Monday, October 27, 2008

The Dork Knight

The fact of the matter is I'm tenacious.

Anything I've ever desired, I've gone after with a vim and vigor some would find obsessive.

But with Dialysis, some parts of one's life are out of control.

This has manifested itself in ways I don't fully understand.

But about two weeks ago I grew tired of witnessing my doughy self in the mirror. I had ceased going to the gym for weeks because of a fact I had to admit to myself.

Dialysis is taking a toll.

The lab tests don't show it and my body doesn't reveal it, but I feel less like myself every single day.

When I arise from my morning nest, the dizziness gets worse. The blackouts increase. And a general feeling of sliding toward oblivion takes hold.

So on October 12, 2008 I made a simple yet honest vow to myself.

I would become dough-less.

Each morning Dialysis curls up in the corner and mocks me mercilessly.


Total indignation floods the room. Dialysis is a tiny troll with razor sharp yellowed teeth and a curve in his spine reminiscent of the letter "C".

But he knows full well how to get under my skin.

"I can't jog up hills anymore. Oh, oh, I'm too tired to socialize anymore. Dialysis has stolen everythAAAAAAHHHHHHH! My God you're pathetic! Worthless! Dare I say it, irrelevant?"

As he zipped his pint sized frame from one wall to another, I made the decision.

I'll show him.

That night after treatment, I started with thirty simple minutes of walking. I live in the Southeast side of Santa Rosa, which anyone will tell you, has some of the nicest property in the North Bay. Four story houses built into five star mountains.

The point is, I feel pretty damn safe.

Thirty minutes gave way to sixty which elevated to ninety and morphed into a hundred and twenty.

I understand fully it's only been two weeks, but I've already lost four pounds. My belt is happy to be using the third notch again.

Night after night after blissful night I roam the streets of Sonoma County exploring neighborhoods I'll never be able to afford.

As the weight began to drop and the doughy me began to fade, I thought I was just wandering the streets because I loved the exploration.

But as I reach the end of the second week, I feel as though I'm searching for something.

Less a destination, more like an answer.

As my tiny frame wanders the ritzy neighborhoods paid for on the backs of others, the sheer quiet of it all envelopes me.

My mind wanders away from what I have become to what may still be.

Reaching the top of one of the many breathtaking hilltops, I pause a moment to take in a full breath of chilly night air.

For the first time in a ridiculously long time, I enjoy a moment of peace.

Hope and possibility can't be far behind.