One thing I always want my daughter to know is that I'm always here for her. She's young, but I think she's aware of that. If I don't see her, I call her on the phone almost every day. In the last few days, I've had some trouble. It started with muscle pain in my right arm. It eventually surfaced in my left, and then my legs. Last night, I started to feel numbness in my arms. They were not functioning well this morning. I needed two hands to turn a doorknob. I could barely open my coffee can.
Without health insurance, it's not easy to see a doctor. I went to work, which took me two and a half hours longer than it should have. During that extra time, I started to think, "What if I'm stuck like this?" Now, obviously, I can type. That hasn't been a problem. My legs feel better, and my right arm is a little better. I was able to turn a doorknob with my left a short while ago, so there's improvement. It's still not perfect, but it's something. It also, unfortunately, makes me worry.
I promised my daughter a number. That number is 83. That's how long I promised to live, at minimum. When I'm 83, Casey will be just past 50. By that point, she'll be okay on her own. Look, I know she'll be fine way before that, but I want to make sure she lives a long time without having to bury her father. I know I can't control my life span, but I'll do what I can. When stuff like this pops up, it makes that number look rough.
I know I can't predict the future, but I like to try to will this to happen. It's not just for her. I want to experience as much of her life as I can. It's bad enough that this gets hampered by so many other factors. I really don't want some bizarre health issue to add to it. I'll eventually get it straightened out, but it'll take more than this to slow me down. I know I won't be here forever, but for at least the next 47 years, I have a kid to raise.