As we have now put a dent in 2021, and my bloggerlust is slowly awakening- partially from topic inspiration, partly on the encouragement of my dear one- I recognize that these twelve months have the potential to surpass my wildest permutation of the future. Six weeks ago I rang in the new year with an entirely new (and completely unexpected)  magical pouch brimming with hope and exciting prospects, and as we turn a snowy corner towards spring, many of those prospects are coming to fruition. Work is stable, my physical and mental health continue their upward trajectory, and I am hopelessly and willingly steeped in an amazing new relationship, the bliss of which is gloriously transcendent. My existence appears to be humming along on all cylinders. I finally feel like I've got this “life thing” down. Danger, JD! You are so busy celebrating yourself, gleefully patting yourself on the back that you are subtly distancing yourself from the original source of your stability and growth in y

 It was a year and a day ago. New Years' eve, bringing in 2020. America was booming, people seemed generally content and social, while on the other side of the globe an unknown virus was stealthily beginning to make its way out of a farmers' market in some city in China most of us had never heard of. Times Square was a sea of faces, as per tradition. All in all, life in America was pretty good. Not for me; it was anything but. Fresh off a breakup of a relationship I thought  was going to last forever, I arrived that evening home from my emergency department shift around 11:30pm alone and full of rage and self-pity. I anguished over the now perennial grief of  my children not in my life, a feeling so built into my daily existence that it had almost become background noise....that is, except, for that evening, where it torpedoed any semblance of serenity. On previous NYEs  Cassie had been with me, at my side, with her soothing presence. I remember being in her home exactly one ye

I hope you slept well last night. When you woke up this morning, history had been made on biblical proportions.  It is zero hour. While you were off in dreamland, as the rain washed over the East Coast, in the quiet blanket of night, dozens of very special refrigerated trucks made off along the interstates. They departed the previous day from Portage, Michigan: legions of them, fanning out to destinations near and far across America, carrying their valuable and historic cargo, en route to over 600 hospitals and clinics. Right now, as you read this, the COVID vaccinations are hitting the arms of its first American recipients. One year ago, nobody outside of a biology lab had ever heard of the novel coronavirus, a.k.a. COVID-19. Now it is standard household vocabulary. In December 2019 we knew nothing. Social distancing was something you did when somebody pissed you off. You occasionally viewed people donning face masks on TV news-  Japanese massing in their commuter railways at the heig

Daddy worked like a mule mining Pike County coal He fucked up his back and couldn't work anymore He said "One of these days you'll get out of these hills Keep your nose on the grindstone and out of the pills."                         -Tyler Childers Boxer was the workhorse in George Orwell's Animal Farm . His answer to every problem, every setback, was `I will work harder!' which he had adopted as his personal motto.  He labored his entire life for his cause like no other animal on the farm, only to collapse in exhaustion and be ultimately sold to a slaughterhouse, so the ruling pigs could buy themselves a case of whiskey. I will work harder, for myself and my loved ones- not for some pointless politician's pointless vision. I clawed my back from unemployment, loss, and alcoholic oblivion, and found not one but THREE E.R. jobs I love. I work my ass off at all of them, taking on far more hours than any emergency physician should, well beyond  the official r

  But when you cross over... time stops. When I came back... I knew... all the things I could see were real. Heaven and hell were right here. Behind every wall, every window. The world behind the world, and we're smack in the middle. -John Constantine You have one. Whether you choose to admit it, or even acknowledge it, your innerworld exists- the reality behind the reality. Your shadow place. The secret refuge from the routine, from the daily grind, where your not-so-guilty pleasures explode and unencumbered fantasies materialize. Much like your outerworld, the landscape there brims with desire and temptation, with one profound difference- in that place, your special place, it is all up close, tangible, and infinitely more vivid; there are zero encumbrances preventing your engagement. Held in check by societal norms, there you are not. Pinned down by regulation, authority, social decorum, or the demands of others, there you are not. So when you find that opportune moment, evening

  1978 Dad took me to the third game of the World Series at Yankee Stadium. The Dodgers were up in the series, leading two  games to nothing, and game three was a “must win” for the Bronx Bombers. The Yanks were behind  1-0 in a third inning and the Dodgers had runners on first and second with one out. We were sitting in the second tier, third base line. I was staring directly at my favorite player, Greg Nettles, the third baseman. Thurman Munson was standing behind home plate shouting something to him. Lucky for us, Ron Guidry was on the mound.  One pitch later Steve Garvey hit a rocket down the third-base line which Netttles speared, fired to Roy White at second base who in turn threw to first to complete the double play. Inning over, and the Yanks were out of the jam. I remember turning to dad. “If Greg had not made that play it  might have meant  multiple more runs for the Dodgers, and the Yanks would’ve been a deep hole, and if they lose the game they probably will lose the World