Tested

i have an irrational fear of heights. i know it's irrational but it doesn't make it any less real. you see, my fear of rodents is completely rational but heights... all i know is that it is there and it is great and soon i may be tested. i shall have to choose which is more powerful - friendship or fear.

i often try to figure out where this fear came from; i remember spending a lot of my childhood climbing trees and other tall structures without a a second thought. one year, though, when i was about 11 years old i went on a class trip. we stayed at a camp and spent our days engaged in various outdoors activities, beginning each day with a run. towards the end of the week, it was time to conquer the mountains that surrounded our camp. the adults packed ropes and we set out, walking the paths up the hills towards rock faces in the distance. i had no idea what i was in for. how could i? i grew up in cities and climbed only trees and urban structures - no ropes involved.

the man in charge left a group of us and the bottom of, what appeared to me to be, a sheer rock face. he clipped rope to our belts and headed on up the path. when he reached the top, he stuck his head over the rock face and yelled that we were to take the short cut, up the sheer face. at first things went well, i clambered up, finding crevices and crannies to lodge my feet and hands and work up the rock face. i was almost at the top when it happened. i'm not completely sure how, maybe i slipped a little, maybe a tiny piece of rock came sliding past me and falling into nothingness. your guess is as good as mine but, whatever happened, i froze right up. i looked back and all i could see was empty air. i imagined myself falling through that air and, for the first time in my life i faced my mortality. i looked up at the man in charge and said, "i can't."
"yes you can."
"no, i can't do this - there's nowhere to put my hands. i can't go any further." my heartbeat had quickened and i was close to hyperventilating. and then he did it. he let go of the safety rope.
"well, you're going to have to do it because i'm not helping you up and now that i've let go of the rope, you are either going to fall or get up here."
it was like my skin grew suction cups or i had turned into a part-spider creature. i scrambled up to the top of the rock and collapsed.
"see, i told you you could do it." i didn't respond. i lay silently, trying to get my heart back from the place outside my body it had run off to. i think that was the beginning of the end.
generally, i live a life mostly on the ground so i almost never have to face this fear of not having terra firma under my feet. but last week i got a call. it was boston's birthday and, to celebrate, she wants to go skydiving. and she wants me to go with her. what to do?

i have reminded her of my fear. i have told her that any skydiving will probably come with screaming and tears (i can only hope i don't pee my pants). but i have said that i shall try. i do hope that friedship is stronger than fear. but my fear is pretty darn great. and who knows what will happen when i look out of the door of the airborne plane. who knows what irrational fear will do...

August 21

when i was 15, my parents moved to a small town for work and i had to start boarding school. it was then when my father and i began our letter writing relationship that lasted through high school, college and beyond. it evolved to include the very occasional email - as much as a man who had a secretary to do most of his typing and thus was limited to a very slow two finger ordeal. this lasted until he passed away in 2003. he would have been 65 today and i think that i am finally emerging out of the state of denial, about that, that i have been in since then. i thought it would be fitting to share some of one of his letters. i think the fates agreed.

i went into the basement of our building and pulled out a box of some letters. the first letter i pulled out was dated 21/9/92:

"It's exactly one month today since my birthday and, already, I feel three months older than my tender age of 47. If this is an exponential decline that I will have nothing more to do with maths.

Today I feel much better. I have been counting my blessings. Actually I have been looking at the question of competition which cannot take place unless there are contrasts and comparisons. The competitive environment has many participants, few winners and a considerable number of 'also rans' and losers. All told, I consider myself to be a winner in contrast or comparison to other families. I have had reasonable parents who raised me well and I married a fairly reasonable wife (she was better than she is now) who has assisted me (or I have assisted her) to raise great kids whom I am proud of and for whom I can honestly and truthfully thank God. I shouldn't really complain too much about minor disappointments and setbacks.

A philosopher who has never amounted to much, for obvious reasons, once told me that 'life is not a bunch of bananas.' He obviously came from a tropical climate and didn't go far beyond that.

I must prepare for my annual Accident Prevention Function where I give the usual moving speech, but people still drink too much and we end up with someone getting involved in an accident.

Hope to see you soon. Make peace with your former r/mate. There is no room for physical wars in the 21st century."

now, i'm off to do something special and happy and it will start with a hearty steak and eggs!

Spinning The Wheel

so i know i have told you about the surgeries that i have gone through - they're like hairdressers the way they seem so eager to cut me open and take things out - but there's this thing that hangs over my head. these doctors, they keep calling me in every few months, looking for something new to remove. every four months there is a tiresome process. i call and make an appointment to spend an hour listening to music in a claustrophobic tube, while techs perform an mri of various parts of my torso. i find it a great time to catch up on a little sleep up until they start giving you these crazy breathing instructions:
breathe in
breathe out
breathe in
breathe out...
and stop breathing. don't take a breath.

and just when you think you will explode

okay breathe normally

which really means gasp for breath and take in all you can before the crazy instructions kick in again.

so, after the mri is taken, there is the round of doctors' appointments - a minimum of two. you spend way too much time in the waiting room wondering why doctors can always be late but you never can and trying to find something interesting to read while wondering why you forgot to bring a book or something to write on. did i mention that all my appointments are at a cancer centre? what does that mean? not that i have cancer because i don't have cancer - my doctors tell me all the time that i don't have cancer (and that is a great relief). what i have is niggly things that insist on taking advantage of my apparently fertile insides and just growing willy-nilly. anyhoo, what it does mean is that i spend time with incredible women who have to wait for late doctors and strike up conversations along the lines of a shoplifter who finds themselves in prison with hard-core criminals:

so, i had surgery for breast cancer but i'm doing so much better now. i can't believe the doctors are so late. what are you in for?

oh, um, you know, just some irregular tissue. ahem.

it is almost a relief when i get to see the doctor. until the doctor tells me that i'm not all clear and that i need to come back. or that there is something else that they see but it's in a different part of my body from their speciality and i have to see a different specialist.

it's endless but i have realised that half the battle is admitting that there is a problem. i have to admit the toll this endless cycle of scans and doctors' appointments is having on my psyche. if i admit that sitting in waiting rooms and waiting to find out whether or not someone is planning on cutting into me and taking 3 months of recovery time away from me is stressing me out, perhaps that will help me better deal with it all. maybe taking time to say, i'm pandave and all of this gets to me and puts me on hold, that will help me take a look at all of this as a mere hiccup and not a time to grind my teeth and bite my tongue in my sleep.

most of all, maybe an embrace of the stress will keep my brain ticking and me doing what i love and enjoy and not just plugging through life and doing what i have to do. seriously, if i'm going to do what i need to in order to pay my rent and keep from being evicted, i sure as heck better be doing things that make me laugh and keep me alive!!!