Send to a friend from grad school after i no-showed b/c of a pins and needles attack on the streets of SF
Sorry I never made it to meet you yesterday, but it was not for lack of effort or desire. I had a meeting that ran a little bit late in Berkeley. I hopped on the BART, and caught all the trains and all the transfers, i called to let you know i might be late, but got caught off when the train went back underground. That was probably a surreal voicemail to arrive to today.
I got out at 8th st, and immediately caught a bus going in the right direction. I even asked the driver to confirm that it went straight down 8th st. but then after 8 or so stops, it turned right, and i got confused, and got off the bus. I was lost and confused. I was meeting O and her cousin, and managed to give them my address 11th and Rhode Island, but had no idea when they would be coming.
I can’t remember if I told you about this when we saw each other briefly at Berkeley, and if so, forgive the redundancy. I have been in treatment for cancer (Melanoma Stage III) for 9 months. Surgeries aside, I’m 4 months into a 12 month drug regimen. The drug (Inteferon) makes my body feel terrible in all kinds of ways, but the worst side effect is that I have heat related panic attacks where I get painful pins and needles all over my body. I kind of go fetal in a paroxyism of pain, scratching, and heat.
So I’m having this building panic attack as I’m rolling down 8th st on the bus, scratching at every skin surface, pressing my ice pack against my chest (I keep an ice pack with me). The woman next to me moved to the other side of the bus. There is nothing quite so degrading as having someone get up from the seat next to you, and move across the aisle to another seat away from you b/c they think you might be contagious, or crazy, or violent.
When I got off the bus I was in full blown pins and needles mode. I dropped my bag and a heavy box of flyers for the book, and took my shirt off and tried to calm myself down. the icepack i keep with me had lost its cool an hour earlier. meditating in half lotus didn’t work, so i tried lying down on the concrete, which is cold. and then this security guard kept circling on his bicycle. after five or so minutes he came up and told me i couldn’t lie down. I read him the riot act about how I had cancer and that I had heat related symptoms, and i needed to get cold by lying on the concrete. He didn’t give a shit. He brought someone over, and they started talking and pointing at me. I panicked and ran around the corner. Then I panicked even more because I wasn’t in a place where O could find me, I didn’t know what her cousin’s car looked like, and she wasn’t picking up her cell phone.
I’m in hysterical tears, huddling shirtless with a box and a shopping bag with my stuff. Scratching at my body. Freaking out. And this more formal security guard walks around the corner, and approaches me. He asked me if I was okay, and between tears i said no. I told him what had happened, and how I needed to get back to that corner, but was scared of his associate. I told him about the cancer.
I was beginning to realize something weird was happening w/ the logic of cancer, illness, homelessness, and schizophrenia. I could tell he was kind of not believing me, and I pulled out my business card to give it to him to prove I was a “real person” or something. He held it, but didn’t look, and said something like “it’s cool man, i know you, i’ve seen you around.” and then i got instantly clearheaded and went off on him. I gave him a whole miniature lecture on why he had never seen me, how i was a professor in NYC, that I was here on business, and just gave a lecture at berkeley. And he was just nodding. And I realized there was *no way* i could convince him I wasn’t a homeless schizophrenic. Which is the condition (or anti-condition) of the schizophrenic, right?
He was good, though. used to dealing with the crazies. and for that moment, i accepted that i was ‘the crazy homeless street kid.’ he said that i should go back to that other corner and wait for my “friend” to pick me up. he told me i should just sit on the other side of the street, as the tenants he represented got paranoid about “stuff.” and he reached out and shook my hand: “we’re cool, right?”
I went back to the corner, and shuffled over to the bus stop on the opposite corner. they can’t kick me out of a public bus stop, right? Finally, O showed up, and my attack was over.
As you said in your message (which i didn’t get until after it all was over) it is tricky to get there. I guess 8th ends, then starts again, and that the southern part is quite confusing, and hard to get to. So this is a long, round about way of saying that I really wished I could have met up, and seen your space, etc. but sometimes life gets in the way. This has been a year of life getting in the way of life.
m
