“(There’s gotta be) more to life…”

October 21, 2003|

“(There’s gotta be) more to life…”

“There’s gotta be more to life…

Than chasing down every temporary high to satisfy me

Cause the more that I’m…

Tripping out thinking there must be more to life

Well it’s life, but I’m sure… there’s gotta be more

Than wanting more…”

Now that I am somewhat back to normal and having started receiving e-mails again, I have been asked what did I learn during my summer of sickness. Everyone wants to know the deep stuff. Deep, deep, deep. That’s good- deep is good. It’s not always easy to digest though.

When you’re sick, alone, and beat up you have a lot of time to think, sometimes too much. I overanalyzed way too much, in retrospect. The consequence of such is making life so serious that you forget to enjoy life, forgetting how to smile and laugh. But I did learn a lot.

For one I saw more clearly, through the lenses of my own struggles, that everyone and I mean everyone, has issues. No one is immune. I like to think certain people live in a bubble, unaffected by life’s trouble, and that only I have to deal with pain and disappointment and heartache. Reality is, once you go deep, everyone is dealing with something. It’s comforting to a degree. We’re all in the same boat. It’s also disturbing. No one lives “The Fabulous Life,” like I’ve been watching religiously on VH1. Those celebrities are just as screwed up as I am, no matter how much fame, wealth and talent they have. Life on earth is depressing.

Secondly I saw how dependent I am on people, no matter how I don’t like to admit it. I have a fierce independent streak that values autonomy over all else. I can do it. Well, there were times when I couldn’t. One incident from last year comes to mind. The nodes in my groin and back started throbbing to the point of extreme pain. The only relief came from sitting in a tub of hot water, alleviating the pressure. I had painkillers, but they take forty-five minutes to kick in. This time, for some unknown reason, the hot water faucet was only flowing cold water. It was hell. Thankfully my parents and roommate were there. Taking whatever pots and pans they could find, they heated water on our stove and dumped it in the tub. There I was, barely able to move from the pain. It was a lesson in utter humility. I needed people to make it through. We need people. Someone’s got to help us carry the load of our issues. Otherwise we get paralyzed by the pain. We’re not in this alone.

Lastly a pop princess puts it best. If you’ve stumbled upon MTV from the hour of 5:00pm to 6:00pm in the past two months you’ve seen Total Request Live. On the show has been a little song called “More to Life” by a petite teenage artist named Stacie Orrico, a PG-rated Britney Spears, if I must compare. Amongst the pageantry and glamour of the video, a deep truth is hidden.

“There’s gotta be more to life…

Than chasing down every temporary high to satisfy me

Cause the more that I’m…

Tripping out thinking there must be more to life

Well it’s life, but I’m sure… there’s gotta be more

Than wanting more…”

I’ve had a lot of time to think and experience life. To a certain extent it’s a curse. I have experienced more in life than most people experience in a lifetime. I am finding there’s gotta be more to life. A poignant example radiates from this summer. Because I live(d) at home I have had virtually no expenses and have been able to save a lot of my disability income. It has meant nothing though. I have all this money (not that much!) that I never dreamed of having, but I couldn’t do anything with it. I couldn’t drive, so buying a new car would have been useless. I was too sick to travel and “see the world.” I was too sick to go shopping to buy the latest fashions. I was too sick to go out for a night on the town. When my hearing disappeared, I could barely hear anything, so buying music was out of the question. When my brain was on the fritz, I could hardly read, so buying books and taking online classes wasn’t feasible. My money was useless without my health. Ugh.

Taking that into account, it made me realize that all that stuff was ephemeral anyway, made for a finite moment of pleasure. The next day I would still be unhappy and unsatisfied. Like I said, upon further examination, life can be so depressing.

So what is the “fabulous life?” “Is there “more to life?” What is it? What hope is out there for us? So I leave you with these questions and more. They are for you to ponder on your own. Answers don’t come easy.

Healthwise…

I am ashamed to admit that I fainted. Yep. Last week I was supposed to have a PIC line installed in my arm in order that I to receive the five-day continuous IV treatment of Ganite. My veins didn’t want to cooperate, having been abused these past three years, and somewhere along the line as the nurse tried to insert the needle into my vein I fainted. To make matters worse, after reviving myself, she couldn’t find an open vein after two attempts in both arms. So my only option left is a port, which is to be installed this week. Simply put, a port is small metal device that is put in the chest near the neck attached underneath to a main artery. It requires only minor surgery and a few stitches. I am honestly not looking forward to having it put in, but in the long run it’s for the best. No longer will the nurses fight the battle of finding a working vein.

I’m still not over my cold, going on eight weeks now. I am resigned to it’s becoming a part of me. I am keeping the Kleenex people in business.

In brighter news though, my hearing has improved gradually day by day to the point I have very little ringing. The prednisone prescribed to ease the pressure on the ear nerves is working. It’s also making me eat like a horse. I gained 15 lbs. in the past three weeks. For the first time in my life I ate my dad under the table, at a recent excursion to Quaker Steak and Lube (www.lubewings.com). Every Tuesday is all you can eat wing day; you know I’m there. The prednisone does have its side effects though. As the day progresses my legs swell up to the point that walking becomes extremely painful and almost impossible. The only relief is propping my legs up with four pillows. I am pretty much sedentary most nights. I can’t complain though, I am feeling much better than I have in a long time.

Thank you for your encouraging e-mails, thoughts and prayers. Please keep them up. And if you have any answers, let me know.