Archive for the ‘let’s get real!’ Category

Lost Dreams

As the waxing hours of the morning turn into sunlight upon a distant horizon, I am here– alone– in my bed area. It is silent and yet around me, they are breathing softly and as they sleep , they are dreaming. They are dreaming of freedom, a better place to exist, a place so many long for, a place that not a one of us are that close to. They are dreaming of home.

I once experienced such dreams, . Now when I close my eyes there is nothing. This other world– created by the mind– has all but vanished without hope of return. I sometimes wonder if this lack of mental escape is a sign, a prelude to the realization of madness that I am inevitably inching towards.

My questions are many and my answers are so very few. I watch, awaiting harmony up the path which I believe I freely willed from the beginning. Yet at every turn on this road , I find only chaos. I cannot say that life is all a mystery for there are many lessons that I have learned along the way. I have had a great number of teachers but none more prevalent than death.

I have taken life and as a result, I will never be the same. I was forever changed by the event of that night and for my actions I am indelibly carry this weight with me always– but you wouldn’t know it. for a man’s burden in life is not always displayed upon his face like paint on a canvas.

some of us have refined the spectacle of our personal torment so that what was once thunderous roar is now little more than a whisper which trembles aloft a summer night’s breeze. It shames us in silence and leaving us with tears of solitude streaming down our faces.

Our pain is our own and though it appears to be gone to the naked eye it lingers on– haunting us from the grave. Such is fate but I accept that fate and would not change a single day as it occurred if given the chance. If I did, I would lose the wisdom that those events produced and I have a strange feeling that I will need such knowledge for the future that lies ahead.

Jeheshua

What’s your “perfect world”?
LPW

Who is Thom DeLorenzo and why is he here? Because Thom is an activist of the highest order and goes to the mat when he finds a client, a cause or something that is of great import to him. Here’s a bit about him and then his essay. Read more about him at the end of this piece.

Thomas DeLorenzo

Until just a few years ago, Thomas DeLorenzo never would have believed he could become an HIV/AIDS activist. Before he was “officially” diagnosed with HIV in 2001 — with 60 T cells and a viral load of 300,000 — Thomas had been living in denial. And until 2006, he was too busy dealing with the many side effects of his own HIV meds to think about helping anyone else. Then he and his doctors finally figured out the perfect med combo — and for the first time in many years, Thomas felt, that he actually had a future..

I was not always this outspoken with my status. In fact, in the beginning, I was incredibly fearful. I knew I had AIDS well before the doctors made it official. I was living in denial not stupidity. I knew that when you lose as much weight as I did and you are eating McDonald’s pretty much every day, something isn’t working right. I knew that the sheets were not supposed to be wet every morning from my never-ending night sweats. I knew all that — but I still did nothing about it.

I like to say that I didn’t make a move until I felt comfortable with my insurance. Being self-employed, I get the privilege of buying my own policy, making me vulnerable for cancellation at the insurance company’s whim.

I tell people I didn’t use my policy for the first year in fear of being cancelled for a pre-existing condition, but what really happened was I was just too scared to confront the truth. I had seen it all before and still was in complete disbelief that my body could actually betray me like this. I mean, didn’t we have some unspoken bond, that if we worked together, we would be better off?

Apparently my body didn’t get that memo.

Instead, I lied to everyone around me as to how I lost the weight, become gaunt looking, and just slowly removed myself from the social scene. As a publicist, you are expected to go out all of the time. I could barely make it through the day, much less spend the nights at endless events, and typically I would head straight to bed after work for what was only going to be a few minutes, turning quickly into the entire night. I would miss meals just because I was too tired to get up to do anything about them.

I finally opted to go and visit my long time therapist, Laura Morris. I just blurted out simply, “I am sick.” Being the Jewish mother she was, she instantly clung to other reasons than that elephant I had now sitting in the room with me. Instead of giving me advice, she simply shared her news — her breast cancer recently returned for the third time and she was in the middle of chemo treatments. I had my first survivor buddy.

Initially, I would just sit in my apartment crying, and not doing anything about what was going on. And I just kept getting sicker. At one point my father said, “Are you okay?” and I lied and said I was fine, knowing full well what was going on in my body.

Christmas that year would be a challenge, for I could barely make it through the day. I had made this bargain with myself that I would get through the holiday and I would immediately find a doctor in Los Angeles and begin treatments. I was home, and it was December 26th, 2000, and I was having AIDS symptoms as if it were 1988 all over again. I was underweight by 25 pounds, experiencing spiking fevers and rarely made it off the couch, much less out of bed. I remember praying to God, to have him give me an appetite in Christmas Eve, so my family would not notice that I was hardly eating now.

I somehow found the nerve to attend my 20th high school reunion, in spite of the fact I looked horrible. I kidded myself with the fact that I was able to fit into smaller pants than I did in high school. Never mind that at that point I weighed what I weighed in high school — something a man who was 38 should not exactly be able to say. I look at pictures of myself from that evening and just wonder what I was thinking. But yet I knew what I was thinking — I thought I was going to die soon and this would be my last chance to see these people ever again.

I finally made it back to Los Angeles and began the promised hunt for a doctor. With it being between the holidays and having only a few brain cells now fully functioning, I had a difficult time finding a doctor. I finally caved and called a friend and asked for help. I told her I was sick. She said I probably had the flu. I said, “No.” She paused.

Prior to that I honestly didn’t think I deserved to be saved, that I had caused this to happen and I had all of this and more coming to me. I thought that people would run from me and that I would become this social pariah, alone and unloved. It was only when my back was against the wall that I reached out for help.

The first doctor’s visit at Cedars-Sinai, on January 3, 2001, was, well, rather odd. I was completely scared to go alone, or be left alone at any part, and insisted that a friend come with me. This friend is a child television star. She was incredibly supportive, but everyone recognized her. It kind of made for an awkward tone for something so serious. In fact, when my blood was being drawn (for the very first time so I was horrible at it), she was busy signing autographs. It was completely absurd. My advice — don’t bring a public figure to such dramatic moments in your life.

The doctor immediately told me what I had feared so much hearing, that I was most probably HIV positive based on my wasting, no appetite and very noticeable thrush. But the doctor completely missed two major points — that I had PCP [pneumocystis pneumonia] and that “thing” on my face was KS [Kaposi's sarcoma]. He insisted that he was a KS expert and it was not KS. I would find out he was completely wrong a few weeks later, after the PCP he insisted was not there either was finally out of my system.

A week later, on January 10th I was supposed to return to the hospital for my lab report, but I felt absolutely too weak to move. I called my doctor who gave me my laboratory results on the phone: I had AIDS: my CD4 was 60 and my viral load was 300,000. My doctor instructed me to come to the emergency room immediately. A friend picked me up and I was diagnosed with PCP in the emergency room. They admitted me and I was hooked up to intravenous Bactrim. It turned out to be a dramatic rescue. After I had stabilized, my doctor told me that I had been very close to dying. If I had stayed home, I would have lasted only two to three days more.

After a two-week stay at Cedars-Sinai, I finally found the courage inside me to fight this disease and move on with my life. Actually I can pinpoint the very moment — it was after I told my mom. The second you tell your mother you have AIDS; everything is all downhill from there. I started immediately to make calls to everyone in my life that had to hear it out of my mouth first. That had to be the moment I took control of my virus.

Many doctors’ visits followed. I ended up with a situation they had never seen before — it now has a name Immune Reconstitution Inflammatory Syndrome, (IRIS) — because no one had been to the brink and had come back like this before. At least not in 2001. They didn’t see PCP and KS anymore. I became a textbook case and was poked and prodded by every intern Cedars could find in Los Angeles County.

There was a moment in March that reminded me of why I fought. It was when I met my second nephew for the first time. He was born as I was flying home to see my family. I just held him in my arms and thought, “My God, I almost didn’t make it to meet you. I came so very close to not greeting you into this world.” He was just coming into this world, and I came so very close to leaving it just a few weeks before.

Now, I have amazing health, can’t keep my mouth shut about my struggles with HIV, am constantly looking for ways to help others with HIV that do not have the advantages I have — it’s a complete turn-around. I am about to do something few people attempt to do at my age, much less people with AIDS — I plan to attend law school in Fall of 2010. The idea is to study health policy law and take my activism further and get a chance to make more of a difference for many, many more people.

AIDS has taught me much. I would have never guessed that something so very horrible would have turned into an amazing experience, but it really has. It has defined the man I am today, and I like the person I am becoming. I have traveled many roads that people with immune systems don’t get a chance to — good and bad. And I am no longer that scared, insecure boy from Schenectady, New York.

Activists are definitely made, and are not born.

Now Thomas works as a producer and publicist in the entertainment industry and has been widely recognized for his HIV/AIDS activism.

In 2006, the New York Times named him an Unsung Hero in the Fight Against HIV/AIDS for his Christmas Goody Bag Project for the residents of the San Antonio AIDS Foundation Hospice; and in 2008, Thomas was the Foundation’s Angel of the Year. Recently, DeLorenzo’s alma mater, Hofstra University, named him Alumnus of the Month for his work on behalf of people living with HIV/AIDS.

DeLorenzo is the final stages for the launch of his website, SwagforGood.org, where he can continue his Christmas Gift Project for other AIDS hospice patients throughout the country, such as Joseph’s House in Washington, D.C. DeLorenzo will also be the opening speaker for the Hofstra University’s Pride Network launch event on December 2, 2009.

When not reading or prepping for the LSAT, DeLorenzo writes about the need for a national health care plan from a person with AIDS point of view for the Huffingtonpost.com. His personal life includes lengthy discussions on great works of literature with his favorite accountant

Currently DeLorenzo is putting together his annual goody bags for the AIDS hospice and is seeking donations of items that would be as helpful and uplifting to these patients. If you have a company, brand, store or project that would like to contribute to this effort, please reach out to Thomas DeLorenzo here

LPW

While in “living in a perfect world” has been dealing with the passing of a parental figure —absent and abusive though he was— the other parental type figures in life have been showing signs of rapid aging and health issues. Discussing this less than perfect situation and the probability that dealing with funerals or at the very least hospitals is in the near future with someone, prompted Lark Lennox to submit this post to Livinginaperfectworld.com

A friend wrote that he was thinking of me and apologized because it wasn’t flowers or jewelry.

Sympathy Bouquet — 1800flowers.com

This is my response:

It’s funny about the flowers and jewelry thing. Part of me still has romantic notions about stuff like that, but, truly, I already have some nice jewelry—courtesy of my mother.

My father rarely gave her jewelry, but when he did, it was exquisite—not metal and stones, but art.

I wear a locket that my father gave to my mother early in their marriage. I regret never asking what the occasion was, but when I look at family photos, she’s wearing it early on in their marriage. In her final years, she wore it almost constantly, even if she was wearing another necklace. (I hope this doesn’t sound “fancy-shmancy”. We were definitely NOT nouveau riche or any kind of riche!)

The locket contained a picture of my father.

In early 2002, shortly after my husband and I separated, my father had a “cerebral event” that left him in very bad condition. I was a mess because of the marital problems; I couldn’t eat or sleep. Going back and forth to DC and seeing my parents in such sad shape added to my angst.

At some point, my mother took off the locket and put it on me. Not to “give” but to “lend” it to me to give me strength. I added a tiny picture of my mother to the other side of the locket. I liked having my parents together like that.

Over the next few years, the locket went back and forth between us. When she got sick, I insisted that she keep the locket. Finally, of course, the locket came back to me. On the day of my mother’s funeral, just before the service began, I realized that she should have it one more time, so I laid the locket on the casket.
(Things like that are probably very inappropriate for Jews, but, as my sister-in-law said, “She’s your mother. You can do anything you want.”) Janet took a picture of me, with the casket in the background (also a no-no, you can be sure), but I am comforted by the whole thing.

How can any gift of jewelry even try to compete with that? (Though I would love for my heart to be so thoroughly taken by someone that even a Cracker Jax trinket could trump it.)

So the only gift I really want is time—time with my loved ones, time in good health, time to gather more people to my heart.

Lark Lennox

My deepest thanks and appreciation to Lark Lennox for the thoughtful commentary. Living in a Perfect World

Preppycrat has taken on an issue about which I have been contemplating a commentary post. Maybe that’s good, maybe that’s bad, but as someone who lives in the DC area, Preppycrat has more access to all the information that I do here in LA (read Liberal Alternative location) . Check out some of the videos HERE.

Here’s a quote from the Preppycrat post. Courtesy of www.politico.com, we have found out that Sarah Palin has spent approximately $150,000 on clothing, hair and makeup for herself and her family since early September.

OK, let’s parse this. Ms. Josephine six pack has spent three times the annual income of the average middle class family on clothes, makeup, hair since the beginning of September. That’s about a four or at best five week period. John Edwards’s $400 haircut was less than one tenth the $4716.49 spent on hair and makeup by the Palin clan. And as far as anyone knows, he paid this out of his own pocket (edit – he paid for it with campaign money but later reimbursed the campaign for it). The RNC funded the entire $150,000 for Palin’s clothing and accessories.

Similar outfits can be had at a variety of places, to wit Ann Taylor Loft, where you can have this outfit for less than $500 including the cute black patent leather tote and the ankle boots. Here at one of Michelle Obama’s favorite stores, White House/Black Market is a leather jacket similar to the one pictured on Palin, above. Yes, it’s black, not red. But from this store one can be sure the quality is good and the price is certainly reasonable for a good leather jacket. From Banana Republic, a black suit with royal purple blouse, and finally from Victoria’s secret, a suit in a pretty cocoa brown, and also from Vicki’s Secret what is more of a power play than a vivid red suit?

End of Preppycrat’s commentary and here is mine. Here’s what’s wrong with this picture— 1) Mrs. McCain wears an outfit that’s 10 x the cost of what Laura Bush wore to the RNC

Now I will say that Mrs. McCain PAID for this $300 thousand dollar ++ outfit from her own wallet— but given the economy then (and considered in retrospect with the current situation) this was just bad judgement. However it was her money.

2) Sarah Palin has let the RNC pick up the tab. Her stylist charged the RNC over $20k for the work she did which was almost 2x the amount that amount paid the McCain’s foreign policy advisor. Does anyone see the problem with the rationale here? What’s more important: the appearance or the knowledge? Your call here — not mine. However I don’t care HOW a president looks (overly gaunt and tall —think Lincoln; in a wheelchair— think FDR; wearing glasses because he’s really got poor vision and was a wimpy kid— think Teddy Roosevelt) , I care about what he—or she— can do and how much they know. I want them to be intelligent and informed. I don’t care if they are all that well-dressed. Especially in hard times when people are skittish and might be living in cars.(Recently spotted a couple people living in their car in our upper class are. I know someone who has been handing out Jackson’s when people ask for a buck), this is not the image the RNC needs to be putting out on the table.

Here’s another image that” Preppycrat wants you to see — Dr. Jill Biden!

According to Preppycrat; There is a gem of an article at www.style.com the online home of Vogue magazine that has a wonderful picture of the 4 generations of Biden women and an excellent article on Dr. Biden. The article and photo are also in the magazine itself. Among other things, Dr. Biden runs 5 miles a day, has multiple graduate degrees in addition to her doctorate, and truly likes clothes but also within reason, in the article she talks about much she loves one of the suits she’s purchased recently because it not only looks great and fits her well but it’s a price an “educator can afford.”

Ok.. I am not voting on the basis of fashion. If that were the case, I would use Cindy McCain as president and have her balance the budget— forget John. But this isn’t about fashion. It’s about being able to run a country and navigate tough times and treacherous waters.

What I don’t want to see in the White House is someone who’s foolish enough to think that image is everything and that we (as in “we the people” aren’t going to notice. Obviously I am not happy with the Wall Street Melt-down — and along with the manufactured gas “crisis”, the financials bailout- from AIG to all the mortgage- lenders who dropped the ball on being aware that people had to PAY these loans. It’s not a situation that’s going to be easy for any person to walk into and deal with — as an executive or the President. However if you want to base it on the values shown by the candidates and also by the images they are presenting (and yes this is about image), is what they are espousing matching up to what they are showing you? Is there alignment there or not? Is it relevant to your life? Is it meaningful? Are they walking the walk as wlel as talking the talk? (How can anyone forget they own 8 houses?)

Referencing the Wall Street Meltdown, I have created a sandwich in honor of this occasion: Swiss Cheese, Sour Pickles, Ham, Turkey,
Saurkraut , Hot Mustard, Red Onion on day old egg bread— grilled till it’s really crispy and brown— almost black.

Thanks to Preppycrat for allowing me to borrow her posts. Living in a Perfect World: How is life in your world? LPW.