The Needle and the Healing Done

Using a needle on yourself doesn't necessarily mean death and destruction, given the right drug in the needle...


I just pulled a needle out of my leg. Out of the big muscle on top of the thigh that runs across from outward to in. I filled the syringe from a vial, the drug oozing slowly into the barrel. Wiping my skin with alcohol, I took a deep breath and plunged the needle deep into my muscle. The drug entered my body slowly, with a great deal of pressure on the plunger. Al that remains is a slightly sore knot where the injection sits to work its magic on my body...

Dramatic words, huh? But really it's not a big deal. In fact, it's a whole lot better than getting a flu shot. You can even teach someone else to inject it in the gluteus, or even have it done at the doctor's office. The best part is that you'll feel like a new man the next morning.

Testosterone. That eeeviiill hormone decried by feminists for decades. The hormone that makes us men, and which will turn us into angry, depressed, tired slobs when it gets low in our middle-age years. A hormone misunderstood by almost everyone.

For the past 4-5 years, I've been depressed. No anti-depressant did anything to alleviate that feeling. For the past year, I've had absolutely no reason to be depressed; everything in my life has been doing well and getting better. Except for me. In spite of a fantastic new job and a wonderful woman that loves me more than I can imagine, I've just sank lower and lower. Fatigue dogged my every waking hour, even after plenty of sleep. Several times, I had been ready to just give up and give in.

A few weeks ago, I went to a new doctor and described all these problems and asked if I could get a test of my testosterone level. My doctor's PA (Physicians Assistant) felt that testosterone could likely be a contributing factor. After a confirmation of an exceedingly low testosterone level, I went and picked up my prescription.

I took my first injection one week ago. Overnight, (seriously, overnight!) I felt like I hadn't felt in years. The depression was gone, completely. Within another day or two, I felt more energy, and more interest in all sorts of activities that I thought I had grown bored with. The people around me could see the immediate change in my mood, and I could see an immediate change in, er, other areas...


For all of you men in your forties and beyond, I can't urge you enough to have this checked, if you've been feeling depressed, tired, uninterested, etc. Ladies, if you see these signs in your man, have him get checked. The solution is easy and inexpensive. A shot a week for a few weeks and then one every 3-4 weeks is a small price to pay to get your former life back. As big, tough, manly men, (in our minds, at least! lol) it's hard to even think that this might be a problem for us. But, if it is, there's nothing to be ashamed or embarrassed about, and you won't regret it one bit.

And once you see how fast it makes you feel so very different, you'll have a greater understanding and appreciation for the huge changes that hormone swings cause in the mood of your lady...



On the radio this evening, I heard the host describing a man..."He's been loved, he knows love, and gives out a lot of love; that's why he doesn't need a therapist." Truest words I've heard all week.

Take care of yourselves and your loved ones,
E

What? What?

You ever have one of those dreams where a real physical sensation from your body translates into your dream? I had one this morning; woke up thinking a cop was punching me. Turned out that my head was laying on my hand and I had a knuckle jammed into my cheekbone. Those kind of dreams are kind of funny; much better than the ones where you're flailing and throwing the covers around and you have no idea why. Certainly much better than the ones where you're dreaming that you're going to the bathroom, and hoping in the dream that you'll wake up in time.

Flag Day; Devil Candy; Greek Food.

I was wrong. There is some good stuff to write about today.

First off, it's Flag Day. I just put my U.S. and Texas flags out after taking the garbage can to the curb. Our local Girl Scouts will put a flag in front of your house on holidays as a fund-raiser. Strange that they don't do Flag Day as one of those holidays. They do some other things wrong with the flags, but that's for another day.

Deleted

I had a long post written and just hit the delete button on it. I didn't like it. And I didn't like it because it was just too cynical, IMO. I just really don't need that in my life anymore.

A few years back, I used to write voluminous posts venting my vituperative venom. Didn't help me get past any of that stuff one bit, it just pushed me deeper into the feedback loop of anger. These days I choose to focus on more positive things, or at least to express myself on difficult subjects in a positive manner.

Treasure and Worship

Shifting from one to the other, that's where it all started going downhill. You'll need to refer to the previous post to get some of the references I make here, but it's short and quick to read.

Last year, I wound up in a relationship that was better than any one I had been in before and better than I could have imagined. One thing that made it very loving for us was my decision early on to ask God to help me treasure her every day. The problem was that when you forget who you are, the work you've done, and that you're perfect at being human, it becomes easy to elevate others to a place that they shouldn't occupy in your life. She had become my object of worship.

Wake-Up Call

I've been processing some things over the past few days and had quite a moment of clarity as a result.

Fours years ago, I had an unrequited love knock me on my butt, so to speak. I was at what was probably the most healthy and whole point in my life, spiritually and emotionally. The problem wasn't so much getting knocked on my butt as it was my lazy refusal to get back up and go on with living my life. Fast forward through three years of isolation and depression, and I found myself with an even more amazing love, one that I couldn't have imagined. Things could have been beyond my wildest dreams, but the depression was still hanging on to me. Or so I thought.

Relationships and Sharpening Knives

Sounds pretty grim and serial killer-ish, huh? Really, it isn't. Bear with me while I take you through some seemingly unrelated information to get to my final point.

One of my favorite Bible verses is, "Iron sharpens iron, so one man sharpens another." - Proverbs 27:17, NASB. We all get the gist of that verse, but I think a lot of people miss the most effective way to put it into practice in our daily lives. Why? Because most people have no idea how to properly sharpen and care for a knife.

Dead Batteries, Rabbits, Etc...

Well, looks like it's going to be a two-fer today folks. Went outside to crank up the car and head to the office and found my battery was dead. Not just low, but completely drained. Not that I'm surprised by this; the battery is five years old, and it's been giving me trouble for four days now. I added some water to it, like I did in a cold blast of winter '09-'10, but it didn't cure the problem like it did then. Gave me just enough juice to crank up a few times each day and get to the jobsites. Stuff like this is why I don't go to the casinos; I tend to push my luck just one step too far.

Running On Empty

Every once in a while I have a night that I can't sleep one bit. No matter what I try, I just can't get the brain to shut down enough to go into snooze mode. I've got some sleeping pills, but I can't take them in the middle of the night, unless I don't have to do anything at all the next day. This wasn't the case last night, as I have a lot of work to do today before I go to work tonight. I can already tell it's going to be a "yippee-ki-yo" kind of day, as my old friend Lee used to say. A full pot of coffee, maybe more, this morning, for sure.

Hi, I'm Eric, and I'm addicted to Coffee...

I don't know if I could make it as a functioning member of society without coffee. At least not one that has to show up somewhere and do something at a certain time in the morning. Most mornings (this one included), I just want to go back to bed after waking up, and even if I am fully awake, my brain just doesn't seem to be capable of anything more complicated than reading the comics. Just the sounds of the coffee maker and the smell of the brewing grounds seem to give me a lift and make the day better. Usually half a pot is good to get me going, but there are some days I need a full pot, and some days that I want a full pot. More is better, right?

Notice that I measure my coffee intake in terms of pots, not cups. My coffee maker brews 12 cups. That 12 cup pot fills my mug exactly four times. So, when I tell you I drink half a pot of coffee most mornings, you know that I only have to fill my cup twice. But, when my doctor asks, I tell her I usually have only two cups of coffee per day. A politician's truth, if you will.

Summer. Sleep. Cantaloupe.

Back when I was young and in school, summer time meant being able to sleep late. These days, it means getting up earlier to get as much work done as possible before the heavy, humid heat of Houston sets in, sapping fluids and strength from bodies. After we were done with the prep work  yesterday, I came straight home and fell into bed for a 3+ hour nap. That was at the crack of noon...sheesh. A nice cold chef's salad and some fresh cantaloupe really hit the spot when I woke up. I've got no desire at all right now to cook anything over the stove or on the grill/smoker. the only way I'll be lighting any wood up for the smoker is if I get a chance to do a brisket or some pork shoulders overnight with some slow, low-temp smoke. Hickory and mesquite, mixed, preferably on a night with a very light breeze so the smell just hangs throughout the neighborhood and tantalizes people as they come out to get the newspaper in the morning.

Heat. Rain. More Heat. Not Enough Rain

First measurable rain since January at my house. I've been through some droughts before, but nothing like this one. It's been hotter earlier here this year than any other year on record, too. After pampering the turf in the heavily shaded half of my yard for a few years to get it to fill in, I'm left watching it shrivel up and recede to expose the bare dirt again. No big deal, though, It'll go back to a wet cycle soon enough, and I'll coax it back to the lush green that I enjoyed for a few years. Good time for me to get my compost pile back into action to give the grass another kick next Spring.

The interesting thing I've noticed is that the cycles of my life seem to match the cycles of drought and flood; the drier that the year is, the worse it seems to be for me. Last year was pretty dry in this part of the country, and I only had a couple of refreshing showers in my life. This year, the spiritual rain has left my life, and I only have a lone sprinkler keeping my roots from shriveling now.

Makes me think of the line from a Caedmon's Call song..."The past can be like sidewalk chalk, if you will dance and pray for rain."

It's a tough tightrope to walk to look at the vast amount of evil being perpetrated in this world and pray for fire, and to look at my small desire to keep living and pray for rain...

Night Work

Breaking the Silence of the Night...Can't You Hear Me Screaming? - Queensryche, Breaking the Silence

Working at night can be a weird experience, especially if you're working alone. I used to have a job where I would come in very early, around 4:30 a.m. in the summer heat, but that's entirely different since I would only get a couple of hours of alone time before the rest of the crew arrived. Now, it's 10p - 6a on weekends, with only the occasional tenant to break the silence.

First off, it gets quiet alone at night...really quiet. Aside from the intermittent noise of cars and the occasional train in the distance, it's nothing but some night birds and your thoughts...thoughts that seem to exit your skull and bounce around the driveways and buildings. Thoughts that just heighten the sense of desolation and solitude. Echoes that beckon you to shut your eyes and retreat inside of your REM cycle. Too damn quiet, period.

Go, Lovely Rose

Originally written on August 15, 2007. Re-posted for its timely relevance...



"I wonder", he thought, "does she ever think about me? About what could have been?" He had tried for weeks to clear his mind of her image, her memory, but the more he tried to distract himself, the more he thought about her. Simultaneously, he wanted to forget she ever existed and to run his fingers through her hair and down her cheek. He thought of the time that they said goodbye, sharing a long look into each other's eyes, and cursed himself for not saying what he truly felt. He almost wished that she would scream at him to go away and leave her alone. It would be easier to forget if he knew she hated him. But here he was in a self-imposed limbo, not knowing at all what she felt or thought about him.

Relaunching!

Well, folks, I've decided it's finally time to start writing again. Since I haven't written anything here since early 2008, I've decided to get rid of all the old posts and relaunch completely with a new look to the site. I'll be re-posting some of my older writing as it seems fitting. Don't be looking for uplifting, inspirational things here, since that's not where I'm at right now. Instead, I hope to provoke people to some deep thought and introspection on some topics, with the occasional piece of (mostly) fiction. Hope you enjoy it!