The Heart of the Matter

I just popped it.  My first pill.  Today, I felt a bit older.  I'm just four scant weeks from turning 50.  Not bothered by it.  Doesn't phase me.  Except that today I started taking high blood pressure medication.  Combined with the high cholesterol meds that I've been on for five years, and I join the ranks of millions of other folks. 

For the first time in my life, I visited with a Cardiologist today.  A fantastic guy that I met on one of my flights a while back.  He was impressed by the files I brought in showing my last years of blood work, medications, blood pressure readings, and all of that.  I had an EKG.  We chatted about my not-so-good family history.  And the fact that my father had two heart attacks within five years of my current age.  What I'd like to have is a CT angiography.   But the doctor said nope.  He's not a big fan of testing and procedures with no symptoms.  My intent was really just to be sure that I'm doing everything possible to make sure I don't end up having a heart attack.  Guess what he said?  It's time to get the BP down.  And to watch what you eat and to get my fat (yes, fat....I've gained 10 pounds in the last year) arse back to cardio at the gym.  Or, he said, you can just do what everyone else does and that means do nothing.  You may be fine.  Or you may have a heart attack.  Even then, most people do nothing.  I feel better.  Just talking it through.  And I know what is being requested of me.  But I probably knew all of that already.

You'll recall that I wrote about my mixed emotions after a recent visit to the San Diego Zoo.  The elephant exhibit, specifically.  It just crossed my mind that, perhaps, the animals were suffering to some degree from being in captivity.  But what do I know?  Except that the San Diego Zoo euthanized two of their elephants last week.  Because they were "ailing and aged."  Humm.  Here's the story that causes me pause.  I sure hope not.  I mean, I'm the first guy to NOT want animals to suffer.   But at the same time, I don't want them killed for a poor reason.  And beyond that, I hate to see them in captivity at all. 

Friday will find Hubby and me back at the hospital for his lithotripsy to remove his 4mm kidney stone.  This is his second one in just over a year.  It's a nearly all-day outpatient surgery.  So I'll be playing nurse...unless my high blood pressure precludes me from doing so....hehehehe.  Or, perhaps, my blood pressure will be SO low two days from now that I won't be able to function properly to be a nurse maid.  Oh, who am I kidding.  We're both in this together.  High blood pressure, cholesterol, low thyroid, kidney stones, and all. 

17 Years And Still Missing Him

My father passed away 17 years ago today.   Click over on the link to read his amazing story.  10pm tonight, to be precise.  I think that tonight's Super Moon is only fitting of a proper way to celebrate and honor him.  He was quite the man.  So great in a million ways.  In many ways we're alike.  And in many ways, we're not alike.  He would have appreciated me as a gay man, I just know he would.  He never had the opportunity to.  He would have been 79 today.  He died at age 62.  Lou Gehrig's Disease is a rotten deal.

Heart of the Matter

"...Code Blue, C.T. #1.....Code Blue, C.T. #1.....Code Blue, C.T. #1...."

Lordy, those are not the words you want to hear over the hospital loudspeaker system as you're lying down for your very first heart echocardiogram.  But that's precisely what happened yesterday.  LoverBoy had just sat down on the chair next to the bed I was lying down on and the nice technician man was hooking up my heart monitoring equipment.....when those words about a Code Blue came screaming overhead.  And in case you don't know, a Code Blue is when a person has gone into cardiac arrest, their heart has stopped beating.   You see, my own father had two unannounced heart attacks in his early 50s.  Well just you guess now who is approaching that particular age?  Ahem.  And the men in my family have a terrible track record -- none have lived past their upper 60s or early 70s.  And I've had a bit of a minor history of funny feelings in my chest.  Not pain.  Not compression or pressure.  Believe me, I know the symptoms....and I'd be the first person to head to the E.R. if I needed to.  Sort of palpitations, sort of a minor bit of pain....nothing major, or even medium.  Just weird, strange sensations.  And that always makes me wonder.  I had high cholesterol until five years ago when I started my Zocor.  Unfortunately, medications like Zocor give a false sense of "I can eat whatever I want to because my medication will take care of it."  I do my annual blood work to make sure I'm where I need to be.  But I always wonder what my arteries look like.....is there plaque buildup happening?  Should I be doing more? 

I take four fish oil a day...along with a men's multivitamin, a vitamin E, and a low-dose aspirin to help prevent coagulation of my blood just in case.  I used to be a pretty regular attendee at the gym but that has turned into nothing.  I haven't gone in a long time.  And my yoga practice does as much for calming and anxiety as anything.  I floss my teeth nearly daily (did you know that good dental care can actually help keep bacteria and disease out of your body, including your heart??).  My blood pressure has always been normal (120/80) but has been creeping up over recent times.....into the 130s or even 140s.  Unacceptable over the long term.  The doctor is headed toward prescribing me high blood pressure medications....and I'm dragging my feet over it.  My EKG was perfect.  I've been wanting to have a heart C.T. scan to see if there is blockage in my arteries -- but insurance won't pay for it unless there's a good reason to.  I could falsely complain of heart attack symptoms but all that would do it put me in the Emergency Room.  I hate it that we don't provide for preventive procedures but, rather, they'll give it to me after I have a potential heart attack.  So, I had four consecutive days of a strange sensation in my chest last week.  And my doctor sent me over to Providence Portland Medical Center for the echocardiogram yesterday. 

What an experience.  Here's a video of an echocardiogram.  I've never seen inside of my heart in that way.  Wow.  I mean, suddenly you're just staring at the four chambers of your heart...and the valves, and the aorta, and the septum.  The little mitral and tricuspid valves.  The little pieces of skin making up the valves flipping open, closed, open, closed.  So fascinating consider that this little heart of mine has been pumping for 49 years.  Thousands of times, repeatedly.  And I'm hoping that it will continue for a bit longer.  The dude took 58 still photos and additional videos for assessment.  He shot pics in several different angles, some with color, some moving, some with sound.  He measured each of the four chambers to see if they were enlarged.  He measured the ejection fraction (EF) to see the percentage of blood leaving your heart with each contraction (normal is 55-70%).  I dig this sort of thing, the technology, the medical field has always interested me.  But I prefer it on others rather than myself.  I'm probably making it out to be a bit more sensational than it was.  But for a guy who is intrigued and wants some information about what's going on inside, and wondering if he has his father's bad heart genes, and questions every little feeling in his chest, it was just what I needed. 

So, I'll keep on working at it.  Paying attention to the amount of fried foods I eat.  Flossing, taking my vitamins and drugs, maybe even getting back into a cardio/yoga routine.  And I need to keep on trying to figure out how to get my insurance to pay for a Heart CT scan this year.  I just wonder if I should be doing more or taking additional preventive measures.  And I wonder if my arteries are all clogged up and ready for a myocardial infarction.  But in the meantime, I'll keep the images of my beating heart, its chambers and valves in my head.  It's good incentive. 

Oh, the results of my echocardiogram......fine.  100% perfect, were the words.  No enlargement of the heart or any particular chamber, the valves are opening and closing perfectly, and my Ejection Fraction is 70% (remember normal is 55-70%).  And that's good news. 

Eye-Da-Ho

Eagle, Idaho, to be exact.  We're in Mommy's house trying to stay warm.  Our trip from Portland yesterday was uneventful in spite of our (my??) getting all worked up with regard to Interstate 84 road reports for the Blue Mountains of Northeast Oregon calling for a zillion inches of snow.  Zero snow on the roads.  A few wet spots but nothing that couldn't be wiped up.  And, we're here......

After a delicious homemade cream of potato soup with spinach soup topped with shredded smoked gouda and warmed garlic olive oil, we settled into this warm home filled with good laughs and plenty of giggles.  We haven't been here since November -- if you'll recall we were here in Idaho when LoverBoy's mother passed away.  And now we've walked into an overnight sensation of my 15-year-old niece's newly discovered Conversion Disorder.  She's trying physical therapy, counseling, child psychiatric care and headed toward neurotherapy treatments.  It makes me sad.  And I can't even begin to imagine how it makes my sister, her mother, feel.  Or my own mother, her grandmother.  You know, you just never know what is around the next particular corner of your life.  I'm thankful I (sort of) have the wherewithal to sort things out in my head.  And just when you think things are beginning to get headed in a more positive direction........

Tomorrow night is a family taco bar dinner with my immediate family plus my aunt and cousins and who knows who else.  I seldom get to see any of them so this will definitely be fun.  And today after sister's work, we're taking her to get her very first iPhone 3GS.  She is beside herself (and, no, that doesn't mean there are two of her....).  Mason has made himself right at home with his oversized backyard to run around in and chase the birdies.  He can come and go as he pleases here....without having to be taken on his leash up and down three flights of stairs like we do back at home.  And how could I forget to mention the gun rack filled with more than enough weapons.  We feel right at home. 

So, think of us...would you please.  We always have fun, and we will again.  But this thing with my niece has us both sorting out a lot of things internally.  And for now, The Spirit signs off from Eye-Da-Ho. 

Hump Day Happenings

It's back! My sinus infection, that is. I was out of work for a week or more, went back to the friendly skies, and now it appears to have returned. I honestly thought I was over it. I'm a die-hard fan of my NeilMed Sinus Flushing System. Amazing how good it feels to actually remove the crud from the inside of one's sinuses. In all seriousness, if you're not using it, you should be -- anybody with allergies, colds, sinus issues and the like will find great relief.

Conversion Disorder. Anybody have personal experience?

I ask a row of passengers the other day what they'd like to drink. I do that regularly, you know. And the lady tells me that she's going to have an orange juice and her husband (who is not in his seat at the time) will have nothing "because he's been a very naughty boy." And the conversation ensues from there while I see her husband back behind our beverage trolley waiting patiently to get back to his seat after using the restroom. I'm listening to her tell me this story about him being naughty while I'm staring back to him behind our cart in the center aisle. Just looking around, totally unaware of what his wife has just told me. I wonder if it was true? And I wonder if it crossed his mind when I said to him, "And what does the naughty boy want to drink today?" He looked sort of innocent to me.

Mason has made yet another trip to the veterinarian. I swear, it's a very good thing that we're enrolled in Banfield's Wellness Program which equates to free office visits and a reduction in all other services and procedures. He's better now but over the weekend he was pacing around, uncomfortable, unable to rest, relax or sleep. We have done our best, you all know we have. We've changed foods, tried this, tried that. And now he's on this ultra-low-allergen dog food and absolutely no people food. Apparently small breed dogs, and even light-colored dogs, tend to have more allergy issues than others. He's better now but it seems to just keep happening. And he's such a good boy....it's hard to see him at the Vet. Trembling, staring at us, begging us to get him out of there.

And before I go, I'd just like to say that I'm thankful I've got more in the shorts than Howard Stern apparently has. I heard it with my own ears last night on the new Piers Morgan show......Stern tells Morgan that he's "Hung Like a Raisin." And I was wondering.

The Cold Chill of Winter

I'm not really quite sure what to say, exactly. I've been sick for a week. Sinusitis, sore throat, ear aches, feel like crappola. And I'm home sick. But that's the least of my worries.

There's a serious chill in my life right now. It's my beautiful niece. She will be 15 in a week or two. She's smart, pretty and a pleasure to be around (much like her uncle). But there's trouble. Since January 1, she has developed numerous physical ailments that are not good. She is not able to speak more than a word at a time without difficulty, she can't walk correctly, she cannot use her hands to dial a telephone, she's not able to sit or hold still, she cannot feed herself or drink without spilling it everywhere, and she cannot write....even a single letter on a page is apparently difficult. Her entire body is writhing -- all of her limbs and joints unable to hold still. She will not be able to return to her 9th grade school this week, clearly. I'm not sure what is going to happen. She's been to several doctors over the last week including a neurologist. An MRI is scheduled in a few days.

Emilee came into this life a fighter. She was born with several heart valves malfunctioning and without a complete septum dividing the two sides of her heart -- and came very close to dying. At 13 months, she underwent open heart surgery. She's tough. And we love her with all of our hearts. She always brings a smile to our faces. She's fun to be with and our time with her has always been accented by memorable times. Please keep her, us, in your good thoughts and prayers this week. It's all just cropped up so, so fast. And she is way too young for this sort of thing.

Boise Idaho Today

• Well, it's happened. And all the while we're in Idaho! Wyoming has toppled my home state of Idaho in being the USA's most Red State. Hallelujah. The torch can be passed along.
• We're enjoying a very relaxing visit at my Mother's house outside of Boise. It has been tainted a bit with MIL's issues back in Portland, my hubby's kidney stone that's waiting to pass, and my not feeling well. I see my mom far too little.
  
• I love my sister to death. She has come to far-reaching points in her life...out of dire necessity. I appreciate being able to talk with her, understand her, and know that she is safe and happy. There were days that I never thought it would be possible.
  
• MIL is not well. We had to move her out of her brand-new assisted living facility after being there only six weeks or so. The nursing home may be temporary, but probably permanent. She is just needing such a higher level of nursing/medical care. She's sleeping a majority of the time right now. And eating very little. She's angry, she's lashing out, she's irritated that we're in Idaho -- she always has hated it when we're away. Her roommate wants her moved out of the room. She's already called 9-1-1 from her nursing home bed because she "Needed Help." Her mental capacity is wildly erratic and unstable. I must give giant kudos to our new found friends at Providence ElderPlace in Portland. They have been lifesavers with coordinating her care, ordering anything she needed, sending caregivers, and making sure that we are also tended to. Seriously, they have taken us by the hand and helped us down a very rough road. And who says we don't need health care reform.
  
• Our drive over was fine but we both did not feel well. What we usually enjoy as a great day was overshadowed by some of the worst rain I've been in for a long time...paying attention to pools of water on the road and Big Rig trucks made it tricky. And neither of us felt well. I'm a little better but have been having daily headaches and aches. The trees all of the way over were so pretty -- framed against the dark evergreens along the cliffs of the Columbia River Gorge and the Blue Mountains of Northeastern Oregon.
  
• Hubby has a kidney stone....3mm. He's had right-sided groin/hip pain for a long time and has been trying to get it solved via ultrasounds and several CT scans. So, now the stone has been discovered and must pass. Gawd, we're getting old ..........

Fattening Friday (Not So) Funnies

I left Austin, Texas, early this morning. Along the journey somewhere, I grabbed a copy of USA Today and found this delicious little tidbit -- that the USA is the fattest nation among the top 33 nations with advanced economies. Amazing. Nothing surprising, just another reminder of why we fail as a country. The article states that 72 million of us are classified as obese -- more than 30 pounds overweight. As a country we spend $147 billion dollars in weight-related medical bills in 2008. I know, I know...the numbers are very large, difficult to comprehend. I find it incomprehensible that we continue on this path -- allowing our nation's people to be fat, giant, huge! And to spend that much money each year when it most assuredly needs to be going to more necessary projects. We are in trouble as a country...that's no news to anybody. And its not political. Politics are the least of our introspective, internal worries. As a people, we are failing. We're fat. We're ignorant. We don't think. And we're in trouble.

LoverBoy and I have just returned from my doctor's office. I'm in a little trouble here. I've been having some heart sort of palpitations recently. Not really racing of the heart, pain, or pressure...nothing like that. But something isn't right. At the same time, my ears turn fiery red from time to time. I had an EKG today....it looked great. But my blood pressure was the highest ever recorded in my history....160/90. Outrageous. She took it again before I left...it was down a bit. She wants it monitored daily for a week. She also wants a salt-restricted diet, attention to what I'm eating, and exercise. If this doesn't all work soon, and if the blood pressure stays elevated, I'm headed toward blood pressure medications. And I'm really not thrilled about that. In addition, I've been under more stress than I've endured in recent times over this past year. It must be controlled. Changes must be forthcoming.

This weekend will find us moving my MIL from the nursing home she has been in since July into a permanent assisted living facility. A nice spot. A safe and comfortable spot. A very, very teeny tiny spot. With meals, transportation, attention to her medications and bathing and daily needs. Its not so far away, in a good location, and is quite perfect. On this particular issue, we're a bit more relaxed this afternoon than we have been in a very very long time. I have my fingers crossed for her future there. She is rarely happy anywhere over the long term. But it is definitely a step in the right direction. I'd like to think that this is one of many steps in a positive direction in reducing the stress in my life.

A Curse?

Do you suppose it's a curse? Bad luck? Just the way things go? Or even just part of life's cycles? My cousin's daughter died overnight. At close to age 40 with numerous children left behind. Of a drug overdose. It's one of her two children. My cousin is just slightly older than I am (and I remind her of that often). And her children are slightly younger than me. The girl has struggled for years. Children, boyfriends, a husband, all sorts of trouble. And, today, this. I can't imagine having one of your children die. Let alone in this insane way.

Our family is not perfect by any stretch. I think that the two biggest issues to befall our family are Multiple Sclerosis (five or six people have it) and alcoholism. Alcoholism has screwed up the lives of nearly every single one of our family members to some degree. We have folks in our family who have died from none other than alcohol-related issues....no other health issues whatsoever. We've had many parents outliving their children. Suicide, Lou Gehrig's Disease, cancers, heart attacks. They've all been a part of our lives.

I don't think it's unusual for families to have to face a myriad of issues. But the drugs and alcohol really seem to have a grip. I can count probably ten people right off the bat who struggle with it in my family. That's why I'm more pleased than punch to count my sister as my friend. Her story is long, sorted, belabored. But beautiful. And she's still alive and around to talk about it. And she will.

So, today, I wonder -- are there curses? Are there genetics that dictate the alcoholism and drug abuse? DNA evidence to support it? Is it geography or food or soil or weather than drive any of it? I hate these sorts of things. My sister was just saying to me that she's sort of nervous -- that my brother, she, and I are the only group of cousins in the family to not have befallen serious health issues. Are we fortunate? Or blessed? Or just drew the longest straw? I am thankful today. But these sorts of things always cast a strange glow across the face of our family.

Center and Focus Have Gone Missing

It's clear I've lost my center. My focus. I just returned from a real bitch of a yoga class. My first in maybe three or four weeks which is entirely too long for something that I've come to need in such a giant way. In addition to the physical being not being prepared for class today it was painfully clear that my center point, my focus, my breath have gone missing. I've obviously allowed toxic attitudes in from the outside -- I rarely do that. In fact, I swear against it. And once they are in, they come back out of me in the form of giving bad attitudes to others. And that's a cycle that is nothing but crap. I don't believe in it. So, I confess to my lack of balance as of late. I confess to allowing outside negativity into my being. I confess to skipping out on yoga when I need it to remain a viable human being in this world. My mat and I need dates way more often than we've been getting them.

Misplaced

I've misplaced something. And I've thought about it over and over...trying to figure out where I misplaced it. I had it, I really did. And I used it over and over, regularly, frequently.

Where has my motivation for the gym gone? I was such an avid go-er for a while. I enjoyed it, loved it, made me feel better. But it's disappeared. I know that there are cycles and times for everything and that I won't "feel" the same way about it every single day. But I'm not really a person who is feeling based and know full well that I have things to do in life even if I don't feel like it. I know all of that. And it's not like it's a long way away -- only about a five minute drive, a stinking mile and a third. And the yoga....the YOGA! I learned so much and enjoyed each of my yoga hours. And my hubby has fallen out of love with going as well....so that has removed my little extra bit of motivation.

It'll be back, I hope. And even if it's not, I still need to get back down there. I've developed this little right knee problem....it hurts. So, I'm being careful and am using it as a nice excuse to not go to the gym. And the funny part about that is that I'm not a person given over to excuses and bullshit and recognize it right away....and typically call myself, or anyone else, on it right away. The nice weather hasn't helped either...I'd rather pack my lunch and head to the nude beach for the day. That's the honest truth, I'm afraid.

So, I hope it'll be back. I trust that it will. And if it does, great! And if it doesn't, I need to find the wherewithal to do it anyway. Regardless of feeling.

Old Swayback

Or, if you'd prefer, Lordosis. Brings on visions of an old horse, doesn't it? I think I have it. In fact, I think I've had it for years. Oh now, listen to me being Mr. Diagnosis Doctor for myself. The truth is that I don't know what it is, or what I have, but it has been with me for a long time. It's embarrassing. I remember being around a swimming pool in Mexico in 1997 when one of my buddies yelled across the pool, "Hey, would you look at old swayback over there!" as he was pointing at me. Now, this was the year that I had just been divorced, came out, and was developing a new sense of myself. On a giant learning curve of self-discovery. It was the very last thing I needed to hear. I was still self-conscious about my body, my sexuality, and a whole lot of other unknowns. And I remember that comment and its effect on me to this day. Today, I'd tell him to F-off and poke my stomach out in some contorted gyration for effect and for everyone to see. But way back then......oh no. I ran and hid, at least emotionally.

You see, I've got a lower back that seems to be swayed in more than it should. And that makes my little tummy poke out in the front more than it should. I've tried chiropractic care. And I go to yoga regularly now in an effort to improve my flexibility and balance. And it's very common in yoga to hear phrases like "Keep your belly button tucked in" or "Make sure your tailbone is tucked down." It's all in an effort to keep proper posture. And I've learned that there are even yoga poses that I am not able to do without pain....my body simply won't work the way that some poses require. And it's something I deal with nearly 100% of every single day. Whether I'm sitting, standing, or even lying down -- I'm in nearly continual adjustment to relieve my lower back pain. And to keep my stomach from sticking out and my low back in proper alignment. I nearly always have a pillow behind my low back no matter where I am. Long periods of sitting require me to adjust, shift, move even a bit to lessen the pain. I'm always thinking ahead to exactly how I'm bending, reaching, stretching to reach down at work.....never doing anything without thinking before I act.

So, I could go to this doctor. And he'd send me to that doctor. And there'd be this test and then that test. And I tried to have a regular MRI which sent me into fits of claustrophobia. But then I finally succeeded at having an open MRI done of my entire spine. It showed some age-related arthritis but nothing severe. I'm not really sure why I'm even telling you all of this. Probably just in case you see me looking all funny with my baby belly laying out over the top of my leather Gucci belt. You'll know that I'm trying, I really am. Shoulders back, shoulder blades down. Belly in. Tailbone down and tucked. I go through it a hundred times a day. And the next time you're thinking about calling me, or anybody else, names like Old Swayback, um...yeah, go ahead and see how that works for you.

Epilogue -- When HIV Strikes Close to Home

*** WORLD AIDS DAY ***

"Are you aware that there is the most remote of possibilities that you may not even be HIV positive?" The words stung my heart in ways I can't even explain. I was really upset. In fact, I was very pissed off. He went on to say that "It's probably not the truth....but I want to re-test you again just so that we have a starting place from which to plan our next move with your health." I hated him that day. For giving false hope. For even planting the very idea that my friend may not be HIV positive. How dare he! I mean, once someone has tested positive for HIV, they are retested to be sure there wasn't a false-positive test. This had happened twice...at two different reputable labs. It just couldn't be so. I was clearly irritated that day about him leading him on in that way.


But, let's not get ahead of ourselves. You really must go back and reread When HIV Strikes Close to Home from two years ago on World Aids Day. This will lay out the story more clearly for you. The above story dates to the fall of 1997. I knew next to nothing about HIV. And the journey I was embarking on was not clear. At all. What happened in the next few months was that this friend and I moved in together. I moved to Portland and we set up house together. He never did exactly know how he was infected. I bought every book known to man on the topic in order to educate myself and to help provide him some support. He was recommended to a great HIV doctor and we began the every three months trip to the doctor for the testing of his T-Cell count and all of the other counts that have to be measured. We started an herbal therapy program that kept us very busy. He went through the typical "Do I just have a common cold or is it my HIV acting up" feelings -- never really knowing for sure what it was that was going on. It became just as much an emotional guessing game as anything else. A game that drove deep scars into the psyche of each of us. We kept a complete stock of gloves, antibacterial cleaners, and ways to never touch his blood. We were religious about being careful sexually. Every infection was treated with huge care. Every time the night sweats happened, we just knew that he was one step closer to you know what. All the while, he was a trooper. A world class act. He did what he was asked to; he kept his doctor's visits; he did his best to do things that would help out his body...like stop smoking. We told those who had to know. And kept it horribly private to those who may not know how to deal with such privy information. I mean, the stigma! The shame. It wasn't pretty.


My family in Idaho was one group that we kept in the dark about his diagnosis. I mean, it was all they could do to simply deal with my having just coming out during the last year. There was no way they could deal with HIV information...as far as they knew, they knew no one with HIV. Oh, but they did...they just didn't know it. It was three years later when we were visiting. My partner had gone into the bathroom and I had my mom all to myself for a very short time. My heart was pounding in crazy ways. And I just dove right in and told her that "He is sick...he is HIV positive and has been for three years....I hope you understand and will still love him and treat him the same way you have been." He came back from the bathroom and had no more entered the living room when my mom got up from her chair and move straight across the room and directly toward him. He glanced at me and knew I had told her. With only the heart and spirit that my mom could have, she told him that "He was just like another son to her and that nothing would change....and that she still loved him." And with that, she tossed her arms around him and hugged him. She did her best to educate herself in the following years.


We continued our visits to our neighborhood doctor. We had moved across town and no longer went to see the HIV doctor. It was now seven years later. His numbers still looked remarkably good. Things had settled down. There were no bouts of sickness that kept him down for any length of time. All of his blood counts remained consistent. And during one visit, our doctor recommended that we go visit another HIV doctor....just to be sure that all was being done that should be. This was now February 2005. Years had passed. So, we made our way to an expert in the current affairs of the HIV field. And he wanted to "Start at the beginning, just to be sure we've got a clean baseline from which to work....I want to recheck you for the HIV virus and we'll go from there. Are you aware that there is the most remote of possibilities that you are not HIV positive?" And that's where this whole story started. He drew blood and explained that he was going to recheck for the presence of the HIV antibody. He knew that this had been done at two different, reputable, clinics seven years prior and that all of the tests and retests had been positive. He asked us to come in a week later. But, he said, if there just happened to be any good news, he would call us first thing.

May I just tell you that every single time the phone rang over the next week, we ran for it. Hearts palpitating, hopes running high in spite of knowing that this never happened. I mean, there were false-positives -- but they were caught in the recheck. There were never repeated positive tests....over and over. So, February 16, 2005, we went back to the doctor for the results. The room in the corner at the end of the hall -- I recall it very well. The door was left open and I remember the doctor coming down the hall....I could see him coming toward us. He came in, sat down, and tossed a file full of papers on the desk. And it went this way:



"In all of the 30 years I've been in this field, I've only heard of this happening. It's never happened to me personally. I've never had the opportunity to tell someone this.....But I am happy to tell you that you are NOT HIV positive." It was at this point, that I glanced over to my husband....his mouth was hanging open. Wide open as he stared at the doctor. And it was also at this point, that I started crying. A lot. I can't tell you the deep-seated emotions that flooded over us. Years of worry. Years of shame. He went on to explain that we could second-guess it forever. It could be this or that. But it was strictly guess work. We would probably never know for sure what it was that gave multiple false readings. But, he said, I want you to go from this room and live your life to the fullest...you have been given a new lease on your life." I will never forget walking from that office, into the hospital elevators, and seeing other people around us. Did they know? Could they tell? No, of course they couldn't.


After seven long years, we were hearing information that tossed our whole lives up into the air. We will celebrate our 11th Anniversary together on December 9....just a few days from now. We spent the first seven years in fear and with question. We've spent the last four years shedding ourselves of the preconceived ideas that we had built into our lives. I mean, I never even thought that he would still be alive today for me to be writing to you about it. I fully expected to be partner-less by this point in my life. I was prepared for it on that day way back in 1997 on "the day that started it all. Fear of rejection on his face and in his voice. And my weak struggling words "Of course I'll be your friend." I reached out and, for the very first time ever, pulled his hand and mine together.....down between the two of us where it was warm, dry, and safe. I knew it was time to draw together and not be apart. That's what friendships are all about. For healing and not for hurt.


My dear friends, may I just reiterate that age-old piece of wisdom that we've heard over and over: That we just never know what tomorrow may bring. Simple, isn't it? Sort of rings hollow, even. But it's the truth. For good or bad, we just don't know. This was one surprise that I could never have crafted or created or even dreamed of. That day, that specific ten seconds of time, will be driven deep into my soul forever. I will never forget it. Today, open yourself to good. To happiness. To being better. No matter what.

Today, to my dear beloved husband, I want you to know how much I love you. Your smile, your core, your being. The kindness you bring to my life, and to the world around you, is immeasurable. I never thought I'd have you as a part of my life in the year 2008. I never even thought it would happen. I can't tell you the nights I stared into the darkness wondering. And, today, you're here. I couldn't be happier. I love you. Dearly.

Cody and The Spirit Collide

I had my first not-so-pleasant experience at the gym today. With Cody, my personal trainer. As most trainers are, he is a nice looking guy with big arms and nice legs. But he's a driver. Totally. He's been on me from the beginning......to kick it up a notch, keep working, "five more," and all of that. Which I suppose is part of his job. But it doesn't really fly very well with me. You see, I'm back in the gym purely because I feel that I should be there. To be healthy. To keep the oxygen moving. I am not there to look like him (which I told him today). I don't care about looking like a body builder. I don't really compare myself to others in that way. I think it may have been better off for me to not have bought the few personal training sessions that I did. The last time he and I had this discussion, it was when he called me a woosie because I couldn't do whatever he was asking of me. He told me that "We could do it like the girls do, but I'll make you do an extra ten reps if we do it that way." I said to him, "Why don't you just call me a god damned pussy and then we'll get past it." He laughed, we both did. Until today.

I was doing crunches on the big inflatable ball. It was hurting my neck and lower back (I'd rather do them on the ground) and I told him so. He said, "Cool, let's just go to the Miss Buttercup program....maybe that'd be better for you." Again, a giggle or two. So, I finish my crunches and sideways plank core exercises. And we head to the leg machines for a lower body workout. We just kept up this bickering and bantering back and forth about too much weight and all of that. At one point, I stood up and said to him that it was apparent that he didn't understand why I was actually back in the gym in the first place. He didn't get it that I am 46 years old and have been in a gym a total of about six months in my entire 46 years. I told him that I didn't care if I ever looked like him or any of the other hot guys in the gym. I reminded him that I was here to enjoy myself, try to have some fun, and do a little workout. I told him that "I can't blow my whole wad at the beginning and then have nothing to use later." He laughed, uncomfortably. I told him that I wanted to still be coming to the gym for the remainder of my life and that I absolutely had to enjoy my time here or I'd stop coming. And, the clincher, I mentioned that it may be better if I changed personal trainers.

He was understanding, I must say. He apologized and backed off. He said that what he was asking me to do is just about the minimum. I pointed to the weights on the machines and reminded him there were several notches below/less than what we were doing already....and why couldn't we use those? He concurred. We finished the workout in much better shape. It just wasn't good. I've got two more sessions and then I'll be on my own. I think that'll be much better for me. We ended it on a good note -- both of us apologizing and reminding ourselves of the importance of clear communication and understanding for each other. He is a nice guy, he really is. And I appreciate the desire to keep me moving. But, I swear, if this isn't a pleasant experience for me, I'll stop going. And there's no way that's going to happen.

Bending, Stretching, Contorting -- The Positions of Our Lives

I swear, I am not half the man I used to be. Well, the harsh reality of it is that I never was that man, quite frankly. I'm enjoying the gym. I did my first yoga class the other day with my good friends Melanie and Steve who helped me out immensely as I got my feet wet in this newfound chapter of my life. Today I had my second yoga class....by myself. And it was way different than the one two days ago. As much as I enjoyed it and felt great afterwards (and got to look at assorted body parts that made me quite happy), it is obvious that I don't possess the strength and endurance that some who have gone before me have. Today we focused on upper body and on balance. And it kicked my skinny white ass but good. I felt like I was just not even built like the rest of those yoga experts in the class. I mean, keep this straight, bend this, push that, now reach here, and put this body part there. It's all good until it's not. So, the push continues. To enable the endurance and strength that is necessary for good health. You see, when you're relatively thin as I am, it gets a little comfortable at times. Damned near cozy. You start to think that you can eat this, or have that, and not go to the gym. It's a serious false sense of good health. And if my good comrade Sean can put it all out there and possess the wherewithal to bring himself around as he has, then so can I.

This week will find me in Palm Springs, San Francisco, Vancouver BC, Los Angeles, and San Jose. I'm meeting yet another blogger to add to my list and I couldn't be happier. Friends are what make the world go 'round, you know.

Bustin' My Ass

I swear, the older this body gets, the harder it is to jump start it. As you well know, I've gone back to the gym. Just finished my second session. Met with my horribly handsome blue-eyed and buffed personal trainer Cody today. He's my kind of man. He made it clear that he wasn't there to waste my time nor allow me to screw around. He busted my ass good in a polite sort of guy-from-Southern-California kind of way. I know that many of you work out regularly and don't find this wide-eyed amusement of mine very ingenious. But for a dude who hasn't been in the gym in years, it's quite a feat. I'm proud of my push .... but you know, it's like anything else, you have to keep it up. It's a lifestyle change, really. Not a diet. Not a fad. Not a deal where you'll go if you feel like it. It's clearly something that has to be ingrained into the schedule of your life and beyond. Cody cranked it up fairly good and we're going to get all sweaty again tomorrow. I'm definitely going to be heading to the yoga classes as well -- something I've never done before and am really excisted about trying. I love new experiences. After I finished letting him work me over (and clearly having visions of my working him over), I headed to the treadmill where the sweat began to pour....the full-blown run felt pretty wicked, my face reddened, and I really had to fight to find the right pace, the steadiness of it, where each foot was coming down in its own good time and place, comfortable and right. It's a game, isn't it? A challenge to find out what your body can do in the very next 60 seconds. It feels good, I think. When I sat in their backseat one recent day, I told my friends Sean and his handsome husband that I really needed to find an entirely new mindset before I could go back to the gym. Honestly, I didn't want to do it but knew that it was the right thing to do. I needed a whole new framework on which to build. I think I've just begun to find it.

The Kiss of Life

We all wish for things in our lives that we will never have. And we all wish for things to be out of our lives that will never be. The list of things we have always talked about having and the list of things that we've always talked about not having.

My father in law passed away without much pain from what we could tell. Thankful! The whole experience lasted a relatively short period of time. Thankful! I'm so grateful that his days of struggling are over. I'm glad that his caregiver, his wife of 59 years, no longer has to struggle emotionally about how to fix him meals that he won't choke on or how to get him in and out of his chair or how to even help him to and from the toilet -- one of life's most basic and bottom-line activities. There is a strange, nearly selfish, sense of relief. For him, of course -- but for her and the rest of us who helped him in his efforts to achieve a good quality of life. I loved to kiss him on his forehead. And I know that when I did, I felt such a sense of zing and connection. Because I felt it back, in return. He was one who really didn't have any close personal friends since we moved them up to Portland six years ago. And I really haven't had any mature, fatherly type men in my life since my own father left this earth 14 years ago. So, there was this connection, this invisible rope hooking two unlikely candidates in harmony. I've said before, he liked me. I liked him. There is always something energizing between you and someone outside of your normal circle of friends and family. The outside connection that adds zip and pizazz to your life, the one who makes you smile, the one who brings something to your life that even one's partner or spouse cannot. The one you like to hang around because they not like the one's you normally hang with. And he did that for me. And I, him. We were on the same wavelength many times. I could walk into the room and feel his frustration from whatever had just been happening before I got there. I could see it and feel it in his eyes. And then he'd spot me and things would change. And then, the kiss on the forehead or the shake of the hand.

I wish him happiness on his journey. In his transition. I hope it wasn't painful or a struggle. I hope he went with joy, knowing that his contribution to our earth was worth it. Without regret or wishing he had or had not. And I hope that he didn't know of my gasp, or my eyes filled with salty tears, while I envisioned my own father in his last remaining minutes on the globe. And I really hope that he knew of my kiss on his clammy, cold, pale forehead just a few hours before he left the confines of his earthly body. The kiss that sent him away and said that it was alright to go. The kiss of life. Between two unlikely candidates. The kiss that I hope sent him into eternity in peace.

Transition

After moving to a nursing care facility yesterday afternoon, my father in law passed away this morning -- within the last hour. I will be back with you later with more of my good memories and thoughts. Suffice it to say that your comments and emails have meant the world. Off to a busy day now........

the transition is complete. No more feeding tube, oxygen, struggle.

Resting Comfortably

You know what's odd? Or funny, or weird, may be more like it -- is when I hear a complaint that "You haven't posted since Sunday....what's up?" I guess one never really knows what kind of stalkerish-personage is actually keeping tabs. So, an update on father in law. He has opted out of any invasive, aggressive testing and all of that. The hospital was discussing a bone marrow biopsy and another CT scan of sorts and do you want CPR and do you want this and that. "Nope. No thank you. I'm exhausted," were his answers. He's 83. He's had a good life. From being born in Evanston, Illinois, and his father being a professor of Economics at Northwestern University to growing up and going to Ohio State University in Columbus, to being an on-air radio DJ for the campus radio station in the 1940s, to moving his wife out to Southern California where he raised his three boys along the coast. He retired from the commercial paint business in 1986 and left the business of SoCal to move up to the Central Coast of California where they lived until "You forced us up to live in Portland" about six years ago. To keep a closer eye. To have a better grasp. To deal with this and that. A bit more easily for us. So, all of that to say that he's had it. He wants to be comfortable. That's it. He has a feeding tube from his inability to raise up his hands too well. And his struggling ability to even swallow. And so, today, he moves to a skilled nursing care facility not so far from our home. He likes me. And I, him. I've said before, that we understand one another. We're sort of kindred spirits. We share some common beliefs and traits. And one of those is that we're realists....to a fault many times. We believe in black and white. We believe that in spite of what we hope, we often know the truth. And that reality will prevail.

Final Home Run

Today's the day. In 1938, it was on this day that Lou Gehrig made the very last home run of his life. Seventy years ago today. I suppose this man holds special significance to me because of my own father's struggle with Lou Gehrig's Disease (Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis or ALS.....or in Europe it is known as Motor Neuron Disease). The story is also about the demise of Yankee Stadium -- this piece of history will be demolished this winter.

If you've been reading my site for a bit, you know full well about my love and devotion to my own father who lost his life to ALS in March 1994. There are many posts about him.....probably the best known are PART 1, PART 2, and PART 3. Well, and then there was the bank incident.

This last few weeks has put us face to face with the struggle of my father in law and what could be his last days on this earth. Being the cry baby that I am, I got tears in my eyes just yesterday when I went in his room and kissed his forehead. He looked up at me. We share many common thought patterns and we're both realists. We just look at each other and know what the other is thinking. So, these stories -- the combination of the loss of Yankee Stadium, the Lou Gehrig aspect, and my father in law -- mean a lot to me. History shutting down, closing, the end of things as we know them. And the sun will continue to set on parts of our lives. The darkness will fall and things will be quiet. But tomorrow, when the sun rises again, I want new bodies without pain and struggle. And I want a new baseball stadium too.