blog lassiter

Monday 9/25/06  It is hard to imagine feeling much worse than I do now – the constant foul taste that makes me sick to my stomach, the back pain as the neuropathy eats away at nerves and muscle tissue, the inability to eat solid food, the resignation that my illness brings on.  In short, I am miserable, consumed with, overwhelmed by it all.

I have chosen to keep what amounts to a diary that you will not see until the end.  I am no longer able to function in the world you live in – I am no longer able to pretend that I have anything in common with everyday people.  I am dying – I know it, am not at all happy about it, and have retreated into my own world – a world that has no escape.

All my life’s a circle, sunrise and sundown
The moon rolls through the night-time till the daybreak comes around
All my life’s a circle I can’t tell you why
Seasons spinning round again, the years keep rolling by

Seems like I’ve been here before, and I well remember when
I’ve got a funny feeling that we’ll all be together again
No straight lines make up my life, all my roads are bends
There’s no clear-cut beginning and so far no dead ends

I’ve found you a thousand times, I know you’ve done the same
Then we lose each other, it’s like a children’s game
If I find you here again the thought comes through my mind
Life is like a circle, let’s go round one more time

• Harry Chapin

I’ve always loved that song – I loved it because it “spoke to me” – it’s the way my life had unfolded – and it sure seemed to be a good way to look at it all.

But as poor ol’ Harry Chapin found, and as I now am discovering, the words of the song do not always ring true – there is a clear-cut beginning, and there is an undeniable end.

Before I posted the first installment of this blog, I gave considerable thought to how it might end. Of course that was foolish, because there were too many unanswered questions that would come to dictate the how and why.

Today – a year later – there are far fewer unanswered questions, but I must deal with the difficult issue of timing. If I wait too long, I will be unable to bring this endeavor to the conclusion I envisioned.

Admittedly, I have changed my mind several times as to the style and content of the final entry – ranging from the lengthy, self-serving to the short and sweet – maybe it would be best to find the middle ground..

All things must eventually come to an end – and so it is with this blog. All things have a season – and so it is with this blog.  There is nothing left to say - I have reached a point where I think it best to make the remainder of this journey in private. 

Goodbyes are always painful – and so it is with this – but at some point one must simply turn and go – with all of my heart and soul, I wish it were not so, I wish that there was some way around it, but there isn’t…

If I may, I’d like to leave you with the words to another song that means a lot to me - it’s by Warren Zevon…

Shadows are falling and I’m running out of breath
Keep me in your heart for awhile

If I leave you it doesn’t mean I love you any less
Keep me in your heart for awhile

When you get up in the morning and you see that crazy sun
Keep me in your heart for awhile

There’s a train leaving nightly called when all is said and done
Keep me in your heart for awhile

Sometimes when you’re doing simple things around the house
Maybe you’ll think of me and smile

You know I’m tied to you like the buttons on your blouse
Keep me in your heart for awhile…

…what more can I say.

I spent my 27^th birthday in a Times Square motel room, with not one, but two 17 year old girls – that was interesting. I bought myself a new Jeep for my 30^th birthday, and hit the sand dunes on the Outer Banks – just between you and I, it was more fun than frolicking with the 17 year olds. My friends threw a “Roast” for my 31^st. The point being that birthdays were once memorable affairs.

Recently, the passing of the years have been low-key – the celebrations quiet and uneventful. But not so this birthday – this year will see a return of the expensive gift – a never to be forgotten event. Later this very day, my 61^st birthday gift will be installed – my very own, personal chairlift!

If all goes as planned, I have climbed the steps for the last time. So like maybe that doesn’t seem like such a big deal to you – but that’s because you are not old and decrepit, like I am. This is just about the best gift this boy could have wished for.

Of course it means that I have thrown in the towel, that I am admitting that there is no turning back – and I could really get depressed about it – but anything that will keep me from dragging my poor old body up those stairs is welcomed…

I don’t do things like most people do – I march to my own drummer. As an example, I’ve been married twice, and had the same “Best Man” both times. OK, so maybe it was kind of tacky, but I don’t have a lot of friends.

I’ve known this man for over thirty years – we worked together way back when – when we were both just crazy kids playing radio in Utica, New York. Other than finding ourselves at the same place, at the same time, we were as different as night and day. Rodney came from a proper old Philadelphia family – I was the fat kid from Collingswood, New Jersey. He graduated from an Ivy League university – I was a high school drop-out.

But for what ever reason, we hit it off and stayed in touch long after we each went our separate ways. We each had our ups and downs, good times and bad – their were career highs and lows, divorces and all the other things that life can throw at you.

As happens all too often, calls and visits became few as the years passed, and eventually we lost touch all together – something I always regretted. But I’ve reached a point in my life where time is running out, and contact with the past is the most important thing to me now. So a few days ago I spent several hours trying to find my old friend. I finally came upon an e-mail address that just might belong to him – I crossed my fingers, and sent a short message.

Hot damned! I got an almost instant reply, and it was indeed my long lost buddy. We spent a half hour on the phone filling in the gaps, and picking up from where we left off so long ago. As you might expect, there were many surprising bits of information to exchange – some good, some not so good – we still have little in common, other than the truly important things – an unexplainable affection for each other.

I know that none of this means anything to you, but it has put a smile on this tired old face – a smile that was sorely needed…

Most people believe that there is a better place awaiting us after we leave this world. I’m not sure why they believe this, but they do – even to the point of describing what to expect in what they call “Paradise”.

I remember what the nuns told me about Heaven, so very long ago. They said that, among other things, families would be reunited forever more – and that worries me, big time. You see, my mother hates my father, he hates her, and I have no desire to see my old man, period. And than there are my grandparents – we’re talking a lot of dislike here/ And than there is the problem of my father’s second wife and their two children. Where do they stand in this mess? How will my dad divide his time between the two “families”?

This is a potential disaster, and since I ain’t doing too good, I could be dealing with all of this almost any day now. Frankly, I’m worried. I mean, I’m sure that the nuns wouldn’t have made up any of this – I’m sure it’s true.

With any luck, I’ll be sent to the Lake of Fire, and avoid all the disharmony up there in Paradise…

This isn’t the way I wanted to go – so sick at times I can think of nothing but my own misery. I wanted to go with dignity and poise.

I do not regret my decision, nor am I about to change it, but I had no idea of how hard it would be. How easily tears would come, how quickly self-pity could overtake me.

I wanted to be stronger, but as I slowly became everything I always detested about the old and infirm, my will has evaporated – as has my interest in life.

Even this “blog” has become an effort that more and more seems not worth the trouble – once it was therapeutic – there were things I wanted to say, thoughts and feelings I wanted to pass on – I now seem to have run out of worthwhile ideas. I now am consumed with my day to day ups and downs, and little else.

This morning I answered a question that has been on my mind for the past year – how this “blog” will end. This morning I put the final touches on what will be the last entry. It is but one mouse click away from being posted. I can’t say for sure when that will be - but there isn’t much that is certain anymore.

Such are the days of my life…

Life is a bitch, and then it rains.

The “bad news” is that my labs indicate levels of toxins to explain how and why I feel so sick. The “really bad news” is that I am not sick enough for it to kill me – they now tell me that this could last for months.

I’ve been a bad boy – I’ve been neglecting you. Little has changed, I continue to feel poorly, though my most recent blood work shows only minor slippage.

Aside from detailing my complaints yet again, or throwing a pity party one more time, I have nothing to offer.

So what should I write about today? Should I dig deep to find some touchy-feely subject to make you feel warm and fuzzy? Or should I tell you the truth – and the truth is that I am not doing well.

I’ve lost my apatite; I live night and day with a foul taste in my mouth. I shiver constantly, unable to stay warm. My stomach is upset, I tire even more easily than before. What vision remains, seems to be failing. At times I literally crave sleep. And need I tell you that all of this leaves me just a little bit down.

No one wants to hear these things – they are depressing, and beyond anyone’s ability to change. And yet this is the world I live in – I am not strong enough, physically or emotionally, to overcome it – my life is dominated by my failing health.

I wish it were not so, I wish it would all come to a merciful end…

Maybe all is not lost. Maybe there is still hope for me – for as old and decrepit as I’ve become, somewhere deep within the boy lives.

I know that because Labor Day brings on melancholy – as well it should. The so called holiday means that school reopen in two days – at least in my neck of the woods. And no self-respecting boy can find any good in such news.

It’s true that a lot of time has passed since last I had to answer a school bell, yet I continue to find the end of the summer vacation nothing to celebrate. I hated school and all that it stood for – discipline, restriction of freedom, stupid rules, and forced learning.

School is a horrid place for a non-conformist. Hard as I try, I am unable to recall so much as one happy memory that took place in a classroom – not one. Instead my head is full of recollections of pop quizzes, report cards that brought on a sense of dread, and countless hours of boredom.

Labor Day signaled a return to a time and place I grew to hate – so to this day, I dislike the first Monday in September – and I always will, so long as the boy within still lives. In solidarity with every red-blooded kid, the day will always crush my spirit – my free spirit, that lives in carefree warm summer days, pick-up ball games, playing catch, and so many more worthwhile pursuits – pursuits that are put aside at this time of year – pursuits that this boy holds so near and dear even still……