There’s something I need to know and it’s an emergency.

Does the required daily consumption of coffee/caffeine increase with body weight?

I haven’t weighed myself recently, but I think I may have packed away a few pounds since I started working out at the Y. Suddenly, and most unwelcomely, I’ve noticed diminishing returns from a cup of brown gold.

If I have to explain this any further then you really don’t know me at all, do you?

Lead us not into temptation

I could take this title in a lot of different directions, but I don’t think you saw this one coming. Or maybe you did. My readers tend to be the thoughtful type.

Don’t you dare laugh.

The good, church going folks among you might think I’m talking about sin, but I’m not… not in the Biblical sense anyway.

No, my transgressions only hurt one person: myself. I’ve sinned against myself, in thought, word, and deed.

A few days ago I took up caffeine again.

Dun-dun-dun, DAAAAAAAAAA!

That’s right folks, my doctors may be saying no, but my mind and body are saying YES, OH GOOD GOD YES!

I know what you’re thinking: IS THIS GOING TO BE THE KIND OF POST WHERE JOHN GOES ALL CAPS CRAZY ON ME? That’s the caffeine talking baby! It has a way of capitalizing everything for me, which is probably why my doctors think I should abstain. Well, there’s that and the little matter of it not playing well with all of my meds.

But fook me, man, the damn stuff has me hooked. No, not just hooked, it’s damn near a necessity. Just think, how many of you need a daily infusion of America’s Favorite Stimulant ™ to get your motor running? Come on now, fess up… how many of you need more than one… or twelve?

I know. I should really stop. I’ll give it up next month. I’ll start proof reading these posts again too. I promise.



It’s not as bad as it sounds, or will sound (if you can make any sense of it). This week I’ve been sick (again/still – pick your adverb) and between medications. I’ve been weening myself from caffeine, on doctor’s orders, and I’m suffering the consequences. My meds of choice for headache are no longer part of the arsenal – due to the caffeine, so I’m doubly screwed. The doctor who recommended I stop the caffeine (not all at once) said I should go see my primary about my headache medication, and like an idiot I didn’t rouse myself to do anything about it until it was too late. My primary’s office was closed for the week. Throw in a new medication that made things MUCH worse (the one and only time I took it), and the few days it’s taken to get back to where I was before, which wasn’t great to begin with, and you get a really bad week for ya. If memory serves, that’s the English approximation for the Russian word for “me.” Or maybe it’s “I.” Maybe it works as both. Dr. Mann would be so disappointed in me. Я не знаю!

So don’t worry. I wrote this post last night, during a particularly dark mood. Today already feels like a better day. Autumn came in earnest this morning, with a little bit of cool air, and I love it.

I don’t mean to mislead you. I have none – status that is. I’m (probably wrongly) assuming you’ll think of the kind you’d equate to someone’s standing in the community. Heck, I’d be happy to be standing at all.

I’ve been floating. It’s been a while now. I’ve tweeted a bit. I’ve punched the clock. Yeah, The Clock. I’ve seen a doctor. I’ve seen another. I’ve seen my mother.

Yep, that kind of status.

Cheryl wants me to see yet another – doctor that is. My doctor brought it up too. I asked the other, but she changed the subject. Damn psychiatrists.

I think… no, I take that back. I haven’t been thinking. I’ve been hurting. That’s my status. How often do you see that on Facebook? Maybe you’ve seen it a lot. Hurt has a way of turning you inward. It’s hard to see others when you’re looking the wrong way. I keep waiting for a doctor to turn me around. I think… no, I know everything would be better if hurt went away, if I let myself look in the right direction.

I’d just like to enjoy things again. This month has been birthday season in my family. Almost all if them come within a few weeks of right now. I’ve been MIA for most of it. I’ve been checked out, either physically, emotionally, or both. We celebrated mom’s birthday this week. It was the first time in a while I’ve been in the same room with my first family. Even that couldn’t pull me all the way back. I sat next to my sister, across from my wife and two adorable kids, just down from my parents, and the baby of the family at the other end with her family. I still wasn’t all there.

I have flashes. Some days something throws a switch and I’m me again. The pain that visits behind my right temple, or behind my right ear, visits someone else. The dark cloud of depression that fills up my mind, crowding out nearly everyone and everything else, blows out to sea. The infectious invaders are beaten back by my immune system, sometimes with an assist from my MD. I feel good. I feel like I can make the people around me feel good. But it doesn’t last nearly long enough. It doesn’t happen nearly often enough.

To be honest, things probably look a little worse than they really are right now. My doctor recommended (strongly) I give up my favorite drug: caffeine. I’m in the process of weening, and my body’s in the process of jonesing. Oh, and did I mention the nifty little sinus bug that’s got some game? Take your pick: caffeine withdrawal, sinus infection, my garden variety headache, or what the heck… may be a combination of all three.

I’d give anything to someone with the power of the prescription pad right now. Or would I? Should I? Oncology. Immunology. Psychiatry. Dermatology. Ophthalmology. Otolaryngology. My plain ‘ole GP. Sleep Medicine (I tried to find an appropriate “-ology” and wikipedia failed me). More than one person suggesting neurology. An ominous comment from a friend about one of them in particular, and my wife wishing I’d pick another. Not enough or too much?

I wish someone knew something. “You definitely look better.” A week goes by. “You definitely look worse.” For a couple years I’ve heard some variation of “I’d like to try….” I don’t blame anyone though. I know they’re really trying. I wish medical science knew more. I wish there was a little less error. I wish I wasn’t the trial. I wish I believed something else had an answer. A week between visits I lost more weight than I should have. My blood pressure dropped… a lot. (My heart rate is fine though.) They’re drawing more blood. My doctor is working on insurance approval for extensive scans. Go fish.

I wish I could tell you about something else, but the last thing I need is trouble there.

I wish I could stop wishing.