Of Conventions and Convictions
So ACen as a whole wasn't a total wash even if the con itself was pretty much too busy to really accomplish much. The group you are with is what makes the entertainment anyway. We at least had that in spades. If anything I regret that I had to live in a perpetual state of denial to be able to enjoy myself. After leaving early Thursday morning and getting situated in the hotel, I got voice mail from my doctor in the evening. Some test results were back, not all, and not the *most* important ones. But even so, they were important enough and established enough to warrant a message.
They found trace sediments in my spinal fluid. There is deterioration going on inside me. This news, although something I was fully expecting, still took the wind from me. After a walk by myself to collect my thoughts, and a heated conversation with Tim in the hall, we concluded it necessary to let everyone know what was going on. It hurt me to sit there with my friends watching, and tell them that things are getting bad again. Moving from that moment through the rest of the weekend, well it took an effort of denial of such a fantastic degree to keep from falling apart, that I am not sure how I managed. I suppose the fact that the headaches and attacks were getting so bad that I was swallowing Percocets and other painkillers like candy sort of helped in the fact that it helped mellow me the fuck out when the pain subsided.
Thursday aside, Friday and Saturday were mostly concerts and cosplay. High and Mighty Color rocked pretty substantially. I am still pretty upset with myself about the guitar pick. Kazuto threw it right to me, it was in my hand and it slipped out and I lost it in the rush. A shining moment of failure if there ever was one.
The Darker Than Black cosplay was well recieved. Well, it was well recieved by the japanese guests at the convention. They were all very excited about it. A show with only 5 episodes out so far isn't quite popular enough to have a *large* American fan base. But I had enough people excited about it regardless. The other really shabby cosplayers with pieces of paper rubber banded to their faces with magic markers didn't really like me too much. One of them said he was going to quit trying altogether. Glad I could ruin somebody's day.
Saturday was my birthday, and after an episode Friday night that had me convulsing on the floor, and a night filled with my head exploding and preventing me from sleeping too much, the morning was basically a blur of pain. I pretty much laid at the foot end of the bed staring at the ceiling for a good two hours before all the pain killers finally nullified the aching. And even then, we remained in the room for another few hours watching TV until people got back from lunch. By that time I was humming pretty good again, so I took some more Percocet. The whole rest of the evening was pretty smooth, as I was too numb to let much bother me.
We went out for a fancy dinner. Suits, dresses, Higgins the chauffer. My meal alone was over a hundred bucks. What a way to celebrate a birthday. Never had a steak or lobster that tasted so good.
After coming back from that we hit some room parties and walked around here and there. I didn't feel like putting my costume back on, so I just walked around in my suit. At one point in time moving between parties we stopped and talked to Hilary. It was at this time that Jessie managed to find me. She was crossplaying as Cloud, and I didn't recognize her at first, but it was partly due to the fact that I was pretty doped up. She asked if I even recognized her anymore, and it took me a moment, but I finally said that I did. She gave me the 'it's nice seeing you again' and before I could attempt a response Beth was dragging me off to another room party.
Turned in around 5am, slept very little, got up and packed up and checked out. Went back to Mitsuwa again for lunch before we headed home. I spent most of the drive going in and out of consciousness repeatedly. All the pain and lack of sleep was getting to me, and the exploding head bullshit was preventing me from getting any even half way decent rest.
Got home, couldn't really get to sleep. Spent some time on the phone with people, finally managed to crash. Think I slept for 11 hours or so, no exploding head, thank God. Still felt wiped out when I woke up, but I suppose that is neither here nor there.
It wasn't the best con. But honestly it was the best con in quite some time. There were problems everywhere, organization was shit, so much went wrong with programming, but despite it all, and in spite of everything, I managed to have an enjoyable time. But it's the people that really made it worth it.
Now I am at home, and the convention is over. I have had to momentarily drop my denial and face reality. Make some calls, talk to my doctor. Sort things out. Decisions to make.
I will go in early Wednesday morning as planned. I will still get some test results back, though that is hardly the point anymore. Their plan is to put me on the table, thuroughly examine me, scan deep, and pinpoint the area to begin treatment.
I know two things right now. I know that I really don't want to die. And I know that I really don't want to go through this procedure again. The conflict therein is devestatingly one extreme or the other.
I can choose to let things take their course. I can choose the end, and live out my days for as long as I have. I can choose death. Or I can choose the procedure. I can choose life, but at the cost of what it will do to me. What I know it did to me already, and what I can't imagine going through again. I can choose life, but in doing it, I'll lose my fear of death, and with every passing day, I will wish for death that much more. The two are in staunch opposition. Neither is a good choice. ...and I really don't know what to choose.
I want to say I never take anything lying down, that I will fight to the bitter end and never give up. That I am too afraid to die to just throw in the towel. But I'm just as afraid of being torn apart, physically, emotionally, maybe even spiritually if I still have any of that left. Choosing life will be like already being dead, and being tortured in Hell. I can not imagine that Hell could be any worse. Even the worst things people have envisioned. I'd rather be drowning in a lake of shit or having my flesh scorched from my bones for all eternity than be on that table again.
Is it wrong to have the notion that maybe it's just time to stop fighting? Is that any different than suicide? They say that sometimes people know when it's their time and they just accept it. Is it wrong to think that acceptance is okay? ...not that I even think I really *can* accept it. And maybe that means I can't really make that choice, because I don't know that I have the conviction behind it.
...but I don't have the conviction to live that life again either.
I can physically die, or I can die inside. Which is really worse? And if I choose to die inside, and live on, how much longer until it comes back? Another two years? Less? I don't have much left for them to work with. Eventually I will run out of parts to burn away, and then there won't be anything to be done about it. If it just keeps happening, it's a moot point anyway. And if it just keeps happening, the only option is that impossible surgery to try to construct me a completely new skull. Try to cut apart my old one, and craft me a new one, with more parts that might fall apart the same way for mysterious reasons. ...and they don't give more than maybe 7% chance of that even being successful. Removing someone's skull without damaging everything inside and trying to rebuild doesn't seem like the easiest thing in the world. And even if I come out of the surgery, there's nothing to say I won't be a vegetable, or just slowly wasting away because of the strain. It's not even really a last ditch effort.
Maybe they do the procedure, maybe it goes away and never comes back. Maybe it does come back and I face it all over again. I am so tired of medications, operations, doctors and hospitals.
I can't make a choice. I can never make a choice, there is always too much to weigh. How am I supposed to make this one? I don't know that anything is actually a right choice. I don't know what I am supposed to do. I don't know how to accept death, and I don't know how to accept losing myself to the madness.
And I have roughly 30 hours to figure out the depth of my strength.
They found trace sediments in my spinal fluid. There is deterioration going on inside me. This news, although something I was fully expecting, still took the wind from me. After a walk by myself to collect my thoughts, and a heated conversation with Tim in the hall, we concluded it necessary to let everyone know what was going on. It hurt me to sit there with my friends watching, and tell them that things are getting bad again. Moving from that moment through the rest of the weekend, well it took an effort of denial of such a fantastic degree to keep from falling apart, that I am not sure how I managed. I suppose the fact that the headaches and attacks were getting so bad that I was swallowing Percocets and other painkillers like candy sort of helped in the fact that it helped mellow me the fuck out when the pain subsided.
Thursday aside, Friday and Saturday were mostly concerts and cosplay. High and Mighty Color rocked pretty substantially. I am still pretty upset with myself about the guitar pick. Kazuto threw it right to me, it was in my hand and it slipped out and I lost it in the rush. A shining moment of failure if there ever was one.
The Darker Than Black cosplay was well recieved. Well, it was well recieved by the japanese guests at the convention. They were all very excited about it. A show with only 5 episodes out so far isn't quite popular enough to have a *large* American fan base. But I had enough people excited about it regardless. The other really shabby cosplayers with pieces of paper rubber banded to their faces with magic markers didn't really like me too much. One of them said he was going to quit trying altogether. Glad I could ruin somebody's day.
Saturday was my birthday, and after an episode Friday night that had me convulsing on the floor, and a night filled with my head exploding and preventing me from sleeping too much, the morning was basically a blur of pain. I pretty much laid at the foot end of the bed staring at the ceiling for a good two hours before all the pain killers finally nullified the aching. And even then, we remained in the room for another few hours watching TV until people got back from lunch. By that time I was humming pretty good again, so I took some more Percocet. The whole rest of the evening was pretty smooth, as I was too numb to let much bother me.
We went out for a fancy dinner. Suits, dresses, Higgins the chauffer. My meal alone was over a hundred bucks. What a way to celebrate a birthday. Never had a steak or lobster that tasted so good.
After coming back from that we hit some room parties and walked around here and there. I didn't feel like putting my costume back on, so I just walked around in my suit. At one point in time moving between parties we stopped and talked to Hilary. It was at this time that Jessie managed to find me. She was crossplaying as Cloud, and I didn't recognize her at first, but it was partly due to the fact that I was pretty doped up. She asked if I even recognized her anymore, and it took me a moment, but I finally said that I did. She gave me the 'it's nice seeing you again' and before I could attempt a response Beth was dragging me off to another room party.
Turned in around 5am, slept very little, got up and packed up and checked out. Went back to Mitsuwa again for lunch before we headed home. I spent most of the drive going in and out of consciousness repeatedly. All the pain and lack of sleep was getting to me, and the exploding head bullshit was preventing me from getting any even half way decent rest.
Got home, couldn't really get to sleep. Spent some time on the phone with people, finally managed to crash. Think I slept for 11 hours or so, no exploding head, thank God. Still felt wiped out when I woke up, but I suppose that is neither here nor there.
It wasn't the best con. But honestly it was the best con in quite some time. There were problems everywhere, organization was shit, so much went wrong with programming, but despite it all, and in spite of everything, I managed to have an enjoyable time. But it's the people that really made it worth it.
Now I am at home, and the convention is over. I have had to momentarily drop my denial and face reality. Make some calls, talk to my doctor. Sort things out. Decisions to make.
I will go in early Wednesday morning as planned. I will still get some test results back, though that is hardly the point anymore. Their plan is to put me on the table, thuroughly examine me, scan deep, and pinpoint the area to begin treatment.
I know two things right now. I know that I really don't want to die. And I know that I really don't want to go through this procedure again. The conflict therein is devestatingly one extreme or the other.
I can choose to let things take their course. I can choose the end, and live out my days for as long as I have. I can choose death. Or I can choose the procedure. I can choose life, but at the cost of what it will do to me. What I know it did to me already, and what I can't imagine going through again. I can choose life, but in doing it, I'll lose my fear of death, and with every passing day, I will wish for death that much more. The two are in staunch opposition. Neither is a good choice. ...and I really don't know what to choose.
I want to say I never take anything lying down, that I will fight to the bitter end and never give up. That I am too afraid to die to just throw in the towel. But I'm just as afraid of being torn apart, physically, emotionally, maybe even spiritually if I still have any of that left. Choosing life will be like already being dead, and being tortured in Hell. I can not imagine that Hell could be any worse. Even the worst things people have envisioned. I'd rather be drowning in a lake of shit or having my flesh scorched from my bones for all eternity than be on that table again.
Is it wrong to have the notion that maybe it's just time to stop fighting? Is that any different than suicide? They say that sometimes people know when it's their time and they just accept it. Is it wrong to think that acceptance is okay? ...not that I even think I really *can* accept it. And maybe that means I can't really make that choice, because I don't know that I have the conviction behind it.
...but I don't have the conviction to live that life again either.
I can physically die, or I can die inside. Which is really worse? And if I choose to die inside, and live on, how much longer until it comes back? Another two years? Less? I don't have much left for them to work with. Eventually I will run out of parts to burn away, and then there won't be anything to be done about it. If it just keeps happening, it's a moot point anyway. And if it just keeps happening, the only option is that impossible surgery to try to construct me a completely new skull. Try to cut apart my old one, and craft me a new one, with more parts that might fall apart the same way for mysterious reasons. ...and they don't give more than maybe 7% chance of that even being successful. Removing someone's skull without damaging everything inside and trying to rebuild doesn't seem like the easiest thing in the world. And even if I come out of the surgery, there's nothing to say I won't be a vegetable, or just slowly wasting away because of the strain. It's not even really a last ditch effort.
Maybe they do the procedure, maybe it goes away and never comes back. Maybe it does come back and I face it all over again. I am so tired of medications, operations, doctors and hospitals.
I can't make a choice. I can never make a choice, there is always too much to weigh. How am I supposed to make this one? I don't know that anything is actually a right choice. I don't know what I am supposed to do. I don't know how to accept death, and I don't know how to accept losing myself to the madness.
And I have roughly 30 hours to figure out the depth of my strength.