Monday, March 14, 2011

Insurmountable Obstacles

So here’s the thing. I’ve been living a fairly hermetic lifestyle for a pretty long time now. (And that’s hermetic as in the hermit, not the jar.) I don’t get out, I don’t socialize, I’m pretty much consumed by my work and the things I do at home that can be defined as one-person tasks: reading, writing, programming, and watching movies.

Now, there’s a reason for the way my life is the way it is. A few years or more ago, my epilepsy spiraled out of control. My body basically built up a tolerance to the medication I was on, and I started having grand mal seizures with no warning and at an alarming rate. At one point, I had them every week without fail. During that time period, I had an active social life. I went out every weekend, I had a circle of friends, and things were going pretty well.

Well, when the seizures started acting up, I realized that having a grand mal seizure at a gay club (or any social venue, for that matter) is a real buzz-killer. 911 is called. With that, the police, fire, and emergency responders are dispatched. Any fun you may be having comes to a grinding halt. Once the dust settles, and I’m all healed up, if I ever walk back into the club after that, I’ll be “that guy who flopped around on the floor and ruined the fun for everyone.” I’ll also be “That guy who might do it again.”

I’m not worried so much about my reputation. I’m a nerd. And a geek. (There is a difference. Subtle, but important.) I’ve dealt with those stigmas all my life. What I am worried about is ruining everyone else’s fun.

And let’s be honest: most people have no idea what to do when they see someone having a seizure. People still think you can swallow your tongue. I mean, really. It’s attached to the bottom of your mouth. Seriously, people. Have you never brushed your teeth and observed this for yourselves?

Of course, television and movies don’t help. Just recently I watched a television show where a patient started having a seizure and the doctor ordered a spinal tap STAT! During a seizure. Pray tell, why would you inject a foot-long needle into anyone’s spinal column while they were convulsing so violently that you’d likely paralyze them for the rest of their lives?

Le sigh.

So you can imagine all the horrifying things I can imagine people trying to do to me in their efforts to “help” while I’m having a seizure. I don’t blame them. It’s just that they don’t know any better.

So the best thing that I can do is remove myself from the equation. Put myself where I can’t expose people to danger. Because believe me, I’m a danger to people when I’m seizing. Not only do I have epilepsy, I have HIV. As I’m seizing, I may bite my tongue. And if some hapless Samaritan decides to help me out by sticking his fingers in my mouth, I will likely bite him and infect him with HIV. I won’t know it, because the truth of the matter is that I am not there. And when I came to, I would live with that guilt for the rest of my life.

And there you have it. To protect people, I stopped going out. I became a recluse. It was safer for everyone that way. My doctor changed my medications, and the seizures came back under control, but my confidence was badly shaken. And here I am, years later, still a recluse, sitting alone at 10:35 PM, typing this blog entry alone.

And I’m tired of being alone.

I feel like there’s this gaping void in my life. I don’t need a circle of admirers. I’ve never needed that. I think that what I need is some sort of connection to the world that isn’t based on bytes flying through cyberspace. I want to discuss politics, religion, philosophy, science, books, and the arts. I want to be able to have my opinions challenged, to expand my horizons, to be lured out of my cave because someone makes me want to do it.

But I’m afraid to do it. I’ve grown so accustomed to being here, to hiding from the world, for a myriad of reasons, that I find that taking that first step is a seemingly insurmountable challenge. I find myself longing for someone to take my hand, tell me it will be okay, and help me take that first step. Because I don’t think I can do it by myself. As strong as I’ve always thought I was, I know now that I’m not.

The funny thing is, I don’t even know why I’m writing this. My blog has no readership. Perhaps that is why I’m writing it. Maybe I’m putting this here because it’s safe. Because my blog is a safe part of my isolated little world, and I don’t have to worry about anyone finding it. In which case nothing will change, and everything will remain the same.

1 comment:

Jeremy Rice said...

So change it. Come for a visit. A weekend won't kill you (or us). And I promise not to call 911 when you seize...