Tag: troubles

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personal

Happy (?) New Year, 2026

A start is enough for now

Her: What are you thinking about?
Me: (sighing) 2015 into 2016 – ten years ago.

Another year’s passed.

When I was a kid, the new year was always filled with so much excitement and hope.

These days, it’s a lot less of that.

This was my room decades ago.

It’s pretty wild that it’s 2026.

I remember in 1999 how crazy it was that we were turning to a new century and millennium.

Over a quarter-of-a-century later, that seems like a distant memory.

In 2015, I had a pregnant wife I adored without end, both parents, a smoking hot career, and was in peak health.

And then, in a snap, it all turned to shit.

This was the view from Alison’s hospital room at midnight on 2015.12.31, exactly 10 years ago today. That was our wedding reception picture on the windowsill.

But I couldn’t even mourn all that I lost because I was suddenly legally, morally, and ethically responsible for another – tiny, helpless – human being for the first time in my life.

What happened the next few years was a lotta madness and haze that I’m still working through now.

On that New Year’s Eve between 2015 and 2016, I sat alone with my dying wife on the top floor of a hospital on the East River and had this exact view in the lounge area.

I remember how beautiful it all looked and, while terrified, still felt hopeful.

2016 into 2017, I felt a lot less hopeful.

In 2017, when I thought my life couldn’t get worse, it got so much worse.

And here I am in the start of 2026 with my son, who’s now old enough to be really interact with me, and Sara, who has been nothing but a gift since the moment I met her.

I struggle still with all of the darkness both in and surrounding me.

But I feel a bit more hopeful, now that I have the two of them as companions.

It’s not much, but it’s a start. And a start is enough for now.

Me: Happy new year!
Him: Happy new year, papa!

Location: an Indian restaurant, trying to warm up
Mood: hopeful(ish) and freezing
Music: Gotta find my way (Spotify)
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Hey, little guy

We love you so

We were all having dinner the other night when the kid asked me, “What happened the night I was born?”

I glitched.

I couldn’t really remember.

That’s not wholly unexpected because a lotta people experience difficulty recalling moments before a traumatic event causea stress hormones interfering with memory encoding.

And, just a few days after my kid was born, I got the worst possible news that I could ever imagine so if that’s not trauma, I dunno what is.

I walked up these stairs three days after Alison collapsed to stay with her. I’d gone home to shower, I think. Don’t really remember.

The thing is that this is part of why I take so many pictures.

Cause I know I’ll forget things if I don’t.

Unfortunately, there are three years of pictures that I almost never look at because they wreck me.

I took the least amount of pictures the year the kid was born because it was one tragedy after another – even before Alison got sick.

It’s why I stopped writing the blog during that time. It was all so sad.

And it only got worse.

Took a lot in 2017 for reasons I’ll tell you about someday, maybe.

For this entry, I looked back to see if there were any pictures I could use or memories it might jar but they were all horrible, so I bailed.

I literally have like four pictures that don’t make me wanna dry heave.

This is one of the few I have that don’t.

The kid is less than a week old in this. His mom had just been told she was sick. It was a shitshow. I don’t remember much of any of this, I’m just going by the timestamp.

Cancer is like the shitty gift that keeps on taking.

I’ve been thinking about my dad almost daily these days as well, for a buncha reasons that I’ll (also) probably tell you about onea these days.

I did remember one good thing, though.

Him: Well, do you remember what you first said to me?
Me: (nodding, smiling) Yeah, that I do. I said, “Hey, little guy. 爸爸媽媽好愛你. (Papa and mama love you so.)”

Location: another doctor’s office, being told my options
Mood: drenched
Music: thinking ’bout those days, these days (Spotify)
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Well, that didn’t work

A warming plate

Him: It’s like having a C-Section. Essentially, they cut you open from the front, remove all your insides and put it on a warming plate…
Me: A warming plate?!
Him: (nodding) A warming plate. Then they get to work on your spine. For me, it’s been lifechanging. I don’t even think about my back anymore.

Missed posting on Monday because it’s just been a bummer around here.

So, after a solid year of physical therapy, countless doctor’s visits, tons of medication, and – finally – that spinal epidural last week, I can say that there’s been zero improvement with my back whatsoever.

The thing about the shot is that it was/is the second-to-last option, with the last option being back surgery.

But even that gets complicated; a recent article that just came out late last month noted that about half of back surgeries didn’t do a thing.

And the surgery is no joke.

This past weekend, we went to hang out with the Surgeon and Steel and met a famous weatherman who had the back surgery.

He was one of the few people I know that had a successful one – pretty much everyone else has been struggling with back pain even after surgery.

It was disheartening, to say the least.

This was on top of the shot not doing a damn thing for me.

I’ve got a follow up with the shot doctor in about two weeks where he’ll give me some options but, so far, it’s not been encouraging.

On a positive note, however, my buddy is outta surgery, outta the ICU, and currently in a step-down unit before being discharged home.

Here’s to whatever small wins we can get, when we can get them.

Her: He had jello and a cup of tea before I left tonight.
Me: It’ll be a porterhouse and a glass of red in no time. Thanks for the update!

Location: a middle school, trying to figure out what to do
Mood: achy
Music: remind myself that I’m better than this (Spotify)
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More medical issues

A blessing nonetheless

A while back, my sister celebrated her birthday and gave the most lovely little nod to Alison, which I’ve always deeply appreciated.

She wrote something like, “People often complain about getting old. But after my sister-in-law passed at such a young age, I vowed I would never do that. It’s such a gift to get old and not everyone gets that chance.”

I think about that on the regular.

Getting old is a blessing.

A crappy blessing, but a blessing nonetheless.

Just found out that a dear and close friend of mine is in the hospital.

He’s an older fella but still very spry and active so it came as quite a shock.

Burst aneurysm.

It instantly brought me back to all those fucking nights in those goddamn hospitals – both for Alison and my dad.

But it looks like he’ll be ok, which I’m hoping is the case – we won’t know for sure for a few days.

That’s the thing about getting older: Even if you’re careful and lucky, you still spend far more time dealing with health issues than not.

On that note, I’ve been dealing with my own health issues. My herniated disc isn’t getting better – at all.

Doctor: The main issue is that your spinal canal is getting narrower.
Me: Is it because of my wrestling and fencing?
Him: (thinking) I don’t think so. If anything, your keeping active prevented this from being worse.
Me: What is it exactly?
Him: It’s the scoliosis I mentioned, and you have signs of deterioration and arthritis.
Me: Because I’m so active or…
Him: Oh no, just age. You’re 52 after all.
Me: So, I’ve been told.

To wit, after I went with the kid for over two hours to check out some middle schools today…

This pic is also not from today – they didn’t allow us to take pics.

…and after over a year of physical therapy and other things, I did the one thing left for me to do before surgery, which is a steroid injection into my spine.

Now, last week, I went to an office on the East Side twice to do alla the prep I needed to do and this afternoon, it was shot time.

I don’t have any pics from the procedure today – just forgot to take any.

But picture this: I’m lying face down on like a massage table with a cutout for my face in a FREEZING room with three young ladies.

I’m shirtless and my pants are pulled down most of the way with my rear end sticking up in the air.

Luckily for me, I have very little shame so, while it was odd and a bit disconcerting, it was ok for the most part.

Anywho, my chat with the doctor was pretty good too.

Him: So, when are you back from vacation?
Me: Oh, we’re not going for another month.
Him: Ah, good. So, I can see you in two weeks for a followup?
Me: Yup.
Him: OK. You know, I do all this small talk to distract you while we do the injection. And…done.
Me: Wait, you did it already?
Him: (laughing) Yup. Just keep lying there for a bit but you should be out the door in 10-15 minutes.

Considering how many medical procedures I’ve ever done or been part of, this was probably the best case scenario.

Afterwards, I was too beat to cook so I just took everyone out to eat at our fave neighborhood bistro.

Ende gut alles gut. / Alls well that ends well.

Whew.

What a day.

Location: a middle school, trying to figure out what to do
Mood: achy
Music: baby, don’t you think I’m looking older? (Spotify)
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Alison would have been 46

I’m able to pay, for now

A little while ago, the Professor dropped me a line.

Him: If you’ve seen the HBO series Westworld there’s a line where a female robot is about to get her mind wiped again – to spare her from feeling the pain of her child s death – and she cries out “Please, no – the pain is all I have left.” I thought that line was quite powerful.
Me: (sighing) Yeah. Thinking of Alison and my dad is always painful but it’s better than not feeling anything at all, I think. Sometimes, I think differently, but for now, I agree.

There was also a NY Times Article that my brother sent me that had a subtitle that read, If grief is the price of love, I am unable to pay.

For now, I’m able to pay it.

But, early on, I thought paying it would kill me.

As I age, it’s a bit less painful.

Time just dulls everything.

Yet, when I do feel it, man do I feel it.

But I’d much rather feel it than forget her.

Because pain is the price we pay for love.

And pain is all I have left of her.

Well, that and the boy.

Him: I wish I knew her better.
Me: Me too, kiddo. You woulda loved her.
Him: And she woulda loved me?
Me: Oh, kiddo, she absolutely did. And she’d be so thrilled with the person you’re becoming.

Location: 2017, at least, in my head
Mood: complicated
Music: don’t look back from a hurt like that (Spotify)
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Something about Mary (Elizabeth Sawyer)

Feeling it acutely

This little girl named Mary Elizabeth Sawyer was born in 1806 and she led a fairly unremarkable life except for two things:

    1. She had a little lamb, whose fleece was white – as white as snow, in fact. And this little lamb followed Mary everywhere.
    2. Her friend, John Roulstone, upon seeing this, was so amused, he wrote her a poem about it.
Image via Art and Picture Collection, The New York Public Library.

The poem went:

Mary had a little lamb;
Its fleece was white as snow;
And everywhere that Mary went,
The lamb was sure to go.

It followed her to school one day,
Which was against the rule;
It made the children laugh and play
To see a lamb at school.

And so the teacher turned it out;
But still it lingered near,
And waited patiently about
Till Mary did appear.

There’s some question as to the validity of all this, but I like to believe it.

See, almost everyone in America has heard about Mary, knew her situation, and remembered her little lamb that she loved so much, and that loved her so much.

But I’m struck that everyone forgot that Mary was a real person, with all her hopes and dreams, and people – and animals – that loved her deeply.

Even if the poem wasn’t actually Mary Elizabeth Sawyer, the hope is that Mary was a real person, and this was a real thing.

This coming week will be both Alison’s birthday and Mother’s Day.

Again and like always.

And the anniversary of her death is coming up as well.

Every May I struggle with the void that she left after she died.

As hard as that is, it’s even harder for the kid, who – year-after-year – feels the loss a touch more acutely than the previous year.

Moreover, I worry that she’ll just be a distant idea to him, like Mary.

Like, I picture her in my head like the picture above while I think that my son pictures her like the blurry main picture of this entry.

It’s her but it’s…blurry.

Then again, it’s always good to be remembered in some positive way.

Whether that be in a children’s rhyme or a blog that almost no one reads.

I’ll probably write more later, but I just wanted you to know that the Lo household was thinking about her this May, like we do every May.

And like I always do.

Him: Papa! Did you know that there’s a country called Burkina Faso? Isn’t that a cool name?
Me: It is! Did you know that mommy used to go there all the time?
Him: She did? Why?
Me: She worked for a place called Helen Keller and was always trying to help people. That’s one of the things that I always loved about her. She was always trying to help people – she was such a good person, kiddo. Maybe, when you grow up, you can help people like she did.
Him: I will!
Me: (nodding) She’d love that. She would have loved that. And you.

Location: home, worried about the weekend
Mood: concerned
Music: A few years had gone and come around (Spotify)
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5 Columbus Circle

Did you know that you have scoliosis?

Do you have any place or time that fills you with dread thinking about it?

For me, it’s 5 Columbus Circle here in Manhattan.

Always walked in with a fully developed sense of reality, only to leave disabused of that reality when I realize that what I think is true, isn’t true at all.

My first – positive, actually – example of this was way back in 2008, when I finally found out after months of waiting that I didn’t have testicular cancer.

Remember walking into that appointment fulla dread, and leaving feeling so light and relieved.

Then came alla the darkness there.

The first was in 2011, where Alison lost the first of six pregnancies.

Each one was awful for me, and soul-crushing for her – two were ectopic that required surgery.

It was not the last with her as she was there several more times.

Then, in 2012, I was told that I probably had a torn ACL there, which was confirmed.

I spent the next two years rehabing it (the picture in that entry is directly outside the building).

Then, in 2014, had another kinda spot of good-ish news when went in and was told that I needed to get a colonoscopy there but that turned out ok as well.

Between 2015 and 2017, Alison went there a number of times for tests and such for her cancer.

None of those experiences were good nor happy.

I hated even being near the place.

Two years ago, I walked in and was told that (a) I had massive bone spurs in my hand, and (b) I’d broken no less than seven of my ten fingers in my life.

And then earlier this week, I walked in after three months of trying to get x-rays and/or an MRI on my back and I was floored.

Like always, I was given a complete shock that shook my sense of self.

 

Her: OK, well you definitely don’t have cancer.
Me: (breathing in deeply) OK, that’s good but it sounds like there’s a “but” about to happen…
Her: (purses lips and nods slightly) Yes, well…did you know that you have scoliosis?
Me: What?! No, wait, I don’t have scoliosis.
Her: I’m afraid you do. Here, let me show you…

And she whipped out the x-rays you see above.

You can see the curve in my spine.

Evidently, I’ve had that my whole life.

BUT, because I’ve been working out my whole life, I never really noticed it – until recently, that is.

Me: Is that why I’m in so much pain? Like a few months ago, I could barely walk down the street when it rained.
Her: Partially. You have a lot of arthritis in your back as well, and you can see in the slide on the right where your disc slipped.
Me: Is there anything that can be done?
Her: Just PT, I’m afraid. The (main doctor) will get you a script for a much higher dose of celebrex than you’re on right now. (later) You have a lot of injuries.
Me: (shrugging) Just clumsy, I guess.

Like I said, I walked in with one sense of what my reality was and left wholly with another one.

At least I don’t have cancer.

That’s always a win, despite all the other discouraging news.

Location: home all day, nursing my back
Mood: blargh
Music: read the signs from your head to your toes (Spotify)
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Fixing cracks around here

Less than thrilled

The kid cracked another tooth the other day so we had to drop everything and head to the dentist’s to fix it.

This time, however, insurance was able to cover everything, so that was a plus.

Poor guy was less than thrilled, lemme tell ya.

Him: You have no idea how this feels!
Me: Dude, most adults know exactly how it feels – we’ve all done it. You’ll survive this, trust me.

Afterward, I brought him to see his grandparents out in the wilds of NJ…

…I stayed for dinner because they were having Afghan food and we all love it.

Couldn’t really stay longer than for dinner because there’s work that needs to be done on my building that we’re (finally) doing after literally decades of putting it off.

Essentially, our building has settled, and this has resulted in large cracks in our facade.

According to an engineer that came by, while it’s not dangerous to life or property at the moment, we had a few years to fix it before it became a serious problem.

A fella that did work for us years ago just happened to be free so I jumped at the chance to have him fix it.

Just like with any other repair work, as soon as he started, he saw more issues, like, look at how much mortar is missing from the bricks above, or how rusted the internal metal is between the layers of brick, below.

He’s gonna tell me after he’s had more time to check it out if we need to do anything more for that.

Home and kid ownership is rewarding, for sure, but keeping the home from falling down and the kid in one piece is really a full-time thing.

Then again, I’m not sure I’d want it any other way.

Him: Thanks for bringing me to the dentist.
Me: Sure thing, but let’s avoid doing that for a while, ok?
Him: Definitely!

Location: meeting the Firecracker for dinner out and about like real adults
Mood: brrrrrrrrrrr
Music: I’m standing right here for you (Spotify)
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Fire and Ice

Bone-chilling

Her: Have you seen my cow slippers? It’s freezing.
Me: Since meeting you, I’ve heard sentences I’ve never heard ever in my life. Which is saying a lot, because I’m over half-a-century old.
Her: You told me I bring joy and light to your life.
Me: I say a lotta things.
Her: (glares)

It’s been bone-chillingly cold out here lately – and not just between the Firecracker and me.

Like, seriously bone-chilling:

But that also meant some snow and sledding out around here, which is a welcome thing for the kids.

Both kids were excited to get their snow on, so we were up insanely early to let them do it.

There was hardly anyone there when we first arrived.

But that was relatively short-lived.

Which is fine because the Firecracker and I were both freezing.

Her: I’m glad we’re leaving. I can’t feel my toes. (starts laughing).
Me: I can’t either. What are you laughing at?
Her: (pointing) That. Every time I come here, I see the remains of sleds that gave up the ghost.

My brother hates the snow and winter, which is why he lives in Pasadena.

But he and Paul have been dealing with the opposite problem of ice and snow, and that’s fire and ash.

Which sounds a lot like what we had to deal with here two years ago.

This is a pic of his backyard…

…usually, those pools are pristine.

Smoke and ash notwithstanding, he knows that he’s among the lucky ones, at least so far.

Paul and one of the Scenic Fights producers had to evacuate and one of them is just a few blocks from my brother’s pad.

Me: Can I post these pics?
Him: Sure, though what’s there is of course trivial compared to the sorts of calamities that befell houses up the way in Altadena. Those pics were from the morning of Tuesday the 8th, I think. The night before there were winds like I’ve only seen/heard maybe once before here in LA, it was nuts.
Me: Man…
Him: You know, I’m not sure I’ve used the word “befell” in a sentence befall.
Me: Are you proud of yourself here?
Him: It’s like Albert Shakespeare said, “Pride is a many-sided mirror.”
Me: (sighing)

Location: my living room, after the kid accidentally dropped his entire spaghetti dinner on the white rug
Mood: blargh
Music: You pulled the rug right out from under my life (Spotify)
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Water, water, everywhere…

Fairly self-evident

I’d just settled down in front of my computer after being busy with nonsense all morning to actually get some work done when a tenant franticly called me.

She had water dripping down from her ceiling at a fairly fast clip so I ran upstairs to see what the matter was.

That was the start of another two-day odyssey with water, plumbers, and workmen.

We needed to get into the apartment above her, but I had the keys to that. Or so I thought. It turns out that the owner either changed one of the locks or keys and I only had one of the three locks on the door.

Damn mortise lock again.

The start of the damage above the initial apartment. It got *much* worse – see the video below.

The unit owner was in Asia though and it was 3AM there. But this was an emergency.

Her: What do you mean, you don’t have the key?
Me: I feel that that’s fairly self-evident. I don’t have the keys.
Her: I gave you them. I rely on you to keep them for me.
Me: Yes, and I have the keys you gave me. They don’t work on the lock. Again, I don’t have the keys to your unit.

After a lotta back-and-forth, finally ran out to get a locksmith who got us in some two hours later.

But that was just getting into the apartment above.

The next step was getting a plumber in post 5PM and the same day.

That was another adventure, and he finally got to us after 7PM.

I’d already shut off water to the building but, by that time, a ton of water had already pooled.

The plumber found out that, just like my own kitchen sink, the pipe had snapped off in the unit two floors above the initial apartment.

The unit sandwiched between the two units – the unit right above the initial unit which I couldn’t gain entry to – was absolutely wrecked.

Spoke to the owner – still in Asia – who was grateful that I got to it when I did.

Still, I feel that, once she gets back, she’ll be unprepared for the amount of work that the unit will need to get clean and safe again.

As for me, I finally got to sit down and get to my own work the next day.

I could use a lot less excitement in my life, TBH.

Just a tiny bit of the damage that the broken pipe wrought.

Location: a playground with the kid, desperately trying to get work done
Mood: (trying to get) busy
Music: don’t wanna see behind your walls. You build them up so tall (Spotify)
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