Imovane dream

Last night was one of those endless dreams. I was in a bed in a closed room, trying to sleep. But it was noisy outside - woman was singing or talking loudly. Finally a man came into the room so I sat up, complaining about the disturbance. And he said to me, “But you are dead”. I replied rather hotly that I was not dead, in fact I was perfectly well? As though to prove it I could see myself from his point of view, sitting on the edge of the bed, bare chested, looking fit and healthy.

At some point I woke out of the dream, thinking I should write it down. Then I fell back into it, helpless…not really wanting to stop. The dream centered on the conflict between myself and the man in the room over whether I was living. I was content to explore the dream some more so I went in and out several times. During an out phase I became dimly aware of dawn through the window and then suddenly I was jarred awake by the telephone.

Real life interrupting a dream about death?

Week 24

I’m half-way through treatment.

Into The Wild

I just watched Into The Wild about Christopher McCandless:

There is pleasure in the pathless woods;

There is rapture on the lonely shore,

There is society, where none intrudes,

By the deep sea, and the music in it’s roar;

I love not the man less, but Nature more…

Lord Byron

Third Leg Club

The Yale is an old hotel pub on Granville street which has managed to maintain a reasonable level of decorum.

The manager organizes regular Blues gigs and last night it was Ellen McIlwaine. I don’t really know her but some friends asked me to tag along and I’m glad I did cause the show was amazing. Ms. Ellen is a seriously talented guitar player.

There were a lot of “interesting” people around the place. In the bathroom some dude in a wheelchair was peeing with the door open. On the dance floor a really drunk guy, his hand swathed in a dirty bandage, kept prostrating himself in front of Ellen. She was doing her best to ignore him, poor thing.

Then there was my conversation with Jess about maraschino cherries and Chris donning his sunglasses only to (not right away) discover one of the lenses was missing…that was pretty funny. Sitting up at the front with Uli listening to the “backwards” song was fun too expect I zoned out and missed when the song went backwards. Uli caught it. He never misses anything.

But the highlight of the night was a large group of guys, who came into the club, wearing t-shirts that said “Third Leg Club” and “Free Moustache Rides”. They were all different ages and they looked a bit drunk so I thought they were going to cause trouble. But they were just having a good time. They asked politely for some chairs, some of them moved to the dance floor, and others were just sitting around having some beers. I was thoroughly impressed by their well-mannered audacity.

And I can’t help but wonder, “How does one gets a membership at the Third Leg Club?”

Acupuncture with Tobi

I’ve found a great Chinese medicine practitioner. Her name is Tobi Panter.

Her studio is a small room in the back of an old house. It faces south with lots of windows and, when the sun filters through the white curtains, the room is warm and cheery.

After a brief check-in I get onto the table where Tobi selects meridian points for placement of the acupuncture needles. Her voice is calm and her movements are slow and meaningful. After the needle is inserted she manipulates it until we feel a “connection”. This often comes as a brief stinging sensation which travels away from the meridian point.

After several needles have been placed Tobi applies acupressure, using both hands at different places on my body. Sometimes she also performs moxibustion by holding a burning cigar-shaped moxa stick over areas of my skin near the needles or at other places. The idea is to warm the skin to stimulate blood circulation. I love the smell, smoky without being noxious or clingy.

Week 20 boost

I’m at the critical half-way point of hep C treatment.

The doc was “concerned” that my abnormal liver enzymes meant the drugs weren’t working. To try and figure this out he ordered my hep C “viral load” test 4 weeks earlier than scheduled.

The results came back today and it’s the best news possible, the virus has cleared for now. This means I continue treatment for another 6 months to make sure it stays cleared. Then we see what happens after that. Friday September 12 is my last day.

This is a huge milestone and I’m greatly relieved.

Vick Vancouver

I recently heard about a group of dynamic young guys who are producing an animated series called Vick Vancouver. The serial is intended to educate people about gay men’s health and social issues through the experiences of Vick, a young gay man finding his way in the big city.

Vick is fed-up with the endless winter in Dartmouth so he comes to Vancouver for cherry blossoms and something bigger to hold him. In episode 1 he must choose a roommate. Will it be minimal Matt from the “burbs” or the ostentatious Shelly with an “awesome location” in the heart of the Westend?

Check the link below to find out. A new episode is planned for every Sunday.

Flat Stanley

My cousin called me from Alberta the other day to ask if I would participate in his son Jakob’s grade 1 school project. It required me to respond to a letter from Jakob, which I would receive in the mail.

When the letter arrived, inside was paper cut-out of a young boy, hand-drawn and coloured by Jakob. There was also a note from the teacher explaining that the kids had just read a chapter book called Flat Stanley by Jeff Brown. Apparently young Stanley was flattened by a bulletin board while sleeping. As a result he can travel easily from place to place and he has come to Vancouver for a one week visit.

Instructions from Jakob said to take Flat Stanley to “the park” and to include a letter telling what we did:

Dear Jakob:

Flat Stanley and I had a really nice visit in Vancouver.

We went to Stanley Park to see the ducks and swans at Lost Lagoon. We even saw some turtles sunning themselves on the rocks.

The next day we ate hot dogs for lunch and then we went to the aquarium to watch the whales. On the way home we passed the totem poles where some raccoons hissed at us.

That night, after eating at the Macaroni Grill, we almost got sprayed by a really smelly skunk!

I told Flat Stanley if he comes back in the summer we’ll go for a swim at Second Beach pool.

Love ‘Uncle’ Rob

Insomnia

I’m back from Alberta. My visit with grandpa was worthwhile but emotionally exhausting. He’s improved physically but has become quite depressed.

Tonight I am home, feeling tired and crabby.

Before bed I read a short story by Nik Cohn called Delinquent in Derry. It’s about grappling with a metaphorical snake. He makes good use of language, which I appreciate, but I am unable to concentrate.

I turn out the light, hunkering down into the blankets. Lying on my side my legs feel thin, folded together like sticks. My stomach lurches at this and I think about my grandfather whose hospital bed is no sanctuary either. This ruins any chance of sleep.

I get up and look out the window next door. My ex-boyfriend’s apartment is unlit. Where is that tortuous creature? Having fun with this life while I am condemned to recover from mine? His indifference seems cruel.

As I pace the floor I repeat the question, “What do you want?”

A poem called Late Fragment by Raymond Carver comes to mind:

And did you get what

you wanted from this life, even so?

I did.

And what did you want?

To call myself beloved, to feel myself

beloved on the earth.

Merry-go-round

Gramp went into hospital 10-days ago looking like he wasn’t going to come out. But the old bugger has rallied, though he is not well. The problem with his kidneys has not been diagnosed, his lungs are full of fluid, and he has no appetite.

On Thursday we asked for a meeting with the “transition” nurse to talk about whether he’d be safe in his current living situation. She brushed us off saying that he was too “acute” to be worrying about stuff like that. Then, the very next day she called to say the “kidney doctor” had discharged him and he was ready to go home.

There was an argument over whether home nursing care could be put into place on such short notice (just before the weekend) and whether it would be adequate. Apparently the hospital understood from computer records that home care was already in place for him, despite our pleas to the contrary. The hospital finally relented when they discovered their records were out of date.

Still, I’m pretty sure they’re going to try to send him home again this week. Their main criteria is that he’s able to get to the bathroom on his own. I watched him yesterday and the old guy accomplished it like a ballerina. If he goes home they’ll provide “enhanced” home care, which amounts to a morning visit to get him up and an evening visit to tuck him in. Oh… and if he needs it they’ll come at lunch to help him get to the dining room.

I’m predicting a merry-go-round. They’ll send him home where he’ll deteriorate to the point where he ends up back in hospital. How many times the carousel turns is anyone’s guess.