Day 73 Night - Zen And The Art Of Not Itching Or Barely Surviving The Rash At The Bend In The Road

How can I explain for you what I am experiencing as both elbows and both knees itch simultaneously and all day long, no matter what cream I use or drugs I take. As I try to write these words, both elbows seem to be extensions of my fingertips and there is an itch with each click. I try my best to be the zen master like Phil Jackson or Robert Pirsig and go beyond the itch and transcend the sensation by accessing the spiritual tranquility of my soul. But the body cackles and the mind trembles and there is no such relief.

Robert Pirsig, His Son, And The Legendary Motorcycle Maintained

At the end of Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance by Robert Pirsig (warning in regards to a minor spoiler rapidly approaching), the narrator does not understand why his son has not revelled in the incredible majesty of the country as they rode together across the American West. Why is his son's experience so vastly different from his own? Why hasn't the boy found spiritual meaning like he has in the rolling hills and the vast plains of America? When Pirsig figures out the answer, he is nothing less than stunned.

For the entire trip, while he has been riding the motorcycle and taking in the view, his son has been holding on to his waist in the back and mostly only seeing the back of his shirt and leather jacket. Yes, the countryside has passed by on either side, but it is not the same as being in front. It zips past on either side and ultimately becomes vertiginous like looking out the open window of a speeding car. And his son has been holding on for dear life, even as he adapted to the experience, he still felt the fear of needing to hold on more than any other emotion. His son's perception of the journey has been so profoundly different from his own that there is no way to compare the two experiences. The expectations and results of one do not match the other.

Just Holding On In The Storm Of These Side Effects

This experience reminds me what I am experiencing as I try to hang on to the benefits of this treatment. I know it is a grand journey that will lead me to the holy land of health, but it just feels vertiginous and itchy and overwhelming at the moment. I cannot take in the whole view or even pretend to care about saving my life because all I can focus on with all honesty is surviving the storm of these side effects. It is taking a toll on my business because it is hard to do my technical writing - writing this blog is a struggle and a battle of concentration and distraction - and I am worried about losing the little work that I have to maintain my economic viability. I know I will manage and survive. I just wish it would stop.

Wouldn't it be nice if such wishes would come true? If the Benadryl would not wipe me out in conjunction with the Interferon, but actually stop the itch from itching. From a cosmetic perspective, as I said in the previous entry, I could give a shit about the rash. Sure, it is ugly and slightly gross, but no worse than a bad case of poison ivy. What I want is for the itching to stop. This morning I fell asleep and I dreamt that I was telling my father about the itching and he was telling me to stop scratching and I told him I could not stop and I woke up to realize that everything that was itching in the dream was itching in reality as well. Is that not a version of a circle of Dante's Inferno realized in life?

I must admit that this whole blog bothers me because I am complaining and I know my mother reads what I write and I know it upsets her to vicariously experience my difficulties and these side effects. I love her so very much, but I cannot stop revealing the stark truth of this experience. My hope is that what I am writing can ultimately become a resource for the people with Hepatitis C who come after me and go through this treatment. So please forgive the ocasional bleakness of the itching and know that I am trying my best to achieve a Zen-like state of transcending the itch. For now, however, it is a bit brutal, and all I can do is promise to hold on with the simple faith that things will get better and my body will adjust to these medications. I will heal, and, yes, the Benadryl is starting to work as I sink into a drunken-like drowsiness without the burden of the itch everywhere. Only the side of my belly for now.