Delayed Gratification

We had a bit of an ordeal getting to Craig.  It's a tale of ups and downs, circles, accidents and equipment failures, snow & sun, fish tails, and interesting Parkinson's reactions.  It's time for bed here, but I'll offer a preview of what's to come next week...

The Fading Angler with guide Joe Bloomquist, showing off
one of MANY double-hookups on Saturday

Until then!

T'was the Night Before...

T'was the night before Friday, tomorrow's the day
the Good Wife and I will be flying away.
A trip to Montana! A drive down to Craig!
I wanna go fishing, Please Don't Make Me BEG!*

Our waders are folded, boots ready to stow.
The Sage rods encased and they're ready to go.
The excitement is building, I wanna leave town!
I've been dreaming of something in rainbow or brown...

It's that time of the year when the flying things hatch
and we try to toss patterns that look like they match.
Last year's hatches were epic, I caught fishes galore!
Please let me leave now, I can't wait anymore! 

*sigh*

Sixteen hours from now, I'll be on a jet.
Twenty four after that, my boots ought to be wet.
Two days drifting and wading, the time will go fast.
Hey, hold on a minute, please?  Just ONE MORE cast!

* Note that when recited with the correct Minnesotan accent, the word "beg" does indeed rhyme with "Craig." Mostly.

Don’t let it get you down

It's a genuine pleasure to offer some words and perspective from a new friend.  Howard and I struck up a conversation after he recently visited here and left a few comments.  He was kind enough to accept my invitation to write a guest entry for The Fading Angler blog.  I've only known him a short while, but I can't say enough good things about him.  Here's what he had to say when I asked him what he'd post around here..

 

Howard is a big supporter of Project Healing Waters

I’m of the mindset that attitude is everything. If you are a sour person because you’ve got a disability and can’t do the things you used to do or want to do, remember this. I don’t know one person who woke up one morning and said, “I think I’ll be disabled today.”

Look at it this way; life is tough.  By the time most people get to those “golden years” they’ve usually got a bushel basket of ills, aches, pains and disabilities. They’ve learned to soldier on if they’re smart. It makes growing old, a bit easier on the soul.

My buddy Chris here at Fading Angler has made the most of his time here on earth. He loves to fly fish because it soothes his soul. So he does what he loves to help him get down that road with the cards he’s been dealt.

I’ve lost a lot of my hearing.  It’s really annoying and maddening when I have to keep saying huh? Not to mention the people who get annoyed with me because they have to repeat what they said, sometimes more than twice.  I’ve had quintuple bypass surgery and it’s knocked the hell out of me. At the time of my life when I should be enjoying my free time fly fishing, many days I can barely get out of bed.  But I do because it’s my nature and I love fly fishing. It soothes my soul.

On any given day, my wife is the only person who knows how I’m feeling.  I’m pretty good at hiding it. It’s my weird sense of humor and personality that get me through day after day. And after all, if I don’t know how your life is going, why would I want to pile my problems on top of yours.  And remember, there is no such thing as everybody turns into a grumpy old man or woman.  If you are grumpy when you’re young, you’re going to be grumpy.  If you’re a happy go lucky type that doesn’t let the world hold you down…you’ll be a happy go lucky old person.  Keep smiling…enjoy life.

Howard Levett, is a fly fisherman from Colorado. He writes the blog www.windknotstangledlines.com and in his real life works at the Center for People with Disabilities (www.cpwd.org) as a disability advisor.

Just Bleeping Do It, Part I - PT, Execise, and PD

Dear Mr. Angler,

I'm writing today to remind you (me) of some stuff you (we) already know.  WELL.  Two-and-a-half years ago, you were struggling.  But you were losing.  You were looking for help and just kept slipping.  You couldn't sleep without meds (and some of those meds were pretty bad!)  Panic attacks started.  A few months later, you couldn't work a full day or remember the names of your meds.  Parkinson's Disease was winning.  Finally, your wife and neurologist recognized the crisis.  You needed lidocaine injections, pain meds, and muscle relaxers. And you knew those could only help temporarily.

Three things brought you back from that hole.  Let's talk about two of them now, because the muscles and memory are drifting back into pain and fog.  Physical therapy and exercise WORKED.  Yes, it took more than three months of work.  Yes, you were doing your PT exercises 2 to 3 hours a day, EVERY DAY.  Yes, you laughed in your head when the doc prescribed physical therapy, so full of skepticism.  But you were desperate, willing to try anything.

Don't go back there, not even for a short visit.  You know better, so don't be an idiot.  Throttle up the engines and pull up.  Now.  Just do 20 minutes in the morning and 20 minutes in the evening. You know where you're headed if you don't.  Be mindful and not mindless.  If you really want three more years of fishing, prove you want it and invest in yourself. 

Sincerely,

The Fading Angler

Fortunately, I've recently started exercising and stretching regularly again.  April is Parkinson's Awareness Month, and I've recently been reminded that I still have Parkinson's Disease.  Lame attempts at humor aside, I sent the following on Twitter a few days back:

Parkinson's Disease took me down hard two years ago, both physically and mentally. PT and exercise brought me back. Now go fishing! #Move4PD

I was shocked at the number of retweets, and that there were some strong I-told-you-so's about physical therapy.  Then I remembered that I was skeptical and dismissive of PT when it was suggested to me.

I don't like being preachy, but physical therapy worked for me.  It was slow, but it worked.  If you or someone you know with PD has dismissed physical therapy as a treatment, let me add my voice: I've been there.  Keep your skepticism, but try PT before you reach the point of desperation, and give it time.  My muscles didn't really respond for about 4 weeks, and I kept getting better for 9 or 10 more.

And I'll add my voice to the exercise recommendation.  I get lazy and start sliding back.  So I'm telling myself, "Just Bleeping Do It." 

Please come back and visit again later for Part 2.  It's about sleep.  I was even more skeptical about THAT treatment...

He's in... And he's out!

For anyone wondering, my son's procedure at the hospital went exactly as planned.  In and out of the O.R. In record time, for us.  We'll be on our way home shortly.

And Now We Pause for These Messages

First, I'm pleased to announce that Tax Restrictions have been lifted and I am free to fish!

Second, I've visited two neurologists in the past couple of weeks because things are changing.  I'll write more about this when I've found the right perspective and words to use.

Third, since I don't really have anything of my own to offer this week, I have a couple of items I'd encourage you to read while my gears are grinding:

• Notes from Base Bozeman 4 April: Equilibrium - The folks at chiwulff.com run a timely, diverse, and well-written blog.  Hightlight from this post: "Sometimes the river just fixes things."  I'm ready for some fixing. Which way to the river?
• A bit of help for Harper -  The crew at Headhunters Fly Shop in Craig, MT manage to post something just about every day on their blog.  This one went deep for me.  A Missouri River guide had his tiny baby daughter life-flighted far away from him.  When I saw the hospital photos on the GoFundMe page, it was like someone had sent me back in time 15 years.  My son was born with heart problems (among many other issues), and spent plenty of time as an infant on a respirator, with an IV in his head, and an NG tube running up his nose.  And he has another small procedure happening this Friday, which fortunately has nothing to do with his heart.  We should be out by the end of the day.  

Hug your kids and/or grandkids today.  Life is fragile.

"Take me to the river, put me in the water..."

1040 Ways to Procrastinate Your Tax Returns

Nobody knows...

Yep, I'm rattling my little tin cup along the bars of my cell.  I'm officially in lockdown.  The sheriff (aka the CFO, domestic Goddess, The Boss, my wife) has decreed "No Fishing Until All the Taxes are Filed." 

(editorial note: actually, I created the 'lockdown' idea to attempt to motivate myself this year.  It hasn't worked, but the authorities decided to enforce it as law anyway.)

So here I am in my cell.  It's like a prison.  A horrible place, painted all green on the inside.  But instead of using a hacksaw blade to escape, my implements consist of receipts, spreadsheets, and laptop.  Being a small business owner and employer, the paperwork is at least triple what it was before I allegedly became my own boss.

The only way out of this dank, depressed funk is tedious work, probably about 12 more hours of it after the 4 I did today.  THEN...  well, then I can dust off a couple of rods, wait for the wind to calm a bit, then see if any lawn trout have migrated back north yet.  Just to get back into the swing of things before I hit the water out west in a couple of weeks.

If you do the things you have to do when you have to do them, then someday you can do the things you want to do when you want to do them.
Psuedo-encouraging words I once read somewhere

I must escape and find that stash of 5-weights.  Soon.