Every "bad kid" needs a Madame Frank to remind them of their worth

Yesterday I met up with my high school French teacher and her husband for lunch. I hadn’t seen Madame Frank in more than 30 years, but we reconnected like no time had passed. Back when she knew me, I was involved in a constant emotional battle with myself and the world around me. Not much has changed in that regard. My entire life has been a struggle.

Sometimes I feel sorry for myself when I think about my situation, wondering why stability and wealth have eluded me, wondering why I walk this earth alone instead of with a companion to share my experiences with. Our meeting reminded me that not only have I stayed true to myself over the years, but I have also come a long way from my days of being shoved against lockers or unfairly castigated by impatient and angry educators who were incapable or unwilling to “get me”.

Talking "silly French" with Madame Frank

When Madame Frank was teaching me French, she experienced the same disruptive behaviors I became infamous for throughout my adolescence. Talking incessantly during class, distracting my classmates during lectures, and challenging authority at every turn was my way of making sense of what I observed as a chaotic existence, of being a stranger in a world where I never felt I fit in, where I felt misunderstood and discounted because I didn’t act like everybody else.

Fortunately for me, in Madame Frank I found a teacher who was patient enough to manage my emotional dysregulation by giving me space and time to cool off rather than instantly sending me to the office for punishment. She would send me next door to another kind teacher’s classroom who was on her planning period. Without distractions, I was able to regain my composure and get on with my day.

Of course, it helped that I had a natural penchant for language learning and yearned to one day be bilingual. If I hadn’t been talented in that area, my behavior perhaps would have been dealt with more harshly. But she saw my raw talent and understood that often I distracted others because I was distracted by boredom.

Instead of plucking me up and discarding me like nearly all my other teachers in other subjects were prone to do, Madame Frank apparently decided she would nurture me, to help a wild weed transform into blooming flower of worth. And this was not because of who I was, but because of who she was a person. I was simply a fortunate beneficiary of the woman’s patience and kindness.

Since our meeting, I haven’t been able to shake the feeling that instead of being the tragic figure I sometimes consider myself to be, I am in fact blessed beyond measure. My dream of becoming bilingual has come true several times over. I’ve travelled extensively throughout the Western Hemisphere, and I’ve racked up countless stories from my solo adventures, many of which have yet to be told.

Not only that, even though I’m on the verge of turning 53, she reminded me that my life of stories remains incomplete. I am a storyteller by nature, and there are many more stories left to experience as well as to be told in my future. She encouraged me to continue to live my wild and extravagant life of adventure, but also to take time to slow down and write out a few of the stories I’ve racked up along the way.

Many of the stories along my seemingly scattered and inconsistent timeline do in fact have shocking starts, meaty middles, and incredible endings that might entice a reader or two. These stories exist in technicolor in my mind’s eye, and the memories keep me company when I’m alone. Maybe my stories offer something to these potential readers, too. Perhaps it’s time for me to do what I am meant to do with my life and simply write.

If you have read to this point, you might be interested in some of these stories I'll be telling in the near future. If so, subscribe to my blog and follow “Brianopolis” on YouTube and social media.

There is little I don't like about being up before dawn

There are very few things about waking up before dawn that I don’t like. In fact, the only thing I can think of is that not enough businesses are open that early.

I mean, Starbucks opens at 5 a.m. and you can usually find a 24-hour Starbucks in your city if you’re lucky. And of course, convenience stores and McDonald’s. But eat there at your own peril, no matter the time of day. It’s just not worth it.

I do love that I can usually find a Denny’s or local diner is open before the sun rises. And I love that no one else is hogging the roads. I love that the colors of the rising sun fill me with hope for the day to come. And I love that in the silence of morning I can listen even to the whispers within my own heart.

There will come a time when my mornings expire. Until then, I will keep getting up in time to greet the sparrow tapping at my window. Take stock and give thanks for all I have, and pray for continued hope in a world intent on knocking it down.

Maintaining a healthy diet on the road is tough but not impossible

 What do you do when you're on the road and are trying to be healthy without having access to a kitchen to prepare healthy foods? You either pay an arm and a leg at restaurants to get the healthy options, since only to bad-for-you choices are actually affordable. Or you live off of convenience foods, downing protein drinks and eating the available healthy choices, like bananas, yogurt, and hard-boiled eggs. 

Lately I've had to rely on eating out for several meals per week. I've tried to do it in as healthy way as possible, but I'm longing to have my own home and kitchen again, so I can get back to the business of getting my health back on track.

My main objective when I eat out is to get as much access to a variety of vegetables, both raw and cooked, as possible. It's tough. I like diners, and sometimes they really overcharge for the healthier options, which aren't really that thought out to be "healthy" but rather have an air of healthiness. 

Still, I'm doing the best I can. I feel I'm making good choices, and in fact my body tells me when I am and when I'm not, so via self regulation I maintain a decent diet. I am sure I can make it through the next few weeks without absolutely going off the rails. 

Try this McDonald’s breakfast sandwich hack!

Let me begin by saying that you should avoid fast food altogether. Avoid it like the plague! But in a pinch, you may find yourself pulling into the McDonald’s drive thru around breakfast time, ready to order your favorite biscuit or McGriddles sandwich. If so, then consider this McDonald’s breakfast sandwich hack to get a filling, protein-packed sandwich without so much fat and a million calories.

Remove the cheese and request no butter for a healthier McDonald's breakfast

What I do is order the regular McMuffin sandwich, which has the lowest calories at the outset. But then I customize the sandwich to remove the cheese. I also request that no butter be used on the bread. This cuts more than 100 calories, and a ton of the calories derived from fat. See, the round egg that is served on the McMuffin is an actual egg, cracked that morning, and cooked via a fat-phobic poached method. This means there are not strange ingredients or fillers like the scrambled eggs have. And by the way, you can replace the scrambled egg on any breakfast option with a slight upcharge. But the English muffin is still a better option, with fewer calories and less sugar and fat than the biscuit or McGriddles options.

With this life hack, you might just save your diet while on the road

Removing the cheese from your McDonald’s breakfast sandwich is a good idea, too, for many reasons. First, it’s barely able to be called cheese; it is actually some strange food product probably made of plastic or some undigestible gunk (allegedly). So not only will you feel better about what you’re eating (and not eating), but you will also be less likely to suffer from an upset stomach within minutes of consumption. So that’s it! Not a complicated hack for sure, but a very simple one. No cheese. No extra butter. Oh, and if you can afford extra calories, just double up on the Canadian bacon or add some regular bacon or another egg for more calories from protein rather than fat.

After years of declining health, sleep therapy provides hope

This has been a difficult year for all of us. I am no exception. Besides struggling financially due to rising costs of pretty much everything, I have been dealing with taking care of several health issues that had been going unchecked, leaving me very, very sick for the first time in my life. I was so fatigued, my bones and muscles were constantly causing me pain, and I couldn’t seem to get better no matter what I tried. It turns out I had a severe case of complex sleep apnea, and I had had it for years. Leaving my sleep apnea untreated was literally killing me, slowly but surely.

My dog was happy I was sleeping so much, but I was not

By the grace of God I have been surrounded by a loving church community over the past two years, and when I got sick many people from the church offered all types of support to me. Their compassion gave me the ability to seek out the medical treatment I so desperately needed. I was able to get on an excellent health insurance plan. And I started getting treatment for all that was ailing me, which as it turns out was more than just sleep apnea.

The sleep apnea had exacerbated and probably caused atrial fibrillation, which is a disorder of the heart which, left untreated, most inevitably leads to stroke and other severe issues. I was able to get on a medication to help me avoid such a fate, and immediately I could tell the difference in how I felt. I got on a blood thinner and believe it or not it felt like a weighted blanked had been lifted off me. Once I got that physical aspect taken care of it was time for the sleep study.

My sleep study was done in two parts and at two different locations, both within the UPMC hospital system. I had a split study done first. This is where you get hooked up to a bunch of wires and sleep in your normal state. After four hours they observed that I stopped breathing nearly 80 times per hour. Not only that, but of the four levels of sleep – the fourth being the all important REM sleep – I did not get beyond a superficial sleep. In other words, my brain was not getting any rest and was not able to process any of my thoughts overnight, which is essential for mental clarity and health.

After the first four hours, they began to try a CPAP machine at varying levels of intensity to see what I could tolerate. It turns out my case was a bit more complicated and required a second study. Then, for the second study, they tried a BiPAP ASV machine. This machine adjusts the intensity of the air pressure to match my specific, moment-by-moment needs. This proved almost miraculous. That night I slept like a baby for more than six hours without interruption and reached REM sleep multiple times.

Treating my sleep apnea with my ResMed AirCurve 11 ASV

After the study, the doctor prescribed me the top-of-the-line ResMed AirCurve 11 ASV. After having had such a great night sleep, the next few days I was on a high from the amazing night’s rest I got. Unfortunately, though, I had to wait nearly a month to get the machine through my insurance company, and by then I was back to my former groggy, exhausted, and mentally confused state. But then the day came for me to pick up the machine, and since that very first night my life has been completely changed.

I have loads of energy. I work currently as a Lyft driver, and while before I could only manage a two-hour shift before becoming too sleepy to drive, I can now driver for 12 hours at a time and not loose mental clarity and focus for that entire time. I have so much more energy now. And I finally have enough clarity to get control of other areas of my life, which had gotten out of control.

The result of all this is that I am back on my healthy eating plan and am getting more exercise in the form of stretching and walking. Soon I plan to rejoin the gym. From my top weight I hit during my illness of 455, I have lost about 40 pounds. I am hoping to lose another 20 by the end of August to finally be back under 400 lbs.

Watch the R.E.M. Everybody Hurts video and comment below

MEMORY FROM A PRE-Y2K VALENTINE'S DATE

As the world was raging toward the "new millennium", I was working full time as as an associate editor of a free trade magazine while freelancing as a neighborhood reporter for the Miami Herald and teaching ESL a few nights a week to Cuban refugees in Little Havana. I was loving the life I'd made for myself but I was perpetually broke and desperately trying to date above my pay grade in a fairly expensive international fashion destination, filling up quickly with the most beautiful people in the world.

My rent on a tiny art deco ocean front condo was about $1000 a month all in, which was a lot 25 years ago. But the location was primo and the place had charm for days. It was the kind of vintage locale with a bed that drops out of the wall, with mirrors paneling all four walls, bringing in the sunshine and scenery from outside, making it look way bigger than it actually is.

North Beach at the turn of Y2K

There was a beachfront amphitheater right outside the window, too, where there would be dance classes and live concerts throughout the week, mostly traditional Caribbean and Latin pop artists on the rise. Nearby Collins Avenue was lined with shops, bars, cafes, groceries, bakeries, restaurants, and little import shops run mostly by Argentines.

I loved my NoBe neighborhood, but my go-to date spot was Papillon, a boutique restaurant on Lincoln Drive in South Beach where you could get an outdoor table along the potted palms and order two entrees (salmon or steak) with a bottle of wine for only 20 bucks. I picked up the tab, even though my date definitely had more cash than me (he was living on his dad's money and made extra cash under the table as a model). He called me an "hombre hecho a sí mismo", a self-made man.

Dinner was followed by drinks, a drag show at 12th street, and dancing at Twist. Then we took a stroll out to the beach, stopping along the way to see our friends, a couple of "chicos fiesteros", or "party boys", who could usually be found out front at the Adrian Hotel.

I still remember it was the night of the New Moon, and so it was one of the darkest nights I had ever seen on the beach. We sat there on the sand, looking out to the ocean, and I remember him telling me how different it feels to be in the northern hemisphere on a February night like this.

Just then, like magic, he pulled a joint out from behind his ear. We lit it up, and once relaxed we laid back together and gazed up at the sky. It was then that we both realized how the darkened moon made the stars shine brighter than ever. Breathless. We spoke with no words. We just laid there, enjoying the romance in our minds as we connected our thoughts to the sky and felt the vibration of the universe beyond and the earth below.