22 months old I was under the knife for the first time in my short life.

The surgery was as successful as one would have hoped, but I was not out of the woods yet.  Although I looked more normal, and had more motion in my right arm than I would have, I still had a great deal of challenges to face.

I grew up with horrible asthma, most likely unrelated, but still it took a deep emotional toll having to be rushed to the hospital for epinephrine shots, and constantly being on medication.  At 12 years old I was diagnosed with scoliosis, and cifosis.  I was supposed to wear a full body brace 22 hours a day.  Although I wore it to sleep, and when I was at home, I refused to wear it outside of the house and my parents didn’t force me.  Because of this I probably deal with a lot more physical pain than I would have if I had followed directions.  Plus, my body would look more normal.  Not that it’s bad, but it is different.

When kids were old enough to know how to be cruel, they were.  I was made fun of, called “No Neck”, bullied by many.  I started taking Marshall arts, and when I started to fight back, the bullying stopped, at least at the physical level.

At 13 I had to have surgery for a hiatal hernia along with acid reflux.  This was likely related to the deformity.  Over a week in the hospital, and weeks away from school.  You have to remember this was 1980.  More physical and emotional pain, although it was meant to relieve other chronic pain, which it did, for about 7 years.  Now I have a big scar, and I take prescription strength Prilosec chronically.

At 25 I was the passenger in a car which hit a tree.  The seat belt grabbed me so hard that my sternum snapped in two.  I’d never felt such pain, and I never would again, until I was at the pain doctor’s office the other day and he was injecting me with a steroid to try to get the swelling down in my lower back.  More about that later.  I was taken to the hospital by ambulance, admitted of course, and I spent several days there.  Even with the pain medication they were giving me, it hurt to move, and it hurt not to move.  Even breathing hurt.  Staying in one position for too long hurt.  Changing positions hurt.  There was no way to get rid of that pain for the first few days, except for sleep which came rarely.  Even then, I’d dream about it.

Around the end of the ’90s through the early half of the 2000s,  I started experiencing severe abdominal pain, particularly in the lower left.  The diagnosis this time was diverticulosis.  Flare ups of diverticulitis, meant trips to the doctor’s office and antibiotics.  The pain would go away for a time, but would return eventually.   The flare ups became more and more frequent, to the point where the last one was nearly deadly.  The infection had caused a perforation in my large intestine, and it was in my blood stream.  I was at a wedding in Cleveland when it got really bad.  I was up all night with intense pain, a mid grade fever, and vomitting.  When my Dad was ready to take me to the airport, I told him to take me to the hospital instead.  Good decision.  They did a CAT scan and immediately admitted me.  I spent 4 days in the hospital in Cleveland, over 500 miles from home, on a high dose of antibiotics, while they told me that if they couldn’t get the infection under control I would wind up with a colostomy bag, and I’d have to have a second surgery to put my broken lower digestive tract back together.  Luckily they did get it under control, and I went home, scheduled the surgery, and although this was yet another physical and emotional toll, that problem was fixed.

I had to give up a trip to Kenya because of this last incident.  It was paid in full.  This would have been my first major trip in years.  Instead, I had to spend months contacting the airlines, and hotels, and excursion managers to try to convince them to give me at least some of my money back, which of course caused further stress.  Ultimately I got a full refund from the airlines, but not much else.  This was about a third of the total amount I had already spent for the trip.  But that was Ok.  You wouldn’t believe the amount of help I received from family and friends.  The love they showed, not through words, but through actions, made it so much easier to accept the situation as it was, rather than to complain about what it could have been.

All this time, I was still dealing with skeletal pain.  This was not creating the emotional pain I was feeling, but it was certainly contributing to it.  Still, I had almost accepted it as just something that would be a part of my life.  It was always something there in the background which was just the result of getting older.  After all, I had tried the chiropractor,  the physical therapist, the exercise,  losing weight, the massage, and even the NSAIDs, and occasionally the narcotics, but ultimately these things either didn’t help at all, or helped so little that it wasn’t worth the effort.

All this time I was still dealing with emotional pain.  Perhaps a lot of this was my inability to shake the habits, and reactions to the world that I learned as a child.  Even though my actions are my responsibility,  sometimes my reactions are more than what is called for, and then the actions that come from those overractions, are far too swift and far too judgemental than what is appropriate.  I have dealt with the result of these overractions to the world in many different ways in the past, mostly in ways that cause further self-destruction.  Lately though, I try to deal with them by seeing a therapist, and by being with people who like me, are trying to overcome a lifetime of adversity.

When I was 23, my mother died.  My relationship with here at the time was rocky at best.  Then again, my mother’s relationship wth everyone towards the end was rocky.  She had pushed everyone out of her life.  She was on unusually high doses of pain medications,  muscle relaxants,  mood stabilizers, and anxiety reducers. She was depressed and angry all the time.  Sometimes her behavior was quite frankly, psychotic.  She had quite a rough childhood, and although this was not an excuse for the way she viewed and reacted to the world, when I look back, and relate her life experiences to my own, I can understand why she had become the person that she was, and how I could use her as an example of where I could go should I not make the right choices.  At the age of 48, she just didn’t wake up one morning.   The coroner said she had not taken any of her medications at a dose that was more than prescribed,  but that the dosages she was taking, and the combinations of medications she was taking most likely caused her heart to fail.  There is another factor which the coroners never take into account, which is that the drugs of sadness and loneliness, or more specifically the chemical reactions they cause and the damage they physically cause to our bodies, were also a contributing factor.

My mother’s death was hard to take, and I still cry about it every time I think about it because the last time we spoke we were having an argument about why I didn’t tell her I was back from vacation.   My last words to her were, “I’m afraid to talk to you!”.  I had stopped talking to her many times in that last year, sometimes for months.  Too much pain to talk to her, and so much pain not to.  But I was not alone.  There weren’t a lot of people left in my mother’s life who were able to tolerate her.  Today though, I have forgiven her, and I even thank her.  My experience with her has taught me much about myself, and especially about how I react to the world.  Most importantly,  she has shown me an extreme of where I could go if I don’t stay in touch with people with whom I have a healthy relationship, and do whatever is within my power to keep that relationship healthy.

So what is this leading up to?  As I have been somewhat successfully dealing with the emotional pain I have been through in life, I must also deal with the physical pain with just as much enthusiasm.   The people in my life, who can help me with physical pain are doctors.  The pain doctor has tried multiple different methods to help me with the pain in my lower back.  That’s right.  The deformity is in my right shoulder, but a lifetime of compensation has caused the joints in my spine on the lower left side to weaken, form arthritis,  pinch nerves, and cause me so much pain that I can’t sleep.  Sorry helpful advice givers, warm milk is not going to help here.

The doctor has tried a variety of methods, not just for this area of my back, but for other areas which are difficult for me.  Some have succeeded and the pain is gone.  Yet, some like this lower back pain have failed.  The doctor ordered an MRI.  I’ve had them for other parts of my back, but not here.  Unfortunately the results did not look promising.   The doctor read the report, and showed, me the pretty pictures, and showed me just how much of the pictures that weren’t so pretty.  He told me that he could give an epidural injection which would be directed at the main nerve which was causing the problem in the back.  He wasn’t sure how effective it would be, or how long it would last, and reminded me, that it was only treating one of my issues, and only the symptoms caused by that issue.  He then asked me if I had spoken to a surgeon.  Folks, when you are going to a pain doctor who’s motto is “Non-surgical solutions for pain”, and he is asking you if you have spoken to a surgeon, it’s time to make a difficult decision.

I asked him if there were exercises or physical therapy or any other less invasive methods.  His answer was, as he was shaking his head, I’m not going to tell you not to exercise.  I agreed to have the shot, and I couldn’t walk after he was finished.  The broken sternum was a long time ago,  but I can’t remember feeling the amount of pain I was feeling when that needle went in, for that extended a period of time, ever. It was only a minute.  60 seconds.  Holy shit!  But maybe it would be successful.  Maybe I could avoid surgery.  Maybe it was worth it.

Afterwards, the doctor and I were talking and I said, “Maybe I will just have to accept the fact that I’m going to have some amount of physical pain for the rest of my life.”  His answer was, “From what I saw in the MRI, not as much as you have been experiencing lately.  What you need to accept is that you are going to have to make a choice between chronic pain medication or surgery.”

I contemplated this for less than half a second.  Pain medication treats the symptom.  Ultimately you have to take more and more of it to have the same effect.  Finally, even on dangerously high doses, it no longer works, and then you are back to the choice of surgery if you don’t die first.  At that point though, you may want to die.  You may have pushed everyone in your life away because you have become dependant on the pain medication,  and that changes you.  You become self-righteous, self-absorbed, and self-serving.  Your thoughts become focused on your next dose, and everything else in your life backs off, fades away, and becomes unimportant and unecessary.  Your body suffers, your loved ones suffer, your mind suffers, and both your body and mind begin to die.  If it sounds like I’m speaking from experience, it’s because I am.  I’m not just talking about my mother either.  Thank God that this is not my life today.

This next part I have not experienced, but what do people in this situation do when they finally do have surgery?  I would expect they suffer.   If they have built up a high tolerance to pain medication, then how much will they need to handle post surgical pain?

I made the decision to wait.  If the injection didn’t work, I would get a second opinion,  and if the second doctor agreed, I would begin looking for a surgeon.  Unfortunately, although the injection worked for a couple of days, the pain is back today with a vengeance.   I will give it a couple more days, and then call the doctor back.  Did anyone see the puns in those last two sentences?

There are things from my past that I must let go of, but I can’t erase the memories.  I can only accept them, and hopefully learn from them, perhaps discovering that forgiveness is the best way to let go of the pain those memories cause me.

There are things in my life that I must accept, but sometimes I need the help of others to figure out what I need to accept, and what I can change.

Sometimes I have to listen to my friends and loved ones, and to experts, and combine that with my own experience to make the best decision possible for myself.

Then, once the decision is made, even if there are still doubts, I must take a leap of faith and let God handle it from there.  But I must not hesitate.  A decision to do something is not actually doing anything.

This past 3 years, I’ve decided I wanted to take some of those major trips I was discussing earlier.  It took me a while to build the courage back up to make such a financial commitment after what happened with Kenya.  In 2012 I went to Italy.  In 2013 I went on a tall ship cruise from Italy to Montenegro, to Croatia, to Slovenia, and back to Italy.

This year I decided I wanted to do something different, and at the end of October, I am going to Kenya.  I am only going though, if I take this leap of faith, and I do so in enough time to allow myself to heal.  So the time is now.

For now I have chosen to not accept the pain, and to make a decision that has the most likely chance of long term success.  If I was not living such a wonderful life today, with such wonderful people in it, I might have made a different decision.  Thank you to everyone who has been in my life, and who currently is for helping me to see clearly, and today get through painful times, whether they be emotional or physical.   I hope I can be there for you some day too.

It’s been such a long time!

It’s been a long time since my last post here.  I wish I could offer some reasons for that, but ultimately it comes down to a combination of laziness and depression.  Yeah, I used the D word.  A couple of months ago I used the G word, and I hope I didn’t put too many people off.  I also hope the D word doesn’t put too many people off, but it’s a part of who I am.  I’ve accepted that, and it’s very debilitating when I’m in the middle of it.

I have to say one thing though.  D and G don’t go very well together.  When there’s a lot of D in my life, it’s difficult for G to enter.  I block G out.  I block everyone and everything out.  I live in that dark corner of my brain that seems warm and cozy at first, but eventually becomes a prison.  The longer I stay there, the harder it is to escape, and the more I am able to convince myself that I don’t deserve to be anywhere else, and that this is my destiny.

So lets get back to G for a second, because I don’t want anyone to think I’m about to start preaching about the bible, or JC, or really any predefined notion of what G is for that matter.  For me, G is like the Force from Star Wars.  I hope that statement didn’t put anyone off, but if it did, quite frankly, that is your problem.  For me, G is available to me whenever I need it.  G is always there with guidance, direction, purposefulness, leading the way to the most fulfilling life I can possibly have.  Now I did say “like” the Force from Star Wars.  It’s not exactly like that.  In Star Wars, the Force is invisible, seemingly giving people magical powers to overcome their foes, and lead them in the right direction.  But my “Force”, my G, well, my G guides me mostly through the people places and things in my life.

For example.  A few years ago, I was coming home from a Memorial Day Picnic with a few friends.  I had brought my dog with me to the picnic.  Just so you know, I can be very introverted, especially when D is ruling my life.  I knew a couple of neighbors, but not really well, and I was actually uncomfortable when I would see them on the street, and would lower my eyes as we walked past each other.  On this day though, I get out of the car, and I have my dog on the leash.  My neighbor down the street is having a barbeque.  As I’m opening my front the door to my home, my neighbor is calling my name.  I pretend not to hear him and open my door and begin to step inside.  My dog has other ideas however, and pulls away from me, and goes running right over to the barbeque.

Some of you are thinking, well of course.  The dog wanted a hamburger.  To me though, that is beside the point.  To me, that was synchronicity, defined by Carl Jung as two or more events that are seemingly unrelated, but when they are looked at together, they have a very definite, meaningful connection.  Another word for the skeptical is coincidence.  I choose not to see it this way.  The events here were me taking my dog to this Memorial Day picnic.  Arriving home when my neighbor was having a picnic.  So far, not so out there right?  My dog pulling away from me and running over to the neighbor.  Still not so far out there.  It’s the outcome though, and the fourth event which I haven’t talked about yet that puts it over the top for me.  I walked over there to get my dog.  I could have just left, but my neighbor asked me to stay and have a burger.  I could have said no thank you and left.  But something at that very moment was giving me courage.  Something was making it easy for me to stay.  I know what it is now.  It was the humor in the whole situation.  My dog ran over to get some food, which made me both gasp and chuckle at the same time.  When I got over there, my neighbors were warm, and friendly, and my dog was being a goof ball and begging for food.  We laughed.  That was it!  We laughed!  Connection!  To this day, I am friendly with that neighbor, and that event helped me to get to know many of my other neighbors.

Before this event, in another home, I was sitting on my front porch when a neighbor who I was having a quarrel with arrive home.  A few months earlier, I had a few friends over to watch the superbowl.  I only had two parking spaces, and I was using one of them.  So I told one of my friends to park in my neighbor’s space, and we put a note on his car telling her to knock on my door when she got home and we would move the car.  Well, she never saw the note, but instead chewed me out.  I probably deserved it and was lucky his car wasn’t towed.  But on this particular day, she got home, got her 3 year old son out of the car, and went to the trunk of the car.  Her son started asking for a particular toy, and his mother couldn’t find it.  She said, “I don’t know honey, I think it’s gone, I’m sorry.”  This 3 year old kid, for whatever reason, turned to me, threw his arms up in the air as if to ask “Where is it?” and said, “It’s gone!  It’s gone!”, continuing to lower and lift his arms over his head repeatedly.  He wasn’t the least bit upset, he was just being a 3 year old kid.  Of course my reaction was to laugh.  The moment I started laughing, his mother’s eyes met mine, and she smiled, and all of the tension between us evaporated immediately.  She happens to pull up, while I happen to be outside on my porch, and her son happens to ask her for a toy which she can’t find, and then happens to do something that makes me laugh, which causes her to smile at me.  Coincidence.  Come on people!  Synchronicity!

Let’s take a leap of faith for the moment and assume that what you may think of as coincidence is actually G?  Does this mean that if I am paying attention and not so wrapped up in my own life and my own problems, and my own misfortune, and my own D, and I am living amongst the living, that G will present itself, and I will be able to recognize it, and use it in helping me make the right decisions in my life.  I think so.  If you don’t think so, like I said, that is your problem.

So back to D we go.  Sometimes, like I said, it’s really difficult to start the journey out of D when you have completely blocked out G, and have been sitting in that dark prison for a while.  Especially if those around you have been the victims of your wrath while you have been there, because now you not only have to admit that you are where you are because you chose to be there, but you now have to humble yourself and make amends to people as you start the up hill, and rocky journey back to G.  But if you believe what I’m saying here, you are not making this journey alone.  G will guide you, but you’ve got to ask for guidance.  No, I’m not necessarily talking about prayer.  How about simply going to someone you trust, and if you’ve hurt that person, give them a hug, because if they know you well, that may be all they need.  Then tell them you don’t want to be in the prison of D anymore, and you’d be grateful for their assistance climbing out.  Then take it slow, and steady.  Go to anyone else you have harmed, and make amends, or at least try to.  Don’t expect them to be receptive to you, all you can do is try.  Do these things with G in your heart.  G is in that person that was helping you.  G was in my dog that day, and that 3 year old boy.  If you take it slow and steady, G is always there to show you the way.  Don’t ask for gifts, ask for guidance.  And when you get that guidance, ask for the courage to move in G’s direction.

One thing is for sure.  If you are in a good place, and you are able to keep G in your heart, you will undoubtedly run into others who are experiencing the hell of D.  Reach out your hand, so that they may grab a hold, but be careful about doing much more than that.  Let them take your hand, don’t grab them by the collar.  That is a good way to lose some fingers.  If they don’t take your hand, then tell them it is always there. If they do take it, guide them gently, and remember how you felt when you were where they are, because you may be there again someday, and they may be reaching their hand out to assist you.

Tomorrow may never come, so stop feeling sorry for yourself, get off your ass, and ask for help.  And when you are given direction from someone who can be objective, take it!  G will always point you toward the light (no not that light), but it’s up to you to be in a place to see where G is pointing, and it is up to you to start your journey in that direction.

– Larry (Skywalker) Cohen