Some people have a knack for foresight. They seem to possess this unique ability in which they appear to be prepared for everything; never truly surprised by an event or outcome while simultaneously thinking their prescience is completely unremarkable. You know, those people whose most commonly used phrase could very well be “I told you so” because, well, they did.

I am not one of those people.

Now don’t get me wrong, I wish I was. After all, I do everything I can to try and prepare myself for my future, both immediate and long term. I plan out my week with things I need to get done. I often obsess over my public transportation routes, ensuring all the necessary elevators are working and what not till that last possible moment before heading out the door.  I plan and then I re-plan, all in hopes of stacking the deck in my favor for success and positive results in whatever realm matters to me at the moment. Yet, I’m consistently taken by surprise.

I mean, planning only goes so far. Trying to prepare yourself for all possible outcomes to a particular set of events is a hopelessly useless cause. Then again, there are also those things you know you should expect to happen “eventually” but the timeline for “eventually” tends to steer towards a more prolonged one so you never get around to actually being ready.

One of my and my family’s “eventually” clocks stopped ticking this week and sitting here now, staring at my flashing cursor, I can only shake my head and wonder how that clock ran out of life so quickly. On Monday, my family put our floofy Cheerio-loving, Little House on the Prairie watching, man-bun wearing Oscar to sleep.

Now Oscar has made a few cameo appearances here on the blog in both pictures and commentary (Who’s Counting?Mom. Mom? MOM!Uno. Dos.Aisle 7, and others…) but I think a little refresher course is in order.

Oscar is a 13 (almost 14) year old mutt of a pooch (although he prefers the term designer dog) who was rescued from a farm where he spent his time eating horse droppings and chasing cats. While both those activities ceased in a literal sense upon coming to live in the Schroth home, I’m 98% convinced there was a lot of kitty chasing in Oscar’s relatively abundant and assumedly vivid puppy dreams per his sleep barks and leg twitches.

Oscar is technically Lindsey’s dog (my littler sister) and made his fair share of 4-H related appearances as well as being present for countless homecoming, winterfest, and prom parties. Now even though Oscar is most certainly the “senior” pet in the household, he always seems to be at the bottom of the “status” totem pole and with his profoundly laid-back personality, I don’t think he much cares. Some of his favorite past times include eating, sleeping, eating some more, and going on walks where he is allowed to pee on everything taller than the average blade of grass (seriously, that’s not an exaggeration…). He’s a bit of a goofball with the coolest looking underbite and most happy-go-lucky personality. I saw him when I was home for Easter and I certainly had no idea that would be the last time we’d be bed buddies. Continue reading

Stage 5

I think there are stages to everything in life, stages you simply have to work through and experience. I mean, there are stages you go through in school, there are stages you go through in your professional life, and there are definitely stages in dealing with loss. I’m sure everyone’s been through what I’m talking about in some way or another. Maybe it was the loss of a job, maybe it was the loss of a friend or family member. I guess I’ve been dealing with my own little menagerie of loss since May. Loss of career aspirations. Loss of sensations. Loss of motor function. And on and on and on. No matter what it is, loss is hard. More simply put, loss sucks. I googled stages of loss and apparently there are five. Five stages you go through as you learn how to cope with your new situation.

Denial…anger….bargaining….depression…..all leading up to acceptance.


It just feels good to say doesn’t it? Like a big sigh of relief after all these hard and terrible things. The rainbow after the storm. But getting there…man is that rough. Somedays it feels like your pulling on a door that says push. I’ll be the first to say it, life is everything but enjoyable when you’re at a place in your life where you don’t even accept who you are. When I was first injured, acceptance was the last thing on my agenda. I guess I didn’t even realize it until I think back on that time now–like my own personal form of denial. I mean, I knew I couldn’t walk and if I ever did regain motor function, it honestly would be a miracle. But I didn’t want to take in this whole situation..Hmmmm, let me explain. Continue reading