Everyone,
I've decided that this is as good a stopping place as any. Despite some of the seemingly bright spots in my life since I started this blog, the past three years (more or less) have been one nightmare after another that I would rather forget, and even many of the good things turned out to be bad, the true things turning out to be false. As such, closing this blog altogether is one of the few ways I feel I can move on.
I did try to shut down the blog once - deleting the archive and starting with a new title and starting from the "beginning" earlier this year, the year I thought everything would start to change. Until I realized that it was even worse than the previous years combined. With all the pain I've expressed here, I doubt that anyone still reads this anyway.
So this is the end. I have nothing more to say.
21 July 2008
01 July 2008
The Meaning of Sorrow
They took his hospital bed away na.
I guess this means he's really not coming back.
I guess this means he's really not coming back.
28 June 2008
Transitions
At around 4:30 a.m., Missouri time, this Friday, 28 June 2008, Reed drew his last earthly breath. He will be greatly missed, but we are not sorry that he is now finally free from pain, disability, struggle, fatigue, stress, worry, heartache, anger, discomfort, and everything else that plagued him in this mortal life. No more worries, no more cancerous prison. He is free at last. Let us celebrate that freedom as we celebrate his life.
Note: The actual day he died was Saturday, not Friday. The date is correct. But I had not had any sleep at the time, so in my mind it was still Friday night, rather than Saturday morning.
Note: The actual day he died was Saturday, not Friday. The date is correct. But I had not had any sleep at the time, so in my mind it was still Friday night, rather than Saturday morning.
27 June 2008
Today
I figure I should let everyone know that, despite doing well all weekend, Reed suddenly took a rapid downward turn on Monday morning, and has shown definite signs of shutting down, including drastically reducing his food consumption. Those of you who know him will understand how serious that development really is. Anyway, even compared to Monday, he has gotten worse since Thursday night all of a sudden. We thought he was in greater pain due to something in particular, and it was taken care of. But today - Friday - his pain got even worse.
Today, he did not get out of bed at all. Today, all the nurses who saw him said that it will be soon. Today, he did not eat a single thing and ingested only the equivalent of one small glass of water, if that. Today, they doubled his quick-acting morphine dose and gave it to us in liquid form, so I can just dropper it into his mouth and he doesn't have to be conscious to get it. Today, they put him on two Fentanyl patches so he won't need re-dosing of long-acting pain meds for 3 days. He has been in and out of consciousness all day, but generally responsive when roused. But I think we've got things more or less under control. At least for now.
Lucas and I are doing okay, I think. Some of the people who have taken care of Reed in the past have been coming forward the past couple days to visit and to "take over" so I can get a break. I'm not planning to make any appointments or anything until this whole ordeal is over. I'm kind of beyond certain feelings already, and so is Lucas. I think we already reconciled ourselves to losing him after he ended up in the ICU for pneumonia last January-February. And even though neither of us wanted to see Reed get worse this time around, the deterioration was inevitable, and for the most part we want it to be over very quickly just so he no longer has to suffer. Still, it's hard to fathom, because he looks like he's just sleeping. And there's a part of me that believes (and wishes) that he will get out of bed on Monday morning. After all, he has survived unbelievable stuff in the past two years. But somehow I don't see how he's going to get out of this one.
I'll update when I can, but mostly I'm just trying to deal with what's in front of me. If you call and I don't answer the phone, it's probably because I am dealing with what's in front of me.
Today, he did not get out of bed at all. Today, all the nurses who saw him said that it will be soon. Today, he did not eat a single thing and ingested only the equivalent of one small glass of water, if that. Today, they doubled his quick-acting morphine dose and gave it to us in liquid form, so I can just dropper it into his mouth and he doesn't have to be conscious to get it. Today, they put him on two Fentanyl patches so he won't need re-dosing of long-acting pain meds for 3 days. He has been in and out of consciousness all day, but generally responsive when roused. But I think we've got things more or less under control. At least for now.
Lucas and I are doing okay, I think. Some of the people who have taken care of Reed in the past have been coming forward the past couple days to visit and to "take over" so I can get a break. I'm not planning to make any appointments or anything until this whole ordeal is over. I'm kind of beyond certain feelings already, and so is Lucas. I think we already reconciled ourselves to losing him after he ended up in the ICU for pneumonia last January-February. And even though neither of us wanted to see Reed get worse this time around, the deterioration was inevitable, and for the most part we want it to be over very quickly just so he no longer has to suffer. Still, it's hard to fathom, because he looks like he's just sleeping. And there's a part of me that believes (and wishes) that he will get out of bed on Monday morning. After all, he has survived unbelievable stuff in the past two years. But somehow I don't see how he's going to get out of this one.
I'll update when I can, but mostly I'm just trying to deal with what's in front of me. If you call and I don't answer the phone, it's probably because I am dealing with what's in front of me.
22 June 2008
Almost Heaven
Up at 5 am and watching the sun rising over Mt. Ka'ala. The quiet hummm of the countryside, the clear air, the perfect temperature. The feeling of belonging right there where I was at that moment, where I was supposed to be. No one else in the world but me and my friend Mark's two wacked out rehabilitated stray cats. I felt so alive and awake. I walked down the red dirt road wrapped in my malong against the cuddly morning chill. Stood on a big rock, looked across the grass and up the green mosaic of the foothills. It looked close enough to run to, yet I knew it was too far. I had been up that dangerous mountain long, long time ago, hiking, stupidly, with some friends, but I had only seen it from Makaha side. Now I was finally able to regard it from a quiet place. It felt now like I had always needed to do that, to find the other side, to find myself there on the other side of where I had been. I felt like I could atomize right there in that quietness. It felt like I was home.
Later Mark emerged from his room. I made strong coffee. He cooked an omelette. And the rest of the day we hung out, conversing easily as we always had about life, dreams, Hawaii, politics, relationships, pop culture, food, and anything else that came up. Mark humoured me the touristy things, like driving into Haleiwa town for Matsumoto shave ice with azuki beans, lekker poke from the grocery store, lunch at my favorite greasy diner, and the requisite 5-minute tour of Waialua. There was also the Mai Tai, which was his Mai Tai, which he drank most of but I had a sip. So I can indeed say that I sipped on a Mai Tai at a bar on the North Shore. (Oh, he also greeted me with a pikake lei at the airport, so I can also say that I finally got "lei'd," har har).
Naturally I got a look at the farm, Mark showing me all the hard work he had done with his own hands. He told me the story of that land, newly converted from old cane plantation holdings. How it was once a living community that is now remembered only by a crumbling stone church and a semi-abandoned cemetery. And he showed me the collard greens and other vegetables, and the compost piles, and the water tank, and the trees; told me what it would look like next year. It was impressive. I'm so proud of him, how he got a hold of this land, and how he is following his heart. He has planted his roots, and that's more than most people can honestly say. It's not exactly an easy life, and he is no longer a youthful escapee from graduate school. But he is happier and calmer than I've ever seen him before. One thing we agreed on was that the land - the 'aina - she really does something to you, she makes it special, she makes it feel like life. Such that something mundane like stealing green baby mangoes from someone's front yard becomes a natural, life-affirming act.
We closed the perfect day with a swim at the beach - a lovely yet also utilitarian move as the shower at the farm structure wasn't working totally right yet. And the walking around gets that red dirt on ya. And the afternoon was rather hot and overly sunny, such that a good nap was sought by all, even though one guy decided to keep working on his solar energy project and talked ceaselessly on his cellphone, which wasn't so bad except when he would come to the house rattling around for more tools. At any rate, we dinked around the farm the rest of the afternoon, staying strategically in the breeze and shade until the day began to cool and the sky began to yawn, and it was time to wash the dirt and sweat off in the ocean at the local park. We bobbed there in the water, smiling until the sun set, listening to the keiki fun happening on the shore, happy to feel a bit like kids again ourselves. Or at least that's how I think Mark felt. It's certainly how I felt. Not a care in the world. The sun. The water. The sand. Perfect. Happiness. Almost heaven.
My 36 hours on O'ahu was spent exclusively on the North Shore camping out at Mark's work-in-progress farm. I didn't call anyone because there was no point. I was in Kona by Sunday morning, initially regretting my decision a year ago to commit to this conference. But within a couple of hours, as I rode to Kamuela with my first new colleague, Abby the historian, it turned slowly but surely into the most awesomest conference I've ever been a part of. Which I will write about next.
Later Mark emerged from his room. I made strong coffee. He cooked an omelette. And the rest of the day we hung out, conversing easily as we always had about life, dreams, Hawaii, politics, relationships, pop culture, food, and anything else that came up. Mark humoured me the touristy things, like driving into Haleiwa town for Matsumoto shave ice with azuki beans, lekker poke from the grocery store, lunch at my favorite greasy diner, and the requisite 5-minute tour of Waialua. There was also the Mai Tai, which was his Mai Tai, which he drank most of but I had a sip. So I can indeed say that I sipped on a Mai Tai at a bar on the North Shore. (Oh, he also greeted me with a pikake lei at the airport, so I can also say that I finally got "lei'd," har har).
Naturally I got a look at the farm, Mark showing me all the hard work he had done with his own hands. He told me the story of that land, newly converted from old cane plantation holdings. How it was once a living community that is now remembered only by a crumbling stone church and a semi-abandoned cemetery. And he showed me the collard greens and other vegetables, and the compost piles, and the water tank, and the trees; told me what it would look like next year. It was impressive. I'm so proud of him, how he got a hold of this land, and how he is following his heart. He has planted his roots, and that's more than most people can honestly say. It's not exactly an easy life, and he is no longer a youthful escapee from graduate school. But he is happier and calmer than I've ever seen him before. One thing we agreed on was that the land - the 'aina - she really does something to you, she makes it special, she makes it feel like life. Such that something mundane like stealing green baby mangoes from someone's front yard becomes a natural, life-affirming act.
We closed the perfect day with a swim at the beach - a lovely yet also utilitarian move as the shower at the farm structure wasn't working totally right yet. And the walking around gets that red dirt on ya. And the afternoon was rather hot and overly sunny, such that a good nap was sought by all, even though one guy decided to keep working on his solar energy project and talked ceaselessly on his cellphone, which wasn't so bad except when he would come to the house rattling around for more tools. At any rate, we dinked around the farm the rest of the afternoon, staying strategically in the breeze and shade until the day began to cool and the sky began to yawn, and it was time to wash the dirt and sweat off in the ocean at the local park. We bobbed there in the water, smiling until the sun set, listening to the keiki fun happening on the shore, happy to feel a bit like kids again ourselves. Or at least that's how I think Mark felt. It's certainly how I felt. Not a care in the world. The sun. The water. The sand. Perfect. Happiness. Almost heaven.
My 36 hours on O'ahu was spent exclusively on the North Shore camping out at Mark's work-in-progress farm. I didn't call anyone because there was no point. I was in Kona by Sunday morning, initially regretting my decision a year ago to commit to this conference. But within a couple of hours, as I rode to Kamuela with my first new colleague, Abby the historian, it turned slowly but surely into the most awesomest conference I've ever been a part of. Which I will write about next.
12 June 2008
An Immense Feeling
As I dwell constantly on the memories of my last trip, I am leaving for another one that begins in about 9 hours. To anyone who has asked me what I'm doing in the past couple of weeks, it has sounded like I've got this glamorous jetset lifestyle. I've had to laugh everytime I give people the update, because it makes me sound like my life is all abuzz with super-cool biz. Of course, these are the first trips I've taken since summer last year, and probably the only ones I will take for the rest of this year!
So I keep turning these recently made memories over and over in my head. Naturally, there wasn't enough time to really live it, and to have all the talks we should have had, but that's surely better than overstaying. In any case, I find myself making sequels in my head for what would have happened if I stayed a week longer, or if I had brought Lucas, or if I had spent more time getting to know one person or another, or if, at 11 pm the night before I left, I had agreed to open up about what I've been through the last few years, instead of sticking to my Egyptian strategy (as in, "de Nile ain't just a river" - denial, get it?).
I am missing everyone and everything, and feeling a great degree of both connectedness and disconnectedness. It's interesting, a very different kind of mingaw (missing people and places). It comes on the heels of having to accept that four of my favorite people in this town are leaving for good. I'm trying to explore this feeling without getting truly upset or overly excited. Its like - I am allowed to touch and feel this wonderful life, but what am I actually allowed to hold on to for the rest of the journey!?!?
So I've got my next trip, about to embark, will be there sooner than I'm ready for. I'll be meeting new people, giving a paper I will have written on the plane, and then leaving very quickly early the next day. Again, the time will have been too short. Under other circumstances I would have stayed long enough to dwell, to be, to enjoy, to relish the moment and the location. But under the current circumstances, I feel better about not pushing it. I feel that nature and God and fate are all holding their collective breath for me right now to both allow me to get these presentations done and extract me from my situation temporarily to give me a break and also to remind me that the outside world is still there waiting, and that it's populated by all sorts of people who want me to be a part of it. That's what I will dwell on instead.
By the time I get back on Wednesday, no doubt things will be worse, as it's the only real possibility. So I'm betting on these two trips to sharpen my sense of purpose upon my return. Wish me luck.
So I keep turning these recently made memories over and over in my head. Naturally, there wasn't enough time to really live it, and to have all the talks we should have had, but that's surely better than overstaying. In any case, I find myself making sequels in my head for what would have happened if I stayed a week longer, or if I had brought Lucas, or if I had spent more time getting to know one person or another, or if, at 11 pm the night before I left, I had agreed to open up about what I've been through the last few years, instead of sticking to my Egyptian strategy (as in, "de Nile ain't just a river" - denial, get it?).
I am missing everyone and everything, and feeling a great degree of both connectedness and disconnectedness. It's interesting, a very different kind of mingaw (missing people and places). It comes on the heels of having to accept that four of my favorite people in this town are leaving for good. I'm trying to explore this feeling without getting truly upset or overly excited. Its like - I am allowed to touch and feel this wonderful life, but what am I actually allowed to hold on to for the rest of the journey!?!?
So I've got my next trip, about to embark, will be there sooner than I'm ready for. I'll be meeting new people, giving a paper I will have written on the plane, and then leaving very quickly early the next day. Again, the time will have been too short. Under other circumstances I would have stayed long enough to dwell, to be, to enjoy, to relish the moment and the location. But under the current circumstances, I feel better about not pushing it. I feel that nature and God and fate are all holding their collective breath for me right now to both allow me to get these presentations done and extract me from my situation temporarily to give me a break and also to remind me that the outside world is still there waiting, and that it's populated by all sorts of people who want me to be a part of it. That's what I will dwell on instead.
By the time I get back on Wednesday, no doubt things will be worse, as it's the only real possibility. So I'm betting on these two trips to sharpen my sense of purpose upon my return. Wish me luck.
09 June 2008
Yaaaawwwwnn
It's a little past 2 am in NYC and I am trying to stay awake for my 330 am car pickup to take me to Newark airport. I've been out of town since last Tuesday and I should be home around noonish today. I don't have the inclination to describe it in detail, but it's been a good trip. My lecture went very well (no one fell asleep or started a riot), and the students seemed to really be interested. I also received very encouraging feedback from the staff and faculty. Plus I had the chance to see quite a few old and not-so-old friends, spending quality time with 5 different sets of people, including two sets of families (the very nice wife and kids of my guy colleague/friends). I'll keep everyone anonymous, except Dee -- my gorgeous ex-roommate from last year's course -- because I'm still very excited about being able to see her tonight against all odds. But to be sure everyone I saw is precious to me in their own way. I will miss them all equally badly. Everyone I met up with again at the course has been wonderful, and I finally was able to sit down with Bela to talk about life and politics - what a treat for me! Anyway, a very good break for me, in the midst of all the difficulties. I know I'll walk back into the thick of it less than 12 hours from now, and I'm not all that eager to return to it. However, I am lucky enough to have another presentation to do on the 16th, and will be leaving on the 13th to make it there on time. Sounds glamorous, perhaps, but this is the only travel I'm doing this whole year, as far as I know. Fortunately, things are relatively stable (despite being dodgy overall) so that I am able to get these things done. The next leg might be tricky, but I guess we'll cross that bridge when we get to it. A lot can happen in a few days... Meanwhile, I'm about to fall completely asleep now, but I've already unmade the bed, and there's still an hour til my ride comes. I don't think I'll last much longer... should sign off for now.
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