39 Pills and Thoughts on Pride

Thirty nine is precisely the number of pills that I take on a good day. A good day means that I am not having to take any pain meds, anything to sleep, anything for migraines, any extra antidiarrheals or any more allergy meds. That is absolutely ridiculous. If I take the outsider's view on my life, especially from somebody that has never dealt with chronic illness, this all has to look pretty insane. In a typical month, 2-4 doctor visits, 1-2 blood draws and an occasional phone consultation is pretty much my norm. Then there is time on my computer doing research, reading, and then, like today (and likely tomorrow as well), it's about just feeling like crap and dealing with it. This all is not said to have somebody throw me a pity party, it's just to show you some perspective on my rather absurd life. It is at these times that I can only come close to describing my life thus: The play called My Life- Confessions of a Viral Pariah, has a script by Bertolt Brecht, adapted by Joe Orton, staged and directed by Sam Shepard, adapted for the screen by Tim Burton, directed by John Waters and starring Gary Busey.

This is only one facet of my life, which makes things even more interesting. I'm not just a sick guy bitching about it, I'm actually a pretty tough cookie. Unless I can't meet my basic needs, my good friends know that when I'm sick, I don't want to be doted on, I want to be left the fuck alone. Unfortunately, and by no doing of his own, my poor boyfriend became the repository of the fallout of me trying to do more than I could today, as a migraine that felt like somebody was hammering a rusty spike into my right eye socket rattled my brain. And holy hell, was I a bitch to him. I had to wait until I was alone this evening to really look back and see how cunty I was being and then I called to apologize, and of course, got his voicemail. So I left what I'm sure sounded like a drunk dial call, since migraines make me hella loopy. The call was loaded with apologies, explanations, excuses, rantings, and in the end, still trying to make sure that he knew that I love him.

My friend Brian (different Brian) warned me last week, since he knows I have migraines, telling me that when his aunt was on Interferon, for 2 days after every injection she would have mind-numbing migraines. Well, because I didn't really want to know that, I sort of tuned it out, knowing that was just about the last sleeping tiger in my body that I wanted to poke a stick at. "Besides" I told myself "I did fine last week, maybe that won't happen to me".

WRONG

So here I lie at 1 am, exhausted but unable to sleep, my head throbbing like nobody's business, and watching a stream of consciousness of racing thoughts go by in a manner not unlike a silent movie.

But this is not the only part of my life, and it's usually not the one that I like to give a lot of mental energy to, since I find, especially with Chronic Fatigue, that it becomes a self-perpetuating cycle. The more you think about it, try to shut it down, try to make it better, the worse it gets.

But again, this is only a part of my life. This week, starting today, is Gay Pride Week, and in San Francisco, it's pretty magical. I've spent many of my waking hours in the last 2 weeks working on my costume for the parade on Sunday. My friend Tilly (boy name Michael), who is an unbelievable fashion designer and tailor, has made me the most stunning ball gown, it takes my breath away every time I see it. It looks like a Fairy Princess gown, like the one the mice made for Cinderella. The gigantic circle skirt is made out of 10 yards of teal taffeta, which will lie over the top of the most full bridal crinolines that I've ever seen. The bodice, which fits me like a glove, is hourglass shaped, and the outermost fabric is the most insanely beautiful blue, green and gold lace pattern that is covered in brilliant holographic sequins. It has huge mutton chop sleeves which taper in at the elbow the rest of the way down to my wrist. The outside of the skirt also has the most beautiful sheer cobalt blue fabric that has small blue applique fabric roses sewn all over it. It is mind-blowing to see. When I tried to describe it tonight to my friend Deanna, the best I could do was say "have you ever seen those Cinderella birthday cakes that they make for tweener girls? The cake is the skirt and the body and head is a doll with a big spike at the bottom to stick it into the top of the cake"? Now that I describe it, it sounds horrific, but they really are kind of cute, especially if you are a tweener girl, or the parent of one. Or the gay little brother of one. This dress is, without a doubt, the most fabulous, beautiful, opulent garment, male or female, that I have ever owned. And that it was made for me makes it even all the more special.

So in spite of all the bullshit that I'm having to deal with right now, especially in regard to my health, things are pretty damned ok. I am a very blessed and fortunate man. I have loyal and loving friends, all of whom will drop everything they are doing and come to my aid. I've never had to use that card, but I know it's there. I have a great boyfriend who loves me to pieces, as do I him. I have a house full of companion animals that bring constant joy and laughter into my life. I have a lovely home in a quiet and attractive suburb. Tonight, at now nearly 2am, the temperature is in the mid 70's, the air is still and I can hear the crickets chirping in the garden outside my bedroom, since I have my sliding door cracked open.

I am very lucky to be a gay man living in a time when the walls of prejudice are falling down all around us. I'm also lucky to have been adult and out of the closet well before this started, so I really have an appreciation for the magnitude of the gay movement and how it has changed our lives, our friends and parent's lives and society as a whole. We aren't there yet, but we're a whole lot closer than we were on a warm August night in 1984 when a very bright-eyed, optimistic and and somewhat impressionable 24 year old boy from Missoula, Montana crossed the Oakland Bay Bridge to embark on an adventure in magical San Francisco, The City By The Bay, that has left enough memories and experiences and insights to fill many more pages of a journal. This is a very wayward journey. There have been many strange and interesting detours, a couple of falls over cliffs, some really quantum-shift changes in perception and a lot of growth and insight. All this has led to the making of a very interesting person. Not always easy to be around, often difficult to understand, much less predict his actions, often appearing like a stranger in his own world, an intellectual and experiential Don Juan, often stuck in his head, sometimes downright weird, but always interesting.

A couple of hours ago I took 17 of my 39 pills, washed down with a glass of cold Yosemite water and a little chuckle at the absurdity of life. Here I am, sitting at yet another fork in the road. But more about that later.



Doggydad's Life Now: The Viral Monologues by Parry Tallmadge is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.
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