Day 7 Night (Or Morning Day 8) — Letters And Love And Being A Samurai

Wow! Emptying out my storage unit and going through the papers and books that comprise the majority of my life has been nothing less than revelatory. Since I have lived abroad several times in Greece and Paris and Denmark, I went through hundreds of letters tonight, trying to decide which to keep and which to discard as I attempt to reduce the weight of my possessions. They were beautiful and moving and amazing, filled with love and friendship and intelligence and spirituality and the song of the journey. Yes, I have lost touch with so many people, but I think that is simply the nature of being human and a bit of a wandering Jew, but really, in truth, a wandering poet. So much appreciation for who I am and a realization f how often I lose touch of my authenticity while chasing external dreams and answers.

God, I love this picture... it speaks so clearly of a bridge that must be crossed and a path that must be taken if I am to realize that sense of authenticity and access myself through the lens of the Hepatitis C crucible. I will be a Samurai, maybe sometime a Samurai who complains and whines a little, but still a Samurai who shows up and allows any challenges and difficulties to come to bring out the best in me. The very idea of such an accomplishment is intoxicating in the best way possible.

I am not going to worry about whether I am going to fail or give in to the pain when it comes or sink into the couch and become a couchaholic with my head in my hands as I moan forth the whimpering of my poor fate. Excuse my language, but fuck that! After the Ultrasound this morning that took over 45 minutes and was strangely intimate for Saturday in the hospital at 7am, slathered in hot jelly and poked at with a machine as I held my breath, I spoke at an AA meaning. The response to what I had to express was nothing less than astonishing and beautiful. One woman was amazed that I was not at home moping about my Hepatitis C and worrying about the results of the Ultrasound. Although I opened by explaining what I am currently experiencing, the rest of my pitch was about sobriety and recovery and putting the principles of the program to work in my life today.

Sure, I have made many mistakes in the past and caused a lot of damage, but I am powerless over the past and there are no do-overs and I cannot do anything productive in the shadows of regret. Naturally, I am scared when it comes to the future and what is going to happen and how sick will the treatment make me and how painful will it be and will it even work given the percentages, but I am powerless over the future and I cannot be productive if I am chained to and dragged down by such fears.

No, I choose consciously to remain in the present and be positive and live in the loving embrace of faith. In the glories and te travels of my earlier days, I always kept in the present, focusing on writing the next poem and meeting new people and experiencing the adventure of the journey. Such an adventure is not only relegated to the boulevards of Paris or the rocky beaches of the Greek islands. Tonight and tomorrow, in Hollywood where I live and the streets of this city of lost angels, I shall be present and do mu best to be the man that my God put me here on this earth to be. I choose to open the window within and allow the divine wind to blow through me, the breath of God, setting aside my bullshit and this ego and the endless guises of this fear, and becoming an expression of my higher power by becoming myself.

As the sun rises this morning, I shall kneel down and greet the sunrise and say a prayer that asks for nothing, but simply expresses a profound sense of gratitude for the gift of this rare human birth. Thank you, my father in heaven and mother earth, for all you have given to your son. May I respect your gifts by being a decent and responsible man with a more than decent sense of humor to express and share with my community and your world.

That's my prayer today. Mind you, my mom told me that she likes the blog and the pictures, but she thinks I can be a little melodramatic and that I should shorten my sentences. I laughed and said with a smile over the cell phone that this is simply who I am and I honestly no longer know how to be anything else. These are the steps I choose to walk and I truly hope that you are all walking by my side.

Day 5 Afternoon — The Fast Begins (One Wild And Precious Life)

As the weekend begins at 5pm on Friday, I start a Fast for the next 15 hours or so to prepare for an Ultrasound of my abdominal region, focusing naturally on my liver, that will happen in Saturday morning. Yes, my appointment is at 7am in the basement at Kaiser Hospital when I guess they will brighten my belly with ultrasound jelly. It has grown in size in recent years to the point that demands reduction, but not quite yet verging on Couch Potato Hall of Fame induction criteria. Aside from a liver biopsy which is done with a humongous needle and the prospect of which utterly freaks me out, an ultrasound is the best method of finding out how my beleaguered organ is faring in the Hepatitis C siege. It feels a bit like a roll of the dice in Las Vegas with my belly being the craps table.

What I appreciate at this moment is the spiritual component of a fast. Like in the tradition of my tribe during Yom Kippur, I hope the fast allows me to shed in a metaphorical fashion some of the past sins that led me to this health crisis. Can I be forgiven for mistakes made under the influence of my disease of perception? When I look back at the last days of my addiction (was that a subliminal reference to the Gus Van Sant fictionalization of the death of Kurt Cobain), the insanity is mind-boggling to recall and becomes more and more so as the years pass. I cannot imagine what the hell I was thinking in the depths of my disease to create such havoc (I hate using the word create in such a disgusting context) and render such pain on my loved ones.

The many struggles I have encountered on the road of sobriety have slowly taught me to embrace and celebrate the gift of this rare human birth. Mind you, I do not really believe in reincarnation with an agnostic perspective at best. When it comes to such questions, I tend to side with Woody Allen: "I do not believe in an afterlife, but I am bringing a change of underwear just in case.

Nevertheless, the implications of the phrase "this rare human birth" are so powerful and moving because it emphasizes the true value of the gift of life. It reminds me of one of my favorite poems The Summer Day by the poet Mary Oliver, and I think I will exit by presenting you with the second half of the poem  below. If you have not read the works of this living giantess of American expression, then pick up her selected works as soon as you can. She is a voice of beauty and consolation, faith and revelation that expresses so clearly our sacred place in this world and the responsibility we have been given to protect the wonder of such a birthright. Here are the last nine lines of The Summer Day by Mary Oliver.

I don't know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?

Day 4 Night — What We Take With Us, What We Leave Behind and The Walking Dead

Before I start the treatment, I have decided to empty my old storage unit in order to save a little money. It seems crazy that I have spent over $5,000 to store books for the past seven years. Today, in the second trip, I brought home 13 boxes of books and comics. The vast majority I am giving away, and the ones I am keeping have already been gone through and put away. But it is amazing how emotional and powerful it is to look through the remnants of my old life and see what inspired me and what I loved. Books are so emotional and have such an evocative power to bring out memories and moments of past inspiration. As I hold the worn paperback of a great novel I read during a key moment of my life, it brings me back to the sense of realization and the wonder of learning and opening new doors. Finding these books again, holding them again is like discovering lost pieces of the puzzle of who I am and the man I have become along the course of this journey.

Like the leggo jigsaw man above, I am constructed of so many different influences and ideas, traditions and dreams. I know I cannot find all the pieces, but it is wonderful to discover so many of the influences that fostered their creation along the way. Have you ever forgotten that you read a book until you stumble upon it after many years and suddenly in a flash, you re-experience the lessons learned and the worlds explored? How long since I thought about Ernst Becker's The Denial of Death or Laurie Garrett's The Coming Plague? How profoundly those books affected my worldview at different points in my life? Ernst Becker explores the creative power of the death instinct and how our mortality provides us with the thrust of eros to create a lasting legacy and leave our mark on the world, on our communities, on the ones we love. Rather than allowing death to overwhelm us, it is the starting point of the creative intensity that we need in order to truly engage the challenges and mysteries of this strange existence we call life.

In stark contrast to Becker's spiritual and psychological investigation, Laurie Garrett reveals the threat of newly emerging diseases in a world out of balance. The changing social,  economic and environmental conditions of the world have fostered the spread of a plethora of new and terrifying diseases. What a tangible and dynamic shift happened when I picked up this book again because suddenly it no longer applied to my apocalyptic macrocosmic fantasies as it did to the microcosm of my own tenuous life and my coming battle for strength and dignity in the face of Hepatitis C. No longer can I indulge in my dalliances with apocalyptic longings because I know that I love shows like AMC's The Walking Dead and novels like Stephen King's The Stand because they reveal a world gone to hell. If the world has gone to hell, my own personal fears are dwarfed by the macrocosmic reality. If everyone is simply getting up in the morning and going about their lives, then don't I have to do the same and be a worker among workers and not oh so special and terminally unique. It is nice to leave that silliness behind, perhaps not forever, but at least for now.

I do not need the consolation of the apocalypse to get me through the fears of the night. I have real fears to face today, and, although I still love those dark visions, they offer nothing of lasting value beyond entertainment and the occasional jolt. Friedrich Nietzsche famously wrote that the thought of suicide is often a consolation during many a dark night. But suicide and death and destruction are not the thoughts that I need today. Rather, I choose to embrace courage and fortitude and have faith that my creator has laid out a path for me that I shall continue to walk and realize as I discover the wonder of my own authenticity. I mean, let's be honest, I still read the comics and can't wait for Season 2 of The Walking Dead (the highest rated cable show of all-time), but this struggle is about reality and not fantasy. The reality of taking care of myself, the reality of getting better, the reality of following direction with a smile and being willing to change and endure when faced with the blunt truth of necessity.

Day 4 Morning — Reiki Offer

As I mentioned yesterday, it is amazing how many people are reaching out to me when they hear about the Hepatitis C diagnosis and offering their support. Last night, while shooting pool at the Bourgeois Pig, a friend who I just recently met in the past few months revealed that he is a practitioner of Reiki. The Reiki.org website describes it as follows: "Reiki is a Japanese technique for stress reduction and relaxation that also promotes healing. It is administered by "laying on hands" and is based on the idea that an unseen "life force energy" flows through us and is what causes us to be alive. If one's "life force energy" is low, then we are more likely to get sick or feel stress, and if it is high, we are more capable of being happy and healthy." Although Eben is a professional and gets paid for his services, he offered free sessions once I begin my treatments to promote a positive path of healing. 


Yes, I have shot a few games of pool with Eben and we are both huge fans of ultimate fighting and mixed martial arts (Fedor Vs. Henderson is this weekend's legendary Strikeforce match-up), but there is no deeper connection or bevy of mutual friends. The fact that he made such a lovely offer of support and friendship shows once again the quality of human beings. There truly is decency in this world, and people understand the value of being of service. I hope I can understand the value of being of service to myself as I experience the crucible to come. Then again, I tend to be a bit of a drama queen (a heterosexual drama queen, mind you) and maybe it won't be so bad after all. In the spirit of Reiki, I will try to walk across this bridge in the mountain pass with grace and my umbrella open wide in case the morning fog becomes a storm.

God, I love this picture, and it makes me so happy to behold such beauty and to know such places exist in this world and are waiting for us to visit them. There is motivation not only to survive, but to thrive and realize the wonder that is the essence of a life lived well. Imagine being on the bridge and crossing over the valley below. What have you left behind and where are you going?

Day 3 Afternoon — Love and Support

As I spiral around in the roller-coaster of my mind that has less rises and drops than twists and turns, it is easy to forget how much love and support I have in this world. My family is 100% behind me, and they want to make sure I receive the best care available. My friends have offered to help in numerous ways as people step up to the plate unexpectedly and reach out to help.

Although I only really know Monsieur Kaiser from my local coffee shop as a barista, we have become friends over the past few years. When he heard what is happening, he reached over the counter and hugged me. Right away, he let me know that if the Hepatitis C Treatments makes me very sick, he will come over once a week and cook me dinner to make sure I am eating and taking care of myself. There is no reason other than love and support that he ever had to make such an offer. And he is the kind of man who will come through with such a promise.

It makes me think of the Nick Cave song People Ain't No Good and how that is not really true. Yes, people are scared and desperate and life is quite a challenge for what appears to be the vast majority. But within their intimate circles of friendship and family, people come through for each other. There is nothing as satisfying as being of service to another person and coming through without any expectations for reward or return. In AA, one of my favorite sayings is that an expectation is a resentment under construction. When I can let go of my expectations and just show up, the reward I receive from within is much greater than any I will ever receive from without.

I don't know if I will end up alone on a bench like the old man in the picture. There is a very good chance that he has chosen this quiet moment to contemplate the sea and the vagaries of this strange human life. But for me, the picture has come to represent a certain fear of not being loved. If I cannot share what I experience in this life with those I love, then what value does such experience have? In a way, the love and support that is being shown to me provides motivation for this ongoing account. I wish to share my thoughts and perspective, illuminate the facets of the jewel of this consciousness with the people I care about in my life. If it possibly can reach beyond this point and become a resource for others, that would be wonderful. Naturally, my innate grandiosity longs for such a place.

Then again, when I truly consider the purpose of this exercise, I realize the expression is essentially for me as part of the process of experiencing what is both terrifying and seemingly inevitable. If the fear of death motivates us to create a lasting legacy, it also presents nothing more than an illusion. Beyond this illusion, there is the day-to-day struggle to express each strand of this ongoing experience, weaving a tapestry that will show what it is like to survive.

Then again, this boy can be quite melodramatic at times, but he does enjoy the words and their play. If this disease brings me to the edge of desolation row, then I will dance there with these words before giving up and before giving in to cynicism and despair. I did not create the collage of words below, but I seriously do enjoy the idea behind the artist's creation.

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...

Day 1 Hepatitis C — Consequences of My Past Addiction and the Challenges of My New Reality

July 26, 2011

My name is John Lavitt and I am 44-years young and I will not hide behind the veil of anonymity and I will simply be myself in this forum of expression because this is my story, my reality, my life.

Since 2003, I have known that there were physical consequences in regards to my past addiction to heroin and cocaine beyond the external damaged I did to the fabric of my life and the pain I caused my loved ones. After going through a medical detox, I learned that I had tested positive for Hepatitis C. What was so ironic was that I only used needles once; I smoked the drugs because I was gun shy to say the least when it came to needles and blood. The one time I shot up at a friend's house in 1999, I stupidly shared a needle with a young woman, thinking that cleaning it with hydrogen peroxide and sterilizing the needle would protect me. I do not remember the woman's name, and I later came to refer to her in a cruel manner as the bitch who gave me this disease. I recall her as a desperate woman with two kids and a drug addicted husband on the run. I do not even remember her name, and I hope she is okay and sober.

Something I have learned in the course of my own journey is that nobody's suffering or misery does me any good or makes my life any better. I honestly wish happiness and success for everyone because such a wish realized would only improve and brighten the world. I made my own choices and so bitterness is not a desolate road that I choose to walk on today, cold and shrouded in darkness. I have so very much to be grateful for in this life, and I choose to embrace the beauty and wonder of a future imagined.

It is winter in the picture above and snow is on the ground and adorning the trees and there is a turn at the end of a road that leads into the unknown. This is my unknown that became a reality today.

So what happened today, you might ask, and I will tell you even though I still feel more than a bit shell-shocked and overwhelmed and downright scared. After having blood taken just under two weeks ago for a series of tests, I went to Kaiser Permanente and met with a liver specialist whom I now know will be my doctor and an essential part of a challenging journey that has just begun. Dr. Wu let me know that my liver showed signs of inflammation and the Hepatitis C viral count, the viral lode in my blood was elevated. Since I have been infected for about a dozen years, these two markers mean that I need treatment. The details of my treatment will come later and the many difficulties I will face, but it will not be easy. Even with the new cutting edge cocktails of new drugs, interferon remains the primary treatment and the side effects are brutal. These side effects include consistent flu-like symptoms, particularly during the first months, and a tendency towards triggering depressive episodes.

Since I have had a history in the past of clinical depression and take the anti-depressant Wellbutrin on a daily basis, these side effects can be quite dangerous given such a personal history. In addition, since I have genotype 1a, the treatment is least effective for me and the duration is extended and intensified. Although I have only a 60% chance of the treatment actually eradicating the virus from my system, I have to be on the treatment program for a duration of 44 weeks or eleven months. This means almost an entire year of being vastly under the weather without any guarantees beyond the flip of a coin.

Okay, I know I sound a bit depressive right now, but I am actually smiling as I write these words. I cannot change the reality of this reality. There are no do-overs in life and I must accept the consequences of my past actions and the cost of my addiction. I will do my best to be positive as I present a somewhat daily account of what happens next and the progression of this treatment process. Please forgive me if I veer into indulgence and ranting and absurdity because I know the fear will take me down those paths. But I will try to side with the spirit and embrace the faith that everything will be okay.

Sweet dreams on this first night and may we walk together, hand-in-hand, with grace and kindness, laughter and love, and the dream that one day you will hear that I am healthy and back on track.