Today, I received a call I'd been expecting and dreading. A call I'd been hoping I wouldn't get but...honestly, a blind man could have seen the writing on the wall from thirty paces.

One of my best and long-standing friends passed away this week.

'Tig' has had a litany of health problems for as long as I've known him: artificial hip put in when he was way too young for it, dialysis due to kidney disease, and chemical depression. Nevertheless, he tried to not let this stop him from doing the things he wanted.

This past year, however, things had taken a nose-dive for him. He was having increasing problems with physical energy and with walking. Hell, this past six months he'd been in the hospital more times than not. Three weeks ago, the doctors figured out what was going on with him:

https://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases.....s/syc-20370559

For those of you who don't wish to follow the link, he was diagnosed with calciphylaxis. From what he said, the doctors told him it causes calcium deposits to form in his arteries and fatty tissues which leads to blood clots.

Forty-four percent of sufferers die within the first years of getting this fucker, and long-term life expectancy is, to be blunt, shitty. Even with treatment. Personally, I've had a few relatives linger due to a fatal illness, one as long as three months and I wouldn't wish that fate on anyone.

*Hoists bottle of his favorite drink, Mountain Dew* To James Cleary. To Tig; to his OCs Drusilla, Ethan Hawke, Spencer and Koosh Fangtooth.

You will not be forgotten.

And you will be missed.