“I think I’m cursed,” said my oldest daughter as we sat on the couch plagued by sickness for the second day. I started thinking about her comment when today found me worse than when I began the antibiotic Avelox 400mg, Qvar 80mcg Inhaler and Singulair this past Monday afternoon. I have been controlling my food intake and my blood sugars are maintained yet I’m still racked with body aches and rattling lungs. My heart is irregular, but I don’t believe it’s in atrial-fib but just to be safe I called my doctor since it’s getting difficult to breath. To the casual observer this would be a great moment to consider calling an ambulance, but I’ve lived this drill for over 15 years though I will admit this one does have my attention.

The last time I had these symptoms was during Thanksgiving 2009 while visiting family in Mississippi. It cost hundreds of dollars only to be told to see my cardiologist. An addition couple a hundred dollars for an echocardiogram and two series of chest x-rays and the diagnosis was “Well, it must have been something you’ve done.” The best cardiologist money can buy and I get a theory. The medical practice is a joke. As my uncle says, “They practice medicine alright. They practice on you for the next guy.” I was drinking moderately at the time while overeating, so I think I can contribute that Thanksgiving episode to what is termed as “holiday heart.” Today, I can’t tell you what is wrong with me. I’m short of breath and have difficulty walking across the house or talking for an extended time. I called the doctor’s office at 3:00pm and it’s now 6:00pm with no call back. Nice to know my symptoms do not require immediate action. $100 says the on-call doctor calls within the hour telling me to go to the nearest ER. I think that’s a rubber stamp answer doctors are required to give to avoid liability law suits. My new heart medicine is Multaq, an experimental drug and I hope I’m not the 1 in a 100 that has an adverse side effect.

It’s hard not turning to the cupboard when anxieties like these occur. I’m trying to treat the desire to binge on "sugar/carb anything" as if I’m contemplating taking a drink. Truth be told, I really have no overwhelming compulsion for a drink. Alcohol has not been kind to me since the diabetes has settled in and in fact it has been down right vicious to me emotionally and physically. Most of my medicines include a warning label with: DO NOT CONSUME ALCOHOL WITH THIS MEDICATION. I always thought it a suggestion, nothing really to take seriously. My last drunk really, REALLY hurt. Food is that easier softer way to quell that demon within.

Speaking of Demons…

My oldest daughter, as I mentioned, believes she is cursed. I asked her where she got such a notion and she replied that ever since she saw a black, lumpy shadow mass coming towards her from our bedroom she feels something is out to get her. She is contributing bad health with evil spirits. I have no idea where she gets these ideas and I’m hoping it’s not from Sunday school. Her last happy experience from a Sunday school teaching was when they told her she was going to hell for lying. It was big fun trying to console a crying six year old that she wasn't going to burn. I tried to explain viruses and bacteria to no avail. I almost asked if sacrificing chickens and beating drums would appease our unwanted guest but I let it go. She’s only eight, but no more Mystery Hunters for her. My wife felt that my involvement in paranormal investigations contributed to my health decline. I’m amazed by superstitious notions. Poor diet and untreated alcoholism win my vote. If there’s a fat inducing vomit enhancing demon that forces people to eat Pop-Tarts and drink to oblivion then she may be right. No matter how much I distance myself from the evangelical heebie jeebies it has now left an undesirable imprint on my daughter’s cognitive reasoning.

By the way, the doctor called as I was writing and suggested I go to the hospital. No lie. Whoever bet against me owes me a Ben. He said it is either the heart or lungs; point blank simple to him. We’ll see. I reminded him that no one had an answer as to the cause after a battery of tests. I think I’ll go for x-rays in the morning at their office and sidestep a bill as large as a mortgage payment from the ER. If I go through all this and once again the diagnosis is a shoulder shrug, then I may consider that strange notion of ‘a demon behind every bush.’

A Side Note:

I have had three strange Déjà vu moments within a month’s time that creep me out. Nothing significant about the event but there was an underlining feeling that these moments began a count down to some life changing happening. While experiencing this phenomenon I knew what each person was going to say and the direction the conversation would go. Somehow I felt charged to remember the significance of these revealed moments but it fails me. Absolutely insane I know. But, I do have this nagging feeling of being unsettled by it all. An actor who missed his cue. I’ve had dreams come true and impressions so strong that I was able to predict future events. I have also been wrong quite often as well. I’m no prophet so I’ll let time reveal what will be. It always does.

"Who will deliver me from this body of death?"

My latest blog brought into question “how do you define an eating disorder relapse?” Well, I have my answer. For the past two weeks I have not followed a food plan and almost immediately began to binge. Trips to the local convenience store have been convenient but also very hazardous to my health. My heart has been stuck in an atrial flutter going in and out of atrial-fib. This produces massive swelling which in turn inflames my neuropathy and I’m not able to walk without extreme pain. My cardiologist has prescribed additional meds. I asked him point blank if I lost 70 lbs. would my condition improve. He said no. The weight has no bearing on my electrical problems.

Two Christian acquaintances, a husband and wife, suggested my ailments were spiritual and I needed to repent and close open doorways. Recently he was told he needs a heart valve replacement. I wonder how much repentance and door closing is going on in that house? I am not using pain meds, alcohol or pot for pain management because of my addictive personality. My only solace is to eat. Food medicates and a sugar/carb buzz provides temporary relief but the down side is its short lived and exasperates my condition with additional weight gain.

“O wretched man that I am! Who will deliver me from this body of death?”

My spiritual journey at one time was all consuming. That’s my personality I guess, I consume. My journey began and has returned within the rooms of twelve step groups. I have worked the twelve steps multiple times, completed the pinnacle fourth and fifth steps and yet still returned to alcohol, drugs, food and mood altering women. I was told that after these ‘steps of action’ I would know a new freedom and closeness with my Creator that I’ve never known. I wasn’t free of anything and the closeness never happened. It’s like preparing a valentine box at school and receiving no cards. The effort was there but the result was lacking and I’m sure the suggestions that I didn’t use the correct formula or have the right prayer language will be of no short supply.

I found myself in pursuit of a God that was promised to be my best friend. “Buddy Jesus” was my new passion and I pressed towards redemption through atonement with vigor. Maybe this was what the 12 steps were lacking? After 16 years within various denominations I found everything but Jesus. Further alienation from fellow recovery people and mass confusion and disillusionment were the door prize. Jesus saves but you have to have perfect credit. I found recovery people hate having Jesus thrust on them as ‘the only way” and Christians do not like tainted people, especially drug addicts and alcoholics. Overeaters are ok with Christians because they partake in God’s abundance every Sunday at the buffets.

The 12 step program is designed to work with whatever concept or belief of a High Power is for you. Christianity is not. By convincing myself that God would love me if I pushed the “good news” like a used car salesman, I would gain favor in His eyes even if people hated me. After all, that was the price of admission; the world hated Him so it would hate me. Their loss, my gain. I really believed I was doing the right thing but in reality I just pushed people further away. You want people to leave you alone? Start talking about Jesus. It will clear a room, I promise.

Perhaps God is just another barrier to keep people away? Somehow I think I’ve used arguments of theology and practice as a way to keep people within my church at arms length…control comes to mind. “Non-believers” as they’re lovingly referred to, were kept at a distance as I bombarded them with scripture to expose how shitty their life is without Jesus. If I can’t control people then they become a threat.

Now that I’ve determined that the problem is me, what am I going to do about this High Power that is reportedly my only hope towards recovery? Step two reads “Came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.” Step three suggests we “Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood Him.” The first three steps are all past tense actions describing how it worked for others. I feel like I’ve been there, done that and got the t-shirt. We must believe and turn our lives over. I’ve sat through hundreds of meetings and sermons and yet I’m worse now than ever.

Trapped in a body of death indeed.