Through the veil, clearly

I had always been an inquisitive child, pondering Gedanken experiments as I lay in bed trying to fall asleep amidst the sound of the television in the next room. Perpetual motion machines, the variability of the speed of light, the heat-death of the universe, quantifying infinity - these were all things I had mulled over as a child, not that I truly understood many of the concepts and science involved.

I was an odd child.

One of the things I thought about was whether or not what we sense is really what other people sense. In other words, is what I call red really the same red that you see? Oh, I understand that 650 nanometres is 650 nanometres - I'm not disputing the wavelength of red light. What I'm referring to is not the physical aspect but rather the neurological interpretation of the natural world. What if what Marmite tastes like to me in my head is what you would interpret in your head as the taste of cream cheese? Would that make you understand better why I would like that particular sandwich spread? But we'll never know because each and everyone of us are prisoners trapped within our own minds - unless if we're telepathic, we won't really know what's happening in the other person's skull.

Switching topics briefly, I've been an avid reader all my life but up until recently, my reading material comprised astrophysics textbooks, technical journals, the D&D sourcebooks and the occasional novel or two. Recently, I've started reading romance novels again. The last time I read one was back in secondary school, whenever the occasional Mills and Boon showed up on the contraband items pile in the prefects' room. It was a welcome break from the tedium of schoolwork but I've never really felt anything. Actually, I've never felt anything from any book; I'd want to see how things developed but never truly identified with any of the characters in there.

Until now.

I'm not entirely sure what's causing this radical shift in perception but for the very first time, I can identify with some of the characters in certain novels. I suspect my current treatment plan and the medications that are causing neural remapping are the cause. I'm not complaining though.

Around the middle of last year, I was at a Barnes and Noble in the US with a friend as were attending a conference together. Now, you have to understand that B&N stocks a far more extensive range of books than the local chain bookstore, so I called my sis and asked her if she wished me to pick anything up for her. She rattled off a list of authors and I dutifully hunted for them. The only one I could find was a book by Jacqueline Carey. I picked it up only to find out that it's the 2nd book of the 2nd trilogy after I had returned home.

You have to understand that when I'm looking for something for someone, I'm quite tenacious in hunting it down. I eventually found the first book of the first trilogy and gave that to my sis.

She didn't read it. So I did.

I read for about a couple of chapters before I put it down. It was boring. Fast forward a few more months and I'm in the midst of bedrest following surgery. I was bored silly one day so I picked up the novel and started reading it from the start again.

This time, I was enraptured by it. I'm not sure what was different betweem the first and the second reading but I could relate to the heroine, so much so that for the first time in my life, I felt her emotions as the plot unfolded. It's the very first book that made me cry. It still does. Mind you, my body was undergoing some pretty massive changes as I was recovering from major surgery that permanently changed my endocrine system, so my guess that the neural remapping was to blame isn't entirely without merit.

Fast forward about a year later and I'm mentioning the latest book from the same author to a friend of mine, who snickered and said that I was the last person she'd imagine would like books "like that". I blinked. Yes, the novel was saucy...if you read it for that purpose. I started off with zero expectations and found the first series to be a delightfully touching love story with a surprisingly strong and resilient female lead who never lost her femininity even as history unfolded around her. Unfortunately, most people can't get past the sauciness and see the story that the author is attempting to convey. Ironically, in this series the more adult scenes were an integral part of the storyline as opposed to a titillation hook (the protagonist is a hetaera and her companion is a warrior priest sworn to celibacy). Disappointingly, I also appear to be the minority as practically everyone I've spoken to seems to be hung up of the notoriety of that series.

Coming full circle, no, I can't be sure that what I see as red is the same red as you see, or that what I taste is what you taste. However, in the case of the Kushiel's Legacy series, I can say with reasonable confidence that I'm feeling that which the author is trying to convey in her story.

We're still locked inside our own heads when it comes to our senses. However, we can still share emotions through something as simple as printed words.

And that makes the existence within our own little skulls a little less lonely, don't you think?

p.s. If you do read that series, for Pete's sake, try to read the story as a whole instead of getting stuck in the more steamier scenes. Trust me, the storyline is worth it.

Once more onto the breach...

Today I flew out to meet with one of my three surgeons who will be operating on me. I've been up since 4am and spent most of today on my feet. I'm dead tired but my insomnia preventing me from sleeping, as it normally does when I'm under high stress.

I've been compiling a list of questions to ask the doctor for several months now. It turns out that I did forget one mid-level question but it went quire smoothly otherwise.

We discussed my concerns then he did a medical exam to see what needed to be done. As it turns out, a fair bit will need to be improved upon. Fortunately, he's one of the top surgeons in North America. He charges quite a bit but you do indeed get what you pay for, which is going to take some fancy footwork on our part to stay on budget.

The thought of going under the knife again fills me dread; I've been very stressed out about this lately, as my sympathetic sister will attest to. This is one of three surgeries soon, all of which I'm stressed out about but for different reasons. For one thing, this operation is considered "elective" surgery.

Is this life-threatening? No. Can I live with it? Now, that question is one which I'd been pondering for nearly a year now and I think the answer is No.

For most of my life, I've been at a disadvantage compared to most other folks around me. I wasn't the firstborn in my family, which immediately relegated me as being as Spare, not the Heir. My birth country had some interesting laws, which puts those like me at a serious disadvantage when it came to commerce and finance - let's leave it at that. Coming to Canada, it took me ages to earn my citizenship so I was barred from quite a few opportunities. Suffice to say that had I been allowed the chance to pursue any one of those career choices, my life would be very different today. Then, there was my Condition. Now, that one was a doozy.

To a certain extent, I think that the disadvantages served to cheese me off enough that I put in a lot more effort than most others, partly to compense and partly because of my competitive streak. So, I'm not really whining here about my life but merely stating some known facts. However, my Condition wasn't something I can put any effort into - the only real choice I had was to seek treatment...or not. Both options carry different but significant costs. It wasn't something I could have done alone. If it hadn't been for the love and support of my family, I don't think I'd have come this far, or even be alive today.

Am I grateful that I what I have today? Let me see...I'm leading a normal life these days insomuch as someone with my background can consider as normal. I'm far happier, I've finally found that I fit society and I have a closer relationship with my family than I've ever had. So I should be fine now, yes?

Umm...not quite. Things still aren't quite right and I need to get it settled and closed. Do I need surgery for this? Yes. Mind you, if I hadn't had the wherewithal to save up enough to get it done, I'd probably have tried to fix things myself with a sterilized scalpel. In fact, it's a good thing I didn't as one of the things that was causing me pain was in fact a permanent suture from a previous surgery. What finally made me realize that this "elective" surgery wasn't exactly elective for me was the very fact that I had contemplated, more than once mind you, performing it myself.

That is most definitively not sane, which worries me significantly. So, I'm going to go through with this and the other two surgeries sometime in the next year or so. In the meantime, I'm going to do some deep soul searching to find out why this matters so much to me although I think I already know: those of you who know me well are also aware of my perfectionist streak which is probably why I'm feeling the way I'm feeling right now.

Rude Awakening

Have you ever had that moment of sudden clarity as you realized something basic and unpleasant about yourself for the first time? One in which you realize, aghast, that it's been going on for years?

I was getting ready to go to bed tonight and I usually take my medications just before I turn off the light. As I opened my pill case, it struck me that there's an awful lot of pills in there. Looking up, I saw perhaps with perfect clarity for the first time, that there's a small city of pill bottles towering over the usual mess on my study tabletop. My nasal spray stands out like the dorsal fin of an orca amongst the shorter bottles, distinctive yet slightly menacing. I've never been as creeped out by my meds as I was tonight.

On my bed to one side, there's a small family of plush animals and I realized that roughly half of them were gifted to me when I was on a hospital bed or trying to recover from surgery. Hanging like a necklace over my largest teddy bear was my chest sensor for my heart monitor.

Dear gods in heaven, have I really been that sick?

I think I'm getting healthier. I hope I'm getting healthier. I believe I'm happier when I came back from Victoria in June. I had some major issues resolved and for the first time since my last surgery, I could look forward with a lighter heart towards the future.

I've been on medications for a long time now and will be on some of them for the rest of my life as my body no longer produces certain things that keep me sane and alive. I'm hoping to be off one of my meds come spring of next year. My nasal spray...will probably require more tests before I can come off it. As for the rest, I guess I'm stuck with them forever.

The irony of it all was that two years ago, I had to fight to even have these medications prescribed to me. I remember this one very low point in my life when I despaired of ever receiving the medical care and treatment I needed for my Condition. As I look at those three round pills in my pill case, one set per day, I realize that I'm actually quite fortunate to be receiving the medical care that I have right now. I'm also uncomfortably aware that I'd better have a good prescription plan for the rest of my life.

I hope to be able to see the kids happily marry and have children of their own. Continuity of the family is something very important to me. However, I realize that I had to take better care of myself if I would like to have a chance of seeing that day.

Gods, I feel old.