all the world is a symptom


so, why has HACAM become so hit and miss again after getting back into the swing of things last month?

well, the embarrassing and easy answer is because i can't work myself up to write much these days. it's not that i don't want to. i really do. but the last few weeks have been tough, and i am mired in something that i don't know how to get out of just yet.

i want to write to "you" about my new glasses.

what is that feeling in my back?

i want to write more about football.

wait a second. i've never seen that mole before.

i want to sing the praises of the braves that have won, like, 25 games in a row since i wrote them off and still are playing relevant games during the last week of the season.

why am i dizzy?

i want to write about my girls. when's the last time i churned out a "hannah and caroline and me" post?

has that lump always been there?

i saw inglourious basterds and loved it. you wouldn't know it from visiting this site, though.

are those floaters that i am seeing?

i just bought brand new's daisy. after several listens, it's rivaling "the end of the world" for my album of the year (not so difficult this year since i've purchased less than ten records in 2009. pathetic.).

jesus christ. am i dizzy again?

fringe and the office are back. and yet, there's only a tiny part of me that gives a flip.

(types webmd.com again...clicks on "symptom checker") yep. brain tumor. that's the other shoe.

sarah asked me the other afternoon how much time during my day i wasn't thinking about the random things going on in my body. i told her less than five percent. that's probably being generous. i am constantly thinking about it. and by "constantly", i mean always. and by "always", i mean every waking second. i am not thinking about my girls. or my friends. or the halloween carnival. or playing softball. or alabama football. or the braves. or anything else. ever. because i am scared. to death. of something.

is it death? maybe. separation from my family and friends...or god? probably. something else entirely? just anxiety that's going to seem like a big joke six months or a year from now? damn...i hope so.

it is killing me right now. eating away at my soul. and i can't say it out loud. not as much as i feel it, because when people ask me (knowing what i went through during the summer) "how are you feeling?", they don't have the wont or the time to hear the real answer. that i feel like i am going crazy. that i feel like i've never felt before, and i want to get out. that if i was honest with the inquiring mind, i would probably start crying. it's not fair to those folks that have been thinking about me and praying for me. i've been a burden on them for too long already. i am thankful you don't live in the same house with me and see me during my lowest points. sarah and the girls spent the night away last night. i was a basketcase. i dozed for two hours (maybe), tops. and that was on accident. i woke up to the same sensations that i laid down with. i should be stronger than this, right?

this i know. i could go to my doctor and tell him all this (again). i could convince him to scan my head or my body and give me the visible evidence the pathology report suggested. i could make them show me they didn't "miss something" or that something hasn't been growing someplace they didn't look back in july even though the report says that what i had didn't go anywhere. i could do that. and i may, still, have to to escape having to admit myself into a psychiatric unit. but how long would that last? how long would i give that information its right credit? when would it's worth expire? a couple months? six? a year? do i really want to be "that guy" that has to pay out of pocket for co-pays and scans for the rest of his life for peace of mind, or can i just trust my doctor and those that love me and are privy to the same medical information i am and know that i should be and am ok. i want to be the latter. i do.

but i am a mess right now.

and i don't know what to do with it all.

on the surface, i look fine (other than this terrible-ass excuse for a beard). my scars have healed. i've got most of my weight back. i'm working. exercising. playing. faking a smile.

below the surface, something wicked this way will come. maybe in a few minutes at church. maybe later. but, it'll come. in the form of a dizzy feeling or tweak in my back or a sensation in my leg. and i am going to freak out about it.

i am sorry. this post is much more self-serving than most. i don't need you to feel sorry for me. i just need you to know. so, i don't have to tell you out loud and waste any more of your time.

this is homework. this is for me to read later today and tomorrow. this is me looking in the mirror and trying to move forward.

this is getting old.