Running and Radio!

Health update and some unexpected fun with a friend.

First of all, I got my cards for my Oct. 27th gig at the Metropolitan Room.

Now that the weather has cooled a bit, and it's more fun to run, I thought I'd run down to the Metropolitan Room, which is about two miles. In fact, I've lately found myself avoiding the subways or buses unless absolutely necessary, preferring to run or power walk to my destinations. I remember when I moved to NY back in the early 80s, I was surprised at how small the island actually is, and how close together everything is compared to LA, which was spread out for miles and miles.

I saw owner, Bernie Furshpan, who, with his wife Joanne, has become a great friends of ours. He stuffed my cards into one of the little displays at the front of the club and then asked me if I wanted to co-host a radio program with him that afternoon.

Sure! Why not?

I also ran over to Swing 46, where Jake and Katie work, dropping some off there, and also at Don't Tell Mama, where I've also performed.

There is such a wealth of great performance places here. The Metropolitan Room has a great stage and piano. I think we won't have any problems filling it for the one night. (I hope).

Healthwise, I ran 9 miles the other day. I paid for it the next day, but refused to lie still. I put in another 5 miles -- and then slept all day. Then, 3 miles the next day. But my average run was up to 5 miles before the big 9 mile day, which happened mostly because I had errands to run. And I ran to each of them.

This work is crucial because it's driving down my dependence on insulin, as I wrote about earlier. 

Every street and view in New York City is interesting. I remember the other morning, I hit Times Square just as the tourists were beginning to come out, about 8am, and I overheard these two younger guys, complete with shades, say, "Woah! It's just like the video game."

Yesterday, I enjoyed being the guest of the podcast, Powder Keg of Awesome. I think I still talk too much. But this is a great way to learn. And they were great! Everyone in the "room" was bursting with energy and great stories.

The Word I Couldn't Remember.

"I've got a patient in his 40s and his cognitive function is..."

This was my doctor talking to me yesterday.

I don't remember the word he used. Degraded. Screwed up.

I was sitting in my running shorts. I had run to the appointment, continuing my training (for SteveFest60). The clinic is down on west 17th street.

"You've gone from using 60 units of insulin a day to zero after only a month of daily aerobic exercise."

"Yes, and 40 at night on the Lantus, down from 60." (That's the basal insulin).

After the exam, he was writing out the prescription for the blood tests for three months from now. He numbered them off but had missed one. I said, "And the thyroid." (I have Grave's Disease. My right eye is a little googly and tends to wander off.)

He snapped a happy grin at me. "And your mind. Your mind is quick. I talk about you when I do presentations."

"You talk about me??" I beamed.

"We don't know the long term affects of this virus. What's the difference between him and you? That's what we have to find out."

I ran-walked and jogged home. Took my blood. 75. Just in time to eat.

The man in his 40s whose cognitive function is impaired. That's the word. That's the word I couldn't remember. Impaired. That guy didn't impair himself. And the same virus that's attacking him is attacking me. I don't know what's going to happen, or is happening, to me.

I don't know what kind of life he leads. But, as I say in my concerts, the music gave me life. My friends give me life. Learning. And physical training gives me life.

God bless all my fellow positoids. And to all who love us.

Health Update: The Exercise (surprise) Is Causing Miracles.

I've been exercising, each day, more and more. Yesterday, I did a very long run (for me), almost two miles. Then, later, went back and did another two miles. For real runners, this isn't much. But for me, it's a lot.

The strange thing is that I didn't need insulin for either lunch or dinner. My metabolism was at such a high level, it disposed of the sugars all by itself, I guess. And it didn't hurt that I am eating low carb meals, while supplementing with extra whey protein.

My blood tests reflected all this good news, too. The virus is still undetectable in my blood. My t-cell count is up over 500 (which is way below normal, but great for me).

Also, my A1c dipped below 6.0 to 5.9, which was great cause for celebration at Dr. Tony's.

So, the training continues under Cat Steinbeck's watchful eye.

Incorporating "disease" into your life.

I don't actually spend that much blogtime
Or real life time talking about my ailments
So all this attention to my virus lately
And the side effects
Feels a bit weird

But it wasn't a publicity stunt
I didn't seek them
They found me
And I'm glad they did

I'm glad you did

Anyway, just for the record:
A blog post about ailments

People read the article and ask
"How do you do it?"
Meaning the pills, the shots,
The diet, the pain, the side effects
And the pills for the side effects

The answer is you incorporate it
You live as if you were born this way
And that everyone is this way
You just incorporate it
And move on

I'm always thinking, through the day,
Two or three steps ahead
Will there be water?
Are we going to eat?
What do I need to bring?

But since music is the biggest part
Of my therapy
My mind is mostly on fixing that rhyme
Cutting that verse
Plus subtle key changes
I've been doing sneaky key changes lately

And when my mind is on my key changes
I forget to bring my insulin shot
And you see how it goes
There I am with a plate full of food
And I can't eat it

But I'm learning to make those moments rare

But that's it
It all started back when I made that initial decision
To live

Of course

But that's all I do
I just incorporate it, without embarrassment,
And keep moving

AIDS drugs are safe.

Study shows longterm use of AIDS drugs is safe.

Michael CarterPublished: 08 December 2011A large international study has provided persuasive evidence of the long-term safety of antiretroviral therapy. Writing in the online edition of AIDS, investigators from the EuroSIDA study report that prolonged use of antiretroviral therapy did not increase the risk of death from non-AIDS-related illnesses.

“The main finding of our study was that there was no evidence of an increase in the risk of any non-AIDS-related death with prolonged exposure to cART [combination antiretroviral therapy],” comment the authors. “The results are reassuring that so far prolonged use of cART does not appear to be leading to increased risk of death due to some previously identified cumulative effect, or a drug effect whereby there is a long induction period before disease appears.”

Ah, Rosemary!

Today, I finally stood up and cooked something for the first time in forever. Through all this stone passing, I had very little appetite, but was also in too much pain to stand and cook. Also, Jim was doting on me, so I didn't need to cook.

He took off for the Barrington Stage a couple of days ago and I just ate leftovers and soup until I could get some strength back. So, today, I felt stronger and decided to make something. I didn't have a recipe, so I just started throwing things together.

I like garlic, so I mashed a few cloves and sliced them thickly. Threw them in some olive oil until they were crackling a little and toasting. Then I put in four chicken breasts, salt, paprika, pepper, lemon and then let them cook.

That's when I remember I had purchased some fresh rosemary. (I'm getting so bold!) So, remembering how they did it on the cooking shows, I tore off some leaves and started sprinkling.

And oh! The smell was so divine!

After I let the breasts brown, almost done, I tossed in some mushrooms and broccoli, and the covered the pan until the broccoli was bright green.

Squeezed lemon over all of it, and sprinkled some ground Parmesan to give it a little glue.

And oh it was so delicious!

I could tell all day how weak I am by how weak my voice is when I speak. I was also helping a friend with some routine office work, and only lasted a little more than an hour before I was physically exhausted. So, I knew I had to really eat well.

Making this meal, really just off the top of my head, made me feel wonderful. Healthy and delicious, I have a feeling I'm going to feel stronger tomorrow.

The Emergency Has Passed.

I never saw the stone pass, but Sunday night, I woke in the middle of the night feeling the need for a gigantic pee. Stumbled to the bathroom and was in the middle of a very sweet relief when it suddenly dawned on me that I was not hurting.

Until this night, if I woke up at 3am, it was because the narcotics had worn off and I was in so much pain, I couldn't bear to breathe, much less lie there. It was all I could do to swallow more pills and beg God for mercy.

In fact, the night before, I was starting to panic because I knew I only had enough pills to last about a half more day. The prescription was helpful, but far from adequate. How much longer could this go on? What was it? Five days now in absolute torment?

But to suddenly, out of the fog of sleep, standing there in front of the toilet, remember that I had been in pain in what seemed like an eternity, it dawned on me that I was no longer hurting.

I wanted to dance, fly, crash through walls and celebrate!!

I went back to bed, cautiously optimistic.

The next morning, I felt fine for the most part, but there was residual pain in my back. I told myself it was probably soreness from all the trauma of the past five days. So, rather than the narcs, I took a few Motrin PM and laid down for most of the day, after a horrible morning of nausea and dry heaves -- no doubt, by body throwing off the narcotics.

However, that night, Jim was singing at a big event (which I will detail in another post) which I did not want to miss. So, I swallowed and few more Motrin and joined him.

Physically, I was still hurting a bit -- but what a difference between "hurting" and "agony" -- so I took it easy, enjoyed myself, felt so proud of Jim, and was happy I went. But I was tired. So very tired.

Tuesday, the pain was now completely gone. No Motrins. But I was weak. When I held my hand up, it shook like a leaf in the breeze. So, I stayed still and assured Jim that I would be okay, even though he was taking off for Massachusetts to perform Zero Hour for the next three weeks.

This morning, I feel weak, but gaining strength. Jake came over and helped me shop. Since he is our apartment sitter and works nearby, he can look in on me whenever I need something. I also have a ton of other friends who've all volunteered in case I need something.

But to go a full day without pain -- and without pain pills -- is the greatest gift of all.

So, thanks to you, dear reader, for abiding with me during this. I will try to update more often. If you're on Facebook, you'll get more up to the minute news. But, man, what a traumatic, horrible experience this has been. And for a guy who takes a ton of drugs just to stay alive, I HATE pain killers, and I especially HATE narcotics.

Now I can go back to my nice, normal routine of trying to fight off AIDS and getting my blood sugar back to normal.

And writing music! (I have more news about that, too).

A Night in the ER.

I spent last night trying to pass a kidney stone, but to no avail. It was painful to the extreme, so Jim took me to the ER this morning and I spent the whole morning in agony until they finally gave me morphine.

Now I'm home with new pain killers. Hopefully, this has passed, but I wanted to let you know what happened.

And thanks to all my Facebook friends who tried to stay up with me last night, helping me keep my mind off the pain. I love you.

Health Update

My blood sugars are still too high.

As I mentioned before, I've been put on insulin now and taken off two oral medications. The instructions were, at the beginning, to start with 10 units and increase the dosage by three units every three days until I get to 120 or below.

Now, I'm at 56 units a day and I'm still not down to 120, so I don't know if I'm doing something wrong, if that's a lot of insulin or what. Last week, I peaked at 235. Lately, I've been hovering at around 170 and yesterday, got it down to 150.

So, it feels like I'm kind of headed in the right direction, but it sure is a long haul getting to 120.

New Blood Tests Today and Toronto News.

I'll be heading out into the cold and rain this morning to get new blood tests, with the results coming in next week. The immediate goal has been to get my A1C (base glucose) down in the normal ranger. It had creeped up over 9 during the past year, which is why they sent me to the endocrinologist, who put me on the night time dose of insulin.

I did overhear my two doctors discussing the situation, though:



At least, that's what it sounded like to me.

Also, I'm headed to Toronto, unexpectedly. I'll be writing about this more when I get there, but a theater, the Globus Theater Company in Bobcaygeon, Canada is going to be producing THE BIG VOICE: GOD OR MERMAN? using actors from Canada. They're a couple of hours outside of Toronto.

In fact, Jim and I were trying to see if we could get up there to perform it ourselves, but the scheduling wasn't really possible now that Jim, especially, has started to come into such demand, both as Zero and in other roles.

Tomorrow, I'll fly up there to meet with the producers and then with the actor playing me, who've I've now dubbed Canadian Steve!

Adding Insulin, pt. 2

Yesterday, after getting home from church, I had this weird, weird feeling in body. It's like something was in my chest trying to claw its way out -- and I felt hot and flush. It was all I could do to lie down on the couch and just stay still.

We had tickets to what Jim said was a lovely revival of "A Tree Grows In Brooklyn," produced by the Peccadillo Theatre Company, but I literally couldn't move. I didn't have a fever or anything, but I knew I couldn't sit up in a seat.

Later, when I spoke with Mark Janas, he said it sounded like a Niacin flush.*** And it kind of did. I've had those before, but I had taken my prescription Niacin hours and hours before -- and never had this kind of reaction. So, I don't know what it was.

The thing is that I take so many drugs for so many things, it could be they were all having a party in my body and forgot to send me an invite.

I finally fell asleep, and when Jim home, it had mostly passed, but not entirely. I still felt this weird tenseness in my chest. So, sadly, I skipped the Salon and just stayed on the couch, drifting in and out of sleep all evening long.

I was also wrestling with the new insulin regimen. When I began it, the instructions were to start with 10 units at bedtime, ramping up 3 units every three days until I finally got it under 120.

But, strangely, for the first week, the results stayed absolutely the same: 185, 175, 187, 180. etc. I dialed the injector pen up to 13 and then 16. Same results. 186, etc.

So, Jake asked me if I had let it get down to room temperature, that his mother takes insulin and that when it gets to room temp, it's no good anymore. Well, yes. On that first day, I had taken the pen down to the hospital to learn how to use it, and had left it in my pocket all day, no getting it back into the fridge until that evening.

So, I found the instruction sheet and discovered an even more puzzling set of instructions. According to this, once the pen has been used, then you're SUPPOSED to leave it at room temperature and NOT re-refrigerate it until it is used up. (There were instructions for three different kinds of injector pens, all with different instructions).

Okay.

So, I threw away the injector pen I had been using and started fresh with a new one last night, dialing it up to 16 units.

This morning, my blood sugar was 140.

Much, much better. And that was after a meal of Chinese food that was a little bit high on the carb side. So, this time I'm leaving the injector pen in the drawer and not putting back in the fridge, per instructions. And we'll see how well it works tonight.

There's an additional problem I'm having, though, and that's trying to figure out where to inject the insulin, which needs to be done subcutaneously, into the lining of fat just below the skin.

The problem is that one of the side effects of my AIDS drugs is lipodystrophy, which strips the fat from beneath your skin in your face, legs and butt. The insulin isn't supposed to be shot in a place where lipodystrophy has occurred, which is my whole body, essentially.

If I pull my skin up in my fingers, it's as thin as tissue paper. Meaning I can't grab a big handful and push it up to make a nice cushion. Beneath that skin is just muscle.

So, at this point, I think I'm doing it right. But it's really hard to tell. Jim can't really help me, as much as he wants to.

It's just another instance where I'm "going it alone" and trying to do the best I can. Meanwhile, though, 140 is not bad. I'll do 16 units again tonight and if it's not below 120, maybe dial it up to 19 units the night after.

**EDIT UPDATE: The Niacin was not the issue. How do I know? Because, somehow, I had neglected to refill that prescription. The list of refills is so long, it just got by me. So, now I have no idea what yesterday was about.

Adding Insulin.

I love this picture of Jim, doing a Russian pose.

As I sat in the waiting room at the hospital clinic, waiting my turn, a man walked in wearing very silly clothing, balancing a plate on a stick.

He looked over at me and said, “I LOVE THAT BOOK!”

He was referring to “The Island at the Center of the World” by Russell Shorto, a book I cannot put down. It’s a history of early Dutch Manhattan, one that was lost for a very long time due to the fact that the English were at war with the Dutch and they wanted to make it seem as if they invented the United States -- and one that is still be translated from stacks and stacks of old Dutch documents uncovered in recent years.

I was a bit startled by the attention, but the invader went back to twirling the plate on the stick. He was very funny. I whipped out my video camera, but he said he did not want to be posted on the Net. However, I could shoot it just to prove to my friends that I was seeing what I was seeing.

I learned later that he is the clown for the pediatric clinic, and the four women who man the front desk at the clinic love it when he drops by. Usually, the clinic is filled to capacity with people, waiting their turn to see a doctor.

The moment of lunacy and joy is welcome in a place where most people are feeling sick or scared of doctors and institutions.

I have been to this place when it was packed to capacity and tensions are high as people wait for their turn. The women behind the desk all stay very cool and manage to do coordinate everything really efficiently, with equipment that I don’t believe is the latest in high tech design.

When my name got called -- after a waiting period to get my blood tests from my primary clinic -- I met with a very attractive. young female Asian intern (?) who took my health stats and asked a bunch of questions, like what medications do I take.

I hate this question. The list is long and I can never remember the names of everything, not to mention the dosages. I had a list in my wallet, but it wasn’t there.

“There’s the little blue one for blood pressure, but it used to be a different color. It’s a generic”. Or is that the thyroid pill? Actually, they’re both blue and so is one of my diabetic pills.

It can be very confusing to be a walking chemical experiment.

Eventually, after she took some vitals and asked a few questions, “What do you take THAT for??” a rather hurried middle aged doctor came in, but he got a phone call, so he turned me over to a more senior doctor who I immediately fell in love with.

I mean, right out of central casting. He had bushy eyebrows and a kindly crinkle in his face.

She looked down at her notes and began reporting, “The patient is 57, has AIDS, diabetes and...”

He listened to the list and started peppering her with questions. She was clearly trying to maintain control as he corrected her assumptions, or questioned her recommendations, all part of the game.

It was an episode of HOUSE!

The sum of it all was that I was maxed out on pills, that my A1C was now over 9, and too high, and that it was time to start me on insulin injections, news I was prepared for, but not really excited about.

“Start with 10 units. One shot every evening before bed. Test your blood in the morning. We need to get it under 120. Do it for three days, get the average. If it’s still too high, increase the dose by 3 units. And do this every three days until you get it under 120.”

I think my mind started to wander at bit at this moment, though I was concentrating really hard and even repeating instructions back to them, verbatim. Mouth moving. Mind in Miami, thinking about New World Waking and how the rehearsals are going.

10 units. 120. Three days. Three units more. Come back on Friday and a nurse will teach you how to do the injections. This was Wednesday.

On Friday, the nurse strapped this pin cushion to her leg. She took the demonstration injection pen -- I hadn’t needed to bring mine along, though I had it with me -- and dialed it up to 10, then 50 and 100 to show me how easy it is to get the proper dosage.

She handed the pen to me. When you roll it, the numbers fly by and it sticks out more from the end of the pen. It was kind of fun, to tell you the truth. I had this feeling, suddenly, of being more in control of my blood sugars.  

Someone asked me how I keep up such a good face -- and the answer is I don’t think about it. It just is. Also, there is always someone worse off, and I should be grateful for what I do have.

Like Japan, just now, with a tsunami and earthquake. Nuclear plants collapsing. Christ, the entire earth was thrown off its axis.

The images of tidal waves and the reports of thousands of dead. It makes all the stuff in the Middle East seem kind of stupid. In Japan, the earth buckles -- and over in the MIddle East, all the problems are man made.

Those types of problems -- the type that have to do with how human beings treat each other, and who has the most power, money and influence -- can be changed in an instant if, suddenly, everyone just stopped, took a look around, sat across from a table, and came to a mutually and collectively fair agreement.

Peace with justice. Justice with peace.

In fact, in this book about Manhattan, we’ve arrived at one of the moments that changed the course of human history, was when a philosopher named Grotius suddenly put out the idea that man’s natural state of nature was peace, not war. Until then, the author states, everyone in history just assumed that you had to always be at war with someone, always in alliance with some against another.

This was also how the Indian nations around this area functioned. If you signed an agreement for a piece of land, you could live on it, and their tribe could hunt on it, but you had signed yourself up as an ally against whichever this Indian tribe deemed as “enemy.”

For the first time, Europeans sat around a table, decided to end all their wars, which they did, kind of, and went on their merry way.

We know, of course, that that agreement did not end War. But it did prove that reasonable people, if prodded, and with a little faith, can stop shooting each other, at least for a little while. And they can do it by just making the decision to stop. A change of mind.

In Japan right now, they cannot fix things by changing their minds.

And now I realized I’ve gone far afield, but there is a point.

I told Mark Janas, yesterday morning in the cab as we were zipping down to Bay Ridge, where I sing in Mark’s choir at Christchurch Episcopal, that I remembered telling the POZ Magazine reporter, Degen Penner, that I felt sometimes like an old tire being reinflated.

After three days, my morning blood sugar has been testing in the 160 - 180 range. So, last night I dialed up to 13 and tried again.

179.

Hm. I wonder if I should raise the unit level more quickly?

This is on 57th street, but since we're going to Brooklyn...

Jersey looks beautiful this morning, the sun hitting the buildings as it rises.

I want to have a show here some day.

Times Square, going to Christopher Street. I took the 3 train.

We stopped here at 14th Street. I changed to the 1.

Now, I'm back at the Starbucks, sitting in the window.

...reading my book, waiting for Mark and James.

Our choir robes are in these closets.

I think these robes are for a different congregation that meets here.

Mark Janas and Fr. Jeff meet to look through the music.
Lent has started and now the music changes a bit.

There I am looking down at the music.

Flagg Court. Where Jim grew up, across the street from the church.

On the way back home, we walk to the subway on 3rd. We pass these row houses.

Not the biggest front yard in the world, but you work with what you have.

And down into the subway back to Manhattan.

I'm Number Five!

Hello Steve

I just wanted to inform you about a new piece we've published over here at LPN to RN Blog called "Top 50 Blogs About HIV and AIDS." I found Bonus Round to be very interesting and relevant, so I thought that both you and your readers might enjoy the article. Please do let me know if you have any questions or comments --
http://lpntornbridge.org/2010/top-50-blogs-about-hiv-and-aids/
Warm Regards,
Alba Collazo
Co-founder, LPN to RN Blog

I went there and saw I'm number 5! So I wrote this Alba back and said, "I claim FOUL! That nasty little Shawn Decker came in number 1! That's so wrong! Why... why... why... I was the one who talked him into his online blog/diary in the first place!"

Okay. No, I didn't. I think, actually, this is the first time someone's put me on a list. I wrote her, thanking her very much for the honor, and also mentioned that since my mom is a retired RN, nurses mean a lot to me. They're the real front line of health care, and there's not a doctor who will disagree. (Okay, maybe one or two, but then we wouldn't go to that kind.)

Thanks. As a matter of fact, one of the men I met at the University Glee Club asked me if I ever did health-related concerts for schools. (Yes, I do.)

My X-Ray Results.

The good news is that I don't have a fracture. However, I do have a separated shoulder. Not Dislocated. I also traumatized muscles in my elbow and wrist, but there's no break.

So, the prescription is that I need to keep it as immobilized as possible, and it will heal after few weeks.

I was going to attend the Afterglow tonight at the University Glee Club, just to see what Dec. 2 is all about, but I'm still in a lot of pain. I can't use my left arm. But I have food for a few meals more, friends volunteering to help me, and my usual stubborn refusal to stay down.

And Jim gets home on Sunday. (Horray!)

He's been having a blast down in Florida. I'm so glad for him. Zero Hour is really starting to become more and more well known in theater circles. Already he has had several theaters contact him for inclusion the post- New York international tour. It's all very exciting.

Here he is on the radio with Jo Anne Pflug.

Jo Ann Pflug with Jim Brochu.

A Tearful Visit to Columbus.

"Don't run."

That's what Dr. Anthony told me just as I was leaving his office. So, on Sunday morning, at 4:50am, as I ran to the Newark/Manhattan bus, departing Port Authority at 5am, my back heel hit the carry-on bag, rolling behind me, and I hurtled through the air, hitting the ground hard, my left arm finally hanging useless at my side. 

I determined it wasn't broken, but it hurt like hell. I almost decided to not go. But I couldn't miss this.

Though I wasn't getting paid, people were depending on me, having raised the money to pay for the plane ticket. So, I forged ahead, got to the station just in time, and took off for Columbus to play two concerts for the health care workers at a hospice, and then, later at a hospital.

Getting from Newark was another adventure. Just as we got on the plane, it has a "mechanical," and I had to stand in line, change carriers, go to a different terminal and go through security again. The first time was difficult and painful enough, as I was unable to use my left arm to buckle my belt, lift my carrying case or tie my shoes without screaming.

I went to the other terminal, got the new ticket on a different carrier, stood in line, and was told that the plane would be leaving from the first terminal I had just come from.

Sighing, I went back to the first terminal, went through security, found a pharmacy, got a sling and some motrin, waited two hours and got on the plane.By now, I'm hurting so badly, all I can think is, "How will I ever play the piano?"

When I landed in Columbus, Brian, Sarah's adorable bear husband, picked me up. The kids, who I hadn't yet met, were in the back seat. 

Sarah introduces me at Kobacher House hospice.

I met Sarah -- she was single at the time -- almost from the first day I set up this diary in 1996. In fact, as she introduced me the next morning, at the hospice, before my "show," she reminded me that this Bonus Round site was actually the very first web site she ever logged into, having just gotten her first computer.  

She explained, "At the time, I was working with dialysis patients, and I felt Steve's entries were inspirational. So, I would print them out and read them during the treatments. Then, one day I asked him to come sing for us, and he said yes. This was 10 years ago."

I looked at the 30 or 40 hospice workers sitting in front of me. People who spend their lives tending to the dying. And not just the dying, but the dying and their families. 

Some families, so racked with pain, they can't even speak to each other. Some families, prepared and peaceful. These people work through all that, trying to make sure the patient is comfortable and at peace, while helping the family make "decisions" they usually don't want to make.

Each nurse, aid, doctor and lab tech is a part of this journey, and it takes a huge toll on them. 

And that's why I was there. I went through it all as a patient. My mother was a Registered nurse. My father was a minister. I watched how they ministered to people in pain. I knew the emotional toll it could take on them, long after they left the "office."

Imagine, reader, having a job where every single person you treat dies.

How fast can you fall in love with another human being? And how far to do you allow yourself to care, knowing that person is not going to last very long? Or is constant pain? 

And, speaking of emotional toll, all of us were drenched in tears. At one point, one of the nurses, noticing my kleenex, pilling up on the piano, brought up a trash can. I said "We're gonna need a bigger boat."

These people have created a support system for just the workers. I was so proud to be a part of this program. As a patient, I thanked them for their work, I told them I understood that this kind of work is a calling, and not just a job. 

I didn't think about my arm during the two hour concert. I don't remember feeling pain, but I think it's because my mind was elsewhere. I knew I couldn't play strongly or as percussively as I enjoy. 

Brian made me breakfast, earlier, dressed in a chef's hat.

After the show, Sarah took me back to her house, where I slept all afternoon with Uno, the one-eyed dog. He laid down next to me in the bed and didn't move a muscle until he heard the door open downstairs, when Sarah came home to fetch me for the evening gig.

The venue, at the neighboring Riverside Hospital, was much bigger. And I had a magnificent Yamaha piano. Also, my arm wasn't hurting quite as badly and I was able to play with a big more aggression. It was very exciting.

I didn't cry this time, having gotten it all out in the earlier show. My voice was strong, and I told stories and sang for two hours. We also engaged in a dialogue, as we shared stories and I answered questions.

By the end of the night, after getting about a thousand hugs, we went home, and I miss them, already. I also miss Sarah and Brian and the kids. Talk about falling in love.

Uncle Steve with his two new favorite human beings on earth.

Sadly, though, I came home to an empty apartment. Jim is in Florida doing Zero Hour for the next 10 days at the Maltz Jupiter Theater. (Lucky them!) But, there's lots of things for me to do, including working on a brand new production of New World Waking in Miami by the Gay Men's Chorus down there. But I'll save that for another blog entry.

A Mondo Coming Out.

Last night, on Project Runway, Mondo Guerra, a talented little Urkle of a guy "came out" as HIV positive, and rightfully won the night with this amazing print which he created using plus signs. HIV positive. Funny that his name means "world war."

Here's the official show pic, complete with sponsor.

What made the teary-eyed moment, at the judging, especially powerful was that he hadn't told his family yet about his HIV. It's a secret he's held onto for 10 years. 

He used art to say, "This is who I am!" And you could see the weight lifted off his shoulders as the full realization dawned that he's not just told his family, but the world. 

I cannot even imagine the amount of stress this has inflicted upon this poor guy's health system. The closet, as we used to say at Bridges Across, the "failed" cross divide dialogue project, is evil.

But stress on a person who's HIV positive is very bad. 

My new doctor, Dr. Anthony, said that AIDS causes the body to be in a low grade inflammation all the time. In fact, I'm on a new health regimen. Been into it for about a month because my blood sugars are too high again, my cholesterol and triglycerides are out of control again, and the stress of moving. A new city. A new life.

He said, casually, "That's why HIV positive people look 10 years older than they really are."

I laughed out loud. Doctors just tell it like it is, don't they? I love it. 

I turn 57 this next week. Do I look 67? 

Meh. Who cares. 

But, I need to get my tests results back in the normal range or I'll be in trouble.

He said, "You're pretty much maxed out on medications. What are you eating?"

"Well," I told him, proudly, "Ever since we got to New York, I've been all pasta and pizza. But I've changed. I'm now eating a huge bowl of greens, broccoli, spinach, etc. and only a little of anything else on the side. My body's pretty good at responding to good things."

"Good."

"And I've started doing push-ups between writing sessions, all day long, like I'm in training."

"Squats. You need to do squats."

I hate squats.

"Okay, I'll start doing squats."

World War

Christopher Hitchens Writes About His Cancer.

I keep hearing the lyrics to "Friendly Fire" in my head. His poignant Vanity Fair article.

Musical Healing, Ctd.: Singing Rewires Damaged Brains.

This is from an article in the BBC News.

Singing 'rewires' damaged brain

By Victoria Gill Science reporter, BBC News, San Diego

Singing words made it easier for stroke patients to communicate

Teaching stroke patients to sing "rewires" their brains, helping them recover their speech, say scientists.

By singing, patients use a different area of the brain from the area involved in speech.

If a person's "speech centre" is damaged by a stroke, they can learn to use their "singing centre" instead.

Researchers presented these findings at the annual meeting of the American Association for the Advancement of Science (AAAS) in San Diego.

Hey, Mel Tillis, a most famous stutterer, was a terrific singer.

So, how do you do it?

During the therapy sessions, patients are taught to put their words to simple melodies.

Professor Schlaug said that after a single session, a stroke patients who was are not able to form any intelligible words learned to say the phrase "I am thirsty" by combining each syllable with the note of a melody.

The patients are also encouraged to tap out each syllable with their hands. Professor Schlaug said that this seemed to act as an "internal pace-maker" which made the therapy even more effective.

"Music might be an alternative medium to engage parts of the brain that are otherwise not engaged," he said.

Read more.

But it's that last part that intrigues me.

Music opens up areas of the brain that are not otherwise engaged. That's why we need more music in the world. Because I think there are a lot of disengaged brains out there, myself included.

Steve is Staying Home Today.

I never miss a "performance," but this morning Jim talked me into staying home. I was supposed to sing for the Sunday morning service at St. Clement's. But, last night, the snow storm hit just as we were leaving the theater after the evening performance.

Jim, however, will go on as Zero today.



When I wrote to Rev. DeChamplain, I simply told her that my immune system, as strong as I feel from day to day, just isn't up to this. I know. I played the AIDS card. I hate doing it. But I have come to respect the fact that I have limitations. I don't like it. Anyone who knows me knows I never turn down a chance to sing.

So, I'm staying warm, and I'm taking it very easy today.

Jim, however, will be at the theater. He will go on!