Danny Czekalinski

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confused

If you listen to my podcast, and I hope you do because I have adopted a chimpanzee named Bongo that needs to eat, then you know my mission statement is:  “85% of the world is stupid, welcome to the 15%.”  As I continue on my journey of life I actually believe I may have underestimated that figure as I am constantly confused on a daily basis.  Could someone please explain to me some of the following observations and questions that hound me?

  • Why is there a man dressed in a cowboy outfit on my TV that wants to send me a lubed catheter for free?
  • Why is it an amazing event that you can prepare your own food? I do it on a daily basis but I have never felt the urge to take a picture of it and post it on Facebook?
  • When people say “Back in the day” are they referring to a particular day of the week? A certain decade?  I like to think of prehistoric times when man discovered fire and the wheel.
  • Why do I look at people that buy lottery tickets and think they don’t “shave down there?”
  • Why do car dealers insist on shouting in their commercials yet when you go to their showroom to buy a car they speak at a normal sound level?
  • George Washington and Abraham Lincoln were great leaders and icons in our nation’s history but I’m sure they would wonder why we celebrate their birthdays by lowering prices on mattresses.
  • Why do atheists say “Bless you” after you sneeze?
  • Why does every guy behind the counter at a tire store always have a toothpick in his mouth?
  • Does the person in front of me that has twenty six items in their shopping cart at the grocery store’s express lane realize I’m thinking they are a jackass?
  • When I go to the dentist does he realize that I am looking to see if he trims his nose hairs?

These are just some of the questions that roar through my mind and perhaps the reason why I need to take pills on a daily basis and never expect to find a Mensa member at the bus station.

 

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sewer pump

When I was a kid (some will argue that I still am) I looked forward to going on class field trips.  You would miss a half a day of school; get to take along a sack lunch filled with junk food and fight to sit in the back seat of the bus.  In elementary school it was fun to sit in the back seat of the bus and make faces at cars that stopped behind you at a red light.  In high school those that sat in the back seat usually smoked Marlboro Reds, carried knives and now are either working as bouncers or have been featured on episodes of “The First 48.”

Most field trips were educational and served a purpose.  We went to the Natural History Museum, the local fire department, the zoo and the art museum.  I’m not saying that being in fifth grade and looking at a Monet was exhilarating but it got me out of playing crab soccer and trying to climb the rope in gym class so I’ll gladly take the former.

There was one field trip, however, that both traumatized and confused me as to what the intended purpose was supposed to be.  One day my fourth grade class piled into the yellow school buses for our trip to the Strongsville Pumping Station.  If you are confused about what a pumping station is and what purpose it serves allow me to enlighten you.  Sewer pumping stations (also called lift stations) are used to move wastewater to higher elevations in order allow transport by gravity flow. Sewage is fed into and stored in a sealed underground pit, commonly known as a wet well.  In common speak we ventured to the spot where all the shit water from the city comes together.

I remember descending down a spiral staircase with my classmates until we were probably five stories beneath street level.  There we were able to view the raw sewage flowing like we were stuck in a tropical storm in a Third World Country.  My conscious mind is still scarred with the indelible tattoo of seeing cigarette butts, toilet paper, turds that looked like Lincoln Logs and a red rubber ball.  Not exactly a Kodak moment or a suggested tourist attraction (although it does parallel a visit to your local water park).

Looking back I did learn two things from our field trip that day.  People in my hometown don’t chew their food and I understand the need and popularity of bottled water.

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seond chanceI should be dead.   Let’s start there.  On September 21, 2015 I started to go downhill, healthwise, at a rapid pace.  I was coughing up blood and struggling to catch my breath.   It was late that Monday afternoon when I knew I had to call 911.  I didn’t have the strength to get off the couch and told the 911 operator that the paramedics would have to come through the window.  She stayed on the phone with me until they arrived.  The paramedics worked quickly to remove me from the house and our destination was Wellington Regional.  They were moving at the fastest pace possible so I knew this was serious.  This thought was supported even further when the one in the back of the emergency unit asked me “Why did you wait so long?”

I was unconscious by the time I reached the hospital so I had to fill in the blanks by questioning my doctors and medical staff.  I had pneumonia.  This caused a heart block.  My heart rate fell to 22.  My other organs were slowly shutting down.  My mother was contacted late that Monday evening and the doctors were honest with her;  They didn’t know if I would make it through the night.  I would remain unconscious, hooked to wires and machines, for the next six days.

I may be ridiculed, by some, for what I share with you next.  Let me preface what I am about to tell you by giving you a bit of background of my religious beliefs and upbringing.  I was raised Catholic.  I stopped going to church a long time ago.  I believed in a Supreme Being and an after-life.  I was never one to read the Bible or one to devote much of my time to prayer.  Now let me share with you what I learned.

There is a heaven.  I know because I was outside the doors.  I begged God for another chance;  for the ability to make a difference and use the talents He has given me.  I begged Him for forgiveness and promised that I would use a second chance to make a difference in my life and attempt to do the same in the lives of others.

When I finally regained consciousness I was told that I did actually “die and come back.”   My mother mentioned that when I was fighting to regain consciousness I kept saying “I’m sorry.  I am so sorry. Please give me another chance.”  Physically I was very sick but spiritually this was an awakening and something that has changed my life.

I learned the heart block caused damage to my heart and I would need a pacemaker.  On Monday September 29, 2015 I was transferred from Wellington Regional to JFK Medical Center, a hospital known for their cardiac care.   One week after my transfer and NUMEROUS tests, pills and pokes my permanent pacemaker was installed on Monday October 5, 2015.  Yesterday, October 6, 2015 I was finally discharged and returned home.

I am on the road to recovery.  I pop more pills on a daily basis than Keith Richards does.  I can’t drive for another two weeks and I follow up with two doctors next week.  I need to take and log my blood pressure and pulse on a daily basis.  Having been diagnosed with obsessive-compulsive disorder, social anxiety disorder and general anxiety disorder this is the least of my problems in fact I just did it five minutes ago and of course I logged all the numbers into my computer.   Yesterday was the first day since September 21st that I was on my feet and moving around for an extended period of time.   It’s both amazing and embarrassing at the things I took for granted. So many people showed concern for me and for that I am drastically humbled and forever grateful.  I have been given a second chance and I plan on delivering on my promise to make a difference.  We all face struggles on a daily basis.  Some days are better than others but I don’t think God gives us anything we can’t handle or is without reason and purpose.  Thank you for taking the time to read this.  I truly believe that what happened to me has a purpose.  You reading this blog entry is part of my spiritual mission.  Thank you for your time, concern, understanding and support.  Enjoy the rest of your day.

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One of the topics trending this morning is Donald Trump telling Larry King his breath stinks.  This was 10 years ago and probably true.   I put together an audio piece of not only Trump telling King to chew on a mint but celebrities who have passed gas on the air.  Just click below to listen to my audio blog.

trump and king

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me and dadSixteen years ago today my phone rang in Cleveland and I looked at the caller ID.  It was the neighbor of my father.  I knew what this was about before I even answered…..my father had died at the age of 57.  There is no way to prepare anyone for the feelings you will have when losing a parent.  It’s almost like you become a member of “The Club” where you and the others don’t even have to speak your feelings to know what the other has gone through.

After getting the news I remember looking out the window and thinking: “Why are there cars on the road, why are the banks open, why are people grocery shopping and why are people at work?”  It was a big glass of reality for me.  The time we have here on this planet is undetermined and people suffer the loss of loved ones every day but as far as the planet it’s “business as usual.”

I was thirteen and in the basement with Dad when he gave me the greatest advice ever.  He said “Just remember, no matter what, your parents will be the best friends you ever have.”  Of course being thirteen I knew it all and it didn’t really sink in.  Over the years I have truly found not only those words to ring true but also words that have become more relevant and accurate as the days go by.

I really miss the opportunity to grab the phone in my times of trouble or confusion.  I knew that a helpless situation would be put into proper perspective with a five minute conversation with my father.  Now I’m left to figuring it out by myself and I’m not very good at it.

Dad taught me what it was like to be a man.  A man isn’t someone that lifts a lot of weight, can chop down a tree with four swings of an ax, or someone who has to tell anyone “ I’m a man!”  A true man is one that thinks of others instead of himself, gives of his time without expecting anything in return and isn’t afraid to cry from time to time.  I’m still working on so many things he taught me and I hope to have those lessons learned by the time we meet again.   I love you Dad…and look forward to when we meet again…..I got a lot to tell ya!