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Category: Health

Bruce, You Must be Feeling Better

pain looks good on other people

Yesterday, long-time reader and friend, Charles, complimented me on some of my recent writing, saying:

The several articles you put up today are very timely—-news wise—–and they are some of your best work.

I always appreciate such comments. I have never been a good judge of the quality of my work, so kind, thoughtful comments are always appreciated.

What I want to address in this short post is what else Charles said. Let me be clear, I am NOT taking Charles to task for saying this. I love and appreciate Charles, but there’s a teachable moment here that I think readers might find helpful.

Before complimenting me, Charles said:

You must be feeling better Bruce.

As countless readers, friends, and family members do, Charles sees a connection between “good” writing and how I feel physically. If my writing is perceived as “good,” then I must be feeling better. However, as my editor and my wife can tell you, some of my best work was written on days when I was quite sick, even suicidal.

I no longer have good days. I have no prospect of feeling better. The health problems I struggle with aren’t going away, and, quite frankly, they aren’t, on most days, very well managed. Writing, then, becomes a distraction of sorts, a way to take my mind off my pain and suffering. As I sit here typing this post, my body pulses with pain — and that’s after taking this or that medication. What writing does is direct my mind away from the spectacle of my life. Writing can be, for me anyway, a pain reliever of sorts. Think of it this way: your foot is throbbing with pain. You pick up a hammer and hit your hand. Problem solved. Your foot doesn’t seem so painful. This is exactly what writing does for me; a distraction that, for the time I am clicking away on my IBM keyboard, mentally reduces my pain.

Two weeks ago, I had a procedure done to temporarily lessen or stop the pain I have from gastroparesis. Unfortunately, it did not work. What treatments are left for me? Just do a Google search on “treatments for gastroparesis.” Doing so left me in despair. I have concluded that I must find a way to live with this, or not. Today, I chose to eat lunch, knowing that it would leave me feeling like I had been slugged in the abdomen. I don’t plan to give readers a running commentary on my difficulties. I just don’t have the wherewithal to do so anymore. Know that when you don’t see me post for a few days, it is for one reason alone: I can’t. And when I do post, it’s not because I “feel better,” but I do feel well enough to drag my sorry ass from the couch to the office, turn on Spotify, and write a few words that I hope readers will find helpful.

I know readers such as Charles genuinely want what’s best for me. They want me to feel better or find relief from my pain. I make no judgment on the well-meaning words of others. It beats being told by an Evangelical critic that he hopes I die and burn in Hell for eternity.

There are no more “feeling better” days ahead for me. I have resigned myself to that fact. Unless a revolutionary cure or miraculous healing comes my way, I know what lies ahead for me. And that’s okay. Not really, but hell, what am I going to do about it? Pray? Seek out a faith healer?

When you see another post by me, I hope you will say, “awesome, Bruce, is among the living!” And when the day comes when I can no longer write, please know, I will be forever grateful for your love and support.

bruce-gerencser-headshot

Bruce Gerencser, 63, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 42 years. He and his wife have six grown children and thirteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.

You can contact Bruce via email, Facebook, Twitter, or YouTube.

Your comments are welcome and appreciated. All first-time comments are moderated. Please read the commenting rules before commenting.

Living with Fibromyalgia

fibromyalgia 2

I thought I would share with my readers a bit about living with fibromyalgia. In 1995, I started feeling fatigued and had a lot of muscle aches and pains — not from overwork or any of the daily physical activities I engaged in. I just felt tired all the time, and my body ached from head to toe. After months of feeling this away, I sought help from doctors; a two-year exercise in frustration and futility. One doctor suggested that it was all in my head; that I was still grieving for my mother who died in 1991. I blew up at this “esteemed” physician, shouting at him in no uncertain terms, IT’S NOT IN MY HEAD!

I was a thirty-five-year-old pastor who, up until that time, could physically do whatever he wanted to do; from playing sports to cutting wood to car repairs to construction work. Why was I fatigued? Why did I hurt all the time? Those are the questions I wanted answered.

In 1997, I saw a new doctor in Montpelier, Ohio. For the first time, I had a physician who actually listened to me. Twenty-five years later, this man is still my primary care doctor, and most all, my friend. Doc wasn’t a miracle worker. He found my symptoms troubling, yet tests came back normal. Of course, the reason for this is that fibromyalgia is a diagnosis of exclusion. Other diseases such as multiple sclerosis and polymyalgia must be ruled out before a doctor can determine whether a patient has fibromyalgia.

For several years, I sponsored and moderated a Christian email discussion list called CHARIS (the Greek word for grace). One of the list participants was a sickly man who was an invalid. After mentioning my health problems to list members, this man contacted me and suggested that I talk to my doctor about fibromyalgia. This “providential” conversation resulted in my doctor diagnosing me with fibromyalgia. Nothing changed for me, per se. Just because you have a diagnosis doesn’t mean that all of a sudden you are on the path to healing. What the diagnosis did say to me is that my pain was not in my head; that what I was dealing with was real.

There’s no cure for fibromyalgia. Symptoms vary widely, and most fibromyalgia sufferers are women. Twenty or so years ago, I drove to the Williams County Fairgrounds to attend a fibromyalgia support group. I felt, at the time, very alone. Few people seemed to understand what I was going through. Even my family was perplexed. What happened to Bruce, to Dad?

I arrived at the support group meeting thirty minutes early. Typical Bruce Gerencser behavior — always early. My children (and Polly) have oh-so-fond memories about my lectures on being on time; that you should always be early. As I sat in the fairground parking lot, I watched as people filed into the meeting. I quickly noticed that there were NO men, I mean none. Every group member was a woman. I thought, “these women will never understand what I am going through.” So, I decided to not attend the meeting and drove home. Years later, I started blogging, and my readers became my support group. I learned that woman with fibromyalgia did, in fact, have a lot to offer me, namely understanding.

No two fibromyalgia sufferers have the same symptoms. On a scale of 1-10, I am on the 10 side of the spectrum. Fibromyalgia has affected every aspect of my life, bit by bit robbing me of the man I once was. People in my life have a hard time accepting that fibromyalgia is an incurable disease; that all that can be done is to manage the symptoms. And yes, I have read the books that suggest otherwise. Just don’t . . . whatever book title you are going to suggest or website you think will really help me, trust me, I know about it. Twenty-five years of dealing with fibromyalgia have helped make me an expert on the disease. I have read numerous books, websites, and studies about fibromyalgia. I have had to deal with well-meaning fools who email me or send me stuff in the mail they believe will cure me. Even when I beg people NOT to do this, they do it anyway. “Just take this or that supplement, Bruce, and your fibromyalgia will go away!” “Have you tried __________?” The ill-informed judgment is that I have not, when, in fact, my primary care doctor and I have tried numerous medications, supplements, off-label drugs, treatments, etc. When I came into the office and said, “Doc, I read about this new fibromyalgia treatment, what do you think?” he always said, “let’s give it a try.” His goal today remains what it was twenty-five years ago: reduce my pain and improve the quality of my life.

Over the years, I developed other health problems, namely osteoarthritis that rages through my body like a wildfire, and peripheral neuropathy that causes numbness and pain in my legs and feet. The unholy trinity of fibromyalgia, osteoarthritis, and neuropathy have so afflicted me that I hurt from the crown of my head to the bottom of my feet. There are no pain-free days, just manageable pain days, and raging pain days that make me ponder killing myself (no this is not a cry for help). Throw in a degenerative lower back problem, a tear in my shoulder labrum, and bum knees thanks to abusing them playing basketball for twenty years, and I can safely say that I am a walking, talking train wreck of a man. I wish things were different for me, but all the wishing in the world won’t cure me. So, I accept and embrace what I call my “new normal.” And my “new normal” continues to change over time. I know Doc sees it. There are those times I have heard a brief sigh from Doc as I share a new problem. Not a sigh of exasperation or impatience, but one that says he knows that I am struggling for my life. I have told him numerous times, “I don’t expect you to fix what can’t be fixed.” “All I ask is that you do what you can for me.” And he has done just that over the past two and a half decades.

My treatment has settled into a rhythm of sorts: pain medications, potent muscle relaxers, sleep medications, light aerobic exercises and walking when I am able, and hot — and I mean hot — baths. The goal is decent sleep and the reduction of my pain to a tolerable level. Some days, it’s mission accomplished. Other days, not so much. And then there are those days when the meds don’t seem to work and muscle and joint pain batter me from head to toe for hours on end. The latter leave me in tears, wishing something, anything would make it stop. In these moments, I feel very alone, even though the love of my life is right next to me.

I am sixty-three-years-old. Thanks to the issues mentioned in this post and other health problems I won’t mention lest I sound like Granny Sue at church cataloging her afflictions, what I can do in life is limited. For years, my well-intentioned mother-in-law would ask Polly if I was “feeling better,” as if I had a temporary sickness that would soon disappear. She finally understands that I don’t have days when I “feel better.” Mom used to be a big proponent of “putting mind over matter.” That is until she had her own health problems; diseases that can’t be magically wished or prayed away.

Most days, I walk with a cane, but when we take trips or I am really fatigued, I have to use a wheelchair. I still refuse to use the motorized carts at the grocery. Irrational pride, to be sure, but I would rather slowly go through the store bent over the handle of a cart than ride around the store as an advertisement for infirmity. You see, people with fibromyalgia (and osteoarthritis) often look “normal.” I can’t tell you the times I’ve gotten glares when we pull into a handicapped parking space. I get out of the car and look “normal” so people think I am taking a parking space away from someone who could really use it.

I still struggle with self-worth as a result of fibromyalgia. In my mind, I am supposed to be the breadwinner instead of my wife. I am the one who is supposed to be taking care of everything. Having OCPD doesn’t help either. Fibromyalgia is a cruel oppressor. In my mind, I tell myself, “Bruce, you can do everything and anything you want to do!” Remember the line from the Waterboy? “You can do it!” And then I hear fibromyalgia and his sister osteoarthritis laughing and mocking me. “Sure, Bruce, go ahead and try.” And try I do, often working myself into bed for days on end from relentless pain and overwhelming fatigue. Fibromyalgia snickers and says, “See, Bruce, I told you! I am the boss in this story.”

One of the hardest things I have had to come to terms with is my physical and emotional limitations. When you spend most of your life as a workaholic, a man driven to perfection, it’s hard to admit that you are no longer in control of your storyline. I certainly haven’t mastered dealing with the realities of my life. I can, all too often, overwork, and this frustrates those who love me. I have never been good at finding balance in my life. I am more of an all-in kind of person, charging hell with a squirt gun, only to find out there’s no water in the gun. I want to think I have gotten better, but I suspect what’s really changed is that Polly is now willing to put her foot down and tell me no or suggest that I take off a day or two or four and rest. I also have friends such as Carolyn, my editor, who recognize my character flaws and try to keep me from self-destructive behavior. Carolyn can recount many times that I texted to tell her that I was going to go do this or that. She wisely encourages me to take it easy; to live for another day. And sometimes Carolyn sends see several smile emojis with a message that says, “you are going to do this anyway, aren’t you?” And sure enough, I do, and the next text she gets from me is one saying I won’t be doing any writing for a few days.

I haven’t worked a W-2 job since 2005. In recent years, I have done some web design and site management work for my sister’s trade school in Arizona. This provides me a bit of income, even though I feel guilty about taking her money. This blog, after expenses, also provides me a thousand or two dollars of income. And now that I am drawing social security, I feel as if I am contributing in some small way to our material well-being. That said, I can’t help but think when I see my wife of forty-two years walk out the door to go to work that I should be the one, pick in hand, heading for the coal mine.

This is the first comprehensive post I have written about my struggles with fibromyalgia. I hope you found it helpful, and it gave you a bit of knowledge and understanding about a disease that affects millions of people.

bruce-gerencser-headshot

Bruce Gerencser, 63, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 42 years. He and his wife have six grown children and thirteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.

You can contact Bruce via email, Facebook, Twitter, or YouTube.

Your comments are welcome and appreciated. All first-time comments are moderated. Please read the commenting rules before commenting.

2021: Updated The Funny Version of Almost Everything You Wanted to Know

questions

Updated January 4, 2020

Warning! What follows is not suitable for children or Fundamentalist Christians.

If you have not read the serious version of Almost Everything You Wanted to Know About Bruce Gerencserplease read it here.

I have noticed in the search logs that people are looking for information (more likely dirt) on Bruce Gerencser. They are entering search strings such as Bruce Gerencser, Bruce Gerencser sermons, Bruce Gerencser bio, etc. Many times they misspell my name, spelling Gerencser: Gerenscer, Gerenser, or Gerencer.

In order to facilitate their search for the Kim Kardashian lowdown on my life, I thought I would write two posts, a serious one and this one.

Where can I listen to your old sermons?

There are no online sermons of me preaching. For many years, all of my sermons were taped. I am sure there are tapes of my sermons gathering dust in former parishioner’s closets or turned into AC/DC mix tapes.

All told, I preached over 4,000 sermons.

What is your shoe size?

10EEE.

What clothes do you wear most of the time?

I wear blue jeans and tee-shirts 99% of the time.

I still have a tie I bought in 1976. I only wear ties to weddings and funerals.

I don’t wear shorts in public, and I have not taken my shirt off in public in 40 years. I know all the babes in Ney are just waiting for me to go strutting down the street with no shirt. I am sure they will think, what a stud. Or maybe they will call 911.

I always wear a hat in public. I usually wear wool fedoras in the fall/winter/spring and straw hats/ball caps in the summer.

What kind of underwear do you wear?

Currently, plaid boxers — when I wear them.

What is your…?

Don’t even ask. I am told that it is big enough. But, the person telling me this has only seen one flesh and blood man naked. Compared to what I have seen, uh, well somewhere on the internet, I doubt I will become a porn star any time soon.

Are you on Social Security?

Yes.

Do you have animals?

Yes, I currently have a dog that somehow stayed behind when my youngest daughter moved out. I also have a cat. Polly tolerates and sometimes loves the animals. Thanks to my mother, I am a hopeless animal lover.

Do you kill spiders?

No.

Never?

Never. It’s the Buddhist in me.

Are you afraid of snakes?

No.

I do wish the snakes that stand in Fundamentalist pulpits Sunday after Sunday would climb into a hole never to be seen again. Dare we hope?

What kind of temperament do you have?

Why, just ask my family. I am quiet, meek, passive, and never get angry. Okay, I might be lying just a wee bit.

Back in the real world, I am temperamental and have a wry sense of humor. I can quickly become angry, but my anger rapidly dissipates. I don’t hold grudges and I am quick to forgive. Well, except for Donald Trump, Mitch McConnell, Ted Cruz, and Lindsey Graham. I will forever despise these assholes.

My humor has gotten more risqué post-Jesus. I blame this on my children.

Do you have any identifying marks?

I am circumcised. That sure as hell had to hurt. I don’t remember it, but it sure left a scar.

I have a scar on my nose from skin cancer surgery, a scar on my left hand from carpal tunnel surgery, a scar on my hip from cancer surgery, and scars on my abdomen from having my gallbladder removed.

I have a scar on my leg from being bit by a dog when I was 11.

I have short legs, a long body, and no butt. I have spent most of my life pulling up my pants and tucking in my shirt. I wear suspenders lest locals someday open their newspaper and read Local Atheist Moons Christians at Meijer.

What was your greatest sports achievement?

As a 12-year-old, I won third place in the Deshler Punt, Pass and Kick contest. There were four kids in my age group.

Are you allergic to anything?

Bees and Republicans.

If you had to concoct one meal, what would be in it?

The Whopper from Burger King, French fries from McDonald’s, onion rings from Sonic, washed down with a super-sized Pepsi. And then, for dessert, a banana split from Eric’s Ice Cream.

Man, I wish I could eat this meal right now. Sounds like a dying man’s last wish.

Do you swear?

Hell, no.

Have you ever killed anyone?

Just myself, one fast food and junk food meal at a time.

Have you ever looked at pornography?

Really, you are asking this? I am a guy. Next question.

Have you ever committed adultery?

Yes. Jesus said if I look at a woman in lust I have committed adultery with her in my heart. I must admit I have an adulterous heart. My wife now says we are in an open marriage, so I can look but not touch. Touching will bring the death penalty.

Do you have any irrational fears?

One — flying on an airplane. I did it once and it ain’t happening again, ever! If my brother or sister in Arizona dies before me, they better keep them on ice until I get there. I will be taking the bus or Polly will be driving me. No planes. The good news is that I will likely die before they do, so I don’t have to worry about flying again.

Have you ever committed a crime?

Felony or misdemeanor?

I shoplifted clothing as a teenager, mainly Levi jeans. My Dad thought Rink’s Bargain City, also known as Bargain Shitty, and Twin Fair were fine clothing stores.

Years ago, I stiffed the IRS by not claiming cash gifts from parishioners as income. This is a common practice among clergy.

A teenage friend of mine and I stole his father’s 1955 Chevrolet and turfed a bunch of lawns. We made the newspaper the next day.

As a teenager, I pelted cars with apples, water balloons, and snowballs. I now threaten to beat the shit out of kids who do the same to me.

I have had more traffic tickets than I can count, but none since 1987.

In 2014, I found $27 in a school parking lot. I thanked the Sky God for his blessing and put it in my pocket. I did look to see if anyone was nearby to whom the money might belong. My eyesight was pretty bad. After the game, I used the money to buy dinner.

What are your favorite sodas?

Pepsi, Suncrest Cream Soda, Jones Cream Soda, Big Red, and Faygo Rock and Rye.

I refuse to drink diet pop. Diet pop is like taking Vicodin without the Hydrocodone. Why bother?

What are seven things you hate?

Any team from Ann Arbor, Michigan that is playing Ohio State.

The Saint Louis Cardinals.

Fundamentalism, wherever it is found.

Rude, self-absorbed people.

Air conditioning.

Dentists.

Any fart but my own.

What is your favorite practical joke?

I put brown shoe polish on toilet paper and then came out of the bathroom screaming at my kids about who left the shitty toilet paper in the bathroom. Much to their horror, I proceeded to put the toilet paper in my mouth.

Have you ever used illegal drugs?

Never, but I sure would like a joint. I think it would help with my pain. Anyone from Colorado coming this way? Please, don’t send me pot in the mail. Front door deliveries only.

Have you ever had an affair?

Only with God, Jesus, and the church. They sure turned out to be lousy lovers.

What’s the oldest thing in your house?

You mean besides me and Polly?

Old photos of family are the treasure I hold on to. I have the baseball glove I bought at the age of 14 from JC Penny. I also have a knife my Dad gave me 49 years ago.

What are your favorite homemade desserts?

Pumpkin pie.

Cheesecake.

Vanilla pudding with vanilla wafers and meringue on top, but only if it is made exactly like my mom made it. Polly has finally perfected the recipe, so she no longer has to hear me say, “this ain’t like Mom’s.”

Anise cookies.

Oatmeal, raisin, and chocolate chip cookies.

Any cake my mother-in-law-makes.

Oreos — they are homemade, right?

What things do you refuse to get rid of?

Polly.

I’ve had the same metal desk and file cabinet in my office for 35 years. They were made in the 1950s, back when Americans made stuff.

What was the first car you owned?

My first car was a 1960 Mercury Comet. I let an unlicensed friend of mine drive the car one day and he lost control of it. The car hit a ditch bank and flipped over several times. He ended up in the back with the seat on top of him, and I ended up with my head sticking out of where the windshield used to be. The car was totaled. I paid $200 for the car. To hear my friend tell it, we were going 100 mph when he lost control. The car had a six-cylinder 144 CID motor, with a top speed of 68 mph. He was actually doing about 40 mph when he lost control.

What magazines do you read?

I subscribe to Classic Trains, Model Railroader, O Gauge Railroading, The Lion Roars, Orion, Vanity Fair, Wild Ohio, The Progressive, and The Nation.

I also read magazines when I use the toilet. If no magazine is available, I read the ingredients on whatever is nearby. Always learning.

If you could sit anywhere with Polly where would it be?

Okay Bruce, they want a romantic answer. The fifty-yard line at the Super Bowl is not what they are looking for.

On the banks of the Blanchard River, Riverside Park, Findlay, Ohio.

The eastern shore of Lake Michigan when the sun is setting.

What are your toilet habits?

I put the seat up when I pee and I don’t put it back down — that is IF I make it to the toilet before my bladder screams PEE!  I have no ability to keep from urinating. So, when it is time to go, it is really time to go, like n-o-w.

I don’t care which way the toilet paper roll dispenses the paper.

Do you have a reoccurring dream?

Yes, and it involves Pamela Anderson. Enough said.

I hope you have had some fun with this post. I have no doubt this will not satisfy those looking to get some dirt on me or discover who the r-e-a-l Bruce Gerencser is. Who knows, maybe they will find out I am really a cross-dressing, vegan, University of Michigan-loving man. After all, the lies told about a person always make for better news than the truth.

More Tough Health News and a Death in the Family

health news

Readers may remember that I was hospitalized a weekend ago for a bowel problem. If you are not aware of my recent hospitalization, please read, I Ain’t Dying — Yet: Recent Hospitalization for Bowel Problems. This past weekend has proved just as challenging.

On Friday through Sunday afternoon, my blood pressure skyrocketed and I developed a heart arrhythmia. I got in to see my primary care doctor on Monday for an exam and an EKG. Fortunately, I did not have A-Fib — as Polly has. While at the doctor’s office, I told him that my taste had changed since Tuesday; that everything, including water, tasted salty, and sweet tastes were muted. I told him Polly thought I had thrush. She, of course, was right. She’s always right. I had to say that, in hopes of keeping my meals coming. 🙂

So, I am on a drug to treat the thrush and a beta-blocker has been added to my blood pressure treatment regimen. Yes, when it rains, it pours.

Sunday morning, our oldest son arrived at our home, coffee in hand for his java addict mother. I was still in bed. I rarely rise before the early afternoon. None of our children just show up at our house. They know, call first. We might be naked, having passionate sex on the dining room table. Or, we might still be in bed. So, they ALWAYS call first.

Cell phones don’t work very well in our home. We live in Ney, for God’s sake: one gas station, two bars/restaurants, a traffic light — which we wish the state would remove — and one resident atheist. That we get any cell service at all is surprising. Our children know to text if they need to get a hold of us.

Polly’s mom, who lives in Newark, Ohio, had been trying to call her since the early morning hours. When she couldn’t get a hold of her daughter, she asked our oldest son to deliver a message: Polly’s IFB preacher father had suddenly died from complications of pneumonia — I suspect from heart failure.

Yes, when it rain, it pours, and, sometimes, it keeps pouring and pouring and pouring. . .

bruce-gerencser-headshot

Bruce Gerencser, 63, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 42 years. He and his wife have six grown children and thirteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.

You can contact Bruce via email, Facebook, Twitter, or YouTube.

Your comments are welcome and appreciated. All first-time comments are moderated. Please read the commenting rules before commenting.

A Note From Bruce

note from bruce

I have received a number of emails and messages of late from people wondering if I am okay. They have noticed my writing volume has reduced, and this is usually a sign that something’s up in my life. 

Polly had major abdominal surgery on June 30. This surgery, five hours in length, reconnected her bowel to her rectum. You may remember that in January 2019, Polly landed in the hospital with ulcerative colitis. In August of that year, she had to have emergency surgery to fix a fistula that developed between her colon and bladder. This left her with a colostomy bag. The latest surgery reconnected her plumbing. To put it bluntly, she’s back to shitting normally now.

Polly is doing well, and after six weeks off of work, she will return to her job on August 11.

I am scheduled to have surgery on August 10. Yes, boys and girls, it never seems to end at our house. I will have my gallbladder removed. I have had a gallbladder problem for years, but the pain would wax and wane. A few months ago, the pain moved in and decided to stay. Just what I needed, more pain, right? My primary care doctor warned me that I had reached a point where I had to have my gallbladder removed. Not doing so could cause serious, life-threatening problems. So, surgery it is.

Late last year, I had to have a large cyst in my chest aspirated (drained). Three months later, I had the have the cyst aspirated again. And . . . you guessed it, my third breast cyst has returned. Getting someone to drain the cyst has proved problematic. Thanks, COVID-19. (The last time it was aspirated, the radiologist removed 360cc – about 12 ounces — of fluid.) I have yet another ultrasound scheduled for this week. Hopefully, this will jump-start the process. The cyst is in a place where, as it grows, it pushes on a nerve bundle that affects the functionality of my right arm. This is not something I can ignore.  That is if I want to continue to use my right arm.

Finally, I am in the throws of a bout of depression — deep, dark depression. Driven by my health problems (and Polly’s), the non-stop bullshit emanating from the White House, and COVID-19, I am finding it increasingly difficult to stay on top of my to-do list, including writing for this blog. This, of course, as a Type A workaholic, only makes my depression worse. 

All of this shall pass, or I will. 🙂 Now you know the rest of the story. I appreciate your concerns. Better days lie ahead, just not today. I will continue to foist my writing on the world, but it may not be in the volume readers have become accustomed to. I hope you will understand.

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bruce-gerencser-headshot

Bruce Gerencser, 63, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 42 years. He and his wife have six grown children and thirteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.

You can contact Bruce via email, Facebook, Twitter, or YouTube.

Your comments are welcome and appreciated. All first-time comments are moderated. Please read the commenting rules before commenting.

Bruce Gerencser