I can’t believe that it’s been six weeks since I started working out again. In that six weeks I’ve dropped fifteen pounds. Yes FIFTEEN POUNDS! I have been workin’ my butt of figuratively and literally. And it feels good!

If I were a goal oriented kind of guy … I’d like to be 198 by my 53rd birthday. That might be unrealistic … but hey I sure can try! BTW … for those of you interested and wanting to lavish gifts upon me the date you need to mark in your calendar is January 20, 2010.

All this past summer I was feeling very self-conscious and very ashamed of how “large” I was. None of my previous bathing suits fit me & Chris went out and bought me a single pair of trunks XXL. Fuck! Whether it was the chemotherapy drug (Methotrexate) and the steroid Prednisone I was on last year, fucking up my metabolism & me just feeling like crap for so long … who knows! The end result was being 180 lbs … and not liking it one bit.

Sometimes I wonder where the time goes. Most times I’m so caught up in the mind-numbing sameness of the every day, that I often don’t realize time has passed. Or maybe I just don’t want to consciously recognize I’ve gotten another day older … and as the song goes … deeper in debt.

And to look at the line before, and the one in the song too … I’m also afraid I’m reaching the 16-ton mark. Okay maybe that’s a “little” exaggerated, but I’m the heaviest I’ve ever been. And that is certainly a frightening thought to an aging man. Well at least this aging man. I can’t speak for us all.

My vanity will not allow me to reveal my current weight. Well okay … I currently weigh 20 stones. You do the math! It’s with this in mind I figured it was time. Time to get back to the gym. My doctor has been urging me to. He also offered up this little nugget too. “Joe … you should get back to the gym. Especially now that you are being

There have been a whole host of things that have gone on in the past few weeks.

On the health front … went to see Dr Raghu as a follow up for my Sarcoid. He didn’t put me on any drugs at all and told me he didn’t want to see me for another 6 months. Unless of course something “pops up’. The chemo drug he put me on really “messed” with my system, especially my thyroid & my testosterone levels. My Thyroid is coming back on it’s own, and my testosterone levels are getting back to normal with injections every 10 days. When they reach normal & stay … no more injections either. Woo hoo!

On the communication front … I did something I said I would NEVER do … I joined the Twitter Nation. As can be evidenced by the Twitter Widget on the right side of this here blog. The scary thing is I’m liking it better than Facebook. At least with Twitter there are no Fave 5’s and no other extraneous noise. I can “follow”

Life is dichotomy. Life is duality. The Yin & Yang of light & dark, virtue & evil, up & down … uh … you get the idea. Existential at best. Detached at worst. Round and round goes the world, as does life.

The Good News:

Went to see my pulmonologist today, after a four month hiatus from him or any Sarcoid drugs. He says though active, my Sarcoid is still mild. Like some milk-toast cheddar from Wisconsin. He doesn’t see any link with any of my current symptoms. And let me tell you … there still are plenty.

The Bad News:

In looking at the EKG that Dr Rosenfield did on me a few weeks ago in his office, Dr Raghu says it shows an abnormality. Okay … that’s a scary statement. And looking at my blood test results, my thyroid function is low. Not catastrophic, but this could also add to why I’m still feeling tired.

I feel the need to shower. It’s time to come clean. Not in a drench me with lukewarm  water in an enclosed box kind of thing. I think this is more a metaphoric shower. In my posts talking about my autoimmune disease Sarcoidosis, I’ve always disguised my doctors’ names. It’s time to come clean.

I realized that those folks who do read my posts about Sarcoidosis may be looking for doctors to be their advocates. I know that the process of diagnosis, and just having this disease is emotionally draining. Not knowing where to start, or what doctors to turn to, or ones that even know what the disease is … that’s the hardest part. Not knowing. Feeling alone. Feeling helpless & hopeless.

I guess if I go back an list the characters in this long running play “Living The Sarcoid Life”  I could clear things up. Maybe a list of the ‘advocates’ and the ‘clueless’ might work. But then I also need to think of the liability of talking about the ‘clueless’ … can they sue me for libel? It is only my opinion. For now … just the advocates.

I had a realization just the other day, while on the treadmill at the gym. It was seven years ago this month that I started “Livin’ La Vida Sarcoid”. Well … I should be a bit clearer. It was seven years ago this month I started back at the gym … the first time around. At that time I was lookin’ down the double barrel of my 45th birthday. A momentous occasion, maybe. But something inside of me, it could have been all the fat, self loathing, or the depression, told me it was time to get my glutes to the gym.

I was never the athletic type. Even during my childhood. I was a soft spoken emo-boy at heart. A budding artist even at a young age. Though I must admit, I did start liking the routine of exercise, and the results. I had set a goal, another process, ’till then, I had never know about. My goal? To be under 200 lbs by January 20th, 2002 … my 45th birthday.

This is a follow-up to the post: “A Show of Hands.” It’s funny. I’ve sat here for 30 minutes trying to find a way to start this. Trying to find the most obtuse angle to dive in. Contemplating a witty way to say what I needed to. I’m tired. I’m hurting. And I think my anger will have to be enough for now. Okay … I just need to say it. My Sarcoidosis is flaring up again. What’s really shitty is it’s now creating cystic lesions in the bones of my hands, wrists & fingers. So when I tell you this entry is a pain to write …. take it literally.

I’ve been dreading this moment. The moment when I had to admit to the world that my Sarcoid is back. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! After the X-rays back in August. A three week round of steroids … which did help the swelling and pain vacate. An MRI of my hands and wrists at Viva Las Vegas Radiology …

Sometimes, I’m told people can see right through me. I never know if they mean I’m transparent, or I’m hiding something, and what is hidden is transparent. A conundrum to say the least. Today I might wish that ‘transparency’ were indeed the case.

It started with a sharp stabbing pain in my right hand. This had occurred, to some degree, in the past. I was told then, it was most likely carpel tunnel syndrome. Okay. I’ll bite. So way back when I was given some smelly bright blue polypro wrist straps, some anti-inflammatories and that was that. Hadn’t had an issue since. Fast forward several years, to two weeks ago …. and the pain. It started in the right hand. A week later and the left hand joined in … either in sympathy, or solidarity.

Okay. It has been a while. Well … actually it’s been over a year. So much has gone on. So much has improved. But where to start?

At he beginning Joe. At the beginning.

It seemed like only yesterday … oye … already with the cliches. Okay it seems like it was only, 668 days, no 95 weeks, no, 1 Year, 9 Months, and 30 Days since my last confession or blog entry … take your pick. Break out your abacus & double check my math. Can people still do math in this country … can we?

Since those last entries a LOT of things have changed. First and foremost my health has gotten markedly better. My Sarcoidosis has been pushed to the back burner, there are very few, if any, signs that I ever had it. And believe me … I did & still do HAVE it. It’s like a bad toe fungus … you can make it subside, but it might come back. But I won’t linger on that thought.

Senior Pulmonologist Dr Spaghetti-Sauce has told me my lung capacity is back to “normal for a man my age.” I didn’t know whether to kiss him (no tongue please) or smack him … “a man my age” … indeed! Then Again I just turned the big five oh!!! Yup fifty big ones. No big thing.

Bought a new car. Yup. Traded in the gas-aholic 4-Runner for a tea totaling Scion tC. Chris & I moved out of Eastlake and bought a condo in the Pinehurst neighborhood of Seattle.

Never thought I could own a “home of my own” but here I sit. Though for the first month I didn’t do much sitting. I painted walls, made art, removed a wet bar … and it was all fun. It now looks like our home. Pretty amazing stuff … heady … if you will. And yes I will! Yes we will!

Hmmm. I looked in my back pocket. Not there. Looked in my front pockets. Not there either. I looked behind me. I looked on the floor, under the bed. Damn! Where could they be? Somehow I misplaced them. In a situation like this, what do you do?

Start from the beginning. Okay … easy enough.

It started around 6:59 AM. I heard that sound—that faint beep beep beeping of the alarm. I guess it didn’t really matter. I didn’t really think anything could take it away from me. I didn’t give it a second thought. Though I did plenty of thinking, seemingly only a few hours ago, when head hits pillow. Hoping for a good nights sleep. But it was my head. It was full of thoughts that I didn’t want to escape my lips.

Do you have your ducks in a row? Now there’s a question if I ever heard one. It was a bracingly cold slap in he face. It was a wake-up call that I didn’t want to heed. It was voiced by my therapist today. I have realized, in the back of my mind, that this disease can kill me. I’ve held the thought. I’ve looked at it. I’ve toyed with the thought, but there’s been so much else going on that it never really hit home until today. Part of me thought if I voiced the thought, I was being melodramatic. Or I’d be accused of being a drama queen. Or I’d have been accused of giving up already. Hell I don’t need other people to have these thoughts, make these accusations …. I do well enough on my own.

Warning danger Will Robinson! This is a major rant. If you are offended easily, close the window NOW! Or click here.

Hi … how are you? Cordial enough. Polite enough. But are people really asking me … how AM I … really? Like most everything else in this life … is it just another desensitized, sanitized question? Homogenized & pasteurized to the point it will not infect or effect? Do I dare tell them? Are they ready to hear how I’m doing. Should I hold this in. Just nod my head say “I’m fine, thanks” … and be on my way? I realize I will tell those people who “need” to know, but even then I’m not quite sure what to tell them. Or how much to tell them.

Well hey … you know … I just found out I have this incredulously incurable disease. That will always “harsh someone’s high” .. or in this case, harsh their “Hi … how are you?” Not my intent. Or maybe it is. Maybe it’s my way of “misguiding my anger” like some heat seeking missile exploding in someone’s face with a coy … “Oh ..I’m doing really swell. I just found out I have an incurable disease.” BOOM!