Day Twelve: Finding Progress

January 19, 2025

Even at home, my body seems determined to wake at 3 a.m., likely trained from those nightly checks by the nursing staff. I tried returning to bed, but instead found myself doomscrolling through the news. It’s strange how quickly a routine, even an unwelcome one, takes hold.

Snow’s coming today, so plans for a haircut were on the fence. Church was a virtual experience—easier to watch online when the world feels distant anyway. The DMV? Let’s just say even thinking about driving around here, feels like stepping into chaos. By midday, fluffy snowflakes arrived, blanketing everything in a calm disguise. Somehow, it matched the stillness I was trying to navigate inside myself.

I’ve noticed how much I’m trying to keep busy—not just physically, but mentally. There’s that old saying, “idle hands…” but this isn’t about avoiding trouble. It’s about making this new road feel normal, as if by sheer force of habit I can wish away what’s happening. Deep down, I know the truth. No amount of routines or "hacking" my body with bark diets or revisiting forgotten yoga skills will erase this. The rational me, the one who sits with me at 3 a.m., reminds me to stay focused, stick to the medical plan, and trust the process.

My neck scars are healing, but they’re still fresh enough to draw attention. Every so often they peak out from the top of my shirt. Yesterday, I noticed people staring—probably because they still look raw. I smiled and kept going, though I couldn’t help but wonder if my presence made someone uncomfortable. Funny how a simple smile can be armor.

Afternoon: A Fresh Start

By 4 p.m., snow fell heavier, big fluffy flakes layering the streets. I finally got my haircut—a skin mid-fade, a style I haven’t worn in over a decade. Normally, I go for a simple 1.5 on the sides, tapering up, but my barber suggested going higher. He was right. It feels sharp, a small but significant shift. It’s strange how something as small as a haircut can feel like progress.

Grocery shopping came next, adjusting to my no-sodium, low-red-meat diet. Protein is now from food, not supplements—another step toward healing. Light yoga rounded out the day, enough to remind my body that strength is worth preserving. Even if everything feels uncertain, some movement feels like progress. I remind myself it’s about what’s next—not clinging to the past.

Evening: Progress Is Our Most Important Product

The snowstorm quieted by nightfall. My dear old mentor and friend Mike Nepi reached out to me today and as always he gave some sage advice. He spoke about how GE changed their popular slogan to: “Progress is our most important product.” He then suggested this should be my mantra for now. Progress doesn’t have to be monumental—it can be as simple as a smile, a haircut, or even grocery shopping. Tiny steps forward, no matter how dusty the trail, are still steps.

My dear friend John Howling sent me a link to the Drop Kick Murphy's singing "You’ll Never Walk Alone" its words stick with me: “Walk on through the wind, walk on through the rain.” Healing is its own kind of weather, unpredictable but ever-moving. Tonight, I’ll walk on.