Rumors Sprout Wings

Back at campus, people I had worked with since ‘82, inched away from me in the elevator. Black, Hispanic, Asian or White, it didn’t matter.

Most of them looked the other way when I approached, concentrating on the elevator buttons like they were reading a juicy novel. It was almost comical.

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Nobody ever bothered to ask what was going on with me, how I was feeling or why I looked the way I did? They preferred to whisper, stare and point. I’d heard of things like this happening, but it was always to someone else.

So-called friends were suddenly busy all the time, or they out-right disappeared. People who didn’t know me spread rumors with so much detail you’d have thought they lived with me.

One rumor that really got to me, mainly because of who started it, began to spread early on a Monday morning. I went to work early because I had a pulmonary test that afternoon.

Halfway up the sidewalk to my office a co-worker who associated with me outside of work, blocked my path and pulled me to the side.

“Hey man,” he said, punching my shoulder, “how you feelin’ today?” “I’m good bro. Thanks for asking.”

“I thought you’d wanna know the latest. People up here sayin’ you lost all that weight ’cause you smokin’, crack or somethin’.”

“Now I’m a Crack-head? Where’d you hear that b.s.?”          

A woman I never would have suspected was telling my co-workers that she knew for a fact, I was on “crack.”

She claimed that she had heard it over the weekend from somebody, who’d heard it from somebody, who’d heard it from somebody, who was on crack. Not exactly the horse’s mouth.

“She don’t know me man!” I yelled, “Ain’t no end to this crap!” You can guess who was on the elevator when the doors opened. My first mind said, “confront her,” but I refused to invest any energy to rebut the woman or anybody else. Besides, like most of the others, she wouldn’t make eye contact.

People will smile in your face, while stabbing you in your back. By the time the rumor mill got up to full buzz, I had contracted everything from Aids to Zits.

One of the department officers that I reported to had heard the rumors. We’d worked together for 13 years and played racquetball together. He was a good guy.

He called me in for an “urgent” meeting and the first words he said was not hey, how are ya, or good morning. He said, “We’ve got to do something, I know you are on drugs. You smoking crack, or what?”

My dad taught me, “You won’t get stuck, if you don’t stop moving.” In my effort to keep moving, I didn’t have time to dwell in his negativity. So much for a racquetball partner.

I answered, “or what.”

See Part 5. Rumors Sprout Wings

See Part 6. That’s What Friends are For

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“Good Health and Success are a Lifestyle . . . Live Well,”

CK Dillon

Contact: Charles@CreateVitality.Com

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My illness was her pain

The following Saturday, after “crack rumor” week, was a mandatory work day. Forced overtime, the company called it. The money’s good, but I’d rather have slept in.

That commute was the longest 65 miles of solitude I ever drove.

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I awoke on the daybed and climbed, or rather rolled off onto the floor. By now I was in pain and stiff all the time. I showered, dressed, went to the door, looked back at my wife and was about to say , “see ya tonight.”

I froze in my steps and asked, “What’s up honey? Why are you looking at me like that?”

She said, “Nothing,” and gave me a slightly tighter hug than I normally got before I left for work. I tried to joke, “Oh no! Not the nothing!” She didn’t smile.

I couldn’t read the look on her face as she handed me my jacket and said, “See you tonight, be careful.” It wasn’t like she was frightened. She wasn’t crying, frowning or anything I could put my finger on.

Then it dawned on me. Her look said she was resigned to the possibility, or maybe even convinced, that I wasn’t going to be around

much longer. I have to admit I’d felt the same at times and had dealt with a ton of despair, but had to keep positive.

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I said, “It’ll be alright. I’ll beat this. I promise.”

Problem was, I had another promise to keep. I was nowhere near 110 years old, and I’d promised my six-year-old self that I’d live at least that long.

I’ve never been a quitter and wasn’t about to give up, but I was exhausted with being ill.

Honestly, looking back, that day began as the lowest point in my life, before or since. That was when I realized how taxing this whole thing was on my wife. She was a trooper but it was wearing on her.

I was emotional all the way to work. One minute laughing at fate, that I’d be leaving my family behind. The next minute, crying, the next, pissed.

Fellow commuters, if they happened to glance my way would have thought I’d lost it. And I did for a while. Hell, I deserved to lose it.

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I must have ticked off one mini-van-mama in particular, because she pulled alongside me one mile from entering the tunnel and stopped applying eye-liner long enough to give me the middle finger salute.

I think she thought I was shaking my fist at her, when I was railing at my circumstances.

See Part 6. That’s What Friends Are For

See 8. The trip home was better.

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“Good Health and Success are a Lifestyle . . . Live Well,”

CK Dillon

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My New Normal

Get up. Go to work. Work. Nap at lunch. Work. Two-hour nap after 6 pm. Commute. Sleep in tunnel. Home. Fall on the couch. Sleep. No supper. Just me, the couch and sleep.

It got so crazy at one point that when she knew I’d be coming in soon, my wife would  open the daybed in the family room, which was right through the hallway from the garage. I’d come in, plop down, exhale, and go to sleep.

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This went on for three months straight. It was my life. Through no fault of her own, it was hers too. We’d go to the doctor’s office every couple of weeks. I’d take all the tests, blood, pulmonary, etc., then we’d go home so I could take a nap.

I didn’t know what to do other than pray, because the answer was definitely beyond my control, and the doctors were at a loss. I was sleeping more and more. Not eating. Just sleeping.

Then in just three weeks, I lost 35 pounds. Jaws sunk in. Skin tone went pallid. Just like that. Boom!

I have to admit, I was looking kind of scary.

My wife did all she could to keep my mind off the obvious, but I could tell she was concerned and it was wearing away at her too. I remember one day she walked in and said, “We’re having a family photo taken, this Saturday,” and walked back out.

I hated the way I looked. Why’d she have to pick now? Then it dawned on me . . . I’d better take the photo, just in case.

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To this day that photo remains on our bookshelf. When I look at it, I am always reminded of the strength it took for her to offer support when she had no one to lean on.

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See Part 3. My Symptoms

See Part 5. Rumors Sprout Wings

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CK Dillon

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My Symptoms

Lethargy consumed me. I could not wait for the others to go off-campus to lunch, which I always refused, because I needed to sneak in a nap.

This was unusual behavior for me, because at the time I was an active, athletic, health conscious, 40-something, 130 mile a-day commuter, who played Racquetball every day at lunch-time and had plans to celebrate my 110th birthday.

Suddenly I’m sleeping all the time? Something ain’t right!

I’d sleep through lunch, stay late and sleep for a couple of hours, but not charge over-time. My supervisor thought he was getting extra work out of me, for free. Hah! As the ex-prez, (you know who you are) has been known to say, “Not gonna happen!”

The reason I mention the commute aspect is because it was during one such commute that I began to suspect something was terribly wrong.

That day I had worked the 10 am – 6 pm shift. After contributing a much needed few hours of nap time, I’d left work around 8:30 pm.

For many years my route on the commute home was to drive west on highway 580, to 13, to east 24, through the Caldecott Tunnel in Orinda, Ca. I used to jokingly say I could do it in my sleep.

I must say it was a bit of a surprise, when I actually did it.

The first time it happened, I drove into the tunnel in the fast lane, as usual. I noticed a big, brown, Ford Crown Vic’ next to me in the right lane. It was veering real close to the center line, so I eased to my left just a little bit. Figured he was probably afraid of hitting the outside railing and would prefer to tangle with me in my little commuter.

Next thing I remember, I looked up and had traveled about a half-mile beyond the tunnel, still in the fast lane. I remember swerving slightly toward where the Ford should have been, but it was nowhere to be found. Did I dream the Ford part? I can’t say.

Realistically, I must have gone into a zone of some sort, still holding on to a consciousness, but as far as I was concerned, I had fallen asleep.

After that first time, it happened many nights in a row. It got to the point to where I looked forward to it, and yes I know that’s crazy, but I craved the rest.

Every night for weeks I was God’s co-pilot. Something else had to be lighting my path. Like clockwork I’d wake up a half-mile out of the tunnel, roll down a window, take a breath and thank God I made it.

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It became my new normal.

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See Part 1. Living With Sarcoidosis

See Part 2. What’s Wrong With This Picture! I’m Not Lazy!”

See Part 3. My Symptoms

See Part 4. My New Normal

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“Good Health and Success are a Lifestyle . . . Let’s Choose to Live Well,”

CK Dillon

Contact: Charles@CreateVitality.Com

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What’s Wrong With This Picture! I’m Not Lazy!”

I remember one day specifically when the symptoms began to manifest, initially in a persistent cough.

An associate I’d worked with for over 10 years knew something was wrong. He had never seen me ill. Heck, I had been the picture of health proudly earning a ten-year perfect attendance pin!

He burst through the door and came straight over to my desk. Handing me a huge bag of cough drops and two bottles of cough syrup, he said, “Hey man, I stopped at the drug store this morning and got you these.”

Then he said, “We’ve got to finish this project today bro; I’ve got to get out of this room, it’s killing me!”

We were in the process of building a new communications system for a university. This was the last day that I would have any assistance. In a way I looked forward to the solitude.

After he and all the others made similar statements about being ill, I began to think the room we were working in had become contaminated from all of the new equipment. Once turned on, the equipment would warm up and give off a “burning plastic” odor.

Everyone who entered that room and worked there for a day or two, became ill. Some refused to come back.

That realization was my “Eureka” moment. I had figured out why I was sick.

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If I could move out of the room . . . I’d get well. It was a no-brainer. I happily gave the campus my request for a new office.

There were a few challenges!

• this room hadn’t always caused illness
• it had been my office for 13 years prior to the system upgrade with no problems
• the campus didn’t have any more office space
• the campus rep did not feel the room was the cause of my problems

Air Quality Inspection

Up until that time the campus rep and I had a civil working relationship, but it quickly became strained when I arrived at her office with what I considered a “joke” solution. She didn’t appreciate my attempt at humor.

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I wasn’t laughing either. I was doing what I had to do to get well. When I requested the air quality inspection, I was assured there would be no adverse findings.

Unfortunately, a contaminated room was the only logical answer to how I was feeling.

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See Part 1. Living With Sarcoidosis

See Part 3. My Symptoms

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“Good Health and Success are a Lifestyle . . . Live Well,”

CK Dillon

Contact: Charles@CreateVitality.Com

On the Web: Http://CreateVitality.Com

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Today’s article is the first in a series about a disease, Sarcoidosis, that hits more than close to home with me. It’s something I’ve lived with every day for the past 15 years.

Hope I do it justice.

Here’s My Story.

Early fall, nineteen-ninety-five, was to be an extreme and lonely period in my life. After being ill for several months during the summer, I was diagnosed with something called Sarcoidosis.

Initially told by a specialist that the disease affected mainly African Americans and Scandinavians, I quickly realized I had no one to talk with who could relate to what I was going through.

I didn’t know any other African Americans who had been diagnosed, and I didn’t know any Scandinavians, period.

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My close friends listened and lent a sympathetic ear when I needed it, but they couldn’t feel me, so to speak. I imagine that’s what it’s like with most serious diseases.

Here’s a big “Thank You!” to all of you who participate in various support groups.

When I was first diagnosed, there was very little information on the web, or anywhere else about Sarcoidosis. I’d spread the word whenever the opportunity presented itself, but most people just couldn’t relate. And frankly, my knowledge was limited.

Fast-forward to this decade and the disease is no longer obscure. I’ve come to realize many other African Americans were right there with me, waging the battle against an enemy unidentified.

Those who came before weren’t known as pioneers. They were referred to in a less endearing light. “He’s Lazy with a capital L,” was something I used to hear a lot about a certain older gentleman, “he’s always been lazy.” Lethargy is a common symptom of Sarcoidosis. Maybe “old dude” wasn’t just “lazy.”

One of my earliest symptoms was lethargy. Friends and co-workers had always known me to be energetic, but suddenly I’d hear whispers, “he’s always real tired lately.”

At that time, in nineteen-ninety-five, my symptoms were a “Charles only” problem. I didn’t want to be tired, or as some would feel, “lazy,” I just couldn’t help it.

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See Part 2.  . What’s Wrong With This Picture!  I’m Not Lazy!”

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“Good Health and Success are a Lifestyle . . . Live Well,”

CK Dillon

Contact: Charles@CreateVitality.Com

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This is for all the “real men” out there who don’t get check-ups.

How often do we, or someone we know, get a headache, complain about blurred vision or feel like we need a quick pick-me-up? Usually we’ll take an aspirin, apply eye drops, gulp down an energy drink, etc., anything to make us feel better, if only temporarily.

These remedies, for the most part, are effective. But when our home remedies don’t correct the ailment we may need to get another opinion. A professional opinion . . . like, hmmmm, maybe a doctor’s?

That’s where, for many in our community, and I’m guilty of it too, the buck stops. We, especially men, tend to do it later; we’ll get around to it or say, “I know how I feel.” Until one of the women in our lives says something, or puts her foot down, we will do nothing.

Yes, I have used excuses instead of handling my business too . . . until I had a rather serious ailment that I initially tried to treat with cough drops, etc.

After my wife insisted that what I was doing wasn’t working, I had to consult with a doctor. Now I have to say, that method is not good enough. We really need to get a handle on our health and become pro-active.

Today’s article is a brief run-down of symptoms of Diabetes. These symptoms usually develop over a short period of time and may seem minor at first.

Some Symptoms of Type 1 Diabetes

• Constant or Increased hunger, even after a good meal.
• Significant or Unexplained loss of Weight
• Increased thirst
• Frequent or increased urination
• Blurred vision
• Extreme fatigue
• Dry mouth.
• Headaches.
• An additional symptom of Type 1 Diabetes: loss of consciousness; rare but very serious.

Treatment:

People with Type 1 diabetes must take insulin for the remainder of their lives. If a person has type 1 diabetes and is not diagnosed and treated, they can lapse into a coma or worse.

Some Symptoms of Type 2 Diabetes are the same symptoms as Type 1, but also include:

• Feeling ill
• Frequent infections
• Slow-healing wounds
• Frequent yeast infections
• Itchy skin around the vagina and groin area, that is not cured by thrush medication.
• Weight gain.
• Decreased vision
• Impotency.
• Boils (higher blood sugar levels provide food for bacteria)
• Evidence of bruising
• Acanthosis nigricans: Light-brown-to-black, velvety, rough areas, or increased skin markings on the back and sides of the neck, armpits and in the groin.

Treatment:

• Until recently, Type 2 diabetes typically developed in people who were middle aged and could usually be controlled by diet and drugs. In some cases people may have to take insulin as well. Type 2 diabetes is rapidly becoming detectable in children as young as adolescent.

To contact the National Diabetes Education Program (NDEP) for more resources on preventing and/or controlling diabetes:

• Call 1-888-693-6337
• Website: Http://YourDiabetesInfo.org.

Information for this article was researched an adapted from information including but not limited to the following:

• National Institute of Diabetes and Digestive and Kidney Diseases.
• National Diabetes Statistics, 2007. Bethesda, MD:
• U.S. Department of Health and Human Services,
• National Institutes of Health 2008: http://diabetes.niddk.nih.gov/dm/pubs/statistics/

Hope this article helps in some way. If you are experiencing any of these symptoms on a regular basis, quit “being a man” and get yourself checked out.

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Click here To read Segment 1

Click here To read Segment 2

Thanks for reading.

“Good Health and Success are a Lifestyle . . . Let’s Choose to Live Well,”

CK Dillon

Contact: Charles@CreateVitality.Com

On the Web: Http://CreateVitality.Com

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What is Diabetes, or . . . “The Sugar?”

• Diabetes, a leading cause of death and disability in the United States, is a group of diseases that won’t allow our bodies to properly convert food into energy.

• This conversion process, that our bodies won’t allow, is known as metabolism.

• One sugar energy source, blood glucose, is produced during metabolism.

• The level of blood glucose (sugar) in our blood is regulated by Insulin, a hormone produced in the pancreas.

Diabetes is distinguished by high levels of blood glucose (sugar) in our system, resulting from our body’s defective insulin production, action, or both.

Types of Diabetes

• Type 1 Diabetes; formerly Juvenile Onset Diabetes, accounts for 5-10% of all diagnosed cases of diabetes and results when the body’s immune system attacks and destroys its insulin-producing cells in the pancreas.

• Type 2 Diabetes; formerly Adult-Onset Diabetes accounts for 90-95% of all diagnosed cases of diabetes and occurs when the body does not make enough insulin or cannot effectively use the insulin it makes.

In the not-too-distant past, Type 2 Diabetes was normally discovered in adults over 40 years of age. Lately it has become prevalent in younger generations, including adolescents.

• Gestational Diabetes; occurs in women only during pregnancy

The cause of each type of diabetes is different, but the common thread is high levels of glucose (sugar) in the blood.

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See Segment #1: Diabetes in the African American Community

See Segment #3: Some Symptoms of Diabetes

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“Good Health and Success are a Lifestyle . . . Let’s Choose to Live Well,”

CK Dillon,

Contact: Charles@CreateVitality.Com

On the Web: Http://CreateVitality.Com

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One Saturday morning back in ‘64, I was sitting in our community’s”pinnacle of opinion”, Red’s Barbershop, waiting for my turn in the chair.

There was a heated discussion going on between several of the Saturday morning regulars and as usual, I learned something.

After a considerable amount of friendly bickering, finger-pointing and debate over his symptoms, John, who was sitting in the barber’s chair at the time, finally agreed with the others.

He said something like, “I guess for all intents and purposes, I’ve ‘caught’ the Sugar.”

By that time, I’d heard of a few people who had “caught” the disease, but I’d never been told what it actually meant to have the ‘Sugar.’

What I did know was if someone actually caught the “Sugar,” it was serious. Up until that day, when people spoke of it around me, it was with a hushed voice.

Looking back I don’t think many people in my community knew exactly what it was, or how to combat it, they just knew it was not a good thing to have.

I have learned of parents who had diabetes back then, but hid the fact from their children. Later in life one or more of their children contracted, or most likely inherited, the disease.

One thing I remember about the barbershop conversation was when Jeremiah, who was  in his late seventies, asked, “I got just one question. So what’s that mean, I’m Black, so I’m probably gonna catch the ‘Sugar’ too?.”

His observation was met with a loud chorus of, “Hell Yes!,” followed by more bickering, finger-pointing, debate and laughter. Barbershop conversations always seemed to end like that, with laughter.

Well, it’s over fifty years later and to paraphrase the gentleman’s question, “Is it ’cause I’m Black?” The answer to that hit closer to home than he would have ever imagined.

I’ll explain my theory, but first we need to determine exactly what we are dealing with as a community in the next segment.

Segment #2: What is Diabetes or ‘The Sugar’?

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“Good Health and Success are a Lifestyle . . . Let’s Choose to Live Well,”

CK Dillon

Contact: Charles@CreateVitality.Com

On the Web: Http://CreateVitality.Com

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