At long last I've got something good to say. I feel better. I have no idea what changed, or why, but my mood has improved and my energy level has gone way up since last week. There have been peaks and valleys all along, so I suppose I'm just on the upswing; I just hope it lasts another five weeks.
My mood isn't the only thing that's different. I seem to have opened up somehow and invited all sorts of change into my life. Most of the time the attention I get from men is underwhelming; they may notice me, but none of them dares approach me, I suppose because I can be intimidating and I often come across as an ice queen. Lately, though, I'm having to fight 'em off with a stick. I got asked out at the meeting last night, and today at the Goleta Jamboree I began to feel like the belle of the ball. Too bad none of the men in question was terribly interesting. The man who asked me out last night is a sort of biker/hippie with long, grey hair. He's a really sweet man, and very smart, but not attractive to me. I'm terrified of motorcycles and not really interested in aging hippies. I hope I let him down gently.
And then at the Jamboree I was hit on by Pepé le Pew. He was an older man -- in his fifties -- with a beret and a goatee and a hilarious Rico Suavé manner. At least, it would have been hilarious if I'd seen him trying it on someone else. As it is it was just annoying. First he complimented me on my pallor, and then he critiqued my ensemble from head to toe and pronounced it trés chic. I was waiting for him to kiss his fingers at me, but he refrained. It was a painful ordeal, and I was subjected to his attentions more than once, but I'm not complaining. It's just further evidence of this indefinable change.
The most exciting thing of all happened on Thursday night. I was leaving the women's meeting when my friend Jane thrust a piece of paper into my hand and said, "I think you should apply for this." It was a memo from a local non-profit organization where Jane works ten hours a week, announcing an opening for their Volunteer Coordinator position, a full-time position which pays more than I make now (enough more that I would notice the difference) with full benefits, which is not only not drudgery but actually seems interesting, and which I'm qualified for. I got so excited that I rushed home, spiffed up my résumé, wrote a cover letter and emailed them to the Executive Director. And now I wait for an interview. I would be a shoo-in under normal circumstances, especially with Jane's testimonial, but no doubt they've got a hundred applicants to sift through, some of whom may be more qualified than I am. Still, I've done the footwork and let go of the result. I hope and pray that I'll get this job, but if I don't I know that something else will come along. And soon. Things are changing.
To show that things are indeed changing, let me announce that I have a date on Tuesday night. With a man. My first date in two years. I'm not going to write about this one, though. This one is real, and I find that I'm not willing to disclose the details of my love life in this blog, even under cover of anonymity. The Pepé le Pews of this life are fair game, but I'll keep my dates to myself.
So, the weather is changing and spring is peeking out, and my life is proceeding apace. Things are looking up.
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Sunday, February 21, 2010
The end of the beginning
Six more weeks. I'm officially in overtime and getting more impatient by the day. My fear now is that I'm building up my release from Interferon hell so much that it's bound to be a disappointment. I'm afraid I expect too much. I know I'll feel better, but Interferon isn't the only thing that's wrong in my life. It's not as though finishing the treatment will make my job any more interesting. I've decided that as soon as I've made my final co-pay I'm going to polish up my résumé and start applying for jobs in Santa Barbara. I can't stand my job any longer and I just want out. I'll just have to take a chance and live with no health insurance for a couple of months.
What's odd is that I'm not even really sure what's so bad about what I'm dealing with. I just feel sort of generally wrong. I'll start to talk about it with someone and when they ask "where does it hurt?" I'm forced to say I don't know. The best description I can come up with is that I feel half-alive. My mind is dull, my sense of humor is dull, my body is tired. But somehow I can only see that in hindsight. In the moment I just feel what I feel. It's only later that I can see how tamped-down I was in this or that situation. When I compare how I felt last summer to how I feel now, I can see the degeneration. I feel like I'm hanging on by my fingernails. I shared some of this at a meeting the other night and my friend Randi emailed me the next day to say that I sound depressed, which is, of course, common on Interferon. Okay, I'll buy it, but if I'm depressed, it's not like any depression I've ever experienced before.
I don't want to be half-alive. I'm not even irritable very often anymore because I can't be bothered to care about much of anything. Mostly I just want to sleep, but my insomnia makes that difficult. I'm often tempted to take naps on the weekends but I'm afraid that if I do I won't be able to sleep that night, so I walk through my days like a zombie. I still force myself to get up and jump on my trampoline every morning, which means getting up at five every weekday. It's a penitential hour to get up, but I notice a difference if I skip the trampoline even one morning.
So...let's see. I'm tired and I feel dull and I can't sleep and I can't breathe and my fingertips are covered with cuts and I'm deaf and blind...and so forth. Okay, I'll allow that things aren't so great for me at the moment. It's sometimes hard for me to know if I've got a legitimate gripe or if I'm just wallowing in self-pity. Whatever I'm going through seems less than dire, simply because I'm going through it. I mean, I'm surviving it, so how bad can it be? But sometimes it really is bad, and I think this qualifies. What really pisses me off is that I'd be finished by now if my virus hadn't been so stubborn, but I'm doing my best not to think about that. It doesn't matter how long I've been on this medication; all that matters is that I have 39 days left. I've got 78 doses of Ribavirin, five shots of Interferon and one co-pay left.
I can do this.
What's odd is that I'm not even really sure what's so bad about what I'm dealing with. I just feel sort of generally wrong. I'll start to talk about it with someone and when they ask "where does it hurt?" I'm forced to say I don't know. The best description I can come up with is that I feel half-alive. My mind is dull, my sense of humor is dull, my body is tired. But somehow I can only see that in hindsight. In the moment I just feel what I feel. It's only later that I can see how tamped-down I was in this or that situation. When I compare how I felt last summer to how I feel now, I can see the degeneration. I feel like I'm hanging on by my fingernails. I shared some of this at a meeting the other night and my friend Randi emailed me the next day to say that I sound depressed, which is, of course, common on Interferon. Okay, I'll buy it, but if I'm depressed, it's not like any depression I've ever experienced before.
I don't want to be half-alive. I'm not even irritable very often anymore because I can't be bothered to care about much of anything. Mostly I just want to sleep, but my insomnia makes that difficult. I'm often tempted to take naps on the weekends but I'm afraid that if I do I won't be able to sleep that night, so I walk through my days like a zombie. I still force myself to get up and jump on my trampoline every morning, which means getting up at five every weekday. It's a penitential hour to get up, but I notice a difference if I skip the trampoline even one morning.
So...let's see. I'm tired and I feel dull and I can't sleep and I can't breathe and my fingertips are covered with cuts and I'm deaf and blind...and so forth. Okay, I'll allow that things aren't so great for me at the moment. It's sometimes hard for me to know if I've got a legitimate gripe or if I'm just wallowing in self-pity. Whatever I'm going through seems less than dire, simply because I'm going through it. I mean, I'm surviving it, so how bad can it be? But sometimes it really is bad, and I think this qualifies. What really pisses me off is that I'd be finished by now if my virus hadn't been so stubborn, but I'm doing my best not to think about that. It doesn't matter how long I've been on this medication; all that matters is that I have 39 days left. I've got 78 doses of Ribavirin, five shots of Interferon and one co-pay left.
I can do this.
Sunday, February 7, 2010
Counting backwards
I think it's been three weeks since I've posted anything on here, a new record of sloth. Let my excuse be that I had nothing to say.
Eight more weeks. I've stopped counting months and am now counting days. In NA we give out key tags for recovery milestones: 30 days, 60 days, 90 days, etc, and naturally we count up. I would like to take key tags as I count down. I'm now past the 60-day mark and am heading toward 30 days. I've got 107 more doses of Ribavirin, seven more shots and one more co-pay. I'm so close I can taste it!
One advantage of slipping into apathy as I have been in the last few weeks is that my temper is more controllable. I'm still pretty grumpy, but I haven't got the energy to throw tantrums anymore so I let most things go. Musically I'm on a steady diet of Sigur Rós and Jack Rose, alternately. Sigur Rós soothe me and keep me calm and Jack Rose puts me in such a state of awe that I forget about being grumpy. His music also wakes me up and energizes me. It puts a smile on my face, which is pretty rare these days. I'm just waiting to feel better. My friend Randi said that she felt better right away after she finished her treatment, so I'm keeping my fingers crossed that the same will happen for me. I'd really like my voice back. I've been told that it sounds sexy, but it's not my voice. To my ears I sound like Fran Drescher, but my friends assure me that's not what they hear. Phew!
Friday night I went to Muddy Waters with my friend Rebecca to see Langhorne Slim. It was a good show, even though Ariel backed out at the last minute and Rebecca didn't stay for the whole thing. The first band were really good. They were so good, in fact, that Rebecca was sated by the time Langhorne Slim came on. She said, "I was spoiled by that first band. I had no patience with him," but I think it was more that she was just done. I know that feeling. It kept happening to me at All Tomorrow's Parties and was what made me decide that music festivals aren't really a good idea. But Rebecca missed the best part of the evening. I admit that Langhorne Slim's music isn't great, but he really is a good performer. He's much better live than on CD. After he played nearly a whole set with his band, he left the stage area and jumped up on the counter, where he sat and sang and played a little parlor-sized guitar for a few songs. What I love about a small venue like that is that a performer can do that sort of thing and be heard without amplification. The whole place was quiet (except for the drunk girl), and I could hear him perfectly from the back. I left when he rejoined the band on the stage. I'd loved that little intimate interlude so much that I didn't want to spoil the memory of it with overkill.
I've had a busy weekend. Yesterday I drove down to Hollywood with my sponsor Kim and my friend and fellow-sponsee Gina for Unity Day. I'd never been to it before so I didn't know what to expect. I don't like conventions because I get nervous around great crowds of people, so I was rather dreading this event, but it turned out to be pretty small, actually. We saw some really good speakers, but we were late getting back from dinner and were unable to get seats for the main speaker, and though we gamely stood at the back of the auditorium and gave it shot, it was too noisy back there and none of us could hear anything, so we decided to call it a day. I was ready to go by then anyway. I can only take so many speakers in one day. I'm not a big fan of speaker meetings in the first place. To me, they seem like dessert. Where I get fed is in the participation meetings, but these were a bit different because they were called workshops, and each speaker had a topic to share about. In all, it was a good day and I'm glad I went. I plan to go next year if it works out.
I think that's enough for today. I just sat here staring at the screen for ten minutes with nothing in my mind, so obviously I've run out of things to say.
Eight more weeks. I've stopped counting months and am now counting days. In NA we give out key tags for recovery milestones: 30 days, 60 days, 90 days, etc, and naturally we count up. I would like to take key tags as I count down. I'm now past the 60-day mark and am heading toward 30 days. I've got 107 more doses of Ribavirin, seven more shots and one more co-pay. I'm so close I can taste it!
One advantage of slipping into apathy as I have been in the last few weeks is that my temper is more controllable. I'm still pretty grumpy, but I haven't got the energy to throw tantrums anymore so I let most things go. Musically I'm on a steady diet of Sigur Rós and Jack Rose, alternately. Sigur Rós soothe me and keep me calm and Jack Rose puts me in such a state of awe that I forget about being grumpy. His music also wakes me up and energizes me. It puts a smile on my face, which is pretty rare these days. I'm just waiting to feel better. My friend Randi said that she felt better right away after she finished her treatment, so I'm keeping my fingers crossed that the same will happen for me. I'd really like my voice back. I've been told that it sounds sexy, but it's not my voice. To my ears I sound like Fran Drescher, but my friends assure me that's not what they hear. Phew!
Friday night I went to Muddy Waters with my friend Rebecca to see Langhorne Slim. It was a good show, even though Ariel backed out at the last minute and Rebecca didn't stay for the whole thing. The first band were really good. They were so good, in fact, that Rebecca was sated by the time Langhorne Slim came on. She said, "I was spoiled by that first band. I had no patience with him," but I think it was more that she was just done. I know that feeling. It kept happening to me at All Tomorrow's Parties and was what made me decide that music festivals aren't really a good idea. But Rebecca missed the best part of the evening. I admit that Langhorne Slim's music isn't great, but he really is a good performer. He's much better live than on CD. After he played nearly a whole set with his band, he left the stage area and jumped up on the counter, where he sat and sang and played a little parlor-sized guitar for a few songs. What I love about a small venue like that is that a performer can do that sort of thing and be heard without amplification. The whole place was quiet (except for the drunk girl), and I could hear him perfectly from the back. I left when he rejoined the band on the stage. I'd loved that little intimate interlude so much that I didn't want to spoil the memory of it with overkill.
I've had a busy weekend. Yesterday I drove down to Hollywood with my sponsor Kim and my friend and fellow-sponsee Gina for Unity Day. I'd never been to it before so I didn't know what to expect. I don't like conventions because I get nervous around great crowds of people, so I was rather dreading this event, but it turned out to be pretty small, actually. We saw some really good speakers, but we were late getting back from dinner and were unable to get seats for the main speaker, and though we gamely stood at the back of the auditorium and gave it shot, it was too noisy back there and none of us could hear anything, so we decided to call it a day. I was ready to go by then anyway. I can only take so many speakers in one day. I'm not a big fan of speaker meetings in the first place. To me, they seem like dessert. Where I get fed is in the participation meetings, but these were a bit different because they were called workshops, and each speaker had a topic to share about. In all, it was a good day and I'm glad I went. I plan to go next year if it works out.
I think that's enough for today. I just sat here staring at the screen for ten minutes with nothing in my mind, so obviously I've run out of things to say.
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