Process of Elimination

I’ve spent way too much of my 29 years in medical facilities. I’ve broken 4 bones, dislocated more knee caps than I can count, been hospitalized at least 5 (if not more) times and I’ve had two organs removed. The gall bladder was earlier this year and I had my appendix taken out on my 16th birthday. I’m fairly certain that but for the talents of various medical professionals, natural selection should have already taken care of me.

I’m spending today going to doctor’s appointments with my mother. Her medical adventures are more than I can chronicle here. I’ve been with her for a good portion of those, too. I can’t even begin to spell most of the problems that she’s had, so I won’t try to enumerate them. I’ve been to surgeries, tests, appointments and I’ve learned enough medical jargon that I’m conversant with the various medical professionals we encounter.

There was certainly a time where I thought that I might want to do something in the medical field. The thought of being able to help someone else through the various travails that I’ve been through seems like a rewarding career. I actually talked with a PA once and for about a week looked into going back to school for that.

Then I remembered that I’m horrible at everything science related.

I only went into the Science building in college when it was absolutely mandatory. I didn’t like the smell. I didn’t like the students that were always stuck inside their books having to memorize the names of muscle groups and the difference between blood types. I was the only guy who didn’t believe in evolution in my Biology class at a Baptist college. (It’s nothing religious, I just can’t get the fish to fish with legs to fish with legs in trees to monkey to people thing. It makes no sense to me.) Instead, I spent my time reading William Blake and Wordsworth. “The Waste Land” actually changed my life and I wrote my big freshman English “defend a position” paper on what makes something a work of art.

So, while I ponder what direction I want to head with my life. I think I can officially rule out everything in the “medical field.”

First Post-Mission Statement

I often find myself asking “How did I get here?” No, this does not have anything to do with a GPS unit that has somehow delivered me to the wrong county with a proud declaration of “destination ahead.” Instead, this is more of a metaphysical question that I sometimes find myself asking when my job brings me to a particular point where I would have never imagined myself.

I’m presently sitting in a driveway (and I use the term fairly loosely) in Lee County, Kentucky. I’ve driven almost 2 hours to get here. I’ve actually passed up my location once and drove about 15 miles past where I was going. It seems that the family who lives here doesn’t exactly know how to get to their house. But let me explain: to get to this house, you have to pass it up, go to the church about a quarter mile away, turn around and then come back. Apparently, some genius of engineering made the driveway such that no car, ATV or hovercraft could make the steep turn to go to this house from the “main road.”

The adventure only begins there. The road instantly goes to gravel and continues down a steep embankment. Once at the bottom of the embankment you get something out of a “Choose Your Own Adventure” book. You can either pull your car off to the side in the “wide place” and walk the 5 minutes to the house or you can press your luck and drive across the bridge. The bridge is another marvel of engineering. It consists of 6 pieces of plywood fastened by who knows what to either side of the creek bank. For a bit of shine, there is the occasional strip of sheet metal that appears to just be lying there. I assume it is more decorative than functional. Who doesn't like a little shine?

Once you’ve crossed the bridge (and in my imagination paid the troll his dragon tail and answered the riddle), you come upon the “picnic area.” The picnic area is really quite extraordinary. It actually rivals something inside of a state park. It’s got a solid wooden roof that is held up by concrete posts that have been painted black and underneath sits an array of solid wooden picnic tables. I counted at least six.

After a leisurely lunch at the picnic area, you can make a left turn and head on to the house. In the yard there are at least seven chickens and a Chihuahua to greet you. The house appears to be in decent condition. It’s white with a cute little porch that has been enclosed in lattice that is painted black. There is a proper porch swing and a few old, brown BARCO loungers that are sitting about for when you need to put your feet up.

My job has brought me here. You see, there is a lady who has been temporarily residing in this house. She has apparently stayed past her welcome and needs a ride to the homeless shelter in Lexington. I actually feel bad for her. Her story is that she left her life in Ohio and came to Kentucky to meet a man that she met on a singles line. He lives in this house. While she was on her way to him, she had an accident in Richmond and totaled her car. Enter me.

I’m the “insurance guy.” I’ve came out here to explain her total loss to her and to get all of the necessary paperwork from her so that we can get the car out of her name and sell it at salvage auction. As she now has no car and has fallen out of favor with the Man of the House, she is now going to a homeless shelter.

She seems completely unfazed by this. It appears that it was all part of her master plan. She already had the address and name of the shelter when she came this way. She wanted to start her life over and go to nursing school and if she had to stay in the shelter for a bit, then so be it. I kind of admire her for that. I certainly don’t have that kind of courage. As a matter of fact, I find her kind of inspiring.

You see, I did everything that I “good boy” is supposed to do. I went to high school, did the honors program and gradated in the Top 20 of my class. I went to a good private college complete with scholarship. I double majored and graduated in 4 years and was ready to go out and conquer the world.

Somewhere something went wrong.

I’ve now been working as an auto insurance adjuster for 5 years. My anniversary was just this past week. As an extra dig into my psyche, my 29^th birthday was the following day. I really feel like I’m at the point where something has to be done. The relationship with my boyfriend is on complete meltdown, I’ve just gotten over having to have my gall bladder removed and while trying to run to get in better shape, I got bitten by a dog.

I keep asking myself “what do you want to do with your life”. The truth is, I haven’t a clue And so I sit here, waiting for this lady to get the underwear that she was washing in the sink and the rest of her belongings and then I'm driving her and nearly two hours to a homeless shelter.

And she's inspired me to start a blog. I'm writing to get the ideas out of my head, think a little more about what it is that I want to do with my life, maybe get some feedback and hopefully get myself on some track towards a better, happier me.