Canticles of the Unhomed
Sunday, October 23, 2005
Bring it
So I have not been feeling well lately. Exhausted all the time, fuzzy in the head, hot flashes, etc. (No, I am not menopausing) It was really interfering with my work and the House, not to mention my sanity. When you are tired ALL THE TIME, your threshold for certain things is much, much lower. As your physical strength is drained, your creativity and drive go with it. As a writer, whose living depends on creativity and drive, this is disastrous.
So, against my better judgement, and contrary to every possible instinct, I broke down and went to a doctor. Have I mentioned that I hate doctors? In my experience, doctors are only good for one thing. But that's a different story.
So I went to the doctor. I have went to this guy before, and he's competent, skilled even, and really good at what he does. I still despise him, though. In any case, he poked and prodded me, took blood samples, samples of other stuff that I won't mention here, and so on.
Right away he diagnosed extreme exhaustion and dehydration. He scolded me about not eating more regularly. He told me to eat more protein and more leafy green vegetables, less simple carbs, more complex carbs. He told me to up my liquid intake, and consider a vitamin supplement. He suggested that I try meditation or yoga to calm myself down. I nodded and tried not to punch him in the face. I succeeded. This time.
He told me what he thought it was, but he couldn't be sure until he got my blood back. So, I left and waited to be called. He called me the next day. Good news/bad news he said. Good news, my cholesterol was 137. Then he rattled off a bunch of stuff, only some of which I remember - by RBC (what the royal bank has to do with this I don't know) was 5.2, my HGB was 17, blah, blah, blah. All good numbers, he said. With a few exceptions.
It turned out that he was right. So, I went back to his office. Back into hell I stalwartly march. Have I mentioned that I hate doctors?
I have adult form mononucleosis. Yeah, the kissing disease. Where I caught it from, that's a different story.
I know what you're thinking - no big deal, right? You're tired, you sleep alot a month later or so back to normal, right?
Sure, if I was sixteen. I guess its a little more serious as an adult. Check this out.
Now that I have this disease, I have a greater than 40% chance of COMPLETE liver, kidney or spleen FAILURE. Or any combination of the three.
If I happen to avoid the organ failure, there is a greater than one in three chance that I will end up with some manner of organ DAMAGE.
The doctor so cheerfully mentions that my spleen is already enlarged, and that too much physical activity, or the wrong kind of physical activity can rupture it. If it ruptures, then its nighty-night for Matty.
So the short end of the stick is that I have to go back to this butcher once a week so he can take MORE blood and tissue samples so that he can monitor the health of my organs, in case they begin to fail.
But wait, if we bring to bear the full marvel of modern 21st century medical technology and knowledge, if we exercise the extreme arrogance of the medical profession and avail ourselves of nigh miraculous acheivements of the last fifty years of medical advancement, how do we treat this?
We don't. "There is no effecacious short or long term therapy that would effect any significant improvement," was what the butcher said. So, in this dazzling modern age, in the face of a potentially life-threatening disease, our response is to wait and see if it fixes itself? It reminds of me of Homer Simpson, before his final exam in college, saying that his strategy was to hind under some coats and just hope that everything works out.
But hey, at least he gave me some tips on improving my liver health, and some changes to my diet.
It's all shadows. Shadows chasing themselves across a sunny field. The arrogance galls me.
No, the butcher is a nice guy. He's skilled, earnest, and he showed remarkable compassion. As butchers go, he's not half bad.
He said that the exhaustion will continue, with intermittent sore throats and fevers. Possibly for six to eight months. After that, should I avoid organ damage/failure, I will be back to normal, no harm done.
So I have spent the past few days trying to integrate this into my thinking. I feel the disease at work in my body, and I can sense the frayed edges of my mortality everytime i have to stop half way up the stairs, or when the exhaustion is like a giant hand pressing on me. The desire to sleep is constant.
When I used to visit people in the hospital, especially terminal cases, I was taught to help the person focus on life, that if they became consumed with thoughts of their impending death that it would only serve to hasten the event, and ruin the standard of living in the meantime.
Thus, I have been forcing myself to think about how much I want to live, about how much I love life.
The problem is that I feel within me need for submission. Part of me says that my Master calls. If I an eager to jump to whatever task my master sets for me, whether that be the House, or whatever, who am I to pick and choose which paths my Master sets for me? That perhaps the greatest submission to your master is to step joyfully into the great darkness? Christ is my master, should I walk through light OR darkness. Christ is my master beyond the boundaries of this small life, and this tiny world. If he chooses to spare me, to grant to me a few more days, or to beckon me to other paths, that is HIS right. I have known for a long time, and many of you have heard me say this, that my life is not my own.
This experience has given me new insight into the Rich Mullins' song "Elijah."
The Jordan is waiting for me to cross through
My heart is aging I can tell
So Lord, I'm begging for one last favor from You
Here's my heart take it where You will
This life has shown me how we're mended and how we're torn
How it's okay to be lonely as long as you're free
Sometimes my ground was stoney
And sometimes covered up with thorns
And only You could make it what it had to be
And now that it's done
Well if they dressed me like a pauper
Or if they dined me like a prince
If they lay me with my fathers
Or if my ashes scatter on the wind
I don't care
But when I leave I want to go out like Elijah
With a whirlwind to fuel my chariot of fire
And when I look back on the stars
It'll be like a candlelight in Central Park
And it won't break my heart to say goodbye
There's people been friendly, but they'd never be your friends
Sometimes this has bent me to the ground
Now that this is all ending
I want to hear some music once again
'Cause it's the finest thing that I have ever found
But the Jordan is waiting
Though I ain't never seen the other side
Still they say you can't take in the things you have here
So on the road to salvation
I stick out my thumb and He gives me a ride
And His music is already falling on my ears
There's people been talking
They say they're worried about my soul
Well, I'm here to tell you I'll keep rocking
'Til I'm sure it's my time to roll
And when I do
When I leave I want to go out like Elijah
With a whirlwind to fuel my chariot of fire
And when I look back on the stars
It'll be like a candlelight in Central Park
And it won't break my heart to say goodbye
'Cause when I leave I want to go out like Elijah
With a whirlwind to fuel my chariot of fire
And when I look back on the stars
It'll be like a candlelight in Central Park
And it won't break my heart to say goodbye
So, against my better judgement, and contrary to every possible instinct, I broke down and went to a doctor. Have I mentioned that I hate doctors? In my experience, doctors are only good for one thing. But that's a different story.
So I went to the doctor. I have went to this guy before, and he's competent, skilled even, and really good at what he does. I still despise him, though. In any case, he poked and prodded me, took blood samples, samples of other stuff that I won't mention here, and so on.
Right away he diagnosed extreme exhaustion and dehydration. He scolded me about not eating more regularly. He told me to eat more protein and more leafy green vegetables, less simple carbs, more complex carbs. He told me to up my liquid intake, and consider a vitamin supplement. He suggested that I try meditation or yoga to calm myself down. I nodded and tried not to punch him in the face. I succeeded. This time.
He told me what he thought it was, but he couldn't be sure until he got my blood back. So, I left and waited to be called. He called me the next day. Good news/bad news he said. Good news, my cholesterol was 137. Then he rattled off a bunch of stuff, only some of which I remember - by RBC (what the royal bank has to do with this I don't know) was 5.2, my HGB was 17, blah, blah, blah. All good numbers, he said. With a few exceptions.
It turned out that he was right. So, I went back to his office. Back into hell I stalwartly march. Have I mentioned that I hate doctors?
I have adult form mononucleosis. Yeah, the kissing disease. Where I caught it from, that's a different story.
I know what you're thinking - no big deal, right? You're tired, you sleep alot a month later or so back to normal, right?
Sure, if I was sixteen. I guess its a little more serious as an adult. Check this out.
Now that I have this disease, I have a greater than 40% chance of COMPLETE liver, kidney or spleen FAILURE. Or any combination of the three.
If I happen to avoid the organ failure, there is a greater than one in three chance that I will end up with some manner of organ DAMAGE.
The doctor so cheerfully mentions that my spleen is already enlarged, and that too much physical activity, or the wrong kind of physical activity can rupture it. If it ruptures, then its nighty-night for Matty.
So the short end of the stick is that I have to go back to this butcher once a week so he can take MORE blood and tissue samples so that he can monitor the health of my organs, in case they begin to fail.
But wait, if we bring to bear the full marvel of modern 21st century medical technology and knowledge, if we exercise the extreme arrogance of the medical profession and avail ourselves of nigh miraculous acheivements of the last fifty years of medical advancement, how do we treat this?
We don't. "There is no effecacious short or long term therapy that would effect any significant improvement," was what the butcher said. So, in this dazzling modern age, in the face of a potentially life-threatening disease, our response is to wait and see if it fixes itself? It reminds of me of Homer Simpson, before his final exam in college, saying that his strategy was to hind under some coats and just hope that everything works out.
But hey, at least he gave me some tips on improving my liver health, and some changes to my diet.
It's all shadows. Shadows chasing themselves across a sunny field. The arrogance galls me.
No, the butcher is a nice guy. He's skilled, earnest, and he showed remarkable compassion. As butchers go, he's not half bad.
He said that the exhaustion will continue, with intermittent sore throats and fevers. Possibly for six to eight months. After that, should I avoid organ damage/failure, I will be back to normal, no harm done.
So I have spent the past few days trying to integrate this into my thinking. I feel the disease at work in my body, and I can sense the frayed edges of my mortality everytime i have to stop half way up the stairs, or when the exhaustion is like a giant hand pressing on me. The desire to sleep is constant.
When I used to visit people in the hospital, especially terminal cases, I was taught to help the person focus on life, that if they became consumed with thoughts of their impending death that it would only serve to hasten the event, and ruin the standard of living in the meantime.
Thus, I have been forcing myself to think about how much I want to live, about how much I love life.
The problem is that I feel within me need for submission. Part of me says that my Master calls. If I an eager to jump to whatever task my master sets for me, whether that be the House, or whatever, who am I to pick and choose which paths my Master sets for me? That perhaps the greatest submission to your master is to step joyfully into the great darkness? Christ is my master, should I walk through light OR darkness. Christ is my master beyond the boundaries of this small life, and this tiny world. If he chooses to spare me, to grant to me a few more days, or to beckon me to other paths, that is HIS right. I have known for a long time, and many of you have heard me say this, that my life is not my own.
This experience has given me new insight into the Rich Mullins' song "Elijah."
The Jordan is waiting for me to cross through
My heart is aging I can tell
So Lord, I'm begging for one last favor from You
Here's my heart take it where You will
This life has shown me how we're mended and how we're torn
How it's okay to be lonely as long as you're free
Sometimes my ground was stoney
And sometimes covered up with thorns
And only You could make it what it had to be
And now that it's done
Well if they dressed me like a pauper
Or if they dined me like a prince
If they lay me with my fathers
Or if my ashes scatter on the wind
I don't care
But when I leave I want to go out like Elijah
With a whirlwind to fuel my chariot of fire
And when I look back on the stars
It'll be like a candlelight in Central Park
And it won't break my heart to say goodbye
There's people been friendly, but they'd never be your friends
Sometimes this has bent me to the ground
Now that this is all ending
I want to hear some music once again
'Cause it's the finest thing that I have ever found
But the Jordan is waiting
Though I ain't never seen the other side
Still they say you can't take in the things you have here
So on the road to salvation
I stick out my thumb and He gives me a ride
And His music is already falling on my ears
There's people been talking
They say they're worried about my soul
Well, I'm here to tell you I'll keep rocking
'Til I'm sure it's my time to roll
And when I do
When I leave I want to go out like Elijah
With a whirlwind to fuel my chariot of fire
And when I look back on the stars
It'll be like a candlelight in Central Park
And it won't break my heart to say goodbye
'Cause when I leave I want to go out like Elijah
With a whirlwind to fuel my chariot of fire
And when I look back on the stars
It'll be like a candlelight in Central Park
And it won't break my heart to say goodbye
:: written by Matt Thompson, 11:01 AM
10 Comments:
You should have punched that 'doctor' out...just like those other ones you beat up. Of course you held yourself back, because you are a man of peace, not of violence (turkish).
Anyways, prayers be with with you in your journey...and since your sick I won't tell you how much rich mullins sucks. (Oh wait, I just did, sorry)
Anyways, prayers be with with you in your journey...and since your sick I won't tell you how much rich mullins sucks. (Oh wait, I just did, sorry)
We will pray that you Master will give us a few more days of your presence.
Love you Matt
On behalf of Matt and everyone at the house, Rich Mullins kicks it awesome style yo shizzle frizzle my wizzle with a tasty groove... Mullins - don't hate, Mr. Saskatchewanate, or I might come at ya like a ten-tonne freight, you go down swingin' like a dub-dee-fourtied gate. Don't be afrait, Mullins is here to abzolutely positivizate! Yo, I'm outtie!
(Brought to you by doctor suess, snoopy the doggy dog beagle dog, and your friendly local neighborhood mullinsman)
(Brought to you by doctor suess, snoopy the doggy dog beagle dog, and your friendly local neighborhood mullinsman)
As for the fate of Matthias, I shall say only that we beseech his continued presence with us here at Teh House. Ifn he must meet the master, we'll just commit ritual suicide and follow him, I mean hahaha did that slip out... What I meant was that we Loves us some Matty real good here, and we be on our knees day and night scoring points for his supa-health.
I are a foolish fool, but all I was saying above was that we loves matty, and we want him here as long as possible.
I are a foolish fool, but all I was saying above was that we loves matty, and we want him here as long as possible.
Only the good die young. You'll be with us a long time Matt.
I have to agree with the futile ranter... Matty my prayers are with you
I've got a few coats you can borrow to hide under if you want. :)
-ryeshy
-ryeshy
hmmm, imagine that, eating regular, protein and vegitables. boy does that sound like poor advice, oh!!!! and drinking more fluids.(which doesn't include ice tea or ginger ale) obviously a quack.
prayin and slogging on.
prayin and slogging on.
Dude your blog gave me mono!! I'm really pissed about that dude. You gotta think of other peoples feelings before you go and give them mono.
