Fighting a war on three fronts

The Western Front:
It’s been since March since I’ve written anything. It’s been a long hard journey. Chemo is no joke. Being Trans and on chemo is no joke. Being stared down by an elderly lady trying to figure out if you’re a boy or a girl is humorous. At the time waiting for my appointment I wish I had a pad of paper. I could have written love notes, little hearts, pictures of skulls, space ships, cats, and spam. Something to confuse her. TO be fair she was in her 80’s possibly and it would just have made her painful day longer.

The hardest part of chemo is losing all those things you relied on in your transition. Your hormones, your hair, everything. It just goes away with a wisp. One day you have long hair the next your combing out small guinea pigs from your head. The hair falling out in clumps revealing plains of baldness underneath. All the things you work for and rely on gone.

I’m standing on the other side of chemo and it’s hard. I had my last chemo treatment the last Thursday in May. I ironically slept through all of it. I remember getting the drug and putting on something surreal and dreamy on my cell phone and passing out. That’s the last I remember. I remember thinking I needed to be still for one of the drugs and when I asked if I could move the nurse humorously said I was done. That was it. It was over just like that. I walked out to meet my partner and youngest kiddo out side playing on a swing chair.

The medicine can only be described as a dissociative experience. The medicine is pretty caustic and can cause your body allot of stress. So your brain and consciousness sort of steps back from your body as your organs try to figure out what the hell is going on exactly. So you sort of see everything from a third point of perspective. Both there in the moment but equally gone in the moment. It’s not easy to explain because you have a sense of self and time but you just feel separated from your body.

As the weeks went on the effects of chemo, the fatigue, aches and pains started to wear off a bit. The muscle fatigue never truly went away. The Nurse Practitioner said the drugs caused my body to age 20 years in the effects of the medication. In a panic I asked if there was genetic damage or telomere parsing and she quizzically responded with a no.

I was still very stiff and had little endurance daily. Even two months out from my last dose. I asked the doctor if physical therapy might help and they signed me up. After a few sessions they decided I was done and essentially explained the road to recovery meant exercise. I didn’t mind but it did terrify me. “What was I able to do?” “Would I be able to do what I did?” Would I ever be where I was?”

So I started walking on a track. First a mile then two then slowly working my way to three and three and a half. Then school started. I got up at the track at 5:30am but students would arrive early at school. The more kids the weirder it got. I would feel the teachers eyes on me on the track. Then the track lights would kick on either on a timer or of their own volition. In the summer they had never done that. I don’t know but when that kicks on you feel creepy especially post Uvalde. Walking around the track with teachers and students watching you. It was one morning with the football team took too the field I said “I’m outa here”.

So I started walking my old route getting father and farther along. I’ve gotten nearly to my old route but have a little ways to go but I’m getting closer and closer. So it’s been a drudge to keep fighting hoping the exercise will help my body fight.

Everything in my life post cancer and even during it to a degree has been about fighting cancer. What can I do to fight and keep fighting. What should I eat, what should I not eat. How much sun exposure it too much how much is too little. Emotionally where should I be and where I should I not be. Everything about fighting. Fighting to live.

After my last chemo I had to wait 12 weeks for the next P.E.T. scan. Basically a scan that detects ionizing gamma or x-ray radiation from a glucose like phosphorous substance. Fluorodeoxyglucose is injected into your body giving off positrons as it decays causing them to collide with an electron giving off a small Gamma or X-ray burst the PET scanner detects it. The glucose bit gets sucked up by the cancer. So the hot zones then glow on the scan. I had this final scan thinking things were going to go downward because of my mental state. I essentially was preparing myself for the worst, death.

I had the scan. It was painless of course. You really don’t even know anything is going on for the most part. You just sit in a magnetic donut going through it for about thirty minutes. Leaving the center I thought, “I can pee radioactive urine now for a few hours, lets go to a federal building a pee.” I decided it was inadvisable and to just get back to work. (Work is home at this point. I work from home.)

So there was a week or so of waiting till the appointment with the oncologist. My partner and I went to the appointment. It was like having a final, graduation, and getting married all in one. The worst part was we sat in the examination room for what seemed like an hour but was more like twenty or thirty minutes. In that time you think, “Is he planning for treatment because things went bad? How bad is it? Did the drugs not work? How long do I have to live? Will my child have to grow up without me?” All these thoughts race and bellow in your brain.

The doc finally comes in looking tired, a bit disheveled. He looks at the screen, “Your good, things look great. There’s some scar tissue but no active cancer. You can go home and come back in three months.” I was like what? That’s it? I waited all this time for that? I think in retrospect he was having a rough day. So I decided to share some miniatures I painted Cancer bear and Chemo-taur. He got a kick out of them and I hope brightened his day a bit.

So the war on one front seemed to be going well. I was alive and well. But now what?

The Pacific:
When your sick you do things to get better. It’s not always easy or straightforward. Sometimes you have to make sacrifices in order to push forward. That’s what I had to do.

During chemo my oldest son was acting out more and more. I love him tons. His acting out was affecting my health. His depression and his spectrum disorder were getting to be too much. In my weakened state he was becoming more and more erratic. Finally I made the decision that he should go and stay with his mom till Chemo was complete. After Chemo he could come home or we would decide from there. I didn’t really know what to do with him for the most part. His behavior was more than I could deal with. I knew he missed him mom and she had left Texas due to “personal issues” dealing with substance issues. She hadn’t visited him in five years more than three or so times. He missed her and hadn’t had much connection. Having a chance for them to reconnect I had hoped would help with his depression and acting out.

That was one of the most painful decisions I’ve ever made. I think in retrospect that was the start of a depression I didn’t fully realize at the time. I thought I had dealt with it but now I know I hadn’t.

Then there was my mother. I had sent my son with my insurance information, all the information for his doctor and info on how to get his records. My mother felt like I was blocking my ex-from getting Jacob help. I had given her directions on how to get the records, what form to fill out. This caused a huge rift between us. Especially with when my ex had to deal with some of my sons “issues”. When I chuckled she felt it wasn’t funny. In fact it was fucking hilarious. Now my ex got to see what we were dealing with on a weekly basis. She got to know what we were having to go through. From there my mom and I stopped talking after the accusations started to pile up. I finally had enough and asked her to stop talking to me about my oldest son.

I have a younger son but she’s been very ambivalent about him. That’s a conversation for a different time.

The Fight that can never be won: Antarctica
Sometimes fights can’t be won. Sometimes actions have unintended consequences. I’ve always been pretty gentle. Sure I have a temper but I’m the person who stops the mower to move a baby toad, give food to sick animal. I’ve never gotten in a fight of my own making. It’s always been to defend a friend in school, or stand up to a bully for someone else. I’ve never actually thrown a punch. Sometimes you come to something you can’t fight against. A topic or an event where you can’t fight. Sometimes the ontology of something can’t be denied even if the epistemology and the metaphysics might be off.

In may of this year I was notified that a allegation of inappropriate conduct / relations had been filed against me for the organization I was helping with. At first it was shock, confusion, pain, and bewilderment. I had no idea what I had done. It was two days after my birthday and I was side swiped by confusion. Then I started to remember back and wondered if it was that conference and it was. Or at least I believe that’s it. I honestly don’t 100% know or have ever seen the full allegations. I’m fairly sure I’m right.

When finding something like that out some people get angry. For me it was a deep feeling of pain, sadness, and failure. For me I felt that I had failed this person. I feel that if I had hurt her what type of person did this make me. What kind of person was I? Was I playing the role of evil villain in my own little docudrama. Who was the real me and was I the person I thought I was. Every action, decision, choice I re-evaluated on weekend. Everything I had done, said, and brought fourth questioned. Was it true, “The road to hell is paved with good intentions?”

In the organization’s board zoom call the allegations washed over me in a sea of pain, personal disgust, and confusion. I wasn’t even sure how to respond or what to respond to. The entire event was cryptic leaving my mind reeling. What had I done or what was I even being accused of? A certain terror sets in of, “What had I done? What did I do and what am I being accused of exactly”. I think the cryptic nature of the allegations and not being able to see the allegations with the person filing the claim redacted was difficult for me. My brain ran a 1000 miles per hour. They had told me we would reconvene on Monday. It was one of the most painful weekends I’ve ever had. That’s saying allot having cancer at the time.

I had taken over meetings back when COVID started kicking up and in person meetings would be possible. I was afraid my support organization was going to crash. I stepped up saying I could take things and build groups online. I had done it with conventions I knew I could do it with social media, email and zoom. I had helped keep the organization running during COVID. I had started to grow the online presence even having online socials. I ran social media stories, spent hours promoting meetings. I spent probably six or seven hours per meeting prepping, promoting, and preparing. We had all kinds of guests on, my mom, a trans comedian, a friend who had her PHD and focused on suicide, and other experts. I tried and put all of my energy into this group and I hoped it showed.

At the time of the news, my depression hit bad. I had at one point made an agreement with my partner that I wouldn’t self harm. After helping so many people I really wasn’t sure what kind of person I was and frankly didn’t want to find out. Death seemed like a viable option for me. But I spoke with my doctor and my therapist and asked for help. My meds were tweaked a bit and allot of introspection and EMDR started.

I thought back to that weekend and the person. I knew this individual as they lived near me. They were going through a great loss. One that I had experienced in my teens with a parent. I knew what they were going through and feeling like I could help latched on. I was going to a conference for work in Austin. I invited them so they could get out of the city for a while. In retrospect it was a horrible decision. The trauma of my youth was guiding my decision. I had separated from my partner and I had was in pain as well. I knew what it was like to feel powerless and knew how it felt. I knew what it was like to feel unable to do anything. In retrospect I did too much.

We had relations of a PG-13 sort but at the time I had asked full consent. We were both under the influence of alcohol. I still feel a sense of failure at being a friend to this person. To have those kinds of allegations and to be seen as the aggressor taking advantage of someone goes against my nature. The only way I can describe it as is having your heart ripped out and shown to you. I can’t deny what happened hurt her and while under the influence I hurt her emotionally. In the report she asked that I not contact her. I haven’t. I can never fix what I broke and that’s the most painful. Never being able to say I’m sorry or ask for forgiveness.

That weekend I checked up on her and watched over her to make sure she was ok. The last night there I carried her back to the room so she could throw up and grabbed my hair clips so she didn’t throw up on her hair. I never bought her a drink that weekend. I just wanted to take her out of her little world for a few days. In retrospect she saw me as praying on her. We had separate beds and what I thought was expressed verbal consent one night. Because the room was in my name, I drove her down, and I was the leader of the support group the onus of the situation was on me.

I took full responsibility for my actions in front of the board. I still feel the epistemology and the metaphysics of the allegations might be sketchy but it was bad choices on my part. My own pain and trauma affected my decision. I think that's why I’ve been so scared of social media. I emailed out messages to members of my group to see if I had made any kind of difference in their lives and I received a lot of positive feedback.

I think that’s one of the things I didn’t get from the board. Empathy. I don’t think they realized just how soul crushing the event was for me. Not something you drop on a Zoom call. Literally my life was turned upside down. I spoke to some of them recently about coming back to luke warm reviews. I don’t blame them though. After that allegation is made you become guilty no matter what. I become a legal liability. The organization was my life for so long that now that I’m not apart of it I don’t know quite what to do. I’m having to find my way now differently. It’s interesting. I have voiced my concerns that I felt it should have been handled differently. I don’t think they heard them though.

The most painful was sitting in a meeting listening to them discuss policy on this sort of thing. Dealing with the guilt and hearing one of the board members you use to date admonish group leaders if they date a member in the group. Knowing that, “Yeah know you are kind of speaking about us don’t you realize? Oh and your rule would have kept a few folks from dating who are now engaged.” It all fell on deaf ears. I had to turn off my video feed a few times because I couldn’t stop crying it hurt so much. The one person I wished would stand up for me and defend me decided to “abstain” from the topic. After that and the fact this person ditched me on New Years when I was diagnosed with Cancer I stopped talking to them.

I can’t change the past. I can’t even apologize for what happened. All I can do is move on and grow. So I’ve been off social media as it’s been kind of scary for me. I guess because coming back from cancer and feeling judged. So I’ve been off social media. Moving on and living one day at a time. Realizing the constraints from my life are no longer bound. The world is big and there’s lots to see.

In the end I sent out an email to the group email I started and maintained. I asked if they had complaints about me or if I had helped. To my surprise I got lots of emails describing how I had helped. That’s what I focus on. What I have to focus on. I fucked up. I hurt someone. I also did good. People are complex. I can feel good that I did good for people even with cancer I helped those in the community. I’ll always be proud of that.

Just trucking along as it were……