Goodness, where do I start?

I turned 53 on March 5th, which was a Thursday this year. 53 on 3-5. That’s kind of neat.

This one might be a little bit of a rollercoaster. Lots of emotional ups and downs.

Let’s start with birthday cards. Growing up, I didn’t think much of them, though I still have one my friend Tim gave me when I turned 18. He’s an artist, and he drew me with a saxophone, robotic dogs, and some other things I was (and still am) into. That one meant a lot to me. I haven’t heard from Tim in several years. I have tried reaching out several times.

Birthday cards are cool, though. You don’t really appreciate them until you stop receiving them. This year, I received 2. One is from my mother-in-law, who is sort of my biggest fan, and one of the reasons The Repossessed Ghost is published. She read a printout of Spin City, loved it, heard from Melissa about my urban fantasy, and continuously asked her when she could get her hands on it. I didn’t want to just print it for her, which motivated me to pull it from the trunk and reconsider my publishing options.

The other card came from Mary Robinette Kowal, which set off a series of reactions. She is one of many people I would love to be friends with, and the card made me feel special. We are well acquainted. I had a blissful moment of thinking, “Someone I admire cares about me.” But then I remembered that I support her Patreon, and she sends out cards to all of her folks on their birthday. I’m really more of a customer than anything, and those warm fuzzy feelings evaporated, leaving me feeling a little cold.

I don’t have a surfeit of friends. I believe I’m like my mother, in that I’m a very difficult person to enjoy. The friends I have (like Mike Baltar) are exemplary people, able to overlook my shortcomings, at least for a time.

To celebrate my birthday, Melissa helped me organize a roleplaying game day. I would run it, and Mike, Bryanna, Chris, and a few of the kids’ friends would play. It looked like it was going to be too many players, at first, but then it settled down to me plus 5 players. I spent most of the weekend before my birthday preparing, and then we played on the Saturday after my birthday.

I wrote up all the characters in advance, with backstories that interwove with the history of the place and the history of each other. On the day of gaming, when one of the Bryanna’s friends canceled on us, I was a bit distraught. It put a big hole in my plans.

Melissa filled in for a little bit, and she did great. She eventually got tired of it and went off and took a nap, but she was there long enough for the game to get going and hit critical mass. The one-shot went off as a one-shot, and I think everyone had a good time.

I spent Sunday recovering, and then early Monday morning, around 2:30AM, I woke up with a familiar pain. A kidney stone.

Well, shit.

I hadn’t had one in a while, so I was due. Fortunately, the pain wasn’t so intense that I was nauseous. I immediately took an old Vicodin and went back to sleep. When I woke up in the morning, I let work know that I was probably not going to be available, took another Vicodin, and slept more. I woke up groggy in the afternoon, felt a bit out of sorts on Tuesday, but was otherwise fine. The pain never got out of control. I didn’t have to go to the hospital.

The work week became a jumbled mess. I fell behind, couldn’t catch up, and became extremely frustrated with some terrible decisions which I believe is going to jeopardize our ability to make a decent product. Thursday, I woke up motivated enough to do something about it, and over the last couple of days, I’ve sent in motion things that will either correct the course and save the company and our product, or lead to me getting fired. I’m hoping for the former, but not counting out the latter.

Throughout all of this, Melissa and I have been “playing tennis.” I put that in quotes because we’re going to the tennis courts, with tennis equipment, but we’re just trying to get good rallies going. Not keeping track of points. It’s gamified exercise, which is what I need since my blood pressure has been completely out of control lately. Yesterday, after an extremely stressful day at work, the machine said I was at 196/127.

There are more things I could say about my perspective on my health. It gives me a kind of super power, even if it’s macabre.

Because I love my friends, I’m playing tennis and trying to exercise more so that I’ll have future birthday updates to write about. As pessimistic as I may about my chances, I’m still doing things that, in theory, will prolong my life. At the same time, the pessimism, the certainty that there isn’t that much time left on the clock, unlocks my ability to say things that need to be said, because when else will I have a chance to say them?