Story- A struggle.

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missed mallards
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Story- A struggle.

Postby missed mallards » Wed Sep 12, 2018 3:16 pm

A story I wrote for no apparent reason. May need to get a blog started? Not hunting related. Know anyone who's had a stroke? How'd you go about getting them back to their old mental state?

Twenty-Two Feet

Feet is a unit of measurement. Feet are also what carries you from point A to point B. The significance of the two, distance. Let’s take some time and discuss this in a way that will probably lose your attention. Life is energy, and life is constantly moving. In order to move, one must use energy, and by using energy, you move. The amount you move is the amount of distance from point A to point B. So back to Feet, with every step of the foot, you will cover distance, or feet, and be mobile. You are essentially moving. I know the title says twenty-two feet, and I’ll explain that. If you ever take out a measuring tape and measure out a foot, you will quickly realize that it’s not a far distance. In most peoples stride, they cover multiple feet with every step. Then again, if you measure out 22 feet, the distance is noticeably more.

I’m by no means a carpenter. In fact, I struggle to even see the hash marks on the tape and have a hard time knowing the corresponding amount each mark makes. But, I can count. I understand that a square foot of tile is approximately 12 inches or one foot, and by the series of tile laid between the couch and door, there were 22. Not a long distance by no means, but a distance that should be noted. 22 feet was the exact distance my stepdad had to crawl for his salvation. What had started out as a regular night home with a good movie on the tube turned into a life changing event. It was one that not only affected him, but everyone.

They say life happens in a blink of an eye. One second can be fine, and the next not so much. That was pretty much how it happened too. One second my mom is resting in bed while my step dad was watching a movie. The next second, a house full of first responders. In what my stepdad said felt like a second, he went from feeling great to knowing something bad was wrong. The next second his chest cramped up, and the remaining seconds he had to fight for his life. The events unfolded in a crazy manner in that his body went numb. As his body went limp, he fell on the floor. As he tried, but failed to yell, he tried to pull himself to his feet. The attempt was futile. With the right side of his body shutdown, he managed to drag himself across 22 feet of tile to where my mother was resting in bed. I say resting, asleep in bed. In one last attempt, he slung the door open waking her. There, laying in the middle of the hallway, with no ability to move or talk, was how my mother found him.

The rest was a blurr for my mom. 911 was called and in seconds, neighbors came to their aid, in minutes they had him on a stretcher, and just like that, the race was on. A trip to the nearest emergency room yielded an emergency airvac trip to Memphis where an expert in the field was waiting on his arrival. The 50% chance the doc gave my mom was enough to warrant her blessing to operate “Now”. As she said, the known alternative was enough to try anything. What started out as a simple movie had surely turned into something more.

The ‘shot’ worked ok, the surgery went off without a hitch, and 4 days later, my stepdad was standing on his own two legs. His ability to talk is coming back with minimal problems. Physically, he’s in better shape. Mentally? Well that’s a whole new ballgame. That is what sparked my fingers to slide across the key board and write this. 22 feet the man crawled. He literally pulled his body across the floor. He could not yell for help. He could not run for help. He had to struggle to keep his self alive. Through god’s graces, he made it to my mom. He somehow managed to open the door, and somehow managed to awake her. He spent 4 days in a hospital fighting to regain his muscle usage and fought to talk. And, as he sits and walks his property, physically, he’s ok. His mind however is his worst enemy.

He full knows how close it was. He’s not the same and is scared. He knows another foot could have been it. He knows another minute could have been it. He is fighting the fear. Sadly, or so it seems, he’s losing. As bad as I’d like too, I’d just like to grab him and shake him. I’d love to explain the remarkable recovery time, the grace the good lord himself gave him, and show him what all he did to be here now. His anxiety and depression warrants a good talking too. It seems easy, right? Just go in there and say “Look boss, you have a second chance, make the best of it!” Just simply, help him declutter his mind so he can live again! It sounds so damn easy.

It’s amazing the power of someone’s mind. If you sit and think about it, think of all that someone can do by simply thinking. Now, you take the same power, and turn it into a negative powerhouse. All the good that can be done, is now bad. The thoughts of a beautiful stream with crystal clear running water are now a muddy ass stagnant hole. That is depression. That’s what people don’t understand. It’s not the good that is there, it’s that the same thing that controls the good, can also control the bad. Sadly, the control often is not controllable. Negative feeds on negativity. Just like the devil feeds on evil, negative thoughts leads to negative outcomes. It’s a viscous cycle and it’s on going. There’s no “good” days, theres just those that aren’t as bad. The power of the mind is astonishing.

I hope to write back and say that those 22 feet where an awaking milestone. I hope that my stepdad gets to rerun the course of life and all that is bad now is good again. I hope. I hope that people that do read this to the end get a clearer understanding of how depression works. I hope that people understand the power that their minds have, and how their power can influence others. Most importantly, and something to take away, is that theres never a time to quit fighting. Just as my stepdad pulled himself across a floor with one arm, he fought. There are trying times in everyones life and everyone faces them differently. Those times can be fun and pleasurable, and a second later can be an uphill grind. You gotta go and push! You gotta know there is help somewhere. In the crawl, my mom. In his mind, well, he will find it, but my mom is standing right there for him. Depression, anxiety, love, and god. Those 4 words are merely words, but remember there are 4 there. Use them, understand them, and cover some distance! It may be a rought 22 feet, it may be a foot, it may be inches. Move!


I can write it, but sure need to figure out what to say to him to get him to move. It's been tuff on him and my mom. Wish there was an emoji I could send him and poof, he's better. May end up sending him and letting him read it? Who knows. I should be an expert, can't fix others though.
If I don't do it, I ain't gettin nun.......So i'm doing it
novacaine
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Re: Story- A struggle.

Postby novacaine » Wed Sep 12, 2018 3:36 pm

I say let him read it.
"You didn't happen to find that on the side of the road did you?"- One Shot
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lilwhitelie
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Re: Story- A struggle.

Postby lilwhitelie » Fri Sep 14, 2018 7:15 am

WOW!! Not sure how anyone couldn't read till the end. You can sure write and this was one of your most powerful I have read. Sad but many suffer the same struggles your stepdad is facing yet won't admit it. I agree you should let him read it. It's a lot easier to get your message across via letter vs in person I would think. He will either read till the end and be in tears or he will quit reading it quickly to not face what he knows is the truth. Either way you have nothing to lose and a lot to gain.
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mfalkner
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Re: Story- A struggle.

Postby mfalkner » Fri Sep 14, 2018 8:48 am

Depression is a very real and very dangerous enemy. Don't know him but as others have said, it would be very hard to read this and not be moved. Prayers sent for your family.

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