Staus: Still ticking along, still somewhat overclocked but not in a hung condition or bluescreened. Eight million tests later, the docs are still not sure what's the deal. I even asked for a psych lady to chat with and asked her, Am I just bonkers, should I get therapy? She listened then said no, but we have a very good chronic pain clinic. Dude! Don't want a pain clinic, I just want to run in the sunshine someday. She says be patient; I am grumbling but I'm trying.

But, all's not bad by a long shot. Feeling pretty sweet like a ninja, actually. I'm taking fewer beta blockers and find that sometimes I can hike around the neighborhood at nighttime. I said goddamn! Woot! So hey, life's pretty damn good.

Monster <3

/blush
//slashies

Peeps have been asking me how I am doing. Here's how I'm doing.

The thing I was happy about last week (see previous entry) fell through, so I'm not happy about that anymore. Meh.

Saw the electrophysiologist, who took EKG and did a battery of other tests. She freaked out at my huge dose of beta blockers (500 mg) and made me try dropping that to 200 mg. That made me pretty sick, so she's letting me send it up to 300 again with many sleeping pills which sucks. She's alarmed at my condtion and at my not eating, and says we have to handle it now before I'm 'further damaged' or whatever. Apparently I'm getting some kind of nerve damage and some other stuff. I have to run another heart monitor test on Thursday. And so it goes.

The EP asked me a lot of questions and really thought about it, which was a nice change from the usual 'interesting, but yeah, no idea what to do' I hear. She concluded for me that this doesn't appear to be a cardiology problem, but a metabolic one, i.e., it's not my heart, but my glands or something. Lovely. She thinks the core of the issue is endocrinology or neurology or something. So, I'm next to be inspected by the endocrinologists for some obscure thing, then if that provides no insight it's off to neurology to look for tumors and other junk.

Trying to tune out the problem was in many ways easier than doing something about it. When I had vague hopes but no risk of losing chances it was easier. But this sweat engine is also a hope machine, and I am having a lot of trouble handling the letdowns. I have a lot of bad thoughts I wonder what's going to happen when there's no hope left for my cure. The scariest thing is that I think I know. And the hope for that relief is a devil of a pleasure. It makes me wish I had religion so I could pray that never happens.

But today I need to shout - I am HAPPY!

I said good day!

Again, posting lyrics in your blog is a cop-out and means you want to say something you can't. The chorus in this case fails to be pertinent, as it should be All that love wants, but the verses are spot on:

city sky comes down like rain
through all the alleys to the sea
I hear footsteps getting louder
drowning in my sleep
painted lies on painted lips
that promise heaven tastes like this
I don't believe that I believed in you

sunday's child will fall through faith
I feel i'm falling out of grace
grey city sky comes down like rain
to drown me in my sleep
people fade and I forget you
I hear footsteps, see their faces
but it all means nothing to me now

city sky comes down like rain
through all the alleys to the sea
I hear her footsteps getting louder
i'm drowning in my sleep
painted lies on broken lips
that promise heaven tastes like this
came home pushed all full of pins

sunday's child will fall through faith
I feel i'm falling out of grace
I see the sky comes down like rain
to drown me in my sleep
people fade and I forget you
I hear footsteps, icy faces
but it all means nothing to me

Writing this one from the airport. I am heading home from caliber training in socal for work. Ye gods I loathe socal. The heat, the smog, the people. Everybody there talks sooo much to just say one little thing. It's like they're all high on some kind of smog-crack. My heart's been lousy. I'm up to 400 mg a night of atenelol now. And I am sleeping crappy, only 6 hours last night. Blast you, ist! It wears on you.

...Just took off - I can see the lights of L.A. blooming below like tiny volcanoes. Southwest rules. Tonight I'm seated in the front row, and I was listening to the attendants wanting to leave early - they were waiting for one last guy, named Clark. A few seconds later I hear one of them yelling, "Are you Clark? Get your butt down here!" It was priceless: the whole plane cheered tiredly as a babyfaced businessman in snappy pinstripe ran on waving his arms like he'd scored a special olympics touchdown. Man, these guys rock everytime I fly.

...Coming in for a landing now at OAK. Beyond the heavy cloudcover I can faintly see a corona of lights from the bay area. Wooo its good to be home.