theway

LIfe Goes On

2009-12-20T22:58:00.002-07:00

within you and without you. . . Hep has become sort of a distant memory. As usual, life is as good as I let it be. Some days a diamond. . . some days a stone. ;)

Best wishes to everyone. . . never any exceptions.

Max

this is the end. . . . my only friend. . the end

2009-08-01T12:22:00.002-06:00

I got 47 week post tx bloodwork. The virus is UND according to Heptimax. . . that measures to <5 iu/ml. So, this is the end of the last verse of what had become a very long trip.

I've been dealing with hepatitis C for almost two years now. I feel almost breathless now that the 'thing' is over.

I posted to a forum almost immediately because those are the people who helped me get through the ordeal. People I know have thought the game was over 8 months ago. . . I was never completely sure until now. Anyway, most think tx for geno 3A always works. . . unless you screw the pooch in some way. "Of course you cleared, you've got geno 3."

There are some post tx blood chemistry anomalies that will probably correct themselves to some degree in another year or so. My concern over ALT, and cholesterol is waning very quickly.

I did have some interesting feelings while I sat here after hearing the news. I was both relieved (really beyond words), but I also felt and thought. . . why me? I know plenty of people who probably deserve to be free better than I. So, why me?

The feeling held on a day or so, until I realized (was told) that everyone deserves SVR. . . no one really deserves to have the virus at all.

I guess this really is the end. . . and the beginning. I may come back and add a photo to this last post. And, this is the very time I would like to say something remarkable. . . since this has been a most remarkable journey.

peace,

Max

When Is it Time to Throw in the Towel

2009-07-16T13:36:00.003-06:00

The guy above holding the snake must be a shaman. . . who the hell else would want to do it? Maybe the camp cook? The panel is from the Fremont culture. They made baskets and used atlatls to kill game. . . . no pottery or bows and arrows yet.

Been thinking about the psychology of defeat. Hemingway says no one suffers defeat except during the act of surrender. Heroes often die without ever being defeated

I watched the NBA championships to see when the defeated team. . . individually or collectively would give up. Watching an athlete who makes $20 million concede defeat is interesting. They fight the good fight. . . generally, but at a certain moment each one concedes defeat.

I'm watching the Tour de France now. A single rider from Denmark won the 11th stage (or 12th) handily. The others gave up. A group of seven cyclists can overtake a group of two anytime they want to. . . badly enough. Today, a group of 170 gave up and then a group of 7 gave up. It was interesting to see.

What makes people doubt their ability to succeed? Professional athletes know very well that confidence in their abilities is the single indispensable trait of winners.

Been thinking about heppers. I go with Hemingway on hep. . . one is not defeated until he surrenders. That happens when someone stops fighting the good fight. They allow general health to decline because the virus is supposedly killing them anyway.

Also been doing some soul searching about my own viral status. How will I react if my PCR comes back virus positive? It will be a test of character every bit as much as a assay for virions. Will I give up if things don't go my way? I may have an opportunity to find out more about myself. . . fairly soon.

2009-07-07T11:43:00.005-06:00

The above pic is granary common to the Anasazi culture formerly centered in the four corners area of the US. Agriculture was well established by this time period. Dessicated ears of corn can still be found among less accessible ruins. They're two to four inches long. . . I've seen a very few that might have been close to six inches.

Those ancient strains of corn are as valuable today as they were then. They represent a safe deposit box of unadulterated seed. They're pure in the sense they haven't been manipulated by humans. Hybridization and genetic mutation have been focused mainly on corn crops today. If (when in my mind) those experiments go badly awry. . . it is hoped that the ancient strains will be available to provide a stable gene source to feed the humans not yet born. The largest remaining ruins of this culture are at Mesa Verde and the Chaco complex.

Beans are a major cash crop in the region to this day. 'Anasazi' beans are popular and the growers claim they are a true genetic identical to those grown by the people who built this granary.

Vicarious Living

2009-06-18T16:30:00.006-06:00

I was out on the terrain for a few days and it occurred to me that people who spend too much time in front of a computer screen are, indeed, living vicariously, or maybe engaging in a sort of pretense regarding the reality of life on the planet.

I was thinking that about myself and how unreal life can become when it loses direct and intimate contact with those things whose reality is beyond question. The San Rafael Swell is a good example of concrete, metaphysical, spiritual, and in all ways essential reality. In places like these life is distilled to its very essence.

I hiked around a few days and didn't carry a bulky camera, so the pics are minimal and not interesting. At the top is a 61 year old who has just about gained a good level of fitness after the chemical beat-down of tx.

The bottom pic is a cross section of railroad bed and a small stack of flagstone that may have helped span a wash if the construction had continued. However, the capitalist venture came to an end prematurely and about forty miles of grade and a few stone culverts are all that remain. Most likely the venture was funded with public money which was siphoned off by speculators and 'projecters' who made fortunes even though the line was never completed. As I walked along it, I wondered if the likes of Jay Gould or other infamous robber barons were responsible for the debacle. Business back then was conducted much as it is today.

The middle pic is an unflattering view of the norther reef of the Swell. The canyons must be entered to be appreciated. The upper washes are fragrant and green with frequent deep pools of water trapped in the sandstone. The beauty is profound. . . the silence awesome. Others have described it better.

"If one is inclined to wonder at first how so many dwellers came to be in the loneliest land that ever came out of God's hands, what they do there and why stay, one does not wonder so much after having lived there. None other than this long brown land lays such a hold on the affections. The rainbow hills, the tender bluish mists, the luminous radiance of the spring, have the lotus chosen." Mary Austin

The wilderness act of 1964 reads ". . . . an area where the earth and its community of life are untrammeled by man, where man himself is a visitor who does not remain. . . "

"I love canyons--dry, fragrant, stone-walled, with their green choked niches and gold-tipped ramparts." Zane Grey

"One thing that appears to be clear to me now is that the moments of adventure--for the truly adventurous--are widely separated by long periods of hard work. Perhaps it's best that way." Kent Frost.

Mitakwe Oyasin

Sport Driving and Other Pursuits

2009-06-06T12:53:00.006-06:00

This is the last car I owned that would do anything on the highway. It had an ALH series TDI (turbo direct injection) diesel engine. It was great road car. The combination of suspension, wheel base, aerodynamics combined with a torque curve only attainable with a diesel made it handle very well. It would get from 80 to 100 mph more quickly than anything else I've ever owned. . . and would cruise at 80 while getting 45 miles per gallon of fuel.

Maximum torque was at 2800 rpm. Cruising at 80 mph put the tach at about 3,000. That meant passing a car happened almost at the apex of the torque curve. Comparable gas engines get max torque somewhere between 4 and 5K. . . meaning driving one of them at 80 would require a downshift to gain max torque as needed to pass other cars. That's one reason a six speed gearbox is becoming so popular.

The above crash happened on a curve I've been driving a long time. An isolated cell happened to dump enough rain to cause about a half inch to puddle up where traction was necessary to hold the road. It was kind of a fluke or freak occurrence. . . highly localized heavy rain in exactly the wrong place. The dry pavement ended at almost the exact apex and the standing water couldn't be seen until the curve had already been entered.

The VW rolled like a jelly bean. It rolled twice laterally and one endo before coming to rest on some railroad tracks that lie on the far side of a Jersey barrier. No seat belt and I walked away. . . just a stiff neck afterward. I think the term is 'shaken up.' Didn't realize until later that no air bags had popped. I wonder about that?

2009-05-13T14:25:00.002-06:00

I had intended to publish a dinosaur track last fall. This is an example of Jurassic sauropod that roamed the area 150 to 200 million years ago. . . . hind foot with five toes (slight imprint of the fourth barely visible to right of three) with only three having claws. . . hence the typical 'three toed' imprint. These are found many places in this area.

The various geologic formations and fossil remnants of flora and fauna indicate the region was frequently inundated by inland seas. Tourists are generally given that info without being told that tectonic plate theory holds that this piece of ground was located close to the equator at the time and in a more recent time period was uplifted relatively intact.

Digging for dino bone is punished with a prison sentence. Digging for any human artifact is also frowned on. Of course, people who live here sometimes find relics on their own private property. Petrified (fossil) wood requires only a free permit from the BLM and 25 lbs per day can then be collected.

I might try to organize some of my own specimens and post pics here. . . then again.

Life After

2009-05-10T12:16:00.010-06:00

The grand adventure of hep C and tx ended at about six months post treatment. Things are now as 'normal' as they will ever be. . . 'normal' of course being a figure of speech with no literal meaning. I"ll have the final PCR and blood work done in a couple months. In my mind the jury is in and the virus is gone.

I tried to remain active on the Hep forums with the idea that I might be able to share my experiences and perhaps give some support. That has met with a small amount of success. I talk with treaters or post treaters on the phone from time to time and try to offer hope without engaging in fantasy. I also tried to keep up with latest research and thinking about tx since I have many friends who didn't respond or relapsed.

My mind is full of PI's, IR, predosing, alinia, SAM-e, and all rest. . . but from now on I'll not try to 'keep up' because I just don't have the passion for it. My desire not to reside in a liver centered universe has been achieved/granted. There's just a lot more going on in the world than hep C.

I do post regularly to a board that seems to tolerate me moderately well. I still correspond with hepper friends. . . and will try to keep those friendships alive as long as I am.

At times I'm tempted to respond to different controversies here. . . on my own turf, but have come to realize they don't matter enough to clog my mind or this space.

So, this is probably the end of the tx blog although I'll probably post my 12 month PCR results here. I'm very interested in the politics and economics of the US and the world in general. Any further blogging will most likely follow those interests.

I hope you people who've stood by me throughout this insane ordeal know how humbly grateful I am for your support and friendship.

Love and Light

2009-01-11T11:55:00.004-07:00

The above pics show the Lake City Caldera in the San Juan range of western Colorado. As the name implies it is the crater of a mega volcano that erupted earlier in the planet's history. Timber line is about 1000 meters below. The dark patch is a stand of fir trees. The lighter green above is tundra. That consists of various vegetation that can adapt itself to growing close to the ground. A good sized fir can be 30 meters. . . any that make it in the tundra grow to a few centimeters. This is considered back country. These pics were taken end of summer. . .last few days of July. The snow remains from the previous winter.

Trees stop growing for two reasons: lack of water and, in the case here, it's just too cold. The frigidity timberline is about 10,000 ft in the western US. I've read it's as low as 5 to 6000 ft in the northeast US. Apparently, it's a hell of a lot colder back there. Subalpine trees are short and gnarled. . . and often very old.

FWIW, aridity prevents tree growth generally west of the 100th meridian. The great plains have deciduous trees mainly along waterways. A line of trees most always indicates a river or stream. That continues to the eastern foothills of the Rocky Mountains. There's ample water from snowmelt to grow a variety of species depending on elevation. Then, at about 10,000ft (3000 m), they stop growing as shown here because of the frigidity timber line.

West side of the Rockies is in some ways similar to the great plains. The region is called the Great Basin and generally lies in a rain shadow cast by the west coast mountain ranges. . .the Cascades and Sierra Nevadas. Actually the geography is basin and range with the ranges being about 100 miles apart. Each mountain range is tall enough to grab some moisture out of the passing clouds. In the middle of Nevada (driest state in the US) there are ranges that support alpine forests along with a large variety of wildlife. (end of travelogue)

It's 20 weeks post tx. VL at 16 weeks was UD, so apparently the bugs are gone for good. The good part is I feel as good as I did pre-tx. The other news is I thought I would feel better. . . since the dreaded virus is apparently history. I wasn't particularly worried about liver disease prior to treatment. I did think my overall health would noticeably improve once I cleared the virus. So far, I don't feel a lot better than I did before the tx ordeal, although things may improve with time. My system is still involved in metabolic changes. I expect those to level out with time.

I will say the ill effects don't seem to be permanent. No autoimmune disorders, fibromyalgia, or depression. . . none of the lingering nasties that plague some people post tx. I just don't feel like a kid again. The calendar tells me I'm not a kid, but the desire to feel bulletproof like a 25 yr old is still with me.

I've always held that people who either write or read blogs do so because they haven't anything better to do. I wrote this today because I wanted to. It's not a plea for attention. These notes amount to musings. . .not really prepared for an audience.

May we all live in internal peace. That way external peace will follow. . . as the night the day.

Max

Life Goes On

2008-12-30T17:13:00.004-07:00

I had almost forgotten about this project. Got a very nice PM from someone at the Nomads and decided to make it current. I'm making an effort to exercise and generally increase my level of activity. On Sunday, I went hiking in the local area. Guess this is about 4 miles from the house. Around here we hike, climb or ride a bicycle, and of course, all the motorized stuff. With snow on the rock and the temp below freezing, things can be tricky. :)

The whole post tx experience is interesting. Day by day, things don't really seem to improve very much. But, last night I remembered all the stuff that has gone away and realize that most, if not all the sides are gone. So, everything I hoped for when I started tx has come true. I've been very fortunate. Getting rid of hep C after 40 years with only mild/moderate liver damage is a gift. I hope to find ways to give back some of the support that was so generously given to me.

I plan to hang around the forums as long as I can be of any help. It seems like as the SOC treatment improves, there will be a lot more people being tested and ultimately doing treatment. I'll be reluctantly moving to an urban area soon (Ogden, Utah) and will have opportunity to attend face to face meetings. I hope to do something about WHAD this year.

So, like the rest of life, nothing has really ended. Seems there's still a few more turns round the carousel. Humble thanks to everyone.

The self portrait at the right was one of about half dozen taken on Sunday. Of course, I chose the one that looked nicest. The habit of taking self-pics got started when I decided to publish one every week during tx to see (and let others see) how my appearance changed. Week 7 pic below was about the worst.

new beginning

2008-12-15T16:33:00.002-07:00

This panel is know as the birthing rock. The figure to the left is interpreted as giving birth. The figure on the right is a Barrier Canyon type with tail, ear bangles, antenna, and one articulated hand. Below are desert centipedes and various forms and footprints. The culture that made this left the area about 1270 CE (current era). I picked this out because today I got word on the dreaded hep virus. . . it has left the building. It's four months post tx and I don't expect it to return.

So, perhaps I've had a personal renaissance of an antiviral nature. As far as I can tell, I picked it up in 1967.Why yes, that was the summer of Love for us fossils. I did get it in Jackson Hole, Wyoming. . San Francisco. . . or L.A. Since I've carried it around for 2/3's of my life, I'm not quite sure how to act at this point.

Appears that I've been given an opportunity to move on a little further down the path of life, and, perhaps have a better quality of physical health, although being 60 presents some problems totally unrelated to hep C. I've got buddies who had it and cleared. . . and I've got buddies who have it because they didn't clear. The old guys like me seem to do better without the virus.

I'd never give anyone advice about whether or not to treat. But, since I did treat and did get rid of it (98.5% likelihood), I hope to have a few less aches, pains. . . maybe less mind fog.

For the moment, I'm just sitting here watching the snow fall gently. After ALL the shite I've gone through over the past year or so it'll take some time for the whole thing to sink in.

I do realize I could never have done any of it alone. I received kind and loving help from many people and sources. For all of you, I am humbly grateful.

2008-12-09T17:03:00.009-07:00

These are some of the local mountains. They're laccoliths or bubble mountains. The grey areas are talus fields. This pic was taken from top of Mt. Tomasaki. Mellenthin and Mt Peale are shown. I climbed Mt. Tom a few weeks post just to see if I could do it. It was difficult. . . which made it very satisfying. If my organizational skills were better, I'd link to a slide show of local geography.

I had blood drawn today for a CBC, metabolic panel, lipid panel and PCR. It's been just over 15 wks post tx. I really haven't been too concerned about SVR. I've told myself (and everyone else) it won't destroy my outlook on life if the virus is back. Now. . . I wonder how I'd feel?

I feel good. . . almost great these days, and my outlook is positive. That said, I don't want to hear bad news. I'll still feel the same whether it's gone or not unless the weight of bad news taints my positive state of mind. I've always thought I would clear. . . still do. If I had serious doubts, I wouldn't get tested. Being told the damn stuff was back after everything that's happened would, in the end, be difficult.

I'll get most labs back tomorrow. . . the PCR takes a week.

I'll paste a Wiki link to the La Sals in case anyone is interested: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/La_Sal_Range

I live in Moab (that is until I leave)

PS Arches Park is directly north of Moab: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Arches_National_Park

Canyonlands (Island in the Sky District) is due west and south of Arches:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Canyonlands_National_Park

The general area (Four Corners) is part of the Colorado Plateau: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Colorado_plateau

It's a long way to anywhere

2008-12-04T22:49:00.004-07:00

Wiki's current feature is I-70 in Utah. This sign is located about 40 miles north of where I live. Some people don't actually believe it's 110 miles to a drink of water, bite of food, or fuel for the vehicle. The desert is windy and cold in winter and hot and dry in summer. Driving in the high desert was much more interesting forty years ago. The cars weren't as dependable and the distances effectively farther because of more 'primitive' highways. In the days before cell phones, the social contract demanded one stop and offer assistance to anyone in trouble or stranded. It still happens today although less often. At least the locals wouldn't consider leaving someone stranded. . . not sure about the tourists. They seem to bring there fear of other humans along with them.

The lack of services does not extend to the latrine. People are allowed to stop and piss just about anywhere. ;)

patience and time

2008-11-08T10:20:00.002-07:00

It's just now 11 wks post. When I look back to tx days, I can see how good things are. But progress is like trying to see movement of hands of a clock. I'm getting stronger, but have to look back to the bad days to really notice improvement.

My fitness has returned to a large degree. I can ride (mountain bike) over the same terrain I could pre-tx. The bike tracks follow the terrain shown in these pics. I think riding came back as soon as it did because of having done it 20+ years. Been out the last two days with a friend I see couple times a year. Taking him and his dog out was difficult when thinking was required. I had to pace with the dog, decide where to stop for a drink, keep my buddy from getting hurt, and route find (2nd day) on a track I hadn't been on for a couple years.

Riding wasn't difficult. . . guess it's like sex. . . you never loose acquired skills. Attempting to think, answer his questions, find a route that had been changed, find the dinosaur tracks (I should take some pics) and maintain a friendly conversation got me spun out. I felt pressed and started having negative thoughts and talking about the stupidity of politics and generally being unpleasant.

I've read of people who find it amusing not being able to think or remember anything. Yesterday, it wasn't funny to lose the trail and have to do all the goddam thinking. There's the dilemma. . . I don't let others think for me and now I can't do it for myself. Guess I'm caught in a Catch 23.

On the whole, life is good. Hell, it was good during the worst of tx.

what next?

2008-11-03T22:13:00.002-07:00

Life goes on. My beard is growing back so I can assume my hair will follow? At least it's definitely stopped falling out. Maybe I'll keep the beard in case the hair doesn't make it.? Both knees are still sore. . .they feel like the if/riba dissovled the cartilage. And I got 'shin splints'(medial tibia syndrome) for the first time in my life. It's generally an overuse injury people just beginning to exercise get.

Been having headaches and eyestrain. The worst is the absent minded, can't concentrate, can't remember anything, constant brain fart. That causes emotional stress. I know two guys who take a cocktail of anti D's. They were both a mess post tx and now are doing a hell of a lot better than I feel. If things don't iron themselves out I may try to see someone to get help.

That's the good news, The bad news is that I found out the details of my sister's brain tumor. It's a GBM IV. . . that's glioblastoma multiforme stage IV. Life expectancy is 3 months without tx. With SOC radiotherapy and chemo she might have as long as two or three years. She's done those along with two surgeries to drain and 'debulk' the tumor. The outlook is much bleaker than someone with decompensated liver. . . even liver cancer. They're not doing brain transplants.

She'll begin another course of chemo with triple the dosage beginning Nov. 17th. I'm going to go up there and try to help out.

I been thinking about Aesops Fable no. 373 aka "The Ant and the Grasshopper." The ant works all the time while the grasshopper eats, has sex and hops over grass. . . generally leading a wastrel's existence. My sister has been an ant. She's got four great adult kids and grandkids. She's was going to teach two more years before retirement. Now, it's not sure she'll be alive two years hence.

I, on the other hand, have lived the life of grasshopper. . . not exactly a wastrel, but perhaps an altruist with insufficient motivation. The probability of me living another two years is quite high. Such. . . is life.

9 and 1/2 weeks. . . so where's Kim Bassinger?

2008-10-29T17:19:00.005-06:00

wrote a post at 9 and 1/2 weeks into tx and thought about the movie. it's now been about 9 and 1/2 post. . . nobody showed up then or now. :) post tx 'situations' have turned out to be every bit as interesting as those weeks of shooting IF and popping riba.

detox is an excellent term to describe the process of waiting for the toxic chemicals to leave the the body. i assume the liver processes them?

have engaged in some discussion lately about severity of side effects and how long they hang on post. it must be different for everyone. here, i'm seeing less hair lying around. skin condition is better and the neuro/psycho irritation caused by bright flashing lights and sudden noises seems to have lessened. decided to grow my beard to check hair growth. .. . it seems to be coming in ok.

i visited a friend yesterday who's done 4 rounds of tx and received a liver transplant. he and i go way back. his viral load was around 6 million when he had it checked a couple years ago. he 'knows' riba fried his brain. that being said. . . he's living a good life and he's at peace with the world.
he still goes to a lot of concerts. . . he built a motorcycle ground up. he's got strong family ties and a good social life.
i guess my point is that he's not a victim of the 'liver centered' universe and is quite busy living life on life's terms.

i've been told my world will be turned upside down if i don't achieve SVR. that could be very comforting as things are now about 180 degrees out of alignment and that could set them aright. :)

Peace

now's the time

2008-10-08T19:39:00.003-06:00

and the place. This whole tx thing has about wound itself down. Physical strength and the rest are returning about on schedule. It's not back. . . but it is returning. The only BIG thing left is . . . did it work??? A PCR (viral load) in February will tell the tale. For now, life is pretty much like it was before. I remember writing several times (under the influence of IF/riba) that I was certain the virus was gone for good. Now, I'm taking a more conservative approach. . . but am still optimistic.

My impressions of treatment and doctors and the US medical industry have only become more firm during and after the ordeal. I do feel privileged to have received treatment. A very very small percentage of the world's heppers are blessed with the resources I have had. No, I didn't take it for granted. . . no I don't consider myself or my needs any more important than anyone else in the world.

One interesting part of doing the hell treatment was that it removed the focus from things like my retirement fund. . . and the current war. . . and poverty. . . and others' diseases. Now, I'm back in the world of dilemmas of greater import than the severity of my sides. . . or whether or not the virus will be gone.

I'll make some effort to make this whole thing readable within the coming days. . . then again. . . life is so uncertain.

life is good

2008-09-08T09:32:00.004-06:00

the drama of the last year is coming to an end. there's another stamp on life's passport showing destination and itinerary. the event reminds me of ray milland's 'lost weekend.' it was strange. . . it was of indeterminate length. . . and now it's over.

looking back, there's little mystery about the side effects. any physical or emotional infirmity i may have had prior to tx would be vulnerable to further decay.

i've been dealing with osteoarthritis for quite a while. the tx did nothing to help it out. i had a hint about that when 'joint pain' was listed as a possible side. my knowledge of joint pain was already extensive. . .i'm learning nothing new. hair had already begun to thin, so tx didn't help out there either.

some physical aspects that were present before, but are almost gone now are strength and endurance. i'd like to share notes with someone who had a good aerobic fitness base prior to tx. i can tell my VO2 max went down the chute early and it's not coming back without work. scientific BS and measurements aren't needed. the retrain/regain event is something i haven't experienced for a long time. i'm starting from almost a zero fitness level. my goal is to do a local mtn bike ride that i did routinely prior to tx. it takes skill, strength, and endurance. . . what i have remaining is the skill.

a big part of my life will be back when i'm able to do the things i've always done. time will tell.

aftermath

2008-09-03T11:42:00.005-06:00

the twenty four week trip had quite a surprise ending. i've read and researched and talked about hep C and treatment for the last 11 months. i've listened to stories from some who get through tx and find that the 'post tx' dilemma is as challenging as the chemical ride.

i've become confused and unsure of my goals and directions. . . really became disoriented for a couple days. it was the old game of 'I need to be somewhere. . . and it's not where I am.' that's a tough place. there is a perceived need for something. . . but it can't be qualified or defined.

the dilemma has all the earmarks of one who's gone back to being spiritually lost. one thing i didn't think about during tx. . . these days, the aftermath of taking almost any chemical or medication leaves more drastic side effects than the original effects. that goes for everything from coffee on up.

my mind's been doing a maniacal round dance in and out of the light. . . when it goes into the shadows, it becomes very dark. i, myself become invisible.

during those shadowy times each moment becomes an unrelated fragment. getting back is a matter of stopping long enough to breathe. . . then the fog lifts to reveal the simplicity of being. the solution to any riddle i've ever encountered is. . . there is, in fact, no riddle to be solved. so, i'll not waste any time looking for a key to a lock that doesn't exist. that will save a lot of energy. :)

here now

2008-08-31T01:54:00.018-06:00

it's been awhile since i've published to this. i've written up several posts and they're stuck in drafts. the pic of me (The Day After) was taken a few days post tx. i had gotten the jeep stuck the night before. . . walked 8 miles up and out until i got a phone signal. . .and got a young friend to drive out to pick me up.

the adventure of walking up out of a canyon and across a mesa at night was accentuated by being just a few days post tx. blood counts were whacked out and the muscle weakness still very present. it took planning to get out without without injury. . . . it was big time adventure. i saw a movie that said people who die in the wilds do so because of shame. . . not true, they die of fear and its resulting paralysis.

i always thought something profound would occur to me to place here post tx. . . it didn't. i stopped jabbing myself with a needle and jamming pills down my throat. . . that's about it so far. my throat may be beginning to clear up a bit. i hope my mind is beginning to clear.

i think i'll put my buddy Zach's pic on top. he's the young man that came out to rescue an old man in the middle of nowhere in the middle of the night. he brought me back out the next day and drug my dumass out of the jeep trap. you old men out there got some young friends?

there was about 2 inches of dry sand over river mud. . . i went from traction to buried to the axle shafts in about 2 seconds. we jacked and blocked for about 20 minutes and Zach's Hummer got me right out.

you can look where the jeep is sitting and see some of what goes on around here. i'm stuck in a wash (aka arroyo) that runs into the Green River. . . it's flooded by the river during high water that deposits the silt the axles are resting in. the water recedes later in the summer.

occasionally, heavy rains fall and drain off large areas of mesa like you can see in the background..gravity takes all that water down certain washes. . .the one i'm sitting in for example. . . thus the flash flood. if this machine happened to be there during the next heavy rain. . . the resulting flow and current might be strong enough to float it the 20 yds into the river.

the local adventure channel shows footage of a Hummer being rolled over and over like a log by flash floods. those are like being stuck on the dark side. . . you gotta be in one before it's real.

i'd teach a class of kids about flash flood by taking them outside and pouring water on a non-porous surface (probably use a plastic tarp) we'd dump a few gallons on it and force it to exit only at two or three narrow points. we'd notice the water moves much faster out the narrow channels. by fourth grade, kids can design simple instruments that measure increased flow or pressure. about then, the principal would come out and make me scrap the lesson to go back inside to teach to the 'no child left behind' test.

week 21

2008-08-08T02:50:00.002-06:00

week 21 will be over tomorrow. what a ride. i've posted some garbage lately. i'd like to delete some of it but will leave the bad along with the better.

my blood pressure is back to pre-tx levels (116 over ???). it was 140 over high for a long time and was 170 over high during a badly timed rage attack at the doc's office.

my skin isn't dry. . . it's feels oily as does my hair. i don't see any way not finishing could happen. course, i've backed up on almost everything i've written here. said i wouldn't do any more labs and promptly got a cbc.

i set some goals and missed. . . that's ok. . . i'd rather aim high and fall short than aim low and hit my mark. figure i've logged over 3k miles driving to SLC and area and back for one reason or another. i haven't worked at all during tx. . . i really believe that's been a wise decision.

been thinking about some kind of new phase of personal development post tx. first thing i hope happens is getting some mental abilities back. brain fog has slowly developed over the weeks. the 'tension' created by the riba wears down the body, mind, and spirit gradually. it's been like the movement of clock hands. . . the decline is hard to see day to day but over time a lot of ground has been lost. i've learned to 'never say never' if i want to predict my behavior. . . but i can't see any way in the world i would or could repeat treatment. my mind is made up that whatever the results, i'll be satisfied that i did my best and will accept the results as being the way they're supposed to be.

either i'm down with God's will or i'm not. either i accept life on life's terms or i don't. i'm down and i do.

God Bless Everyone (nope. . . no exceptions)

times have changed

2008-08-02T23:51:00.007-06:00

things are different these days.

1) children and neophytes are allowed to lead. as far as I can see, this is a first in human history. . . notwithstanding the child monarchs who were born to the throne.
any you men ever meet a woman who asks her teenage daughter for advice. . . run don't walk to the nearest exit. that is unless you like women with the emotional maturity of their daughters. of course, the opposite is equally true and even more obvious. any man who asks his teenage son for life knowledge is has not attained his own manhood. women. . . run don't walk.

mainstream American culture doesn't embrace the concept of 'elder.' old people are just stooped and wrinkled and ugly and know nothing. they have learned nothing in the many years experiencing life that could possibly be useful to others. people like to hear what madonna or bono or any of the slutty 'celebrity' types dominating the media think about the world situation.

2) contrary to historical knowledge, nature does conform to human compassion. dogs are people and one should starve before using one for sustenance. if something disagrees with contemporary maudlin sentamentalism. . . it's just wrong. this has changed in my lifetime. people eat burgers with bacon and are able to completely clear their mind of eating dead animals. nobody slaughtered a cow and pig to make my lunch. the miss Navajo Nation competition includes slaughtering and dressing a sheep as part of the competition. those are real women.

btw, any woman looking for a 'real man' ought to know real men only mate themselves to 'real women.'

3)
Americans are ignorant because it's their right and they by God demand their rights. ignorance has always been the rule. . . common sense has always been highly uncommon. yet nothing has ever compared to today's self imposed ignorance. even today, most cultures around the world understand that knowledge is the key to a better life. enlightened ones understand that knowledge of the endless repetitive cycles of human events accurately foretell what's going to happen next.

4) americans don't mind being lied to. politicians lie without cease. "we create our own truth" was accurately quoted as a serious statement by a very high ranking political official. i remember my shock when 'spin' was created. it became legitimate to twist the reality of any event to mean whatever benefited the power figure or structure employing the professional liar.

spin was really just a ripple in the force compared to being young and naive and shocked to learn that the Constitution of the United States meant whatever the judges current interpretation said it meant. that, of course, was determined by their political, moral, and religious beliefs (or lack thereof).

outright slander has always been popular in US politics. it started early and hasn't abated. my favorite historical episode involves Alex Hamilton and Aaron Burr. Hamilton published slurs against Burr until things finally came to a head. One of the world's most famous duels resulted in Hamilton's death (Hamilton's son had been previously killed in a duel with the same pistols). I've always admired Aaron Burr. I also advocate the reintroduction of dueling to settle disputes. it's efficacy is beyond question.

current culture seems to exist in fantasy. people see fantastic images and characters on mass media and attempt to 'act out' the unreality in our own lives.

5) is nothing sacred? certainly not truth in our culture. some things are sacred, however. I can list a large number of ideas, beliefs, even physical objects that are sacred to me. what in this world (or Universe) is sacred to you? I pray you have a long list also.

twists and turns

2008-07-17T16:40:00.007-06:00

Lessons are always repeated. Don't get too comfortable in the current situation because things will soon change. The last 18 weeks seem like a blur. The only way to measure the distance traveled is to look forward to see how much is left. Looking at 6 wks and a couple days. Things should begin to wind down sometime after the end of August.

Certainly repeating myself, but I'm finding taking six Ribavirin a day to be a much bigger PITA than shooting Peg-Interferon once a week. The worst is waking up after shot night and having to grab three more. . . it's always three more. They have to be taken with food. . . so they say. Having to eat at pill time got old quite a while ago.

I've definitely decided to delay further lab work. I'm tired of paying and tired of the incredible inconvenience. I've been monitoring my system long enough to see that red and white cells have leveled out. Reds are ok because I'm getting stronger and have better wind on the bicycle. Whites are better because skin breaks are healing much faster. Balance is considerably improved from riding.

The IF sides have diminished to a degree. By week 5, I was getting arthritis like pain in large joints. I live in an A frame and sleep in a loft. . . accessed by a ladder. Getting to and from bed was a major pain in the knees for about 5 weeks. Night sweats occur much less frequently these days. Itching, especially on the scalp is an unwelcome recent development.

I'm continuing to give serious consideration to post partum psychological wellness. Be here. . . now. . . is serving well. With all the talk and speculation about the future I can say that in 60+ years I've known only the present. So far, Faith has provided the strength and direction necessary to get this far. Faith will provide the strength to follow the path wherever it leads next.

life goes on

2008-07-14T01:42:00.004-06:00

I just spent about an hour on the phone with the author of the story below. I read it to her over the phone. Her father was 25 miles away because his mother was ill. Her grandmother baked the cookies. Reva took care of the business because nobody else handled firearms except her and her father. Not grandmother, mother, nor sister two years younger.

After I finished reading, mom tearfully talked about the impossibility of leaving a downed horse to suffer. She said they pawed ground until they created a hole. The suffering may have gone on for days.

She talked about her Uncle Jeppy who came to live with the family when he got old. At least once he shot jack rabbits for the table and Dica (my grandmother) cooked them up for him out of respect. He suffered from a painful cancer. Since my grandmother was so loving and dutiful toward her uncle, she brought him his target pistol when he requested it. In her way, she helped him avoid a further prolonged painful exit.

We talked about Red (great dog) I came over and put to sleep on a rainy Sunday morning for her (Ruger single six). We talked about our good health, my successful tx, and my sister's great attitude about beating the cancer in her head. We're a very determined family when we decide something's important. My sis is determined to beat the odds. So far, she's exceeded every expectation her doctors have had of her. They're going to cut out all they can. . . then use radiation and oral chemo is kill what's left.

I'll drive up in a few days to tell mom in person.

Well, this is the kind of stuff you read when you come here.

untitled

2008-07-09T00:53:00.009-06:00

The sun was low on the hill-top and Bob’s knee would not bend nor his arm take up the rifle. Night was only a little while away when he finally dropped to one knee and drew the gun to him.

His finger was nerveless, and if he lingered too long his mother would know his difficulty. He could not bring himself to pull the trigger and his thoughts raced in a panic to seize on some means of delay

There were five shells in the magazine, a nail in his pocket if the bolt stuck, and he couldn’t miss the white diamond on her forehead. How could she lie so still and unblinking as if she didn’t understand his difficulty? Why hadn’t she put out her nose to be petted? Surely it must be that she understood the situation and waited for him to finish it.

He tried to walk around the little mare to avoid her steady gaze. There was no place he could do what had to be done and not look directly into her eyes.

“Eni – meni – mini – mo” would be sacrilegious, he couldn’t cut her off with the words that had always set her racing, and the sun was clipping off the seconds left to him.

In a panic he forced his mind to utter the words of the Lord’s Prayer, and concentrated all his attention on the trigger finger. “Forgive us our debts ---- Forgive us our debts ---- “ something was stuck besides the trigger finger, and several tries at the familiar line did no good. With a mighty effort he was able to leap the gap and go on ---- “For thy name’s sake. Amen.”

It was easy. The dead click of the firing pin brought no sign from the pony and with manic calm the boy dislodged the shell with the nail and let it fall to the cold sand. The bolt worked with smooth precision, the gun spoke sturdily, and Bob saw only a little black hole just inside the diamond.

There was no movement, only a sigh that left her ribs showing plainer and her nostrils wider and redder. The sand was redder too, and the purple clouds hovered about the chilly sun. Bob arose and stalked into the shadows with his eyes on the top of the tall cottonwood, and the tendril of smoke that curled up to the sky.

the end

Remarks by instructor: “Just at the end, I miss something. I believe that I wanted you to take Bob back to the cookie-filled kitchen and have some bit of comfort from his mother. He does what he must do manfully, but he is still such a boy.” Not good literary advice, lack of maudlin sentimentalism lets us feel the same gut wrench she felt. He also made a comment about power gained from economy of words. I agree, it has the sound and feel of a Hemingway short.

The prof was staunch supporter and must have known there was no Bob. But Reva, who wrote the story and did the necessary deed, did return to the kitchen and her mother did have cookies. Her father was away at the time, and she, being the eldest of four daughters did what had to be done. . . quite manfully. There’s a lot of stories about the feisty little mare. . . this is the last.

The event occurred on a farm in western Kansas. It was written up for credit at Fort Hayes State College in 1939. The author was 11 when the great depression began.

Reva’s pic is below. She’s my hiking partner and quite a bit more.

stop making sense

2008-07-03T10:40:00.010-06:00

This is a pic of me and my hiking partner. We've been at it a while. . . . our combined ages add up to exactly 150 years.

I wrote a post last night trying to offer my experiences with bad health and then. . . good health.

I wanted to say: my health is my responsibility. I can focus on improving it or not. It's not a moral issue. It's a matter of making a decision and sticking to it. Tenacity used to be considered a valuable character trait. Around here, we have that in spades. Sometimes mine turns into plain stubbornness which can be an asset or liability depending on how it's directed.

My nephew came by last night. He is a man of character. My sister has had brain surgery to remove either a tumor or cyst. . . they've called it both. I became confused and so is the note I wrote afterward.

PS 10.08.2008
Found out the object is a glioblastoma multiforme. Don't ask unless you really want to know.

Good health or bad is a matter of focus. I used to smoke 2 to 3 packs a day, drink half and half (1/2 case and 1/2 fifth per day), and used prescribed pharmaceuticals to make going to work doable. I threw the cigs in the trash in '83. Stopped drinking by March of '86 and stopped needing palliative drugs to make life livable not too long after.

My health has nothing to do with being worthy. . . many are more worthy than I am. My sis is a good example. She's got four great adult kids with several grandkids and wants to live a lot longer. I'd give her five years of mine if I could. She probably more worthy than I am. I'm sure she is. . . she's worked quietly at the State Deaf and Blind school since 1983 serving others every day.

I'm grateful every day for the many blessings I receive. When these days are passed. . . I can still enjoy the memory of God's Love being very real in my life. Nothing is ever lost.

how's the health?

2008-07-02T23:41:00.008-06:00

I remember deciding to get healthy. It was about 1985 and things weren't going well. I was working commercial construction as an elevator constructor. I drank too much, worked too hard and took prescribed drugs to try keeping in a reasonable comfort zone.

Went to the doc that had taken care of my father and later me for over 30 years. My dad had a massive stroke when he was 47. . . lived almost 8 years with a wooden leg or riding in a wheelchair. . . and died when he was 55. It wasn't pretty. Anyway about 20 years later I go back to the same GP and he said the magic words: 'you know, you have just what your father had.'

Before I left the examining room my mind was made up NOT to go the same way. Made up my mind to get healthy. I was 38 and knew then as I know now I would never see 40 without major changes.

What I did was:
1) stop working so hard. . . just like the doc said. This old doc had seen a lot of guys die and gave it to me straight. . . the only kind of talk I understand.

2) paid $60 to take a 'fitness for life' class sponsored by the Utah Heart Assn. We learned about diet and exercise. We ran around the second floor of a high school and then sat and ate fruit. I had a weight loss goal, but don't recall if I made it.

3) quit drinking and got SERIOUS about fitness. I went on a low fat, never eat after dark, complex carbs, went years without fast food diet. Back then, there was an athlete named Dave Scott who had won the original Hawaii Ironman 5 times. . . I decided to kick his ass. The race was a four mile swim, 112 miles bike race, and finish with 26 mile marathon. Sounds funny now . . . back then I was as serious as a heart attack. . . or rather, serious as a stroke.

I hadn't been especially kind to the 'sacred robe' I wear through this existence so I never could run 26 miles on my best day. I did run some 5 and 10 K's with reasonable times. I did develop a stroke and could swim a decent lap before tx. By the time I was 40 I did find something I was good at. Found out when I quit drinking and began riding a bike from NE SLC to downtown every day for an AA meeting with my sponsor.

I was training (had been for a couple years for one thing or another) for a road race called the LoToJa (that is Logan UT to Jackson Wyo). I was riding in two road clubs, had gone back to college, and was working at the new gym on campus. But, I was driving down the street and saw a sign 'mountain bike race July 4. . . SIGN UP NOW. Autopilot took over and within 20 minutes I had paid the entrance fee and was set to race.

I came in third in the 35 to 44 age group. Came in ahead of a lot of guys with way cool bicycles and team jerseys. I had a new helmet (bought it for the race), a running singlet, baggy pants (zero style points) , and hiking shoes. It was all over. Never trained another minute for a road race. Of course, I never matched up with Dave Scott. In fact the best I ever did was a top ten in a world cup race. .. . the Park City Motherlode in 1991. One cool thing was riding in the first unified world championship in 1990 over at Purgatory CO. . . the Euros came here to race for the first time.

I'll never forget lining up for the races. I was the winner before they ever dropped the gate. I had already come light years just to be there. I remember the other competitors who looked like they had just walked across the street. I used to race with a mix of humility and self-confidence. Strangers would often look me and my gear over and chuckle just loud enough for me to hear. I can say they rarely chuckled after a race.

Oh, I was the kid who always struck out in little league baseball. Being on the podium every week at bike races made up for a lot of those plate appearances.

Hep C connection??? Well, I can say I had the symptoms of hep B in August of 1967. It might be that C was introduced into my system at the same time. Last known risk event was about 1970. So, it had been a long time without any symptoms.

God Blesses Everyone Equally. . . and He allows us to make all the decisions :)

current conditions

2008-07-01T11:14:00.007-06:00

I'm 2/3 through a 24 wk tx. Virus is undetectable, sides are livable and seem to be diminishing.

I'm paying cash for the labs and am just about tapped out between them and paying $230 for a 10 minute visit with a dim witted "physician's assistant."

I'm done with the bullshit. I'll play along until I get my last box of drugs and then I'll do what I damn well please. I will finish and I will not be taking any rescue drugs.

I happen to know I've already beaten the tiny creatures. I might be able to quit right now and be ok. . . but I started a 24 wk tx. and intend to finish. . . just to be sure.

Whoever is reading this. . . I love you lots, but no, I don't care to hear any advice.

may Peace be within you all

more razor stuff

2008-06-30T23:51:00.000-06:00

Decided to paste some links that I've found useful. I endorse everything as being the best I've found.

http://shop.thewellshavedgentleman.com

Can't remember his name, but he makes some of the finest hanging strops anywhere---
anyone wants to keep a keen razor uses a horsehide/linen hanging strop. . . BUY THE PRACTICE STROP. . . newbies hack hell out of good horsehide before they get good technique. Contact me. . . I've set up a teaching sequence to practice making a correct pass.

Actually, contact me and I'll show you how to make a leather or denim paddle strop for nothing. Perfect for beginners.

http://www.theperfectedge.com/belgian.shtmledgentleman.com/main.sc

Howard will sell a 4/8 K Norton waterstone cheaper than most. . . it is the most versatile hone to have

http://www.straightrazorplace.com/

Of course there are razor forums. I used to post to this one among others. The razor community has changed. Many embrace the consumer values I started straight shaving to get away from. The younger users often have someone else hone their blades. No entiendo.

http://www.en.nassrasur.com/razorcentral/index.html
This site has a lot of 'stuff.' Some usable. . . some not. It does show the difference in razor grinds and has a worthless chart numbering the razor passes over a typical manikin's face.

A razor pass over a strop to straighten and keep the edge keen and a shaving pass with razor over your face to remove whiskers are not to be confused. Same word. . . very different action.

My first purchase was a Wade and Butcher full hollow off ebay and vintage hanging strop. The rest is history.

No, this isn't a W&B. It's a later British Bengall with a 7/8 (in wide) blade outsourced to cheaper mechanized German manufacture. It's a newer razor. . . probably post 1900.

what next?

2008-06-18T23:13:00.011-06:00

I'm sitting with a clear mind for a moment and wondering what I'll do after tx. The last nine months have been consumed with diagnosis, obtaining treatment, enduring treatment, having treatment be successful. . . now that it looks like it will all happen. . . what do I do next?

I wonder why my tx is seemingly successful and others' is not. I know I don't deserve preference. Others have greater needs and are more deserving. So why is this happening to me?

Either I choose to believe I'm undeserving and languish, or accept success as a gift and find some way to use that gift to serve others. This current crisis of direction isn't driven completely by hep or tx. It's time to find a new positive direction. And, I owe a debt to those who are fighting the same battle and may not be as fortunate.

Planning for successful tx when only about 60% of the way through sounds incredibly optimistic. . . even to me. I believe it will happen. . . and I believe I need to begin looking to the future. . . now.

I never seem to adequately express my gratitude to those who extend a helping hand whenever I ask. May my actions now and in the future demonstrate my true feelings.

a gentleman's razor

2008-06-18T01:41:00.043-06:00

Men's rule #1. . . never shave with a buzzing battery powered contraption or metal imbedded into plastic (both likely made in China). A proper instrument is a Henry Sears and Son 'Crow Razor' 1865 no 700. This razor is in my current rotation. I bought blade and scales (celluloid handles) separately. I adjusted the scales to fit the blade. . . then spent several hours removing nicks, setting bevel, honing and polishing the blade.

Repinning (setting blade to new scales) takes 30 to 60 minutes. The result is a razor that gives an excellent shave and will last well beyond my lifetime . . . . just as it did its former owner.

The 'Victorian nude' scales cost me $25 US They're not an excellent example. Those are 'collected' by people with too much money and absolutely no knowledge of razors or what to do with them.

The straight razor was the standard for 400 years. If it was successful for so long what happened? Marketing. . . of course. King Gillette devised a marketing strategy called loss leader in which 'safety' razors were sold at a loss. The extremely high margins of 'disposable' blades that would rust after a single use became a huge profit maker. I used Gillette Blue Blades when I was a kid. Wilkinson of England came out with the first stainless blades.

Gillette hyped their new product by smearing the straight razor as being unsafe. It's true that straights are not toys for children. . . neither is a Gillette blue blade. Fact is it's very difficult to kill someone with a straight edge. A full hollow ground straight is 3 times sharper than a surgical scalpel, but being so makes the blade extremely thin and easily bent or deformed. Hitting bone or sinew is the end of a keen edge. All the Sweeney Todd stuff is fantasy.

Razors were used as 'tools' by early gangsters. The 'Sicilian necktie' was popular in the US. . . the trachea was cut and the tongue pulled out through the hole after the 'stool pigeon,' etc was dead. Also popular was the 'Glasgow smile' where the cheek was sliced open from mouth to ear while the stoolie or welcher was very much alive. Even so, the dumbest gangster would never take one to a knife fight.

The movie Pan's Labyrinth is interesting for a couple reasons. For one, the arch villain did a reasonably good example of straight shaving with the razor held correctly and the angle of blade to beard was about right. But, the woman who gave him the smiley should have grabbed his razor. . . she worked hard with her knife and could have laid his cheek open like butter with his own straight.

Straight razor shaving is steadily gaining popularity in our consumer culture. It's an exercise in skill building and self-reliance . . . and is extremely gratifying. I've come to notice beards are individual with unique grains and whorls. . . much like a finger print. It takes my personal skill and the versatility of an open razor to get the perfect shave, and I enjoy getting it with a razor made well before I was born.

Last to consider is cost. As of today, I need not purchase any shaving implement ever again except soap. . . for use with a mug and brush. What I own: half dozen vintage brushes, two shave specific mugs (a coffee mug will do nicely), two vintage horsehide/linen strops (one new double horsehide strop pasted with .25 and .5 micron diamond paste), a selection of appropriate hones (only needed to get a junk store razor shave ready) and a rotation of shave ready razors.

You men know you want this.

terror and grace

2008-06-14T19:33:00.008-06:00

fear happened today. it struck like lightening---seemingly random.

my sister called. She had been having headaches that were finally diagnosed as first a cyst and then a tumor. Thank God she is out of state at a good hospital. The fear in this case belongs to the family members. She is showing great courage and optimism.

I went to the hospital for blood work. a new tech drew blood. . . she was so afraid of touching my arm she couldn't get the tape to stick and wrung the gloves from her hands like they were searing her flesh. her fear goes far deeper than my hep. wonder if she knows where it's roots lie.

I was walking out and I passed a geriatric patient in an old style high backed wheel chair watching the goings on outside. I glanced over and saw myself sometime in the future. . . most of life's energies had drained away and a hollow shell was all that was left.

I started to pass and the old man hailed me with a warm and genuine greeting. My response was surprised---not real like his. He spoke again with sincere encouragement to expect better days to come.

I finally came alive and realized he had created a special moment and invited me to be present. I'm fortunate to not have been too busy to spend some time with the first happy person I met today.

the day after today

2008-06-09T00:38:00.005-06:00

the day after today is different. I did put the riba next to the bed. . . I did eat a few raisins and took the poison pills soon as I woke up. Rest of the day was routine. Tx life is necessarily slow and deliberate; the brain won't function at higher speeds.

But, trying to do too much under the influence of the chemicals tempts everyone. I like to do outside physical activities that help me remember who I am. So, I do too much of that and pay the damages the following day. 'today' was a pay-back day.

Today, is the day after all damages were paid. I feel pretty good and the temporary sanity that told me to dump the pills has passed. I'm back on the course I set for myself. The doubts are gone and it's just another day lashed to the rack.

Looking back, I can see the head trip has been worse than the physical sides. On the right is as close as I come to busting a smile these days. Got some kind of paralysis in the face muscles.

God Bless

today

2008-06-07T12:35:00.005-06:00

The last few days have been interesting. I'm hitting some highs and lows. Things appear to be heading toward generalized confusion. By all accounts my tx is going well. I'm responding appropriately; my sx are not severe and life is pretty good. I'm within three days of being exactly halfway finished.

So why am I sitting here with a strong desire to stop? Meaning, when I get up in the morning, I'll have a strong desire not to consume poison, but throw it in the trash. I have friends on the same journey who are showing amazing courage and acceptance. My 'mind' problems are nothing compared to their difficult trials. So what's up with me? I'm not exactly sure.

Obviously this post has no purpose other than to leave a signpost for anyone who may reach this point sometime in the future.

God Bless Everyone (no exceptions)

how about right now

2008-06-04T14:16:00.012-06:00

We've spent some time (you are reading this VERY carefully, right) talking about tx and any other thing that's entered my limited scope of view. Don't know if I've made it plain that I'm currently doing a 24 week IF/riba tx. Yesterday, in fact, was somewhat of a milestone in that I injected my 12th dose of IF in the early evening. . . . and as of this moment I've taken 471 ribavirin tablets.

Current news is that I slept 12 hours last night. That's significant to me in that I haven't slept at all on shot night since about week 3 or 4. Side effects are like shadows beings that follow txer's around. We know they're there, but don't generally give them the attention they demand. Of course, I cannot know how anyone else feels in relation to how I feel. Judging someone else's sx as mild or severe is a fool's errand of grand design.

I can whine loudly or say nothing. . . demand sympathy or give sympathy lovingly. . . all while feeling the same level of comfort/discomfort.

Yesterday, I made a point to put my affairs in order. I decided to increase my own rent by $125/month. . . . because it was the right thing to do. I tried in every social transaction to bring others into a shared moment in which we could discover each other in a genuine manner. I tried to express God's Love in every word and phrase. How successful my day was, I will leave to others to decide. I certainly benefited in many ways. . . one of which was sleeping today until 1:30 pm and sitting here this moment vulnerable and in contact with my true self.

The sx associated with taking this poisonous concoction are, of course, very real. They are much, much more real if I allow them to be the center of my focus.

Mitakye Oyasin

is this a one way ticket?

2008-06-02T21:04:00.011-06:00

Well, I decided not to paste in links that talk about muscle pain, mouth sores, eye problems, brain bleed, skin rash, fibromyalgia, or RA (rheumatoid arthritis).

The following anecdotal was written by a friend who did a forty eight week tx for geno 1. Yes, he did clear the virus. Read it. . . and then go back to the PTSD description. . .see any similarities?

What the Hell Were You Thinking?

So you feel fine, but at a check up the doctor tells you that you have Hep C. You really have no idea, or you might have heard of it, but say” Yeah? And……?”
The doctor confuses the hell out of you with numbers that range in the millions, AST, ALT and as Arlo Guthrie might say, “ 27 8 X 10 color glossy pictures with circles and arrows and paragraphs on back….” telling you that you need to treat for this disease. He explains that there is a treatment that involves weekly shots of Interferon and daily doses of some pills called Ribaviron. Hell. They even have a name for the two! It’s Co- Pegasys. Kinda catchy!
Still, you think, “ok, modern medicine is so cool!” The doctor goes on to ask “ Do you have health insurance?” You think…O0o “well how expensive could this be?” Then, before you can finish your thought, he tells you that it will be about 100K, but more if you need any other injections to deal with some of the side effects that may lower you red or white blood cell count.
The doctor doesn’t make any money answering these kinds of questions and the drug companies don’t want him to tell you the truth.

The nurse tells you that you will need to do this treatment for 48 weeks. “ hey, cool and then I am fine?” Then she lays it on you, “ Well, with your geno type there is about a 50/50 chance” but you are a candidate for it. Hey, I know a lot of candidates, like for President, for example, and I know they have no business in office! Who the hell is going to vote for me as a 50/50 candidate?
Once again, your faith in modern medicine lets you decide to treat your Hep C. The next step is to get an OK from your insurance, In my case, they approved it right off the bat. Now that was easy, it must be a good thing, OR, your insurance company is gambling on the fact that the treatment will kill you and they can stop paying to keep your ass alive!
You are told that you should make my meals ahead of time when you were having a good day and to sit at the counter while doing it because you MIGHT be a bit fatigued. Also, Friday would be a good night to do my shot since it MIGHT make you feel like you have the flu. Oh yeah, not much time is spent on this subject, but I think I heard the nurse mention that depression and suicide ( not to mention a few cases of homicide ) have been discovered in clinical trials. I think that was the real selling point for me. I interpreted that to mean I could go postal, shoot all the people that have wronged me in my life then turn the gun on myself! And hell, I HAVE A DEFENSE, should I miss killing myself. I really just could not wait to start!
The drugs arrive and you drive to the pharmacy to get them, not realizing that this will be the last time you will remember where you have driven. You get home and wait until shot night…….
The night arrives and you are a bit apprehensive. You fumble with the syringe trying to get all the air out and the drugs in. You take a deep breath and pull your shirt up, use an alcohol swab to sterilize the area of your stomach that has been sweating under you shirt all day. Anchors away! You push the plunger in and *feel the burn*. No gain without pain!
Minutes later your head begins to hurt and you start to sweat. You hope for the high that injecting drugs ( so you’ve heard ) will bring. Damn…it never comes. Your legs feel like they have just been filled with lead.
You walk to the bedroom and climb in bed. You have the chills so you get under the covers…then the sweats start so you throw the covers off. All night you go through this, maybe catching an hour or two of sleep.
The next day, the usual hour it takes you to get ready for work turns into an hour of trying to just wake up and GET out of bed. The shower doesn’t even do the trick to snap you out of it. Then it’s out the door and off to work.
The drive is different than it has ever been. Things pass by slowly while cars honk at you trying to pass. The last time you drove this slowly on the freeway you were stoned! Your mind is in a fog. You can’t concentrate long enough to make even the simplest of decisions, i. e. “is this my exit?”
You get to work and don’t remember how you got there but that is your desk alright. Piles of papers overwhelm you and you don’t know where to start. What the hell did you just drive all the way here for? But you get things done……the only thing is that it takes you 4 hours to do 8 hours work.
The days turn to weeks divided only by the blood work that you have to do every 2 weeks. Your energy level is lower than low and you live on energy drinks and caffeine, although the vast amounts you are taking in is a no no by Doctor’s orders. You are weak and Doc starts you on another injection….Procrit. You red cells are low and your brain is not working at all due to no oxygen getting to it. Damn, when is it going to end?
The weeks turn to months and you feel like there is no reason to live. Your pills are sorted out in a pill box that divides them by AM/PM and day. How are you supposed to know if you missed anything since you have no clue what day it is? You hate your new sports car, you don’t like to leave the house and everything just pisses you off to no end! People are so f*****g stupid! You’re clothes don’t fit since you have lost so much weight. Jenny Craig is knocking at your door for your participation in their new TV ad campaign. All you have to do is hold up one of the prepared dinners and smile!
Everyday that passes seems like an eternity. You lie in bed trying to sleep and at the same time try to figure out a way to kill yourself and still have your life insurance cover you. What kind of shit is this? You mean the FDA approved this?
Your friends, at this point, have begun to avoid you and the only time they call is when they have some kind of emergency that requires some brut and physical force and an emotionally unstable individual to be their “Guido”. Situation handled! Show me where he is!
The Doctor has finally put you on antidepressants because your girlfriend has called and told them you are suicidal and that you spend the day rocking back and forth wherever you are sitting. The triage nurse is ready to send out the padded wagon for you but they decide to wait and ask you to come in IMMEDIATLEY for an emergency psychiatric evaluation. You have 8 weeks of treatment left but they want you to quit due to your “current mental state”. You bullshit your way through, you have never been a quitter, and tell them how much you think the ant d’s are starting to work and that a little xanax might be the ticket, not too many…maybe a script for 500 or so / month just to get you over this little bump on treatment road. You explain how you USED to abuse drugs but have it perfectly under control now.
Eight more shots and 420 more Ribas to go! You are on the downhill stretch now, The time goes by as slow as it did on a vacation when you would constantly ask “ are we there yet?” Your hair is thin, your waist is thinner and you have the color of Caspar and the facial features of Lurch. Everday seems like a bad dream and treatment just drags on. Oh yeah, did I mention that this shit still stays in your system for 6 months after treatment and you still have to make sure your significant other doesn’t get pregnant because the child would look like ET and might even have the super natural powers too?
Finally, it is time for the last shot. This has been one hell of a journey. Like a bad acid trip; one where you imagine yourself in the blender as it whirls and whirls, chopping you up and making you into a puree. You feel like that too. You fill the bowl with a big ol bud, smoke it all, take 4 Tylenol and try to carefully inject yourself. Hell, you can’t do it so you look to Sig Other with a shitty grin and a look of helplessness and let her find a spot on you that doesn’t look like a pincushion.
Now, the waiting game. You have been *clear* since week 12 and mentally unstable and crazy since week 24. You think, , you feel like this, you have lost almost a year of your life, you will probably never be the same after all this, you have gone through hell AND back again, you still have brain fog and there is a 50/50 chance of clearing and reaching a sustained viral response? I think Blackjack has better odds and all you lose there is money, here you have lost your mind.

Thanks Earl.

PS If anyone reads this who hasn't done the cure, I'd be very curious to find out what you think about Earl's story. We who are are doing it or have finished think it's funny as hell. . . totally insane, but funny as hell. Obviously one side effect is a very sick sense of humor

The comment option is open. . .I do moderate but only to prevent spam

NO ONE DISLIKES CENSORSHIP MORE THAN I DO (just don't use f@ck or the PC police will shut me down)

these daze

2008-06-02T00:08:00.005-06:00

Let's define a useful term: 'casualty' According to Webster; 1) an accident, esp. a fatal one 2) a member of the armed forces killed, wounded, captured, etc [etc got quite a few guys all by itself] 3) anyone hurt or killed in an accident 4) anything lost, destroyed, or made useless by some unfortunate or unforeseen happening.

Wiki says:

Posttraumatic stress disorder^[1]^[2] (PTSD) is an anxiety disorder that can develop after exposure to one or more terrifying events in which grave physical harm occurred or was threatened.^[3] It is a severe and ongoing emotional reaction to an extreme psychological trauma.^[4] This stressor may involve someone's actual death or a threat to the patient's or someone else's life, serious physical injury, or threat to physical and/or psychological integrity, to a degree that usual psychological defenses are incapable of coping. In some cases it can also be from profound psychological and emotional trauma, apart from any actual physical harm. Often, however, the two are combined.

PTSD is a condition distinct from traumatic stress, which is of less intensity and duration, and combat stress reaction, which is transitory. PTSD has also been recognized in the past as shell shock, traumatic war neurosis, or post-traumatic stress syndrome (PTSS).

Do any of you post tx heppers read anything even vaguely familiar? Next time, I'll link to some tx sides for comparison. Of course, the drug companies would never give us anything that might cause this kind of harm just to boost profits. . . . . would they?

the tour

2008-05-29T08:17:00.003-06:00

Persistence and a level of sacrifice are the only means I've found to get the things I want in life. Treatment for hepatitis C is expensive. Almost no one without insurance receives it. Almost everyone with insurance is offered it. The decision about whether or not to treat requires research and soul search.

Hepatitis C is grouped by genotypes (specific genetic structure) 1 thru 4. . . with 5 and 6 theoretically existing. Most in the US have 1A. (that was my draft status in '67 and 8--both years pre-lottery--another story). Having 1a interestingly means about the same with Hep as being drafted. . . unless you like having a cirrhotic liver or killing gooks. This is an interesting digression for me. I think comparing statistics relating to a 2008 1a hepper developing cirrhosis and a 1968 1a draftee developing death before age twenty might be entertaining .

I'll take this up later. . . for now consider that statistics suggest about 50% of 1a heppers will have a successful tx (treatment) outcome. In 1967 the US Army said it takes 7 support personnel for every combat soldier. What they left unsaid was that personal injury takes forms other than bullets or shrapnel. To be continued. . .

PS Of course, geno 1 thru 6 are known to exist. Don't know what I was thinking when I wrote some were theory. 10.08.2008

the winner

2008-05-22T23:44:00.006-06:00

I'd never won anything really big. Never considered myself a member of the Elect. I've always thought of myself as reasonably normal. Then, during a routine physical exam for a 59 year old male, I was given the news. I am, in fact, special. . . and not in a good way.

I'd heard of hep C and, of course, HIV and AIDS. Those were diseases that other people in other places might get. . . . but none of it affected me.

Then, the doc said my number had, indeed, come up. I was infected with hepatitis C virus. He said little else except that it 'could be serious.' I did what I've always done. I started to research. I went to the library and read what was available. The best book I've read about hep c and treatment is Matthew Dolan's Hepatitis C Handbook. Then I began a web search. I was concerned to read that end stage liver disease involves cirrhosis and finally liver cancer.

I found out about the current treatment. It involves time release interferon and ribavirin. I didn't know how it works or what it does to a human body. But, I did have two friends who had completed the treatment. Both appear to have incurred lasting neuropsychological ill effects. Today, one is clear of the virus and one is not.

I read that often people infected with hcv die with it not of it. I learned that biopsy is the only way to accurately determine liver damage. My family doctor referred me to the University of Utah hospital. I got a consultation with a PA and a few moments with a General Internist. The GI said that I was a 'young' 59 and in good health. That being the only reason he was talking to me because I am uninsured. (that's good for a separate story)

He said he could do the biopsy in four to six weeks. He told me to go across the hall to financial assistance and cut a deal. That is where the nightmare began. The people I had to deal with were rude. The person I had to access in order to get an ok to schedule the biopsy did not return my phone calls for five weeks.

When I finally got in touch with the financial gatekeeper, I assured him I would pay in advance. I got the biopsy three weeks later. The results involve a grade and stage on a scale from 0 to 4. My level of inflammation came up 2. My stage of fibrosis came in at 2/3, but was later downgraded to 1/2. So, $3000 later I knew the current liver damage.

The U of U seems to want to control my treatment process. A different set of financial aid workers had me write up additional lengthy sets of paperwork they submitted to Roche. Weeks passed; I finally called and they said to contact Roche. The Roche rep said that I could start tx anytime and the first month's meds would arrive in five days.

So, after five months of confusion and fear based on lack of knowledge and an uncertain future, I set off on the Magical Mystery Tour. Only those who have been there know of what I speak.

running from safety

2008-05-15T00:20:00.003-06:00

The television is showing yet another documentary of 'adventure tourists' in trouble on a climb. They're all the same. . . people pay others to help them do things they, themselves are not capable of. The men pulling the tourists' asses down out of the snow have brown skin and black hair. Of course, about half the tourist wimps are women. . . all of the life savers are men.

Our local economy caters to such dilettantes and dabblers whose homes are cities and whose natural environments are climate controlled. Although unlike Everest or K2 the local terrain can claim lives. . . and does. . . every tourist season. Climbers, base jumpers, bear hunters, mountain bikers, and river runners come from over the world to escape from safety . . . . and some meet their goal.

Guide work around here 'pays tips.' Last time I went north to see a bone doc, he found out I'm an old mountain biker. He asked about lessons and guide service. I told him $175/day for a single and I buy lunch. He looked aghast. . . . My twenty years experience and education level equal to his probably warranted about $35/day. I wished him luck. . . depending on the choices he makes it may be important to his survival.

first post 05.12.2008

2008-05-12T19:20:00.011-06:00

This is the first post of what is intended to be a chronicle of later life trials and adventures of an American male. The value. . . or lack thereof to the individual reader will, of course, be assessed by those who peruse the rants, ramblings, and quotes of interest to the author.

There will be no attempt to maintain a uniform style, dialect, diction, etc. I agree a 'foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds.' I will attempt a broader approach.

The current fad of speaking or being in a 'politically correct' manner will not be observed. PC itself will be an interesting topic for discussion. . . later.

For today, welcome to the inner sanctum of thoughts, ideas, and opinions laced liberally with my own personal bias.

I intend this to be a journey of discovery. You are welcome to observe, participate, or ignore. . . as you please.

Below is the Hopi Manmaze as representation of the human condition. One could study it and, perhaps, learn much. Or, you could read Dostoevsky and Faulkner, share their uncommon insights into the conflicts and perplexities of humanity and then come to view life very much as seen here.

Of course, it's possible to never examine the nature of one's life and remain forever unaware of who or where we are.

Mitakye Oyasin,

Max