Day 3 Morning Hepatitis C — A Self-Centered Asshole Stirs

Yes, I am a self-centered asshole, and the realization that I have to deal with this disease is inflaming that aspect of my disease. The two central fears that give power and thrust to my disease of mind, body and soul can be expressed simply; 1) I will not be taken care of and I am doomed, and 2) I am unlovable and I will not be loved and I will die alone. Together, these fears reverberate in my mind like pinballs bouncing off the bumpers, setting off the bells and whistles, the clangs and the clacks that strangely enough, rarely lead to action in response. In fact, all the noise and the madness tends to result in a certain malaise and ennui and inaction as I become a couchaholic and sink into the leather folds of this doom.

Without question, if I am to survive and if I am to move forward with any degree of confidence and follow this path to eventual health and recovery, I cannot be a body at rest. I must follow the basic laws of physics and believe that a body that is in motion stays in motion, avoiding te trap of inertia. It is amazing how many of these thoughts, although they have risen before in different forms and guises, were triggered by my experience at my home group last night. In Alcoholics Anonymous, a home group is exactly what it sounds like; the weekly meeting that you consider your home and your safety net. My home group is a large men's stag in Los Angeles where the anonymous participants have centuries of accumulated sobriety and have learned to walk the walk on a path of wisdom and grace. Mostly. But they are a loving and kind bunch and willing to help.

And many of them have gone through the crucible of Hepatitis C infection and treatment so they had many opinions and ideas, basically leaving me in a state of semi-confusion and a touch more fear. I mean, I know I am going to get a second opinion, but I am not confident what I will do with it if it differs from the first. After all, this morning I received a call from a nurse at Kaiser Permanente, letting me know that the further blood tests revealed that Hepatitis C and not any other liver disease is the cause of my inflammation. They have no doubts about what I should do next... but I am the Hanged Man from the Tarot Cards, left looking for a sense of equilibrium while hovering upside down over this life. Not quite as fey as the picture in the card and the world is not quite as Arcadian, but you get the point. I have such a dominant tendency towards inaction and indecision, and such traits are nothing less than deadly from where I presently hang and what is needed in order to move forward without the burden of such noise and the endless prattling of my fears. In other words, I must move...