Day 81 Morning - Sorry For The Silence After The Extremity Of The Last Post, And, Yes, I Am Hanging In There A Bit Better Than 50/50

Yes, I know the last post was a bit extreme, but that was an extreme experience, and I do my best to be honest and faithful to what is actually happening in the up and down roller-coaster ride of this treatment process. Sometimes I think the only one that truly understands is Owen, but then I remember that he's a Bulldog and I have this tendency to project my own emotional longings into the eyes and expressions of animals. Then again, truly there are worse sins in this world, as we all know, and sometimes we take hold and grasp onto our consolations wherever we can find them. I am a man in the process of surviving a treatment that is supposed to save my life but is deeply disturbing the equilibrium of my health in the process so I take whatever solace I can find that avoids the bitter taste of self-pity and regret.

Strange To Be Hanging In There As Life Continues And Moves On For You

Yes, I know that one day this will be over, and I have faith that my health will be restored. I know that I actually will go another whole day in the future without even thinking about itching. But today I cannot go a single hour, except when sleeping and knocked out by Trazadone or Lunesta, without beholding the small itch below my consciousness as it rears its annoying fangs and digs into my flesh. Yes, there has been so much written about chronic pain, but not all that much about a chronic itch. Pain can be managed, although I do not downplay that horror and can only imagine from glimmers of past experience how truly awful it must be, but there is no easy cure for the persistent itch.

What works best... working and becoming engaged in an activity where my mind does not stumble across this ever-present reality. Today, I actually went by myself to see the movie 50/50 with Joseph Gordon Levitt, Seth Rogen, Anna Kendrick and Anjelica Huston. I stopped for a second to address the rumblings of my right kneecap, and now the left is crying out for a little nail-bitten attention as well. In any case, I truly enjoyed the film because I awfully like Joseph Gordon Levitt, and I identified with his character even beyond the medical similarities. Mind you, the character's cancer in the film is so much worse than my Hepatitis C Treatment. But he's a nice guy who so often is overlooked and doesn't get his due, and I like how the crisis brings him into his own.

I Don't Like Destroying Art, But Liberation From A Crap Relationship Rocks!

There definitely are choices that I would not have made that take the story down a notch or two, but I love how dealing with a disease that reduces Adam to the bare facts of reality and allows him to recognize his own truth and abandon past delusions and indulgences. There is a certain freedom in catastrophe and finding your back against a wall with no choices left to make beyond the ones that lead to your survival and ultimate freedom. What else can you choose when the doctors turn out to be right?

Spoiler Alert! There are some sweet moments in the film that continue to resonate with me. When Adam realizes that his mother is all alone because his father has Alzheimers and he never returns her calls so she has nobody to talk to about what is happening to the men she loves. When Adam stumbles across the book in his friend Kyle's bathroom that teaches you how to handle with care someone you love when they are going though such a profound crisis of health. When Adam refuses to take back his self-centered girlfriend just because she is hot and wants to be held without recognizing how her betrayal hurt him and truly accepting the responsibility of loving him when he needs that love more than anything else in the world. When Adam finally allow his anger to be expressed. These moments resonate and they echoed in my soul and there soft sweetness continues to be a balm as night passes into morning.

Sunrise In Los Angeles As A City Night Passes Into The Calm Of Morning

But let's be perfectly clear: there is a profound difference between Adam and myself. He did nothing to deserve the cancer that he comes down with in the film and he just loses that particular genetic lottery and he is screwed by life. In contrast, I chose to share a needle on that one stupid day and I chose to do all the drugs that could have killed me a thousand times over so I must not whine about such consequences. They are ultimately of my own doing and I accept this burden without blinking. Yes, it suck that my side effects are the worst that they have seen in the clinical trials and that what I am experiencing is so difficult, but I surrendered the right to complain when I chose to put a needle in my arm. Instead, I choose to move forward, hanging on to a touch of grace and a little dignity, and doing my best to allow the suffering brought on through this crucible of treatment to help bring forth the man I actually was put here on this earth to be.

For this blog, by the way, I choose not to compare Anjelica Huston's worrying mother to my sweet mom who truly cares for me, I choose not to go into the death of Joseph Gordon Levitt's brother, Burning Dan Levitt, to a drug overdose in 2010 or discuss that loss and our friendship, and I choose not to criticize the boundaries crossed by Anna Kendrick's character, Katherine the Therapist, in the movie. Some stones are best left alone for now, even if the ideas grumble and growl at the pit of my skull.

RIP: Burning Dan Levitt, Founder of the Flow Temple, (1974-2010)

Day 77 Night - Hanging Out And Strangely Identifying With Owen The Bulldog

Over the weekend, Wes and Megan, this awesome young couple I have become friends with in my apartment complex, have been away as Wes performs with his band up in Seattle. They asked me to take care of Owen their Bulldog who always huffs and puffs as he rambles by my unit on his way to his walk. Even though I know Wes is walking him because Megan is at work, I always call out a greeting to Owen, trying to cheer up the lumbering pooch before he confronts the crucible of the stairs. Although he's only seven years old (42 in human years so we're just about the same age), Owen has seen better days. He gets winded pretty easily, and his eyes are fogging over with a muck that needs to be rinsed out with drops on a daily basis. Sweet and positive, Owen often seems to have a better attitude than me.

Owen Looking For A Little Love This Evening After Dinner

As I have been hanging out with Owen over the past couple of days, I have been finding myself strangely identifying with him and his plight. Mind you, I am imagining his plight because he has a loving family that takes care of him and he seems perfectly happy. Nevertheless, whenever I hear Owen huffing and puffing and when I recall that we practically are the same age in human years, I imagine him suffering through his travails and challenges like I am suffering through mine.

Like Owen, I am far from the idyllic land of puppyhood and the dreams of puppy love. Like Owen, I start huffing and puffing after walking a few blocks because of all the prescription drugs and medications in my body. When the prescription antihistamines join forces with the Interferon and Ribavirin, I end up being wiped out of normative existence as my body is reduced to the shell of an old man. Like Owen, everyone wants to slap me on the butt and pat me on the head, but nobody wants to kiss this old ragged bulldog and discover the intimacy of my slobber. No, I am alone and there is no easy answer.

The Stoic Nature of Owen the Bulldog, Unfazed by a Changing World

I am not quite as stoic as Owen the Bulldog. Although he is loving and sweet, Owen remains unfazed and unaffected by the vicissitudes of a changing world. He knows in his heart that mom and dad, Wes and Megan, are coming home soon and the food bowl will be filled tomorrow. There is not much more than that to worry about. In contrast, I worry about everything, and I am haunted by the failures and regrets of the past and the amorphousness and fears of the future.

My old sponsor used to tell that if you want to reduce the Alcoholics Anonymous program down to a single concept, it's about faith and fear on a momentary basis. Which do you side with in celebration or in conflict? If you side with your fears, your character defects come out as a blaze of defense mechanisms. If you side with your faith, you can walk through just about anything. When I say Own is stoic, I guess what I really mean is that he is a pooch of faith who does not bother with the fears. He has the basic faith of believing that everything is going to be okay. Where has that faith gone in my life? Why have I lost touch with the ability to believe in myself and the prospects of this life?