In my heart I want to live forever...

This time of year always gets to me.

I know that's not an isolated phenomenon. The holidays tend to hit everyone especially hard. It's like, if you're given a moment of peace, in the stillness of your mind you can't help but think of what you lack versus what you have.

You look around the table and instead of seeing the smiling faces of your loved ones that are physically there, all you see are the vacant seats that were emptied much too soon.

In my melancholia, I can't help but wonder if my seat will be vacant soon. And if so, will someone glance and see me as missing?

It's an interesting perspective. That is, to look at loss during the holidays from the other side of the proverbial veil.

I don't really want to be mourned once I'm gone, but at the same time I do want my absence to be noticed. Will it be noticed?

Shakespeare once noted, "The evil that men do lives on after them; the good is oft interred with their bones..."

What good have I done to be buried along side me? Will my trespasses truly be all that's remembered?

I don't know.

I hope not.

I leave no heirs; no legacy.

All I leave will be that empty chair at the table.

But I guess I'm giving up again
I guess it's fair
I guess it's fair
I guess it's fair
I just don't... care.

565,600 minutes...

How  do you measure a year in the life?

It's been one full year since I became aware of my condition.

The changes I have undergone in this year amaze me sometimes. Sure, I've had many ups and downs, as most would in a typical year, but I'm talking about philosophical changes. Changes in perspective, in attitude, and changes in my core self.

I went from someone coasting through life, just trying to make it to the next weekend to someone that wakes up every morning/afternoon grateful to be alive.

Funny how the prospect of dying changing your every day living.

I've had many moments of doubts.

I've had moments of anger; moments of rage.

I've had moments of undeniable and abject sadness and fear.

I've had moments of self pity.

I've had moments.

But a moment only lasts for so long. A year is made of 565,600 moments. Speaking strictly in terms of the odds, I'd say I've had more positive moments than those of doubt, rage, sadness and fear.

I'm a different person than I was a year ago.

But somehow, I am still the same.

It's hard to put into the words.

I'm still dying.

I'm still not happy about it.

And yes, I'm still afraid.

But I'm no longer afraid of living, and I've realized I may not be able to beat this this thing, but I can give it a run for it's money.

I have love. I have everything.



"Five hundred twenty-five thousand
Six hundred minutes
How do you measure, measure a year?

In daylights, in sunsets, in midnights
In cups of coffee
In inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife.

In five hundred twenty-five thousand
Six hundred minutes
How do you measure
A year in the life?

How about love? Measure in love"

-Seasons of Love; "Rent"

No gnus is good gnus...

It's been a rather uneventful period in my illness. Again I find myself treading water and doing a pretty good job at it.

Beyond the knee clipping colds and upper respiratory infections that seem to be crawling out of the woodwork of my life, my health has been pretty okay.

I sometimes find myself wondering if this year actually happened. I don't feel sick. I don't act sick. I don't look sick. It's weird.

Of course, I know I am sick. I've got medical proof in the form of "results" from bloodwork, CTs and soon, an MRI. But to me, all these "results" boil down to is paper. That's all I see. I see paper with black print on them saying, "Hey, you're dying!"

But I don't FEEL like I'm dying.

And for right now, that's good enough for this Gary Gnu.

My karma ran over my dogma...

It's been an interesting set of weeks.

It seems I cannot completely shake this viral infection that's taken hold of my body.

I beat it into submission for a while, but it then flares up unexpectedly when I am feeling at my best.

I was adamant about not reaching the lows of before and I monitored my fever as it rose higher and higher. I followed medical advise and took clinical strength Motrin to bring it down, as Tylenol is verboten. It worked. My fever was controlled. I was proud of myself... until the fatigue kicked in.

I was tired.

People noticed my pallor.

I couldn't walk 3 feet without sucking air.

I recognized the symptoms. A doctor confirmed it. I was running out of blood.

Seems the Motrin that kept me out of the emergency room by controlling my fever, thinned my blood out so much, I was bleeding through my veins.

Damned if I do, damned if I don't.

One blood transfusion later, and I'm sitting here wondering what I can do to prevent THIS from happening again.

Motrin is now on the list of banned medications along with Tylenol. As is any other medication that may thin my blood, or affect my liver.

It's times like these that cause me to ask the very cliched "Why bother?"

Why should I fight?

Why don't I just lay down and follow the Beatles' advise and Let It Be?

I stare at the bruises on my arms as they remind me, no matter how good I feel, I am not good. I'll never be good again.

On a clear day I can see forever...

Received good news for a change.

The new specialist I'm now seeing says my lab results are good and my CT shows no further deteriorating of my organ.

In other words, I'm not getting sicker. I'm holding fast.

He seemed surprised, and actually pleased to be surprised. Odd. To see a doctor actually be pleased that I'm doing well is something I'm not used to. Having a doctor be a jerk and barely listen to me, THAT is the norm.

Regardless, he was still surprised and explained his surprise came from years of having patients not follow his advice, and get progressively worse on each visit. He was happy to see that I took his advice to heart. I told him I didn't think I had much of a choice. I was the one to seek him out. It'd be counterproductive to not heed it.

We came to an unspoken agreement at that point, I believe. I won't compare him to my previous bastard of a doctor, and he won't compare me to his previous apathetic patients. I'll do what he says, and he'll work with me. We will be a team and not adversaries.

This gives me strength.

This gives me hope.

This gives me peace of mind, and soul.

I found love in a hopeless place...

We all take things for granted on a daily basis. I'm no more guilty of this than I am less guilty of this.

I take the fact that the sun will rise tomorrow for granted.

I take for granted that when I wake up there will be food ready for me to eat, courtesy of my ever suffering and overworked spouse.

I don't worry about these things, whether big or small, because I've come to rely on them. They are facts, in my world. They are unchangeable, steadfast & permanent.

I'm wrong, of course. As I am about a great many things.

That's the thing about taking things for granted. You never realize you do so until your world is shook, and you come to find out that permanence isn't always permanent.

I used to take for granted the fact that I could easily walk from here to there, or I could eat anything I wanted without an adverse effect, or even that if I cut myself I would clot SO fast there was no need for a bandaid.

Having been dealt a blow to my worldview in the past so many months, I am now less inclined to take stuff like that for granted. I know now, that it's only matter of time before I find it harder to walk, or when my diet will be restricted even further, or when I will bleed out.

I'm more aware of my blessings, in essence. I'm conscious of the good, where before it was an afterthought, if I even thought of it at all.

The odd thing about this transformation of my perception is that I have been granted a new view, not just of my world, but of myself. I don't take myself for granted anymore.

I'm working on improving myself, because I realized once I discovered I was taking myself for granted, I was also neglecting myself. I don't know why. It could have been residual teenage self-loathing, age related depression, or simply laziness. Perhaps the truth lies in a combination of all three with some yet undiscovered cause. I don't know, and I don't care. All I know is that it's over.

Like with many things taken for granted, the power lies in ignorance. Once you know you're taking something for granted, you tend to do it less, even if just out of guilt. Boom. The power is gone.

So I'm now vigilant.

I'm still taking a few things for granted, like the sun rising, but I do take a moment now and then to watch it rise and allow myself to bask in the awesomeness of it.

Small steps.

If anything good has come from my facing my mortality it's this.

If I could do it all over again...

One of the topics I now cling to is that of regret. I guess it goes hand in hand with this nostalgia for better days.

I sometimes wax poetic on the many choices I have made in my life, and with the superpower of hindsight at my disposal, question them.

Do I regret many things I have done? Sure. But oddly enough not as many as I would have thought. I regret times I've lost control of my anger and said things or done things just to inflict pain, not because I actually felt them. Things I have done, or said that I genuinely felt, regardless of the outcome, those things I do not regret.

So does that mean I'm genuinely happy with my progress in life if my regrets do not outweigh my triumphs? I don't know.

I'd still do a few things differently.

Not many things, just a handful really.

I'd love to have a conversation with myself and give myself advice at various stages of my development.

I'd take 4 year old Anna aside and say, "You won't always be lonely. You'll make friends who will genuinely like you for you. Don't try so hard."

7 year old Anna would be told, "Girls are jerks. Forget them and stop trying to be something you're not comfortable with. Go play with the boys and ignore their taunts."

My 10 year old self would be told, "Buy that Don Mattingly card for $1. You'll always regret it if you don't."

Teenage Anna at the ripe old age of 16 would receive the best advice. "Don't be ashamed. You are more beautiful than you believe yourself to be. Don't sell yourself short. Don't be afraid. Your heart may hurt but it will never break permanently. Go to the University of Miami."

It's bittersweet to linger on these thoughts. I remember my innocence and long for it, but don't wish to lose the self I've become.

We are after all the sum of our experiences and by default, our choices. Sure I may not have the job I want, but I am the person I want to be. Perhaps those things I wish I could change, those regrets I would prefer to avoid, are the very things that have shaped me.

I still wish I had bought that 1986 Topps Don Mattingly card, though.