I've often said, especially when someone is first diagnosed, that there is no better time than here or now for medical miracles.
They didn't exist 50, 30 or, for some, even 10 years ago like they do today.
Still, I'm borderline obsessed.
On the hour, I seem to have to remind myself that I'm alive...breathing....thankful.
Still....there's an obsession.
I've had the fallout. I've had the shock. I've had the cure.
What about the scars?
I don't mean what you can/cannot see. I don't mean those squiggly, jagged folds of skin that healed long ago. It's not the stapled areas in your chest or the scar that runs down your arm.
These are what I call, the topical scars. They never go away so I don't fight them. Muscle and hair don't hide them so why bother?
There are other fallouts that I haven't discussed.
Stem Cells. Regenerative properties. Proteolytic enzymes. Hormone therapies. HGH.
I want what was taken from me and I don't care why. I actually don't know why...yet.
But my obsession comes with a price.
My dreams have been invaded with doctors I've never met - All promising me reversal of some of the fallout.
The guilt over the audacity and selfishness of my ask hits the back of my head like a hammer. Those Catholic days are never far behind.
I believe in my heart that the reversal treatments are within reach. I don't want to wait. I don't want go a generation. I want the experiment. I want to be first.
It's as if my Id is in full bloom. It wants what it wants when it wants it.
Then I realize, what a wonderful thing to live a generation more. More guilt. More thankfulness.
The wrestling of 2 halves. Hang on and enjoy or take what I want. It's all mental. All restless nature. Fix it. Do it now.
I have to go back into my mind and strap myself into a hospital bed. Hook in the tubes that stuck out of my side, through my nose, down my lungs, between my ribs...
Walk the hall when one leg couldn't bend because of the glued scar that ran its length. Breathe in a tube no matter how much it hurt.
Online research after online site. Query after query. Doctor after doctor.
Maybe it's an obsession.
Actually, I know it is.