Things are going well. It’s been a very busy summer with family visits and hosting several out of town friends. I’ve been walking a lot, which I love to do: taking stairs instead of escalators, finding interesting hill walks in the City.
I’ve stopped taking the anti-virals and antibiotics and next week I meet my new doctor for the first time. I have been suffering what I think is a bit of PTS. I have a twinge of fear when someone comes at me with a needle, where as before it was just a part of the regular routine, something I just did: sat calmly while a smiling face poked needles into my veins and pumped me full of toxic chemicals.
I had to visit the dentist earlier this month and I was terrified. As the chair tilted back I wanted to bolt out the door, and I have one of the best and nicest dentists in the world. I had a fractured tooth and we were going to try to put a crown on it, but in preparing the tooth it broke completely so he patched it up and scheduled me for an extraction. And again when I had the tooth pulled it was all I could do keep from bawling like a baby and screaming “Leave Me Alone!!!”
There are mood swings, I assume from the after-effects of the steroids and a year spent in survival mode. I now look forward to times of solitude, where before being alone was never very important to me. I have a dream of spending a month in a cabin on the coast, reading and writing and drinking tea in the early morning and taking long walks. I do realize that after about a week I’d be ready to return to the City and want to spend all my time photographing in the streets. But it’s a nice dream anyway.
It’s funny, I’ve always been impatient with people in general, but now even more so. I just don’t have time for nonsense. When I was a kid I knew my dad was not a smart person. I knew he was mean and irresponsible and I didn’t care for him at all and never gained any benefit from a relationship with him. But there was one time he said something to me that stuck. I don’t remember the exact situation, but one day we were in a wood shop and he said to me, “Can’t never could do anything.” I don’t know where that came from or where he heard it, I never asked. But it made sense to me, and today I think of that phrase often, especially when I’m at work and watching the people around me and when I hear adults complaining about this or that and acting the part of the victim. I just don’t have patience for it.
I suppose I’m just going through life changes, I turn 50 next month. I don’t mean to sound like the grumpy old curmudgeon that I am and I certainly do appreciate your patience with me. And just so you know, every morning, when I wake up, I tell my self, “I’m alive and it’s a new day.” I’m truly grateful for that. And if I can do that, anyone can.
-- Dave
Photo by: David W. Sumner
