Apples and Peanut Butter

On Sep 24, 2008, at 2:12 PM, addwag wrote:

i was thinking about that analogy that monk gave you about billy’s bakery..

what if you love cupcakes and then you resist getting a cupcake and then after a while you no longer crave or need cupcakes- which is the goal?

then do you lose what you love because you resist it? and if so, what do you love instead?

i think that for him it is all about controlling and submlimatng desire.  and chanelling that energy into meditation (and all the god stuff.)

but for me, it is more important as an analogy of changing behaviors.  understanding how behaviors are created and reinforced.  positive and negative.

i *had* to do this (w/o really understanding the process) when i got off of caffeine 10 years ago.  i had to do this just this past month with learning to incorporate the neti pot into my twice-daily ablutions.  and i’ve definitely had to do this with meditation. but there is a point of inflection, where it gets easier and easier to do (and harder and harder to not do.)  that is the real point.

but when you leave something behind, you always have the memory.  sometimes its not the love for the thing itself, but your desire for something.  and sometimes desire is something good to get rid of.  covetousness desire.  greedy desire.

the IFN makes it so i don’t like chocolate.  i used to *love* chocolate.  and for now, that love is gone.  and at first it was terribly sad for me.  i felt like i was missing part of myself.  but love of chocolate isn’t me, its just something i had.  it was replaced with love of watermelon.  now that watermelon is no longer in season, i have love of apples and peanut butter.  things come and go.

Inteferon Dreams

I restarted my IFN last night.  My mom arrived yesterday.  This is actually a coincidence.  But it was really nice to have her here while I tried to pretend i wasn’t nervous.  I can’t quite tell whether i was actually calm, or was in denail.  previously it was clearly denial, w/ a lot of pacing.  but today, after a week of meditating, and my mom’s comforting and distracting presence, i think i might actually have been somewhere in the middle.  close enough to the middle, that I don’t know.

I just woke up.  Its 7:30AM.  I have a headache.  I had the usual chills, though less fever than normal. woke at 4:30, and only kind of slept after that.

Clearly my unconscious was churning through the implications of restarting the IFN.  I had a series of dreams about IFN, science, and weakness.  One I only remember as me on a mountain bike, trying to climb a hill, and getting passed and yelled at: this is about the bully who rides in Prospect Park, and who yelled at me last time i rode there.  I remember one about camping with my mother in snow (she has car camped w/ me once or twice tops.)  But the best one was another naked school dream.

I was in the audience at the front of a lecture hall listening to a lecture on the immune system.  It was a young female professor.  She went through all of the obvious functions of the immune system, the lymph nodes, whats in blood, red blood cells, white blood cells, platelets, and some other stuff that i remember from my many bloodwork results (billyrubin, leukocytes, neutraphil, etc).  Then she talked about Interferons, which stimulate neutrophil?  I forget.  I was repeating the pseudo-high school science lesson i’ve gotten over the course of this process.  Things I never really knew.

Then the lecture happened again, except this time it was a song i knew.  But only kindof.  I was singing along to the lyrics to comfort myself, b/c at the same time it was the song, it was also the same immune system lecture.  The young co-eds to my left and right were indignant — I mean, I am tone deaf, and didn’t know half of the lyrics to whatever song it was.  One of them (on the left) said, “do you actually know this song?” in a tone that made it clear she was really saying “shut up asshole.”  When she got to the part about Inteferons, and the side effects of Interferon therapy, and listed them all, and talked about how hard it was, i said out loud “I have that.”  And I started crying.

At that moment, the class was dismissed, and the co-eds kind of dissappeared, but kind of registered their surprise and also disgust/fear of me. I get up, and realize that i’m only wearing a t-shirt.  chest is covered, but the choice bits are poking out the bottom (LOL).  as per usual with naked dreams, i’m not that embarrassed, just concerned about the difficulties it sets up.  I try to get out of the lecture hall, which actually is surrounded by an airport like structure, with big pillars, and caverns, but no gates or planes.

Somehow I realize that I’m supposed to teach the same class for the third time around.  I hear “well, if your such an expert, why don’t you just teach the class.”  I try to escape via the caverns in the edges of the building, while someone comes in singing with a choir from the entrance door, and makes their way to the dias at the front of the room.  They are singing an a capella motown/gospel song; all i could make out was the refrain: “Here comes the Doctor.  Here comes the Doctor.”

I escape to the outside (maybe i magically get pants, maybe not, i can’t remember.) The young co-ed on my right comes up to me on the path away from the big building and touches me with a big rolled up sheet of paper.  She offers it to me.  I open it.  It is that 2 foot by 3 foot size of paper that comes in pads and is used in classrooms in lieu of a chalkboard/whiteboard.  There are words on it written in in black whiteboard marker.  I don’t remember what it said.

I’m hungry now.  I’m starting to get some fever action.  Going to eat cereal and lie back down.

Immunosupressed = True; Neti Pot = FAIL!

i spent the day up at Columbia.  no fun.  i just heard back from the doctor, and my white blood cell count *was* low.  The cut off is 3.5, and I was 2.8.  I think its called Neutropenia, right?  Or is that just a suppression of one type of white blood cell.  Everything else was fine, chest x-ray was fine.  Anyway, I’m off the IFN for the week.  I go back on Tuesday for bloodwork again.  If I’m back to normal I will restart the IFN at a reduced dose and ramp back up.

This evening, generally feeling much better than the past few days.

As per my naturopath’s instructions, I got a neti pot and tried to use it, but had somewhat of a comical failure.  I followed his instructions, and also watched a demo on youtube, but I couldn’t get it to work right.  It would just stop up in my top nostril and not go out the bottom.  In one attempt it ran out the back of my throat into my mouth, that was the closest I got to any flow.

If you know  how to use one of these things, and know what I am doing wrong, please comment! (LOL)

Along the way, I found a funny one.  Watch all three rounds of irrigation…

P.S. I weighed in at 203.4lbs.

Still sick

I’m still really sick.  I’m better than I was before, but I am still dizzy and coughing up chunks.  And I’ve got sores on the inside of my mouth again.  I’m on so many drugs right now…  but it doesn’t seem to be getting better, just masking the symptoms.  I have to go in to the doctor tomorrow for bloodwork.  Something is clearly wrong, I just hope it isn’t really bad.  Hopefully it isn’t.

Bad Cold, Infection or Immuno-Supressed?

My cold in the mountains just kept getting worse.  I was burning through kleenex and cough drops, and had lost my voice completely.  I injected my IFN, and in a panicked moment after a sleepless night of chills and with an excruciatingly painful sore throat I decided to fly home a day early.  I made some frantic phone calls to the front desk, the airport shuttle and and the airline.  I made the decision yesterday at 6am, and was on the shuttle to the airport at 730.

By the time I got home it was even worse.  My Dad called and insisted I call my primary care physician and get some antibiotics.  The Dr. on call (it was 9pm on Friday) at first was hesitant to proscribe anything, because he was concerned that I might be immuno-surpressed from the IFN.  I haven’t had any bloodwork in over a month, so I couldn’t tell him for sure.  In the end he wrote for antibiotics and some codeine cough syrup.

The codeine helped immediately, and it seems like the antibiotics are helping today.  I’m feeling better.  Still up and down.  Throat still super painful swallowing.  Yesterday I felt so bad that anything feels better.

I definitely need to go see the dr next week.

Sick in the Mountains

I’m at a conference in Banff, Canada.  I gave my presentation yesterday.  I’m feeling pretty sick today

I had the weirdest rough night.  i think im getting a cold.  My room is really too hot, but I can’t control it because there is only one window and it is 12 inches square.  Really weird design.

I injected last night.  and crashed to sleep.  woke up ~5hrs later totally out of it.  this seems to be a new trend in the injections: waking up 5 hrs later.  I was really out of it.  the wildest part is that i wake up and go to the bathroom and was so out of it i didn’t lift the toilet seat cover! and peed onto the closed toilet!!!

i mean i had a quick reaction time and only splashed a little bit on the seat. and kinda threw a towel on it and the floor. and washed off my legs.  and was back asleep immediately.  but it was really surreal.  to be that out of it.

and then i woke up later with chills. haven’t had them for weeks. i think the altitude is making it worse. supposedly ppl only drink half as much up here at alititude.  so it must affect all drugs?

i slept through my alarm, but i pulled myself out of bed to catch breakfast right befor it closed.  food is in this big cafeteria.  but no one was there.  they had all gone off to their conferencey things.  i sat in the farthest scenic corner and struggled to eat my food.  I’m having trouble with food again.  I have no appetite, and it is not appealing.

but also it is the cafeteria effect. i dont know how much to eat. i have to point of reference: these are not my bowls. i dont know how much cereal i’m putting in. i didn’t prepare the food so i have no idea what size portion i am putting onto my plate.  because my own hunger is unreliable, i’ve been relying on measurement to know how much i need to eat.  i’ve figured out routines.  but here, i have no frame of reference.  probably the best were bean quesadillas. i mean they were shit quesas, but it was plain and filling. and i knew how much i was eating and how much i would want!  there was a standardized quantity.  totally disorienting.

Feeling like crap

My mouth sores are mostly gone, but now I can’t swallow without pain on my left side of my throat.  I called the Dr, and these are not conventional side effects from the IFN. I was told to treat it like a cold, and if it is not gone in a couple of days, to call back for an appointment.

I’m queasy.  I’m wearing my ice vest inside my appartment with the A/C on.  I need to eat more food.  And I have to shoot up tonight.

I remember what AW said to me at one point:  “You will have good days, and you will have bad days.  And you just have to accept that somedays the best you can do is to lie in bed and cry.”  We’ll I haven’t cried yet today, though maybe that would be a satisfying release.  I think I’ll go eat some watermelon instead.  And then lie in bed.

The Compassion of Others

Today I have mouth sores. I did a quick search, and it is a little mentioned but documented side effect of the Interferon. Kind of like my mouth is raw in lots of parts.  Or like I burnt it on some really hot pizza, except not just the roof of my mouth.  Like ulcers, or gum disease or something. It hurts to eat food. I noticed it last night, and started using a mouthwash, which hasn’t helped. The interwebs say that there are some scary sounding iodine rinses, or you can just try warm salty water. Though neither work that well.  I’ll go for the salty water.

But it makes is really hard to eat. It hurts to have anything in contact with those areas. Especially hard or rough things. So when i got my sandwich today at the sandwich shop I go to nearly every day, I asked them to cut the crust off of the bread. I was bashful (if not ashamed) of having to make such a strange request. I mumbled something about having sores in my mouth, and chemotherapy. The two women who work the register know me well, and while they don’t adore me per se, I sense a fondness from them. They always remember that I don’t want a bag for my sandwich, and they love that I sometimes order one sandhich and 3 or 4 cookies (for my assistants!)  I guess I’m a regular. So they smiled, maybe not really understanding what I mumbled but not caring, and told the guys making the sandwiches what I wanted, they all laughed. Not a mean laugh, but a hearty “never a dull moment” laugh. I said “at least I made them laugh.” In the last six months I have realized how important making people laugh is to me.

On my way out of the store the man who ordered after me, but got his sandwich before me (because they didn’t have to cut the crust off!) held the door open for me. As I reached to take the door from him and walk through the threshold he said, “I hope you feel better.” I had not paid him any attention, but he heard enough to know that something was wrong. He might have heard me say “chemotherapy” or “mouth sores” or maybe he just knew of the feeling of needing the crust cut from your bread.

sandwich without crust

My sandwich shop, like my studio, is in Chelsea. Chelsea is many things, but one of them is a neighborhood of men who have survived. Men who have seen their friends and lovers die. And men who understand the toxic side effects of therapeutic drugs. It was so comforting to have that anonymous man offer me his support. To keep the door open with his hand, and offer me his words. It was comforting, but it also made me cry. I guess I’m used to crying on the street at this point

His brief comment was an act of recognition. He was saying “I know you. Know that I know you. Know that you are known and noticed for the pain and suffering you must be going through.” Obviously he didn’t say that, but that is what those words meant in that context.

I have been really honored to have friends and colleagues and mentors and peers who have come out and told me their own stories of illness. Stories I did not know before. Cancer, HIV, immunodeficiencies, epilepsy, etc. When you are publicly sick, people offer their hand.

A number of the “How to Survive Cancer” books and websites and pamphlets that I have read are big on having you *not* allow people to tell you the stories of their great aunt melba who had x or y cancer. They counsel you to say “I’m very sorry about your great aunt melba, but each case is different and I am trying to remain positive about my treatment and outcomes.” They are especially aggressive about that if great aunt melba died.

While I have had to pull that line a few times when it became clear aunt melba was dead or dying, the vast majority of times people have told me about their own health struggles it has been comforting.  It is like being welcomed into a world of other people like me that was existing in front of me, I just wasn’t able to or allowed to see it.  It is comforting to know that there are other friends of mine out there who are surviving their own battles with their own physical challenges.  It is comforting to know that I am not alone.

This post is for BB, HW, AW, BH, JW, SD, JC, CQ, EM, VT, LP, JG, KW, MH, IV, FG