The Life and Times of Bruce Gerencser

Category: Health

  • Bruce, Where Are You?

    I’m right here among the living, though I’m having quite a spell health-wise. I recently posted three updates on Facebook. Yes, I’m back on Facebook. If you are so inclined, please send me a friend request or follow my page.

    Post One

    Welp, skin cancer has reared its head for the fifth time in 2026. Previously, I’ve had surgery for squamous cell twice, basal cell, and melanoma. Today, I learned I have squamous cell carcinoma in my nose nostril; concerning, to say the least. My dermatologist biopsied the lesion, but said she’s certain it’s squamous cell. Came on quickly.

    I will have to go to Fort Wayne for Mohs Surgery to remove the cancer. No fun, but no choice either.

    Post Two

    When I came back to Facebook a few months ago, some of my friends thought I must be feeling better. Unfortunately, that’s not the case. My health is significantly worse than it was when I left Facebook. I returned because I’m lonely. I am largely home bound, rarely venturing outside our home — four times in September. I’m not up to giving a long, depressing accounting of my health problems, so here’s a summary.

    I’m presently seeing multiple doctors for:

    Fibromyalgia
    Osteoarthritis
    Degenerative Spine Disease
    Gastroparesis
    Exocrine Pancreatic Insufficiency
    Severe Axonal Peripheral Neuropathy (legs)
    Skin cancer (squamous cell and melanoma)
    Diabetes
    High Blood Pressure

    I live with chronic pain and debility. If I go anywhere, I must use a cane, walker, or wheelchair. I’m also dealing with increasing memory problems which, quite frankly, scares the shit out me. Same goes for the surgery I need to have for a large squamous cell carcinoma in my nose canal. Not much I can do except face what comes, that is until I no longer want to do so.

    I have a hard time reading books and magazines these days. I watch a lot more TV and YouTube videos. One positive thing about my memory loss, is that I can’t remember what I watched, so everything is “new” to me. Woo Hoo!, right? My writing production has dropped dramatically, though I still hope to do more blogging in the weeks ahead. I haven’t given up, but some days I can’t even get out of bed, so it’s hard to be motivated to write.

    I appreciate your love, kindness, and support. Facebook leaves a lot to be desired, but it does keep me connected with people who are important to me. And I really love cat 🐈‍⬛ pictures and memes. 😜😜

    bruce gerencser 1960s

    Post Three

    I mentioned a week ago that my dermatologist said I had squamous cell carcinoma in my nasal canal. This will be my sixth skin cancer surgery in the last year, including melanoma in January. It seems skin cancer loves me. 😜😜

    My dermatologist, of course, did a biopsy of a 6 mm by 8 mm tumor in my right nose canal. The biopsy came back positive. I have a moderately differentiated squamous cell carcinoma. This is middle level on the cancer scale. Based on the pathology report, the cancer is likely into surrounding tissue.

    The biopsy was shaved off level with the surrounding area, but I noticed yesterday that the tumor is growing, and the shaved area is no longer level. Of course, this doesn’t surprise me. It grew quickly before the biopsy. No reason to think it won’t keep growing after the biopsy. Thus, the reason for surgery — soon.

    I’m worried, not overtly so, but an appropriate amount for the matter at hand. I will require plastic surgery once the cancer is removed. Sometimes, they can use inner nose tissue to repair the skin. If the surgeon is unable to do this, he may graft skin from the cheek or in back of the ear. A larger graft will come from elsewhere, maybe my ass? 😜😜 I’m worried about that. Does that mean I’d smell ass all the time? I know, I know, my weird sense of humor. 😜😜

    I tend to be stoic. I take what comes in life. When I was a Christian, I thought “take what comes in life” was Greek for doing the will of God. As an atheist? It’s simple and direct: shit 💩 happens. I don’t deserve anything better or worse than anyone else. I’m but an insignificant speck in the vastness of the universe. I’ve been told by a few Evangelical Christians that my skin cancer troubles are God’s judgment on me for leaving Christianity. Such things no longer bother me. I genuinely feel sorry for such people.

    Most of my skin cancers are the result of frequent sunburns, including numerous blistering burns. I’m a light-skinned, redheaded, blue-eyed hunk of a man 😜 of Scandinavian descent (Mom’s side).😜😜 I attract sunburns like my youngest grandson is attracted to donuts. 😜 So, I’ve been dealing with pre-cancers and skin cancer for twenty years. Besides the surgeries, I have had more pre-cancers treated with liquid nitrogen than I can count. And then I had four rounds of topical chemotherapy — face, nose, hands, arms. If you have ever had this treatment, you know it can turn your skin into a bright red, at times, bloody mess — especially the first time.

    What remains unanswered for me is several squamous cell tumors in areas not exposed to sun. One tumor I had removed was on my hip. I guarantee you my ass has never seen sunlight. 😜😜 Why in these places?

    I must always remember that when times are difficult, it could be worse; that there are scores of people suffering far more than I am. As a pastor, I saw a lot of sickness, disease, and death. I’ve watched good people suffer horribly before they died. I know it could be worse. That said, pain and suffering are personal for us all. Polly still covers her eyes when I’m being stuck, injected, and cut. She wonders how I can stand it. Simple. Lots of practice. 😜 Besides, she’s gone through things medically I’ve never experienced, including seventeen days in the hospital and leaving with a colostomy bag (which was reversed a year later). Polly was relatively healthy until this point. Things sure can turn on a dime. And she had six babies naturally without one epidural. She’s tough, even though she complains about me not putting down the toilet seat.😜

    Thanks for your love, ❤️ kindness, and support.

    (Picture from 1960s. I was stylish even back then.😜❤️)

    Conclusion

    I still have hope, but I must admit that some days it’s hard to see the proverbial silver lining in my life. I intend to continue writing until I no longer can do so. Some days, like today, I have small windows to productively read and write. Other days, I feel like Humpty Dumpty as he lies in pieces at the bottom of the wall.

  • Short Stories: White Hair

    The sun is long in the sky as Defiance and Elida square off for another Friday football game under the lights. I am there to watch my fifteen-year-old granddaughter play the trumpet in the band. Her older siblings were home from college and in attendance too.

    Polly opened the back door of our 2020 Ford Edge so she could retrieve my walker. I haven’t driven an automobile since 2020. I voluntarily gave up my keys, knowing that I was no longer competent to drive. No one needed to force me. I knew it was time. And now that I’m having serious memory problems, there’s no question that I have no business behind the wheel of a car.

    With my walker safe and secure in front of me, I walked to the ticket booth to buy three adult ducats. Total cost, $24. I have no interest in the game. Defiance has won one once this year, Elida twice. On this night, the orange and black Elida Bulldogs soundly beat the blue and white Defiance Bulldogs. I paid $24 to hear the band, shoot the breeze with my son, and hug my grandchildren.

    My grandchildren didn’t know what to make of my beardless face. You ever see a dog cock its head with an inquisitive look? That was my grandchildren. I told them not to worry, that by Christmas I will be my sexy bearded self again. They seemed to doubt the “sexy”part. I can’t imagine why . . . 😜

    Tickets purchased, Polly and I, along with Bethany, stopped by the concession stand to buy junk food; a pop and a candy bar. By buying concessions now, we avoided having to bribe one of our grandkids to make a concession run. Aged twenty, eighteen, and fifteen, I can no longer buy their concession delivery service for a $1.

    A polite young man with a nice, trimmed red beard waited on us, and patiently took care of our order, even when I had a senior moment, trying to order a Dr. Pepper when I “knew” they only sold Coke products.

    People who know me know I like to talk. There are no strangers around me. Polly and I have known each other for fifty years. I still remember the day she walked through the dormitory door. She was and still is a beautiful woman. Then she had short dark hair. Today, her hair is now gray, but the wonderful eighteen-year-old I proposed to six months later, is still the love of my life today.

    After the redheaded young man counted back my change, I told him I once had red hair and it turned white when I got old. And as only a talkative, friendly man can say, I told him, someday your hair will turn white too. I feel it is my old man duty to remind redheads that their beautiful hair will not last, and to enjoy it while they have it.

    The young man looked me square in the eye and said: “That’s okay. That means you have lived a long life.”

    Now that’s a bit of wisdom I didn’t expect. I thanked the young man for his words, and walked away with a tear in my eye.

    I felt a deep sense of my own mortality, but as I pondered this young man’s words, I felt a twinge of hope.

  • Have You Ever Wanted to Cut Off Your Legs? I Have and I Still Want To

    You know it’s a bad day pain-wise when you find yourself doing a Google search on “Does removing legs make severe axonal neuropathic pain go away?”

    Google reminded me that doing so will not necessarily stop the pain. I could end up with phantom pain worse than before.

    I just want the pain to stop. Is that too much to ask?

    Duh, of course it is.

    We often think doctors are miracle workers, but when it comes to severe nerve pain, medical professionals have very few treatments in their bag of tricks: Gabapentin, pain meds, injections, ablations, hot/cold packs, and implanted nerve stimulator.

    Rarely are these treatments permanent; and that is if you can get insurance to pay for it.

    Unfortunately, as chronic nerve pain patients will tell you, this sort of pain rarely goes away, regardless of the treatment.

    Personally, I’m grateful for whatever relief I can find, but some days I wonder . . . and when I “wonder” it can lead to interesting Google searches.

    I still have both legs. All I want is for the pain to stop. Until that happens, I have no other option but to bite hard on the stick of modern medicine, hoping for a bit of relief.

  • Chronic Pain, Memory Loss, and Words

    Another day, another fight with pain and my very existence. There’s a new problem . . . Wild swings in blood sugar level. A 24-hour glucose monitor tells a story of a man with gastroparesis and exocrine pancreatitis insufficiency; a man whose pancreas is out of sync with his stomach and digestive track, leading to the abnormal highs and lows he is now facing.

    It is what it is.

    My partner has long since drifted off to sleep. Not me. Sleep eludes me as it has almost every night for 30 years.

    1:00 AM . . . Cymbalta popped

    2:00 AM . . . Cannabis gummy ingested

    4:00 AM . . . Hydrocodone swallowed

    Headphones on, as the sweet British voice of Jon Cohen prepares to sing me to sleep.

    4:20 AM . . . I roll on my left side, pull my legs into a fetal position, and pull a large, firm pillow to my chest.

    Soon after, I fall asleep,

    Finally, sleep. If my blood glucose level drops below 55, an alarm will sound, hopefully waking me up.

    8:10 AM . . . Partially awake, my first thought has earth shattering implications. What’s the correct word for backing up a recording; you know like backing up a car?

    Dammit, why can’t I remember this word?

    Too tired to care. I’ll message Carolyn later. She knows everything. Well, almost, anyway.

    Back to sleep.

    OCD-brain says, Wait a minute, there’s an unanswered question for you to answer!

    Leave me alone.

    Surely you jest. Answer the question!

    Back up the recording?

    Rewind the recording?

    Reverse the recording?

    No, dammit. What is it called when you back up-rewind-reverse, no, no, no! Dummy. It’s . . . uh . . .a time mark? Yes, that will work for me.

    Finally, sleep arrives. All is right in the world, at least until I awake again a few hours later.

  • Bruce, Are You Dead? No, But I’m Working on It

    Come on, what’s a little gallows humor in the midst of a dark, trying, and at times overwhelming, season of life. Sometimes, laughing in the face of suffering is all any of us can do. I know that’s the case for me, anyway. Not that I sit around laughing as I writhe in pain. No, in those moments I want to swallow a handful of pills and drift into sweet, peaceful nothingness. I want to think better days lie ahead for me, but my gut and seven decades of life suggest otherwise. I could be wrong, as I oft have been over these many years, but, at the very least, I’m on the short end of life. Instead of grand plans for the future, managing health struggles consume my daily life, often demanding I live by the hour instead the day.

    I won’t give you a long recitation on the current status of my health. Doctors remain perplexed, and while scans and blood tests reveal oddities here and there, nothing that screams: Eureka! We found the problem. You are still going to die, but at least you will know what killed you.

    I see a new endocrinologist next month. One doctor wonders if some of my symptoms might hormone related. More tests, looking for the proverbial needle in a pile of almost identical needles. I find myself thinking, “Can’t I be on the winning side of the odds just once before I die?” 🤣 A raspy, heavy voice from the dark laughed and said, “Surely, you jest. God is punishing you for saying God Dammit in 2005.” Well, God Dammit, Jesus, must you be so petty? It’s not like I ate a forbidden apple, picked up sticks on the Sabbath, or masturbated. Now, those are some “sins” that require severe punishment, right?

    Long term readers know my medical history, so I won’t recite it here. Everything remains the same on that front, albeit somewhat worse depending on the day. What is of more immediate concern is my profuse sweating (especially at night), unregulated feeling of hot/cold, and precipitous drops in blood glucose levels for no apparent reason. As you might imagine, these problems are far from ideal, 🤣 so that’s why I’m seeing another endocrinologist.

    Fatigue, chronic insomnia, and increasing immobility all make getting out of bed in the morning difficult, and some days impossible. Pleas from my life partner, “Bruce,You have got to get up,” followed by some sort of bribe hoped to draw me from my bed, no longer work. I know I’m at a bad place, but that’s where the car broke down with a blown motor, so here I remain. I try. What more can I do?

    In February, I was diagnosed with melanoma skin cancer on my neck. The cancer appeared suddenly and quickly grew. It was successfully removed. I have a nasty scar to prove it.

    Last month, I was diagnosed with basal cell cancer on my left hand and squamous cell cancer on the right side of my neck. I had both growths surgically removed. I also had a large cyst on my back removed at the same time.

    Well, enough of this. I’m not whining or complaining. Just talking to my friends; letting them know that I’m down, but not out. I haven’t quit blogging, and I still hope to write again. Maybe even today or tomorrow. Until then, I appreciate your love, kindness, and support.

    If you have written or texted me and I have not responded, please accept my apology for my negligence. I’ve had several people get irate with me because I haven’t responded to them. Sorry about that, but I’ve been forced to cut a lot of things out of my life, and that includes responding to emails, texts, social media messages, and voice mails. I hope to do better in the future, but I can’t make any promises. It’s interesting to note what’s not so important when death is stalking you. Life is quickly reduced to bare essentials; people and things that matter to you.I have thought about farming out contact form responses to someone who has read my writing for a long time and has an in depth knowledge of my political, social, and theological views. Someone answering for me would be speaking on my behalf, so it’s important they understand my beliefs. If this is something that might interest you, please let me know and I’ll put you in touch with Carolyn, my editor. As my longtime editor and friend, she knows what I need on this front.

    I appreciate your understanding.

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  • When You Don’t Want to be Saved to Live Another Day

    sleep and death

    It’s 5:00 am.

    While under the influence of the Spirit I thought . . .

    (Inner Monologue)

    Why do I feel so funny?

    What have I eaten today? When is the last time I have eaten?

    Hmm . . . 12 hours.

    So my blood sugar is low. No need to check it. It’s in the 50s when I feel like this,

    You need to drink a coke and eat something.

    Ugh. Will I or won’t I vomit?

    Okay, I’ll drink a coke and eat a sandwich.

    My mind is now silent . . .

    I think I will lie down rest for a moment. And then I think I’ll drink a coke, maybe even two.

    To weak now to stand, I fall on the bed.

    Weak as I may be, my mind is clear.

    Fuck Coke. Fuck Sandwich too.

    Sleep. When I sleep I’m not in pain.

    I lift my head and nod.

    Sleep.

    Most nights a different voice says: Wake up. Think of Polly. Think of your family, your grandchildren. Don’t be a selfish prick. You owe it to them to suffer til the bitter end.

    Tonight, this voice is silent. My mind is clear. Isn’t all death selfish? Do I owe anyone my continued existence? All I want is for this god damn pain to stop. You know like when you are under anesthesia. Wonderful, pain-free, thought-free sleep.

    Sleep.

    They say true love endures to the end. Almost, as in the love I share with Polly. But on this night, memories will have to suffice. I want the pain to stop. I want the nightlong-wrestling-with-pain-just-to get-an-hour-or-two-of-sleep to stop.

    Sleep.

    Just let nature take its course. No one will know but us. Who is talking to us, or is it just me? I’m confused, yet my mind is clear.

    Pain.

    Sleep.

    Soon, nature wins this titanic struggle. Pain always knew that in the end nature wins. Nature always wins.

    Sleep.

    Death—tears gone, crying gone, pain gone. (Revelation 21:4 kinda)

    Finally, I have found God.

    The one God we all seek in the end

    Her name is sleep.

    For in her kingdom, tears gone, crying gone, pain gone. (Revelation 21:4 kinda)

    So on this night, with a clear mind, I selfishly choose blessed wonderful pain-free sleep. Tonight must be about me.

    Sleep.

    (Polly enters my thought)

    I feel someone gently pushing on my side, calling out my name, asking if I’m okay.

    No, I’m not okay. My blood sug. . . ar is uh . . . low . . . I need a Coke.

    I’m cold, I mean really really cold. Unbeknownst to me, I had slept for hours, sweating the whole time, a sweat soaked bed witness to the deed. I’m freezing, as my glucose level continues to drop. Death draws ever closer.

    I put my heavy blue terry robe on and lie back down. Just a little rest. Can’t I at least have that tonight?

    Someone covers me with another blanket.

    You need to drink something. If not a Coke, how about orange juice?

    There’s the gentleness of love in her voice, tinged with concern, yet she knows I have long talked of this day, even more so recently. Is it not his choice, and not mine?

    I just want to sleep. I’m tired. I can’t stand the pain, the incessant suffering.

    I could argue mental incompetency or dementia. Don’t my wants and needs matter?, Polly wonders.

    Not at this final moment in time. We all will one day stand at this very point.

    A stifled cry, a soft voice, reminiscent of the girl I met fifty years ago, says I understand.

    I just want to . . .

    Tears gone, crying gone, pain gone. (Revelation 21:4 kinda)

    Bruce Gerencser, 69, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 48 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.

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

    You can email Bruce via the Contact Form.

  • Thirty Years of Chronic Pain Relief Treatments and I’m Still Hurting

    cures for pain

    I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia in 1997. Since then, I have added osteoarthritis, degenerative spine disease, gastroparesis, exocrine pancreatic insufficiency, and severe axonal neuropathy to my health resume, along with a plethora of debilitating symptoms that afflict me day and night.

    Over the past thirty years, countless people have suggested I do this or that for pain; that they are sure if I will do ___________ that all or most of my pain will magically disappear. Anecdotes abound. I know a person who did __________ and their fibromyalgia went completely away! I know another person who took this or that supplement/magic food, and all their pain disappeared! And so the emails, texts, and social media messages say, day after day, month after month, year after year. Never mind what I want. They just KNOW that if I will follow their anecdotal proclamations, I will be healed.

    What follows is a list of things I have tried for pain since 1997:

    Prayer

    Pleading with God

    Asking others to pray for my healing

    Pretending I am not in pain

    Magnets

    Genie massager

    Chiropractor

    Darvocet (removed from market due to causing heart problems)

    Tramadol

    Flexeril

    Restoril

    Amitriptyline

    Lyrica

    Guaifenesin (off label use)

    TENS unit

    Diet change

    Exercise

    Supplements

    Hydrocodone

    Gabapentin

    Steaming hot baths (with magnesium epsom salts)

    Distraction

    Moved to Yuma, Arizona, hoping the weather would be good for me

    Electric heating pads for legs, neck, and spine

    Gel boiled water heating pads

    Padded bed covering

    Weighted blanket

    Aspirin and Tylenol

    Massage by Miss Polly, the sexy masseuse

    Surgery

    Therapy

    Steroid and lidocaine injections

    Physical therapy (a waste of time)

    NSAID creams and patches (worthless)

    Ambien

    Gabapentin again

    Flexeril again

    Pain medications cut or removed per medical practice policy

    Hit other body part to take away pain in extremity

    Cannabis

    Cymbalta (for neuropathy in legs)

    Crying

    During this time I read books about Fibromyalgia and chronic pain. I also saw more doctors than I can count: primary care doctor, rheumatologist, neurologist, multiple pain management doctors, and neurosurgeon. I’ve been seen by teams of doctors at the University of Michigan and Toledo Hospital. In 2007, I had a complete day-long work-up for multiple sclerosis (MS).

    Here’s what has worked — so far:

    • Hydrocodone
    • Aspirin and Tylenol
    • Massage by Miss Polly, the sexy masseuse
    • Genie massager (a professional electric massager used in therapy/chiropractor offices)
    • Hot baths
    • Electric heating pads
    • Cymbalta (for neuropathy)
    • Cannabis (for sleep and nausea, doesn’t do much for pain, outside of helping me sleep)
    • Distraction (particularly cats, grandchildren, and writing)

    As you can see, I have done what I can to alleviate my pain. The “miracle” jar is empty, and no cure is on the horizon. I fully expect to live the remaining days of my life in pain. It is what it is. I can accept that, though it seems other well-meaning people can’t. They are certain that if I will just listen to them and do ___________, my pain will markedly decrease or go away. Their “certainty” turns them into prophets of woo — a term used to describe beliefs involving pseudoscience, superstition, or magical thinking.

    Want to help me? Continue to read my writing. Send me an encouraging email or message now and again. Comment on this blog. Donate (see, Bruce is in it for the money). Write a guest post. Promote my blog far and wide. Suggest to me subjects to cover with a blog post. Send Polly a note, thanking her for putting up with my shit. Bethany too. Both of them deserve better.

    Thank you for your continued love and support.

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    Bruce Gerencser, 69, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 48 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.

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

    You can email Bruce via the Contact Form.

  • Health Update for Bruce Gerencser

    As you may have noticed, I haven’t posted a meaningful post in nine days. Outside of my life partner, Polly, and my writing partner, Carolyn, I haven’t talked to family or friends about my current health status.

    For new readers who may not know what’s ailing me, I am battling several diseases: gastroparesis (an incurable stomach disease that causes vomiting, nausea, satiation, weight loss); exocrine pancreatic insufficiency (a disease of the pancreas causing the insufficient production of digestive enzymes, leading to diarrhea, weight loss, and malnutrition); severe axonal neuropathy (a painful nerve disease in my legs and feet causing burning, numbness, and increased falls and injury); fibromyalgia (a chronic disease that causes widespread muscle pain/weakness and fatigue); osteoarthritis (a chronic degenerative disease affecting my joints causing pain and debility); degenerative spine disease (affecting my neck and spine causing pain and limited mobility); skin cancer (I have had five cancer surgeries and chemotherapy treatments, the last being surgery on my neck for melanoma three weeks ago). I am also being treated for high blood pressure and diabetes—both of which are well managed. My latest a1c was 5.8.

    Of late, my pain levels have been impossible to manage. I could always take more narcotics—they work—but then I will spend my days unable to do anything other than exist and sleep. The rest of the stuff is out of my control. I regularly see my primary care doctor, take prescribed medications, eat properly, and sleep when I can. “Sleep when I can” means I sleep in short 1-3 hour blocks throughout the night, and then nap throughout the day. I am never not tired or fatigued.

    Of late, I’ve been losing weight again. I have lost a total of 120 pounds. I’m down to what I weighed 30 years ago. I have little to no appetite, so eating has been reduced to “eating because I have too” unless I want to starve myself to death. My diarrhea and vomiting have gotten to the point that I fear going out in public lest I have an accident. Two weeks ago, I had an abdominal CT scan, with contrast. Down went the contrast, up came the contrast, in a waiting room of people. I was so embarrassed to make such a public scene. I’m a private person, so there’s the added psychological stress from embarrassing myself in front of others.

    My daily life has come to a standstill. Three weeks of unopened mail sits on my desk. I haven’t filed our taxes—which I’ve done for 50 years. I contacted one local man about doing our taxes, but he wanted $250 to do them (W-2 wages, social security, one Schedule C for my blog income/expenses). That’s not going to happen, so I need a “good” day soon to file. Blog-wise, I haven’t answered reader emails in several months, and my writing output has declined 90 percent. Writing is one of the few pleasures I have in life, so I find the inability to do so distressing.

    There’s no cure on the horizon. All doctors can do for me is help to manage my symptoms. There are days when I feel “this is it.” A week ago, for some unknown reason, my blood pressure dropped to 98/50, with a 120 resting pulse rate. I also had dangerously low blood sugar. I woke Polly up, stammering and unable to talk in complete sentences. She got me a Coke and some high carb junk food to eat, and my blood sugar rebounded to a low normal level. Polly took the day off of work to care for her dilapidated, but still s-e-x-y, man. Gotta have some humor, right? 😂

    There are other problems I’m dealing with health-wise, but they are inconsequential compared to what I’ve shared above. I suspect it’s time to ask family to come in and help, but I find it difficult to make my problems theirs. They have their own lives to live. My family will say of me: “Bruce/Dad/Grandpa is a stubborn, prideful man who doesn’t like to ask for help.” When I was a strong buck, I was the master of my domain, but such is no longer the case. As anyone with chronic pain/health problems will tell you, one of the biggest problems to deal with is the inability to be self sufficient.

    I hope to do some writing tomorrow. Of course, I’ve told Carolyn that every day for a week. Maybe Tuesday will be the day! 😂 I texted Carolyn earlier, “As you might have divined, rough days and nights lately. Still I hope, so tomorrow is another day to write.”

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    Bruce Gerencser, 69, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 48 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.

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

    You can email Bruce via the Contact Form.

  • Just Remember, God Made You Sick So You Would Have a Testimony of Faith, Someday

    please help me

    Recently, I heard an Evangelical woman say on a podcast that God makes people sick so they will one day have a testimony of faith. Surely, you don’t want to miss out, in the midst of your suffering and affliction, on an opportunity to testify of your great faith in the triune God, right? What a disgusting way to look at suffering.

    Worse, God is known for killing innocent people to get a believer’s attention. Who hasn’t heard an Independent Fundamentalist Baptist (IFB) preacher warn that, if necessary, God will maim or kill our loved ones to make sure Christians stay on the straight and narrow way? Imagine God giving your wife uterine cancer to get your attention. She dies a year later, and you are left with three children to raise. Does unnecessary suffering drive you closer to or farther away from God? Did you praise Jesus for your wife’s cancer? You better or God won’t be happy.

    The longer I deal with in my own life chronic pain, suffering, and debility, the more often I come into contact with fellow sufferers. These are women and men who have been suffering for years, often praying and pleading for deliverance — without success. Why is God so silent towards pain and suffering? We are told he’s the Great Physician, but he never opens his black bag. Here we have an all-powerful God who could immediately cure ALL cancer, yet eight million people die worldwide of cancer every year — 625,000 deaths in the United States alone. I suspect that many of these cancer sufferers earnestly prayed for healing, or, at the very least, enough relief to sleep and enjoy life in their last days on Earth. Most cancer sufferers die painful deaths, often alone and without adequate pain relief. They find themselves tossing and turning while their pain-wracked bodies try to find a respite from never-ending suffering. It would be surprising if people didn’t cry out to God, the universe, a dead loved one, or the void. If I polled readers who have chronic pain, I suspect most of them, atheist and Christian alike, would admit that in the midst of Top Five pain day, they pleaded, “Please, help me.”

    I have said this very thing in recent years as my health declines and I no longer find adequate pain control from narcotics and other medications. I’m confident there is no God. I know the Christian God doesn’t exist, so my plea is not to God as much as it is a psychological practice I use to keep from stabbing an ice pick through my left temple — I’m a liberal. 🙂 Other times, I will indeed get an answer. Not from God, but from a very real person named Polly. Long term sickies know how much their suffering affects their partner, children, and grandchildren. You don’t want it to be this way, but your body determines your path, not your personal wants and desires. Suffer long enough and you learn, despite TV advertisements that suggest otherwise, that your disease(s) dominate your life. And if it dominates your life, it can’t help but play an outsized influence on the lives of your family.

    Have you ever been in pain and “prayed” please help me? If you are an atheist, how do you reconcile that with your unbelief? Is this just a carryover from your religious past, or is this a tool you use to control your suffering? Please share your experiences in the comment section.

    Bruce Gerencser, 69, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 48 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.

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    You can email Bruce via the Contact Form.

  • My Prayer for Healing

    jesus heal me

    Gallows humor ahead . . .

    In a prolonged fit of pain and agony, I cried into the void, “Please help me.”

    Jesus replied, after 3,666,669 prayers, “I’m here my son . . .”

    Loki chimes in, “Silly boy. No one is available to take your call. At the sound of the tone die.”

    Loki turns to his younger brother Jesus and says, “Another one healed in your glorious wonderful name, Jesus. Just remember death cures everything. Why heal Bruce when we just can wait for him to die?”

    What an awesome God, right?

    Bruce Gerencser, 69, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 48 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.

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

    You can email Bruce via the Contact Form.