Solid Help, Solid Hope (Blog #288)

I swear I didn’t intend for this to become a blog about my health problems. Whatever–this shouldn’t surprise anyone who knows me–I’m a hypochondriac. Plus, life isn’t predictable–you gotta go where it takes you. Anyway, here we go (again). Last night I only slept a couple hours and woke up at six-thirty this morning to drag my ass to see my new medical doctor, an internist. Thinking she might want to draw blood, knowing that blood is best drawn on an empty stomach, and not wanting to make the early-morning haul to her out-of-town office any more than I have to, I decided to skip breakfast. Y’all, sick, sleep-deprived, food-deprived Marcus is not a pretty picture. But what do you do?

I got to the doctor’s office about eight-thirty, a little earlier than my appointment time in order to check in. Folks, this clinic was pretty so-phis-ti-cated. I got to use an electronic device, a tablet, to fill out all the standard new-patient forms. Talk about fancy. They had free WIFI! (The password was–are you ready for this?–care4you.) Anyway, I was impressed from the get-go. There was even a human anatomy book in the exam room that I got to thumb through while I waited for the doctor. Seriously, there’s so much I never knew, like apparently the correct term for my butt crack is “intergluteal sulcus.” And that horizontal fold that divides your butt from your thighs, the one my friend Kenny calls your “undercut”? Well, that’s actually called your gluteal fold.

Isn’t medical science fun?

Just as I was learning all the proper terms for the parts of my butt, my new doctor showed up. By this time I’d convinced myself she was going to be like everyone else, that she’d just suggest more steroids and antibiotics for all my sinus issues. But that’s not what happened. For over an hour we talked about my medical history–constant sinus infections, body odor, warts, prostatitis–everything I’ve talked about on this blog and more. Even before our time was up, I was completely impressed. She listened, asked questions, patted my back in encouragement, and never talked down to me or used five-dollar words. She didn’t even make fun of me for taking a dozen vitamins or going to see a Native American witch doctor.

In terms of my sinus issues, which have been my major health complaint for twenty years, she said that if you took the germs in your nose and compared them to the germs in your butt hole (my phrase, not hers), the germs in your nose would be grosser. “It can get pretty filthy up there,” she said. “And some of your nasal passages are no wider than the tip of a ballpoint pen, so when things get inflamed, it’s no wonder they get clogged up and disgusting.” Anyway, her immediate prescription for my sinus (and allergy) issues was to put me on a different anti-histamine, as well as a histamine blocker, since apparently anti-histamines only stop histamine symptoms and not histamines themselves. (No one’s ever told me this before.)

She also started me on probiotics and wrote down the names of specific strands and brands to buy that target the sinuses. She said my bacterial biome was probably all fucked up from all the damn antibiotics over the years (again, I’m paraphrasing), and that was most likely the root cause of my body odor issue. I’ll spare you the point-by-point details, but for each health issue discussed, she either gave me specific things to do or told me not to worry.

In terms of my overall health, she ordered some blood work, and I had my blood drawn before I left. But the big thank-you-Jesus moment was when she said she’d like to refer me to an immunologist. “I don’t think you have a serious disease or disorder,” she said. “But some people are born with a part of their immune system missing or not working, and sometimes that shows up as chronic sinus infections or other problems like prostatitis, which is an odd thing for someone your age to have had. If that is the case, you can take shots, maybe just for a while.”

“Let’s do it,” I said.

Solid help and solid hope are quite the same thing.

That’s where we left it. I got back in six weeks. She said I should hear from the immunologist within two weeks– that if I don’t, call her. So even though I don’t have an immediate answer and don’t feel physically any different than I have recently, I feel extremely hopeful because it’s like I finally have someone squarely in my corner who’s willing to look at my overall health and address my issues in both a different and aggressive manner. I don’t love the idea of having a substandard immune system, but I’m excited about a possible explanation. Plus, I feel validated. Like, I’ve had sinus infections for twenty years, and someone is finally agreeing that that’s not normal. I’m not a hypochondriac! I feel like that dead guy with the headstone that says, “I told y’all I was sick.” More than anything else, I feel grateful, glad to have some solid help and solid hope, which I’m learning are quite the same thing.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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For me, it's important to hang on to this idea that no matter how bad they are, your circumstances can turn around, to believe that if an elephant can show up in your life, it can also disappear, to believe that just as the universe full of big problems, it is also full of big answers.

"

Feeling Weak, Feeling Strong (Blog #284)

Lately I’ve backslidden on my sleep schedule, staying up until almost sunrise and waking up in the afternoon. But because I’m getting up early (by anyone standards) tomorrow to run around, I set my alarm for before noon today. Like, maybe I can ease myself into this. Y’all, it’s awful. I’ve been ready to go back to bed all day. Now it’s five in the evening, and I’m working feverishly to finish the blog before I teach dance in an hour and a half. Since I’ve got to go to bed early tonight–I’ve just got to–this may be more of a sprint than a marathon. Some days all you can do is show up.

This afternoon I finished reading a book by Laura Day about intuition and how it relates to healing. It’s due back at the library tomorrow, and I’m finding that having a deadline is a good way for me to get things done. Anyway, the book mentioned something about feeling “comfortable and proud” in your body, so I’ve been chewing on those words, since they’re not the first adjectives I think of when describing how I feel in my skin, but I’d like them to be. I guess sometimes I feel that way, and I know I feel that way more than I used to. I’d just like to feel that way more often–comfortable and proud.

Hum.

Whenever I get a sinus infection, my go-to adjective for describing the way I feel is “weak.” All my energy is just up and gone. It feels hopeless, like all my vitality has been buried next to Jimmy Hoffa, never to be found again. Much to my non-amusement, “weak” has become a kind of joke in our family, a word we toss around whenever one of us feels bad–like, poor, poor, pitiful me.

As a healing exercise, the book I finished earlier suggested remembering a time when you felt strong, almost unable to contain yourself, absolutely powerful. This isn’t exactly easy to do when you feel like someone’s unplugged you from the wall, but I assume that’s exactly the point, to reconnect with the best possible version of yourself. More than anything else, the exercise made me realize that weak isn’t simply a word I use to describe myself when I get sick. I mean, I don’t put it on my business cards or even think that word on a day-to-day basis, but I often feel that way, like I’m unable to affect change in my life, unable to move forward, unable to heal.

Just bringing my attention to this fact has made me realize that it’s not true. Like, I can look at my life and list dozens of places and situations in which I’m able to get things done, make progress, be effective. And yet still that feeling is there. I guess I get hung up on the things that aren’t happening yet, the things that aren’t healing. I start comparing myself, giving all the praise I have away to others and saving little for myself. This is something I intend to work on, gently if possible. I just looked up “weak” on Google, and whereas the first definitions is “lacking physical strength and energy,” the second is “easily damaged.” Synonyms are frail, feeble, delicate, fragile. This is good information to have, since I don’t feel THAT way at all. Even when my energy is low and things aren’t happening as I’d like them to, I don’t feel that kind of weak. Rather, I know there’s a part of me that’s eternally strong. That’s the part of me I want to spend more time with, the part that’s not only confident, but also comfortable and proud, simply happy to be alive, sure that it can weather any storm.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Abundance comes in many forms.

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Me, My English Teacher, and Nancy Byrd Turner (Blog #282)

It’s nine in the evening, and I’m finally sitting down to blog. I’ve been putting it off for a couple hours now, distracting myself by scrolling through social media and looking up rare sinus-related diseases on the internet. I’ve got to stop doing this, since it only takes about two seconds for me to convince myself that I’m “histamine intolerant” or “magnesium deficient” or that I have mold and moss, like the kind you see on the north side of trees, actually growing inside my head. Rather than read a book or watch a comedy special on Netflix, this is how I’ve decided to entertain myself until I see the doctor next week, by turning every health problem I have into a conspiracy theory that only I and the world-wide web can unravel.

I know–I could use a new hobby.

Earlier this week I spoke to my friend Marla, who was recently sick with the crud, maybe the flu. She’s better now but said there was a point when she just gave in to the illness. So I’m thinking of doing the same thing, saying, “Fine. You win. I quit.” I mean, it’s not like I haven’t tried or put up a good fight. I’ve made some progress. I’m better than I was. But I’m not myself. And surely there wouldn’t be any harm in spending a few days in bed, at least until I can see someone with a medical degree, throw all my vitamins and herbs down on their table, and say, “Here–this is your problem now. You figure it out.”

This afternoon I had coffee with my friend Lorena and told her that one good thing that was coming out of my being sick for so long was that I’m developing both patience and empathy. Like, one day I’ll be able to look at someone else who is overwhelmed and discouraged by their situation and say, “Hang on. Things will turn around for you one day. I promise.” Honestly, I hate this. I mean, patience and empathy are fine characteristics to carry around in your back pocket–I think you should have them–but I hate that, like a good husband, they’re so damn hard to acquire.

Can I get an amen?

Looking at the picture of Lorena and me, I’m thinking I need to shave my face. But this is another thing about not feeling well–shaving, or even taking a shower, feels like a daunting task, something I need to talk myself into, something I should get a gold star for after I finally do it. Like, Look over here, World–I bathed! I haven’t always felt this way about basic hygiene, but it’s amazing how “one little infection” can drop you to your knees and lower your standards. All of a sudden the word “accomplishment” has a very different meaning than it did before. It’s like you’re two-years old again, proud of yourself for, I don’t know, putting on pants.

I told my dad all this earlier, about how cleaning up felt like such a big deal. Currently he has a cold, but even when he feels well, I think he only showers once or twice a week. He said, “Just wait until you get thirty or forty more years on you, son.”

This is what passes for a pep talk in my family.

When I was in high school, I had a dictator for an English teacher–Mrs. Shipman. (I mean dictator as a term of endearment.) She used to interrupt us while we were praying–talking to the god of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob!–in order to correct our grammar. Talk about someone who means business. Once she hunted me down in the lunch room to let me know that I’d misabbreviated “etcetera” as “ect.” instead of “etc.” in a party invitation I sent home with her son. I can still remember her finger pressing into my shoulder, the way she leaned over me as I was eating my Lunchables, the way I broke into a sweat. Honestly, I think it was overkill, but I’ve also never made the “ect.” mistake again.

Anyway, Mrs. Shipman made us memorize poems, and a few of them have never worked their way out of my brain, a fact I’m actually grateful for. One of those poems, by Nancy Byrd Turner, goes like this–

Courage has a crimson coat
Trimmed with trappings bold,
Knowledge dons a dress of note,
Fame’s is cloth of gold.
Far they ride and fair they roam,
Much they do and dare.
Grey-gowned Patience sits at home,
And weaves the stuff they wear.

Now it’s ten o’clock, and I’m ready to call it a night, at least wrap this up so there’s nothing else I “have” to do until tomorrow. I’m thinking of curling up in this chair with a hot cup of herbal tea and reading a book or watching a comedy special on Netflix. I’m telling myself, No more internet searches regarding your health, Marcus. No more playing medical detective. This is me giving in, if only for a night. This is me acquiring patience–grey-gowned, anything but sexy, necessary patience.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"No one's story should end on the ground."

All The Pieces for Healing (Blog #281)

Yesterday when I rinsed out my sinuses, something new came out–a clear blob, about the size of a dime, with the consistency of a jellyfish. That’s peculiar, I thought. A quick Google search revealed that it may have been–possibly–something called biofilm, a protective coating sometimes formed by harmful bacteria that makes getting rid of them difficult. A bacterial condom, if you will. In my nose. The body is such a mystery. Anyway, whatever that thing was, I’m glad it’s not inside me anymore. This is how my grandpa used to feel about farts. “More room on the outside than there is on the inside,” he would say.

Last night I went to bed at two in the morning but lay awake for over four hours, part of the time watching Netflix, but mostly wondering why I wasn’t tired. Maybe I’m feeling better, I thought. Maybe I’m feeling worse. Finally, I decided it was because I forgot to take Benadryl, something I’ve been using lately to help with allergies, but only at night because it makes me drowsy. I hope I’m not becoming addicted, I thought. But then I got out of bed, tossed back a couple pink antihistamines, and was out before I knew it–until two this afternoon.

Today I ran some errands and ended up buying two new herbal teas. This is something I’ve been doing lately, trying different teas to hopefully boost my immune system, decrease my allergies, and heal my sinuses. I’ve inadvertently started a collection. I’m one of those people. (Shit.) So far, I’m not sure the teas are making a difference, but at least they taste nice enough and have fewer calories than alcohol. That being said, they are also significantly more boring, by comparison. I mean, when was the last time a warm cup of dandelion tea got anyone laid? (Tequila makes my clothes fall off, Mom.)

Well, actually scotch, but I digress.

Earlier this week I finished the two-thousand-piece puzzle my family started working on over the holidays. Considering that my nephews were turning the house upside down and the fact that my sister found a couple pieces in the pockets of my mom’s housecoat, I kept thinking I’d get to the end of the puzzle and find pieces missing. But that wasn’t the case. All the pieces were there. Everything came together. (Miracles never cease.)

Isn’t it gorgeous?

Last night while meditating I decided to start thinking of my body as strong, even when I don’t feel well. My logic for this is that even though I’ve been having significant allergy and sinus issues these last few months, there are hundreds of problems I don’t have. Like, I don’t have boils, leprosy, or diverticulitis, to name a few examples. Whenever I get a cut, my body heals it. Likewise, it fights off numerous infections and neutralizes various threats every day, largely without my help. So I’ve got to assume it’s doing the best it can, that eventually we’ll get things figured out.

With this new attitude in mind, I’ve been more optimistic today. Next week I’m seeing a new medical doctor, and I plan to look further into alternative therapies, things like acupuncture. I’m actually excited about finding an answer, getting myself back in tip-top shape. My retired psychologist friend Craig says that every piece of a puzzle is important, that there are no unimportant pieces. I guess for a while it’s felt like some of my pieces were missing, like I’m an incomplete puzzle. But I’m starting to believe that all the pieces for healing really are here, it’s just a matter of putting them together in the right order and of being patient, trusting that all things are worked out in their own time.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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We don’t get to boss life around.

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Cussing Out My Inner Director (Blog #278)

A few days ago my apparently very intelligent car, Tom Collins, told me that one of my tires had low pressure. This happened a couple months ago with the same tire. Luckily I was right by a gas station. Even better, it was one with free air. How about that? Sometimes life throws you a bone. The next day my brother-in-law said, “Did you know you have flat tire?” Well shit. I guess I ran over a nail. Sometimes life takes the bone back. As my dad said, “Son, you’re starting the new year off right.”

Today has been overwhelming. It began when my alarm went off in the middle of a dream in which I was both ill-prepared and late for a stage performance. I couldn’t get my hair to “do right.” Consequently, there was an announcement that the show would start six or seven minutes late. The director was not amused. When I tried to explain myself, she went straight for my gut and said, “You’re not even that entertaining.”

“Fuck you,” I said, and that was it.

This was not a pleasant way to wake up, my heart already racing. Additionally, I knew I had a lot to do today, including getting the flat tire repaired, finishing a book due back at the library, and writing today’s blog before teaching dance tonight. This is something I like to do–create lists of things I “have” to do that really aren’t that important. I mean, the flat tire was important–I need my car this week. But is it really the end of the world if I don’t finish a library book? Can’t I check it out again? And haven’t I written late at night plenty of times before? Still, I give myself these deadlines.

Now it’s four in the afternoon, and most of my to-do list is done (except the blog). Since I was stressed out, my dad took charge of the flat tire situation. The tire store is just a couple blocks away, so he called them and told them what was going on–we’ve got a flat tire and no way to air it up. Well, one of the guys actually came to the house with an air compressor and blew the tire up enough to get it to the shop. How great is that? Anyway, while that was being done, I finished the book I mentioned, the one about sinus health I’ve talked about before. (I’ve had the book for a full six weeks.)

On one hand, I’m glad to have the book finished. On the other hand, I’m overwhelmed (again) by all the recommendations it provided. My body really isn’t feeling great today, and when that’s the case, I just can’t think about buying two dozen vitamins, installing an air filter, finding (and paying for) an acupuncturist, starting a meditation practice, and learning to walk on water. Talk about frustrating. The book said that people with sinus issues often have “unexpressed anger,” but honestly, the main thing I’m angry about is the fact that I’ve been so fucking sick for three months and that getting better sounds about as easy as obtaining enlightenment. Maybe if I threw the book across the room, that would help. Or I could just start cussing more.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

I know part of my frustration with not feeling well is the deadline thing. Like, next week I’m seeing a new doctor, but I think, I need answers now. I need to feel better now. This mentally, of course, contributes to my running around the internet, spending all my time and money looking for the latest home remedies and snake oils. I realize I’m not being patient. If anything, I’m being desperate. That sounds about right. I’m desperate for things to improve.

I plan to talk about it in therapy, but I think the dream was about deadlines too, that feeling of pressure I put on myself to perform, whether that’s daily blogging or making something “great” of my life. I want everything to be just so, and it feels as if life isn’t moving fast enough. Perhaps not so deep down, I feel like I’m not good enough. “You’re not even that entertaining.” The good news, of course, is that I told the harsh director to fuck off, meaning my subconscious is starting to question all my self-judgments and artificial deadlines. It’s saying, “Wait a damn minute, I’m doing the best I can here.” This is something I have to keep telling myself, that I’m doing the best I can, I have plenty of time, and there’s nothing to be desperate about.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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You can't build a house, much less a life, from the outside-in. Rather, if you want something that's going to last, you have to start on the inside and work your way out, no matter how long it takes and how difficult it is.

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It’s SNOT the Holiday That Matters (Blog #270)

Last night I stayed up until 1:30 in the morning working on the puzzle my family started yesterday. It’s the American flag made out of smaller images, and I finished the blue section. Since I’ve been feeling like crap, it was a nice distraction. This morning I may have experienced a Christmas miracle–I woke up feeling better. Not over the moon, but certainly better. I’m attributing this to a new jar of kimchi I got yesterday, only the fourth I’ve bought this week. As I understand it, kimchi can contain bacteria to help fight sinus infections, but it depends on the brand and how far along it is in the fermentation process. Since most companies don’t print the manufactured date on the jar, it’s kind of a crap shoot.

Anyway, regardless of whether it’s that, all the vitamins I’m taking, or the six-pound baby Jesus, I’m not coughing or congested today. My allergies are still acting up, and I’m paranoid because my snot is green, but I just read that green snot can actually be a sign that your white blood cells are hard at working fighting an infection. (Go get ’em, guys.) Mostly I’m trying to not overthink this but rather be grateful that for the first time in a week I’m experiencing a modicum of relief.

Obviously, today is Christmas. For the last week or two, I’ve been thinking that I’d write an essay about my experience with Christmas, about how as a child I was so meticulous about putting up lights and decorating that I really shouldn’t have had to announce my sexuality all those years later, and about how my family stopped celebrating Christmas when I was a teenager because of its pagan origins (winter solstice rituals, etc.). Anyway, at some point I’d like to process all that, but I haven’t had the energy for it lately, nor do I today. Maybe later. Still, I will say that at this point in my life, I don’t take a strong position on the celebration of holidays. I used to really enjoy them and even decorated my house a couple years ago for Christmas, but when you give up all your traditions for a decade or two, it’s hard to go back to them, especially when your family doesn’t recognize them.

To be clear, I’m not making an argument for or against anything. I understand why people celebrate Christmas, celebrate something else, or don’t celebrate anything at all. Some years I miss the magic of this season. There are years when I see families getting together, eating big meals, and exchanging gifts, and it’s just another day for me. That can be lonely. At the same time, it’s easier on my wallet. (For every down there’s an up.) But this year, even though there’s not a tree with a bunch of gifts underneath it, my family is here. We spent the day finishing the puzzle, my mom has been playing and laughing with my nephews, and now my sister and brother-in-law are getting ready to grill burgers. All things considered, it’s been a wonderful day.

The main reason my sister and her family came to visit was to see my mom before she has her mastectomy next month. Since the boys are out of school for the holidays, this was clearly a good time to do that. But I for one am glad it worked out the way it did, that whether for a holiday, an illness, or a puzzle, we’ve made a point to come together. Currently I’m sitting in a chair, and my nephews are crawling all over me. The older one took away my laptop for a while, and I just got it back and he’s swinging a sword in front of my face. (It’s actually a piece of cardboard, but he’s pretending it’s a sword.) Now it’s time for dinner, so I’m gonna go. Whatever you’re doing today, I hope it’s a good day. Mostly, I hope you know that it’s not the holiday that matters, but those with whom you spend it.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"It's never a minor thing to take better care of yourself."

What I’m Gaining (Blog #268)

It’s two days before Christmas, and my sister, brother-in-law, and their two boys are on their way here from New Mexico. They’re bringing their own food because they’re healthy eaters. They actually have a food cooler that plugs into their car’s cigarette lighter. Mom’s been cleaning out our refrigerator, throwing away old deli meat and unused packets of hot sauce from Taco Bell, clearing every square inch she can in order to make room for my sister’s unhomogenized grass-fed milk and organic tortillas. The whole affair has my dad in a tizzy, a little too much change too fast. “Don’t throw that jar of pickled beans away, Judy!” And it’s only going to get better. This time tomorrow the boys will be running around underfoot, scattering Crayons and Legos all over the kitchen table and living room floor. Hell, I’ll probably find some floating in the toilet. It’s going to be glorious mess.

But don’t worry, I’m sure there’s some whiskey here somewhere.

My sinus infection/cold continues to persist. Ever the dramatic, I’ve been thinking about writing my own eulogy and preparing myself for the afterlife. I mean, if this were the Middle Ages, I’d already be a senior citizen, so I think I can say I’ve had a good run here. Yesterday I read that some people have cured sinus problems by sniffing probiotic powder. So last night I picked up a bottle of probiotic capsules from my aunt then went to The Vitamin Shoppe to pick up a different brand, just in case. But before I went into the store, I emptied the contents of a single probiotic capsule onto a sheet of paper and snorted the powder up my nose like a cocaine addict. Honestly, it wasn’t the smoothest experience. The powder kind of clumped around my nostrils. Maybe it would have gone better if I’d put the powder on a mirror and chopped it up with a credit card.

I can’t believe I’m telling this story. A thirty-seven-year-old man snorting probiotic powder in a parking lot. What would I have said if a cop had seen me? I swear, officer, it’s acidophilus!

Walking into The Vitamin Shoppe, I had so much white powder on my face it looked like I’d been eating a funnel cake with both hands tied behind my back. Paranoid, I wiped my face with my shirt, got what I needed, and got out. Chill out, Marcus, no one thinks you’re a drug user. As of this moment, I’ve tried the treatment a few times, and I can’t tell that it’s making a difference one way or the other. Maybe it’s not supposed to be an instant cure, or maybe it’s just more internet crap. Either way, I’m still sick, still coughing up junk, still as frustrated as ever.

I’ve been slowing working my way through the book I have about holistic sinus health. Last night I read the section of vitamins and minerals, and apparently I’m not taking enough to kick an infection. The book says it takes 15 supplements to do the job, not 12. But then it also says an air filter, a negative ion particle generator, a humidifier, and the Archangel Gabriel would be nice. (I made up that last part.) Regardless, there are million helpful hints, a veritable shotgun approach of ideas. And whereas I appreciate all the thorough suggestions, I can only afford so many of them. But for crying out loud, it’s not like I’m not trying over here. Seriously–mad props to this infection for being such an indestructible bastard.

Mad props means extreme support or high praise, Mom.

Now it’s three in the afternoon, and I’m considering cleaning up and running some errands when this blog is done. I need a few food items (and maybe more supplements!) and have no desire to brave the streets and stores tomorrow. Today will be bad enough, but it is what it is.

Last night as I was sniffing probiotics up my nose, I laughed at how crazy it was. At the same time, I realized that I actually enjoy this whole process of experimentation. Let me be clear, I want this thing to go away. But there’s part of my personality that enjoys digging my heels in, trying one more thing, continuing to look for an answer long after many people would have quit. To me this feels like an act of self-care, of not giving up on myself and the idea of something better. At the very least I’m gaining patience, endurance, and compassion, three things I’m finding to be hard to come by, high-priced, and, most importantly, worth whatever you have to go through to get them.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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All great heroes, at some point, surrender to the unknown.

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Lord Voldemort, Zac Efron, and My Fingernail (Blog #266)

Welcome to my daily health report. Things don’t look good today; they’re definitely worse than yesterday. I’ve been up for about an hour, and so far I’ve coughed up, blown out, or otherwise ejected enough snot from my body to fill a mason jar. It’s fun to talk about, I know. I’m assuming this is a cold or sinus infection. If it is a sinus infection, it’s especially frustrating, since I thought I was making serious headway in that department. (Get it–headway?) Regardless, I’m think I’m going to start referring to this crud as Lord Voldemort, since it’s most certainly of the dark lord and is apparently going to take a wizard to stop it.

Expecto mucoso!

Last night my friend Bonnie and I went to the opening night of The Greatest Showman, the new Hugh Jackman and Zac Efron (Zac Efron!) movie about PT Barnum. Thinking it would be sold out, we snagged tickets yesterday afternoon and showed up early. Well, apparently everyone was watching Star Wars, since the only people in our theater were me, Bonnie, two little boys and their mother, and a dozen high school cheerleaders. A musical, the film is beautifully shot, sung, and choreographed and tells the story of how PT Barnum started his famous circus and consequently provided a home for society’s outcasts–little people, bearded ladies, etc. Based on the previews, I was really expecting–and wanting–to cry, but I didn’t. This, I think, had to do with the writing–I never fully identified or cared about any of the main characters. Still, it was the perfect way to get out of the house and see Zac Efron on the big screen. As one of the high school girls proclaimed when the audio suddenly got quiet, “God, he’s pretty!”

I hollered back–“Right?”

Currently I’m in a mad dash to get this blog done. I’m going out with a friend this evening, and I expect it to take every bit of energy I possess. That’s fine, since I can take it easy this weekend, but I don’t want to get home tonight and have any of my “have tos” undone. So I need to finish blogging, practice chi kung, and definitely take a shower–I’m sure my friend would appreciate that.

Every day that I don’t feel well, I tell myself I’m going to take it easy and write a short blog–fuck writing–but I haven’t figured out how to do that yet. But now I’m under 500 words and hoping this will be the last paragraph, so maybe I’m making progress. Earlier I sliced into my fingernail with a knife while cutting a sweet potato. My fingernail is only a couple millimeters thick, but it stopped me from slicing into my finger. Perhaps this is what hope is, something little that makes a big difference, something that says tomorrow will be different than today, something that says, “That was a close call, but you’re going to be just fine.”

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Love  is all around us.

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Looking at the Next Hundred Days (Blog #265)

I don’t know what’s wrong with me. As I’ve said before, I’m not a doctor. Still, that doesn’t keep me from guessing. Last night my body temperature was up and down, so I thought I might have the flu. But this morning I stuck a thermometer in my mouth, and I definitely don’t have a fever. Plus, I feel bad, but I don’t feel THAT bad. Currently I’m trying to figure out if I feel jittery because of whatever this is or because of the medication I’m taking. The more I think about it, the more I get overwhelmed.

Let’s talk about something else, shall we?

A couple days ago the phrase “stop scrolling” came up while blogging, and I haven’t been able to get it out of my head. Every time I pick up my phone and look at social media, it’s all I can hear. Stop scrolling. So whereas I’ve still been checking my phone for notifications, I haven’t been mindlessly scrolling, scrolling, scrolling. At the most, I’ve checked out the top four or five posts in my news feed, but that’s it. Part of me thinks, What if I’m missing out on something? But another part of me thinks, Wasn’t my life just fine before Facebook?

So far, I like “less news feed” better. I can’t think of a single recent post that’s given me a bad day, yet I often walk away from social media feeling slightly heavy, worse than I did before. I assume this is cumulative effect, a little bad news here, a little bad news there, a little comparing myself to others everywhere. Lately signing into Facebook or Instagram has felt like walking into a birthday party at Chuck E. Cheese–music, videos, games, noises everywhere, everyone running around clamoring for attention. Look at me! Look at my cat! I have a sinus infection! I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with this or that I haven’t fully participated in every bit of it for a long, long time–I’m just saying–it’s a lot to take in day after day after day.

I’ve heard that the average person today processes more information in a week than our ancestors did in a lifetime. Or something like that–I really don’t know what the statistic was. But the point is, we’re on information overload, and our brains and bodies simply weren’t meant to handle it all. Maybe that’s why I’ve been so sick lately–not because I’ve been on Facebook too much, but because my body isn’t able to handle all the current stressors in my life. Clearly, it isn’t. As someone who likes to push, push, push, I don’t like this feedback, but I am trying to listen to it by putting down my phone, taking it easier during the day, sleeping more at night.

Today’s blog is number 265. That’s 265 days in a row of writing, notable because my goal is a year, and that leaves me with 100 days to go. Part of me feels like giving it up even today, like, What am I really doing here? On days that I don’t feel well, it’s especially difficult to imagine that this project is going anywhere or benefiting anyone other than my credit card company. Another part of me is really proud of myself for sticking this out regardless of how it’s received. That part of me thinks that 100 days is a piece of cake, the homestretch, the place where the magic will happen.

In truth, I know the magic has already happened. This project has changed me for the better. Me and My Therapist is the place I’ve found myself over and over again, the place I’ve learned to listen to the still, small voice inside me. (Incidentally, listening to that voice is difficult to do while scrolling.) Honestly, this blog is like home for me, the place I get to be myself. This is the place where I laugh at my own jokes, cry on the keyboard, and get honest. Sometimes that honesty looks like setting boundaries, expressing gratitude, or talking about what my therapist said recently. Other times that honestly looks like saying, “I feel like crap and am tired of trying so hard.” Either way, what you see here is real, at least as real as I know how to be.

This is all I can promise for the next hundred days. I can’t promise I’ll feel better or worse than I do in this moment, I can’t promise whether or not I’ll stick to my commitment to spend less time on social media, and I can’t promise I’ll be consistently funny or profound in my writing. But I can promise honesty about what’s going on inside. For anyone who’s interested, that’s one thing I can do.

And that’s the best blog ending I have at the moment–honestly.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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If anything is ever going to change for the better, the truth has to come first.

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Doing What I Can (Blog #264)

Last night I started getting sick again. I can’t tell you how exhausting this is. In bed before midnight, I spent most the night sweating. I’m not sweating now, so Dad said it could have been the heater in the waterbed “acting up.” I plan to have a stern talking to it later on. Anyway, I’ve spent most the day generally worn out, coughing up junk, and nursing a mildly sore throat. I keep telling myself it could be worse. It could be worse, Marcus. It could be worse.

Could it, Also Marcus. Could it really?

Thinking this could be sinus related (since everything with me is sinus related), I ventured out of the house earlier to the Asian food market in search of more Kimchi to swab in my nostrils. I ran out of Kimchi last week and had gotten some from Walmart, but Dad says it’s not the same thing. (I’m not sure how he knows this.) Y’all, the Asian food market has a giant nativity scene set up right by the entrance. This is something I’ve never seen before–the virgin birth inside a local grocery store. Personally, I was disappointed that the baby Jesus wasn’t actually Asian, but talk about one-stop shopping–soy sauce, salvation for the world, and twenty-pound bags of rice all on the same aisle.

I always feel slightly conspicuous when I shop at the Asian food market, like I don’t really belong there because I’m white. Today the woman at the checkout station was wearing rubber gloves as if she were a dentist or surgeon, someone with a medical degree. If I were to ask her about the gloves, I’m sure she’d say they were a sanitary measure, but I thought, You’re not fooling anyone, lady. You’re no doctor. Well, apparently I’m no doctor either, since when the total came to $8.36, I only handed the lady $8.00. (I could have sworn it was $9.00, but hey–my brain is full of snot.) Then the language barrier thing happened, her asking for 36 cents to complete the sale, and me thinking she just wanted the change to make her life easier, like she was gonna give me a dollar back.

“But I don’t HAVE 36 cents,” I said.

She kept pointing at the screen where the total was, then, almost as an afterthought, showed me the one five and three one-dollar bills I’d handed her. Well crap, I said to myself. Convinced she thought I was a stupid American, I apologized as I handed her another dollar, which she gladly took with her rubber-glove-covered hand. I was so embarrassed, I couldn’t get out of the store fast enough. I didn’t even slow down to tell Mary and Joseph how neat and tidy I thought the manger was. Maybe next time I see them I can say, “You’ve really cleaned this place up. It’s just, well, immaculate.”

When I got home and did the kimchi treatment, Dad suggested that I take a Mucinex, something I haven’t tried since this whole sinus disaster started a couple months ago. I mean, it’s not that I haven’t considered it, but when I used Mucinex a year ago, it made my heart race. Of course, that was the extra strength and this was the regular strength, so I ended up saying, “What the hell” and popping the pill. As the Mucinex commercial says, “Let’s end this.”

Now it’s been two hours, and I’m ready to go back to bed. Since I have a dance lesson to teach later, that’s probably not going to happen, but maybe that means I’ll sleep even better tonight. When I woke up sick today, I really wanted to get frustrated and throw a tantrum. You’ve got to be freaking kidding me. This again? But I’m really trying to be more patient than that. More than anything else, I’m trying to be more compassionate than that, to realize that my body is obviously having a hard time here. I guess this is how life goes–some days you wake up well, some days you wake up sick. Hell, some days you walk through a nativity scene in an Asian food market, so let’s stop pretending anything makes sense on this planet, simply take things a day at a time, and do what we can with the day we’ve been given.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Your emotions are tired of being ignored.

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