40 – It’s The New 80!
With all due respect to John Fogerty, the Old Man isn’t Down The Road. He’s actually right here, roasting weenies in my living room.
No. That’s way too cute. Indulge me a writer’s do-over, because I hate this son-of-a-bitch.
"I know this hurts, Jeffrey."
It’s more like Terminator 2 – remember? – when that slick, non-Arnold, non-kid-friendly T-1000 unit showed up. He would just inhabit your entire body in an instant, take you around, steal your motorcycle, puncture your brainstem through your eyeball with a melty steel fingerblade. You know. That guy.
Except my guy’s not leaving. He’s been here since way before my 40th birthday this past October. If you thought Sarah Connor had it bad, think about good old Robert Patrick here setting up shop in your immune system for seven years. Kicking the tires. Ripping out entire systems. Taking his freaking holiday in my skin. Stealing my spirit, joy, and the prime years of my life.
Behold, the T-1000 Squatter Series.
No wonder I’m just now looking around and asking when that whole “40 is the new 25″ thing is going to kick in.
READER WARNING: This may shock you, but at times, even I tend to MOPE. Yes, me. If you feel like you can’t handle a big analytical MOPE in the coming paragraphs, just stop here and go read Dave Barry’s 2009 in Review. It is awesome and I peed myself. In fact, people I forwarded it to have also reported peeing themselves.
But if you like your bloggish beets and yogurt, please keep reading. It’s still funny, in a Gee, Mortality, You Sure Are Funny! kind of way.
CHRONICALLY ILL BLOGGER LUPUS GUY
No doubt you may be sick of hearing about this dreadful disease, my circular pessimism about it, and how I’m becoming a hybrid of Jabba the Hutt, The Incredible Hulk, and Montgomery Burns. I am sorry, but the more I write, the more I become Chronically Ill Blogger Lupus Guy.
*giant collective groan*
I really don’t want to be that guy. And it’s not just because I might have to ask The Internet for a spare kidney someday.
Drew wants you to say F**K YOU, CANCER!
Did you hear about the whole @drew thing? Drew Olanoff is the young, cancer-stricken guy who’s making a real splash on Twitter. In 2009 he got comedian and host of The Price Is Right Drew Carey to pony up $1.00 per follower IF Carey would reach 100,000 Twitter followers by the end of the year. In the end – through intense media publicity and Olanoff’s prolific tweeting, it looks like Carey is going to end up donating $1,000,000 for LIVESTRONG, Lance Armstrong’s popular cancer organization.
That’s the happy part of the story. But following Olanoff on Twitter is both interesting and grueling. You feel like you really get close to his situation, because he updates continually with streams like:
- DrewOlanoff: ”Off to chemo this a.m. – OMG this SUCKS!”
- DrewOlanoff: “Please, remember to follow @DrewFromTV (soon @Drew) and @LIVESTRONG – $1 for each follower up to a million (combined)”
- DrewOlanoff: ”FUCK YOU CANCER!”
- DrewOlanoff: ”I’m guilty of complaining about things that at the end of the day don’t really matter. Cancer wants to take the people who do matter away.”
- DrewOlanoff: “@chemo_babe can i give you a hug? because it would be an honor. you’re a warrior, thank you.”
- DrewOlanoff: “The substitute surgeon removed a gland instead of an organ this morning. OOPS!!” #asshole!”
IT’S MY DISEASE / OR IS IT?
I have had a lot, but I’ve never had cancer. I feel for Drew, and you can’t help admiring his persistence and strength.
But there’s another part of the whole schtick that pisses me off. It’s the confusing ownership and identity that chronic illness places on those whom it afflicts. ”IT’S MY CANCER”. ”IT’S MY LUPUS”. ”I HATE IT.”
Indeed, what place on God’s Green Earth does this pain and misery have? Do I shun it? Embrace it? Is it me? Is it seasonal? Does it come with fries, drink, and a toy?
Olanoff grapples with his disease with rage, sarcasm, and humor . . . and that’s where we connect. He even encourages followers to blame his cancer for everything by using the Twitter hashtag #iblamedrewscancerfor, e.g.: ”@cowlickprinting: #Iblamedrewscancer for my ink cartridge being empty. LOL”
But the Game in Question is the negativity and hate of your condition, because it can become indistinguishable from the self. You fight and fight and fight so hard that it becomes the object of your hate, and you lose courage. You lose strength. You lose spirit. And you don’t have to be Deepak Chopra to know that pessimism way can be detrimental to your healing.
“Familiarity breeds contempt” hits a whole new level here. Because when you talk to IT, you acknowledge IT, and it’s usually not a friendly encounter. For example, I do not greet my Lupus with a warmish, “Good morning!! Creamer in your coffee today?” Or when grab my handful (1,230 or so) of meds from my pill trough, I don’t say, “MMMMM! Thank you for this tasty treat, O Western Medicine! You have outdone yourself again!”
The opposite is also impossible: to stay enraged over pain. You will die a literal death of a broken heart. I know because I’ve attempted it recently! Even the most violent of jerks knows this.
So the real battle? Loving yourself in all your flippin’ glory while you crumble to pathetic pieces. While you make horrible choices, gain weight, vent anger wrong, and take the wrong risks . . . all in front of everyone.
Richard Rohr calls this holding the tension and wrote an mind-bending book about it called Everything Belongs.
The hardest part? Well, in practice, for the chronically ill, it means to accept what appears to be a crushing, unfair, imbalance in the universe. It means to pray to die bravely like Braveheart if it comes to that. It means to persevere like Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane, if it comes to that.
Yeah, I got that. Oh. Me? Oh. ME? ME?
I’m not terminal or anything. But with all the disparaging lab results lately, it feels like the airplane turbulence that gets your attention. You know, the third or fourth violent dip that has you saying, “Damn, this mofo really could go down. Do the pilots know there’s a storm out there?”
Never, ever have I been in more admiration of healthy people. When I see speed walkers, runners, healthy eaters, gym rats, yoga instructors, personally secure and well people . . . seriously . . . I just marvel. This also goes for those who are mentally whole. AWESOME JOB for taking what you’ve got and making it awesome. And if I get the chance to get back there, I’ll roll along with the old 40 is the new 25 again.
But not now. I’m too busy holding the tension! Hang on with me? At least tell me I look 40!
Related posts: The Simple Choice
Jan 11, 2010
Great article. And you look younger than 40. Seriously.
Jan 11, 2010
You look exactly like you did in college, Jeff. Your humor is about the same as in college, too … which is good!
Jan 11, 2010
I’m still in the middle row…babysitting my body.
Enjoyed today’s words. Thank you.
Be well….
Jan 11, 2010
I hate that you are hurting like this because for about 10 years straight, I hurt nearly every damn day and it sucked. The quick version:
“Oh, you have Rheumatic fever. You’ll need to be on these antibiotics indefinitely and prednisone for your joints that balloon up to twice their normal size and you’ll probably have to have a heart valve replacement later.” A year later. “Oh sorry, this isn’t Rheumatic fever. Sorry we screwed you and your immune system for a year with these unnecessary antibiotics. Our bad. We don’t know what it is.” After many many doctors and different diagnoses (including lupus) , I finally came across one that diagnosed it as leukocytoclastic vasculitis. Say that 5 times fast. The only glimmer of hope he gave me that the joint pain would stop was that eventually I would “grow out of it.” After several more years, the pain and skin rashes actually did start to go away. Unfreakingbelievable. 10 years of pain and now it’s gone for no apparent reason? That’s frustrating. Today, I still occasionally deal with some joint pain but otherwise I’m fairly “normal.”
Why did I say all of that? Heck if I know. You just do the best you can with the information you have. Among many other reasons, Lupus is such a pain in the ass (no pun intended) because the answer to so many questions seems to be “we don’t really know.”
Hang in there Jeff. You have a lot of people rooting for you. And you don’t look a day over 41.
Jan 11, 2010
As Rohr says, over and above thesis and antithesis is SYNTHESIS. Hold that tension bro, and I will take what turn I can on the rope.
Jan 11, 2010
Thanks guys. Taking heart even though I felt a draft and grabbed a sweater INDOORS just now. LOL!
Jan 11, 2010
Jeff, your strength astounds me. You will get through and beyond this and know that we, your friends and allies, are there with you through it all. We care about you for who you are and what you do, no matter your Hulk-ish color or lackthereof. What the people that matter see is what is inside, not just what is out. Remember that through it all we love you and are there for you. Should you need it, just send out the battle cry.
Jan 11, 2010
Thanks again . . and feeling all rock and roll in my 80s . . er 70s . . errr 40s!
Jan 11, 2010
Sorry for the mix up. Glsd you got it straight, though! Love you & CT!
Jan 13, 2010
Well damn. It seems that pain is inescapable. Good choices limit it, bad choices magnify it, but it rains on the just and unjust.
Grew up without a dad cause mine decided to randomly sub for a buddy who needed a night with his family. Not a big deal if your an accountant, but for a fireman…well it was a life changer for me and my mom who was 5 months pregnant at the time. Big fire, lots of death. Dad didn’t make it.
WTF
I’ve had almost 4 decades to reflect on that. And the conclusion I’ll share here is this: It’s not what happens to us that matters; it’s what we CHOOSE to hold on to.
Deepak or not, that’s what separates the men from the boys. Or more importantly the free from the imprisoned.
You are free Jeff. And it’s helping the rest of us get there too.
Lead on! Bitch On! Rage On!
F*ck the f*cking f*ckers!
Jan 13, 2010
Yes to all, and forgive me . . I was going to include that quote about “what happens to us vs. what we hold onto” into the post. Yet here it is in the comments! Awesome.
Jan 15, 2010
wow! I thought you just turned 30!! All I know is that if you can still swing a golf club and you have a family that loves you… you are good to go!! As always, i love reading your stuff
Jan 16, 2010
Please rage on!
Jan 17, 2010
@JB: Thanks man . . . agree re: golf club & family as long as I also can throw my Mac Book Pro and taco trucks into the equation.
@biblio: rage indeed, like Zach Rocha