christianity does not make me (or anyone) more moral.


this is a great struggle for me. i am constantly comparing and elevating myself; most times without even thinking about it. it is the sin of the Pharisee – “I thank you, God, that I am not like he”. the further i walk the Christian path, the worse i get. The more moral I become the less I can be united to Christ. It is only through the shame of the cross and my utter lack of morality, that I can be saved.

without God, there is nothing to restrain my morality. it becomes force against force – my good vs your good.

God, help me.

PNE Surgery 2.

Last week I celebrated 4 years post-op of my PNE surgery. And it was a successful surgery! Most are not; I believe the unofficial stats say something like 1/3 of surgeries result in an improvement of pain relief by about 50%. Literally, the day after my surgery anniversary, I started having [obvious] symptoms on the other side (I’d actually had symptoms going back to Halloween, but as many PNE patients know, the symptoms aren’t always obvious at the beginning).

So, now, a second surgery seems imminent. Another trip to Houston and another 18 month recovery. 4 years ago, I did not have a wife and kiddo to support, so the recovery, while difficult, was manageable financially. I have no idea how things are going to go this time around. It is very scary.

Here you go: http://ainsworthinstitute.com/conditions/pudendal-neuralgia/

My surgeon: http://www.memorialhermann.org/doctors/neurosurgeons/dr-lee-ansell-md-646864/

 

2016: the year of death

My grandfather died in July. My dad in September and my Great Aunt last night. It’s as if the entire Schrott side is being wiped out all at once. They all had cancer and we knew their time was short, but this is just…. [there are no words]. I haven’t seen Aunt Laverne in about 6 years. And the last time we did, it was tragic. She had dementia, it was December and her house was frigid and she thought that I was my dad. We tried to fix her furnace for her but to little avail. She practically raised my dad when my grandmother died back in the 50s. There was always this idea that my dad would go back to Johnstown and fix up her house in her old age. I can’t remember if my dad ever actually said that or if it was my mom pontificating for him. But it was an idea I liked. It of course, never happened. Life is just way too un-neat for that.