Iliad

Aeneas his contracted body bends,
And o'er him high the riven targe extends,
Sees, through its parting plates, the upper air,
And at his back perceives the quivering spear:
A fate so near him, chills his soul with fright;
And swims before his eyes the many-colour'd light.

I had the Iliad with me in the hospital. I've been reading it forever. I've been going back and forth between Chapman and Pope's translations because they're sort of legendary. The above is from Pope.

The scene is Aeneas, son of the goddess of love, warrior of the doomed city of Troy, looking up through the hole in his shield. He had raised it over his head to deflect the spear of the mightiest of Greek warriors, Achilles -- only the spear has shot right through it and is next to him, stuck in the ground, having missed him by inches.

What about this classic, epic representation of a man in the moment of realizing his own mortality seems relevant to me right now? Can't possibly imagine. Probably it's just because I love the expression "riven targe" so much.

But the most mysterious part of it is that last bit, Pope's invention. If you almost die, is there a many-colour'd light that you see? The physical manifestation of a rapid succession of flashbacks, perhaps? What is it about the close call that results in riven light? In seeing the many colors that make up the white?

Bananas

If I told you "we gotta get rid of all these apples. They're driving down the banana sales," well you'd probably think that sounded fishy. If you asked me "And what do you do, exactly?" and I was all "Who, moi? I'm a banana salesman" ... you'd probably not go along with that scheme. Seems a little self-serving, you'd think to yourself. Right?

That's about what I see going on in the world right now now. Yea, that's right! This is a politics blog now. </readership>

On either side of the aisle they say a lot about what they will do and even what they have done. But if you look at what they've ACTUALLY done and who really benefits... it starts to look like they're all banana salesmen.

And they're getting rid of all the apples.

I actually have five insurance companies right now. Does that seem weird? Five different companies insure me in different ways. One of them wants the government to pay so it doesn't have to, and they think it's MY job to fight that fight.

Also one of the overlords at Capital One gave some of my student loan debt to his friend, the overlord at Discover, so I officially owe my ass to them now, too. They don't break my legs, but they do try to ruin my life. Got double-charged in the same month I stopped getting paid. That's not what you want. That's some fucking CAHOOTS.

Oh, my steroid dose is down. I have feelings again and I only bake every other day. Oh! Superbowl idea: cookies and what do you know? They're little footballs. Chocolate frosted with white icing for the laces. God that would take all day.

Nutbars

Distrust writers. I distrust writers. They're all narrating themselves far too much in their heads. It can't be fucking healthy.

The BiCNU damaged my lungs. That's one of the chemo drugs they gave me. The one that was massively recalled in the days just after my transplant. Which my hospital neglected to address with me in any official capacity. And even ignored my request for more information. But anyway.

It's not abnormal for this lung damage to happen. Something like 20% of people, it turns out, are poisoned by poison.

The damage is reparable so long as I take a bunch of steroids for a month or so. Pretty sure Prednisone has been considered an extenuating circumstance in murder trials so if I seem a little off you will have to forgive me.

I'm not totally sure what's behind my manic purposefulness of late. It's easy to assume steroids is the reason why I can't stop DOING something for five fucking minutes and just sit and relax. And maybe it is. I think that's kind of what steroids do.

On the other hand, maybe being trapped in my own sickness for so god damn long has made me absolutely nutbar for being able to LIVE MY FUCKING LIFE FOR HALF A SECOND.

All this energy going towards packing lunches and cleaning and hanging out with fall produce. It's only going to get me so far. Then I'm going to have to start writing again. And that just seems like the craziest outcome of all.

-30-

Recovery's been fast. Mucousy, but fast.

The terrible mouth sore pain drops away when your immune system starts to recover. Turns out your immune system is gross, though. I will not miss having this taste in my mouth.

After a couple of days shedding medications and side effects, they're convinced I'm good to go.

PICC line is out after one last platelet infusion and I'm packing up my room.

Best. Birthday present. Ever.

Whole

After 5 days of a white blood cell count of 0.1 or lower, today's is 0.2.

That minuscule change means my body is starting to make cells.

In a few days I should be out of here.

Parts

Another tragically un-holistic thing about modern/Western medicine that's really become an issue for me today is nutrition.

Background information: Despite receiving a blood transfusion yesterday for low red levels, my hematocrits were even lower today. I'm really bottoming out. I'm getting more blood as I write this and I'll need platelets after. And more blood after that.

Also, I have developed painful throat sores that make swallowing and speaking very difficult.

So here's the thing: getting any medical care provider up here to NOT waste my crucially low energy having the same, redundant conversation about my pain management options is impossible. I've hoarsely explained four times in 12 hours that I simply can't start chowing Oxy. It makes me light-headed, even dizzy, possibly pukey.

It's like these people don't understand that I've done this outpatient. They just give you a bottle of pills and send you home! Turns out, I am the best at managing my own pain. Because I am responsible, and attached to my nervous system.

I know there's guidelines and liability issues and whatnot. I need someone to work with me on this process. I need it to be about me and my unique needs.

What I've learned is that I can take Oxy, for sure, but for my own comfort I really need to taper in my dose, start small, and take it with food.

And there's the fucking rub. Getting anybody to talk to me about food is impossible. Every conversation I've had about nutrition has become one about morphine. Morphine is like the bottom of the food pyramid around here!

Finally one confused, beleaguered nurse was like "Do you want me to page the nutritionist?" YES, for the love of God. Once again, the more basic the issue (food, feelings, taking a walk) the more we need to call in an expert.

And thank the baby Jesus, because I already met with the nutritionist once right after my admission and she was awesome. Now she's hooking me up with frappes, Ensure and organic smoothies.

So I was also able to say to my nurse, "Don't you have Ensure?"

She dubiously retorted, "Yea, but most patients don't really like it."

Well, there you have it. I'm not "most patients." I'm MEEEE and I need someone to actually listen and respond to MY needs.

This is all in some part due to today's nurse. Most of the oncology nurses are freaking saints. They've been taking really good care of me. But I really need a nurse who is patient and a good listener, and my nurse today is neither of those things.

Sleep Ritual

Start with the feet. Ask: "Where have these feet walked today?" Think of the places your feet have been. Then say, "these feet have walked in this world."

Then the legs. Ask: "Where have these legs stood today?" Probably the same places as your feet. So think "these legs have stood in this world."

Now your hands. What have these hands done today? These hands have worked in this world.

Arms. What have these arms held today? These arms have been open to the world.

Now go to your heart. This gets a little trickier. You need to ask: What has this heart felt today? You don't need to feel it all again. It doesn't need to all make sense. Just know what you felt and say, "This heart has felt the world."

Finish with your mind. This is the greatest challenge. You will ask: "What has this mind learned today?" and you will be sorely tempted to tease out the details, to analyze the mistakes, to replay the events and to imagine other scenarios.

But the point is to remember that you've experienced things that will make more sense in time and say "This mind has learned about the world."

Then you are ready for sleep.