Cul de Sac

2008-06-08T21:57:00.000-07:00

LETTER TO MY SURGEON-This is the letter I wrote to my surgeon who performed my double lung transplant on March 21st, 2008. I don't know what is up with me, but I am sort of infatuated with him. I have frequent erotic dreams about him. He is not cute in a way that normally twirls my ticket (he is 51!), but there is something so attractive and arousing about him. He is not ugly by any means though. It could be that in my mind (and in reality I guess) he is so extremely capable and competent, so focused and probably brilliant. He has a very staightforward, just-the-facts manner which I find attractive. This is a guy who saves peoples' lives. Who saved my life. I wonder if this attraction/wanting is some kind of natural reaction that patients have when a doctor saves his/her life. This might sound so raunchy, but I feel like I really want to give him the best lay of his life for saving my life! hahaha It is not a raunchy, cheap idea to me though. It would be the most loving act of gratitude. He is divorced, so maybe there is hope! :oP

Anyway, here is the letter I wrote to him. No, I did not confess my love for him, although I wanted to!!!

Dear Dr. ******,
In a few days it will be three months since my transplant. It is really funny thinking back on that day. When the nurse called me I was at home feeling sick to my stomach as often happened with the Flolan medication. She told me the news and I wa happy but calm; stuff happened, time passed and then I was UC hospital. The routine stuff happened to get me ready at the hospital and the next thing I knew I was in the OR feeling a pretty groovy buzz. I think I even asked one of the nurses if you guys could give me a whole-body transplant while you were at it, maybe add a few inches to my legs. The things you say when you are drunk!

I had heard that you were flying back from Baltimore to do my surgery and honestly I was a little nervous. I mean, I had heard things about your superhuman abilities but doing an hours-long surgery after comin gback from the East Coast? I thought I should at least have the chance to evaluate you with my own eyes before letting you Ginsu me. Check for bloodshot eyes, slurred speech , drooling, shaky hands (!), maybe do a few motor skills test. But, I guess that is not how it works and I didn't get to check on you before I was zonked.

But I guess you did alright, ha. Anyhow, this is just dumb stuff you think about when you are waiting around in the hospital.

That day seems like a long time ago, although I think about it every day.

Now it seems as if I am playing catch-up on all the things I haven't been able to do for so many years. I don't know if you are an athletic guy, but if you are you might understand how important it is for athletic people to have 'body freedom.' When my body wasn't able t be out there and be the tool for me to experience 'things' and even myself, I sort of felt like I had already died. I don't know how to explain it, really. Like I couldn't 'get' those pleasant emotions that I used to experience through what my body can do. Maybe it makes no sense. But, I never let on that I was so sad. I just kept going, like trying to keep dancing even though after every class I was so disappointed. And all the other things I had to give up just killed me. Crazy backpacking trips, plain old hiking, scuba, swimming la la la the list goes on.

Anyhow, why am I telling you this, you are a busy guy? I guess I am telling you to let you know that I have the most sincere gratitude towards you for giving me life again, and more importantly for giving me my identity back. That was the hardest part about being sick. The physical things were unpleasant for sure, but having some misfiring in your body be responsible for taking away the self you created was just intolerable. 'I'm an athlete, I'm a dancer, I'm Madame Boute-en-Train (that's Mrs. On-the-Go...I actually got that book in French as a gift, my friends know me!)' To be those things your whole life and then all of a sudden it's 'I'm so tired I'm considering purchasing The Clapper' is hard on your psyche.

Yeah, so keep doing what you are doing for other people, and don't injure those hands. That's the main reason I'm telling you all this.

Some news...

I am back en pointe again. My feet are strong again because I have been dancing 3 to 5 times a week for almost 2 months. They'll be back in form to be killed and abused in pointe shoes before long. What else?I'm going to try to be an athlete in the 2009 World Transplant Games in Australia. I played basketball for years so I think I still have some moves. I can totally still dunk from the free throw line. Or I could run or bike or play soccer. I hate to swim in pools, so none of that for me. If they have an eating and drinking Foster's event, I know I can whip some people in that. We'll see what happens. I started a fundraiser for it already. I just might have to check out the reef when I am there.

I'm also going to go on a across-country road trip next April to coincide with ballet, baseball and basketball seasons. I am going to stop in all kinds of cities along the way to see those, and to visit friends and family along the way. I'll go back to Paris before the road trip if I can to see friends and Paris Opera Ballet....they always have interesting ballets. Ahhhh. And dream about eating coquillage again? Just one oyster? Wah!

So that's the scoop from me. Hopefully everything stays cool how it is and all of these plans will materialize.

As far as 'real life, ' after having all this fun I am going ot go back to work. I'm going to go back to teaching English.

Well Dr. ******, thank you for everything you have given back to me. This little note and gift are the very least I could give back to you.

Ciao for now!

2008-05-18T00:57:00.001-07:00

I'M BACK AND I'M GASSY- I'm back! New lungs, same rest of my body though :o( ha. It's late and I am bloated and on the rag. Going to bed for now but will be back with more later! Woopty!

2008-02-18T17:56:00.000-08:00

WHY YOU TREAT ME SO BAD?- Isn't that a song from the 90s? It should be playing on loop as the soundtrack for my life at the moment. SHEESH. I swear there must be something, I dunno....coincidentally ASTROLOGICAL happening right now because for the first time ever in my life I have a shitlist that is more than one deep.

TWO friends are on my shitlist right now. And I am not one to carry a shitlist around really. Uber-tolerant and understanding are probably my two most noble characteristics (along with all the terrible ones hehe). So I can take a lot of crap and shrug it off, justify it with an explanation of some sort. Oh, he was in a bad mood. Oh, she was frustrated by a tough week at work. Oh, he was treating a hammer toe that day. But.

Here's the doodoo.

FIRST SHITLIST INDUCTEE: My I-don't-know-what-to-call-him person in my life. We're good friends. We've been 'friends with benefits.' We've been 'crossing the friends with benefits line due to declaration of his love for me' friends. Now he is friend on shitlist. What he did, you ask? He knows about my secret life. He knows I have this naughty fetish side. He knows I sell my underwear (um, no, not new) and smelly shoes, hosiery- basically anything I can put on my body and make smell like me- to fetishists out there in Sniffyland, USA. Ebanned. Adult auction site. He knows this; I mean, I felt cool telling him about it when he asked why I had this hamper thing full of stuff inside ZipLoc bags. I wasn't going to lie, it is nothing to be ashamed of and I quite enjoy not being vanilla. So he knew about it and was seemingly cool about it.

Then he had to open Pandora's Box. Note, he could have opened it, checked out the contents, closed the box back up and said "Righty, coolio." He googled one of my email addresses (without the @yahoo.com suffix) and found my auctions and Me page on ebanned. Well, after he saw my auctions, he suddenly became weirded out by it. Additionally, in order to see my auctions and Me page, he had to go through the extra step of creating an ebanned account, registering a credit card, waiting to be approved (not instant; takes at least a few days, I think?) la la la.

So what pisses me off is not so much that he got weirded out. Although I am irritated by that. It pisses me off more that he just didn't come out and ask me to show him if he was curious. I sort of felt like he was spying on me. I imagine he would not have told me about his investigative efforts had he not suddenly become extremely bothered by my 'illicit' activities. He came over after work at like 3 am (he bartends), all flustered, with this big thing he had to talk to me about. And that was it. It felt like he wanted to tell me that he had caught me at something. But me, being a pretty guilt-free person, did not let him hold that over me. I simply told him the truth. That I do it for fun, and it makes me feel sexy in a way and it is completely harmless. I felt like he wanted me to apologize for 'hiding' it from him.

Anyhow, he said his curiosity overtook him and that is why 'he crossed the line' (his words) into my private private private life. I understand that ebanned is there for public consumption, and he is just as entitled to look at it as anyone else. There is a difference though in that he wasn't looking there to browse among listings by strangers for his own titillation. The difference is that he knew I sell there and was looking for me specifically to...I don't know? Pry? Learn more about me without me knowing? Find my secrets? I did feel like he had invaded my privacy, that he went behind my back to get the scoop. Especially when I learned that he had found my auctions a whole month before the night he talked to me about it. He wouldn't have told me he did that if it wasn't eating him up.

Hmm. And really, what was he expecting to see there? Pictures of puppies in Easter baskets, some passages from the Bible? He knew it was a fetish-oriented adult website. So yeah, I'm gonna show my boobs a little. And not feel degraded or guilty about it (I don't).

Perhaps it is more complicated than him just being shocked by what he saw. We were 'friends with benefits' on more than one occasion. He did tell me he loved me. He did asked me if I loved him. Which I didn't really address. Oops. Well, I was not going to lie. It is not mean to be honest, is it? So perhaps there is some jealousy/rejection feelings behind his weirded-outness.

So I have not seen him since that night, what? Two weeks ago. Although he has invited me to do this and that, I just can't bring myself to hang out with him. As of now, I don't WANT to see him. This has to do with me not really being a shitlist-carrying person, normally. When I get pissed at someone, it takes me a LONG time to feel normal about them again. I don't get upset at people...pettily? I don't know how long it is going to take for me to feel normal about him again.

Oof, as for shitlist inductee number two, I am too tired to write about that one now. Perhaps tomorrow.

2008-02-05T00:14:00.000-08:00

ABSTINENCE/SINGLEDOM- (Haha, that is NOT my hand) I do like it very much these days. Maybe if I didn't take so much pleasure in other things abstinence/singledom would bother me more. It might sound weird, but it might be as simple as me not wanting to worry about shaving my legs and muffster all the time. Once a week or so for auctions, fine. haha Maybe I am exaggerating, ok.

There was this funny thing my friend sent to me, and I really understood it. There is all this pressure to be in a relationship, otherwise people kind of feel sorry for you and think you are not living life to the fullest. It is portrayed in our culture as the ideal life situation, with mushy commercials for Hearts on Fire jewelry haha, talk of soulmates, and on and on. I have never felt a huge pressure to be married or always in a relationship. I feel like my life is quite rich and my identity is valid without those things. And I am sure it would be just as rich if I were married or otherwise attached, but I'm not going around NEEDING to be in a relationship. I always felt like my life was more interesting and fun, like I could do more for myself and the world in the times I have been single. Anyway, here is the thing that I totally identified with:

World's Shortest Fairytale

Once upon a time, a guy asked a girl, 'Will you marry me?' The girl
said 'NO!' And the girl lived happily ever after and went shopping,
dancing, lunching, drank martinis. Always had a clean house, never
had to cook, had sex with whomever she pleased, did whatever the hell
she wanted, never argued, didn't get fat, traveled more, had many
boyfriends, saved more money, and had all the hot water to herself.
She watched chick flicks, never wore lacy lingerie that went up her ass, had high self esteem,
ever cried or yelled, felt and looked
fabulous in sweat pants, and farted whenever she wanted.

The End

The only parts that are not true for me are the lacy lingerie part (I want lacy lingerie up my ass hehe) and the chick flick part. Eew, chick flicks. And the 'dancing and drinking martinis' thing is a little 'Sex in the City-' ish which is not really my thing. But I relate overall.

Don't get me wrong, I love men and flirting and sex and fireworks and becoming intimate as someone's lover and best friend and going through tough times and getting closer- all the real relationship stuff. But I guess what it comes down to is that if I am going to give even a PORTION of this lifestyle up it is going to have to be with someone who is just going to knock my socks off. He's going to have to make me practically go insane over him.

Until then, I'll fart whenever I want! :oP

2008-01-31T12:27:00.000-08:00

MY AMBITION. Doopty do...yeah, so it is noon and I just had my 'morning' tea. But I have an ambitious day planned for myself, boy do I! LAUNDRY. With that on my agenda, I am excused from having any ambition at all for at least a week, right? Laundry is one of those things that I am easily swayed from confronting. 'Hmm, I have to do laundry, but gee, I am out of juniper berries in my spice rack! I can't do laundry today, I have to go get those juniper berries!' While there are other things I do incessantly, bordering on OCD. Sweeping the floor for example and shaking out the rugs in the bathroom. Vietnamese people don't like dirty floors, I know that is why I have this affliction. Thanks mom!

Laundry avoiding and waking up at noon aside, I am not a lazy person. I actually really woke up at 7 am, since I had to change my medicine cassette on my pump. Stayed up for an hour then went back to sleep. But I danced like a fool last night so I think that is why I was so wiped out, plus I had a lot of sushi to digest!

Anyhow, since I was little, I have had a hard time with anything resembling a normal schedule. I've never been able to (perkily) arrive at work before 9am. Even 9 is rough. 11 is more my speed, leaving the office at 7 or 8...perfect. So not working for the past 10 months (doctor put me on medical leave due to worsening lung condition...just waiting for that smooth Asian boy to give me his lungs) I've had a taste of what it is like to be on my kind of schedule. It is weird not working. I have been employed since I was 14 years old (McD's drive-thru anyone? hahaa). So being out and about during a weekday, seeing that there are also tons of people like me not working....well, it is strange. And it is not all old retired people. Especially in my neighborhood, it is the early-30s SUV-of-strollers-brigade moms (taking up the whole goddamn sidewalk!!!), some people who I would wager are independently wealthy, or wives of the 6-figure plus income demographic. Dyed blond hair, a boob job and a face that looks like it is fighting aging just barely (hehe) seems to be a marker of this group. And then I am sure there must be people like me who have some invisible ailment and who have been ordered to avoid any activity with stress, deadlines or rushing (i.e., work). People with like a messed up valve in their heart, or brain cancer or some crazy neurological disease. Oh yeah, we can't forget the bartenders, waiters and kitchen staff too.

There was actually an article in the Guardian last year, nicely coinciding with me going on leave from work; a writer just went around different SF neighborhoods during the weekday and asked people what their deal was, why they weren't in the office like the rest of the world. Most of the folks fell into one of the categories I mentioned above.

I miss work. I loved my job before I left. More precisely, I loved the people I worked with. I worked in an investment bank downtown, and all the people were really funky. Half of them were surfers who didn't get in until 11 as they were out at Kronkite surfing since 6 am. The women were all about my age and we were all like 'the boys.' Our office was NOT PC at all, although everyone was functioning at a really high professional level and we wore suits every day. It was a nice environment. I could tell one of my coworkers to suck my dick and no one would blink. Ha, one guy who left the company, we found a copy of 'Barely Legal' in his desk afterwards! And it was a real pleasure to go to lunch in the Financial District, walk around between those big buildings in the sun (ok, and wind, it's SF), get a gnarly cookie at the bakery at 3pm, take a quick break to go to Loehmann's and drop $300 on 3 pairs of shoes in 15 minutes haha. I did that too much :oP But damn, do I have some NICE shoes.

Don't get me wrong, I understand that I have this funky disease and maybe I should be happy that I am getting an unusual opportunity to take time off and enjoy the things I really want to enjoy. Sort of like a trade-off for 'suffering.' I am doing that as much as I can (except I am not allowed to travel!!!), but honestly it gets lonely 'enjoying free time' by yourself every single weekday. All my friends are at work from basically 9 to 6 or beyond. It is not that I am bored (thank goodness for the Tuesday & Thursday afternoon ballet barre class!), it is that I am socially isolated during the day. And if I am a person who REALLY enjoys alone time to pursue my interests, dance, read, buy CDs (oops, bank account!), cook, whatever, and I get sick of being alone, that is saying a lot! I guess I should be thankful for all the doctor's appointments I have too...they keep me busy.

Then the weekends come along and then I become 'the Crammer.' All my friends are available and I have to make plans with ALL of them hehe. I suppose I appreciate them even more now.

I have read countless novels since I have been on leave, which I am happy about. I could never find time to read when I was working. Between work, dance, social butterflying and chronic masturbation I could never find time to actually finish any book I picked up. I've finally been able to tackle Vollmann's 'The Royal Family,' which I always would start before and never finish. Now I am neck-deep in it and it is fantastic.

Dance has become more of a pleasure in some ways. I am not as pooped when I go to class. Now if I know I am going to take 2 classes, I can rest before I go. Before it was just...rushing straight from work, and barely making it to the end! So because I am better-rested, I have improved in certain areas that I was not improving in before. The flip-side is that my lung thing is making other parts of dance impossible. But I am not going to think too much about that. After my surgery I am going to be balls-out ballerina again hehe. I'm gonna rock the grand allegro like I used to. Now I am rocking the adagio, which is the area in which I have improved a ton since the lung invasion started.

There are good and bad things about all this then. To be cliche.

Anyhow, I am going to play the Band of Horses album for the millionth time and get my laundry together. I think writing this was just a way for me to continue avoiding that. I am a professional at that!

2008-01-29T22:18:00.000-08:00

IF I DON'T WANNA WRITE ABOUT IT, DOES THAT MEAN I HAVE A SHALLOW INTERIOR LIFE? So I've decided to give this a try. A common snippet of advice one hears when enduring a difficult time in one's life is to write things down as to better deal. To 'get things out' in order to 'let go' of sadness or frustration.

I've never been an overly-contemplative person however. Writing bad poems with lots of thunderstorm imagery as a teenager aside, I've never gotten through a tough time by sitting down and writing/reflecting about/on it, then going back to read about the misery time and again. I think I would be a terrible Buddhist, maybe the noisiest one disturbing all the other monks. I do much better when I can distract myself from the difficult time by doing something active, something physical even. When people tell me that I should write about my experience, I feel like they think that by me doing that, the difficult situation will evaporate, or will become less difficult. By dealing with things my way, the distract-myself-by-go-go-going method, I am temporarily relieved of what ails me and completely free of it. Then I come back to the reality I am dealing with and it keeps my head on straight about what to expect from life.

While I certainly would do whatever it takes to avoid a complete mental breakdown, or deter a seeping and aggressive depression, I sort of WANT to fully experience the difficulty that has defined my life for the past 3 years. This experience is one that I will never forget, one that is most likely going to be the definitive period of my life on Earth and will shape and alter my identity like no other experience will. I don't want the difficulty to evaporate. I am in it, it is real now, and it is what is defining me as a human being. It is NOT going to go away, so I better learn to accept and survive a bit o' suffering.

The social worker at the UCSF Transplant Clinic keeps pestering me, saying I should see a counselor, or do some yoga to deal with the stress of my situation. I dunno, I don't feel too terribly stressed about it. I have my ups and downs for sure, but more along existential lines. Why do I have this disease when I have taken care of my body my entire life? Am I being cheated out of a full life experience because of my disease? Why the f*ck can't I go scuba diving!?!?!!? ha Am I gonna die on the table? But stress and depression have not figured too significantly in my life since my diagnosis, except right in the beginning when I was completely shocked at the news about what was happening to the old body.

Anyhow, she keeps telling me to do yoga or whatever, and I got tired of her bugging me so I just lied and told her I was taking Pilates. Not the same as yoga, I know. But she knows that I am not terribly metaphysical so I thought she'd believe that I'd take Pilates before yoga. (I got turned off of yoga the second or third time I tried it. Too metaphorical for me. "Breathe into the leg...." What???) hehe

So yeah, I am going to have a double lung transplant any day now. Just waiting for a poor smooth Asian teenager to crash his Mitsubishi Lancer so I can get his lungs. It sounds cold, but that is how it happens folks. That is how organ donation works, for lungs at least.

I am writing this on a cold Tuesday night, just got home from the ballet. I saw a mixed program tonight at the SF Ballet. Some contemporary stuff, 'Filling Station' by Christensen, '7 for Eight' by SFB's artistic director Helgi Tomasson (don't really like his stuff) and 'Diamonds' by Balanchine. Ahhh. Diamonds. So lovely. Seeing the ballet is one of those things that helps me deal. I know that I want to live when I see ballet. And I can still dance, although I have to take it easy in class during certain portions of class, like petit allegro and grand allegro. Now during ballet class, that is really when I totally (ok, almost totally) forget about this weird thing happening to my lungs.

Ok, night! Gonna warm up by squishing some cats that have been camped out by the heater all night (see picture above, hehe, that's Cheddar who is going to be fondue soon!)!