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I wrote that I didn't have any problems since the surgery but since that post I've had to go to the hospital twice: First for a blockage somewhere in my gastrointestinal system on September 11th, and then on October 21st for a couple gastric ulcers. The blockage was fairly painful, and the solution was uncomfortable as well -- an NG (nasogastric) tube forced down my nostril to suck air and liquid out of my stomach. At least they sent me home with some more painkillers. The ulcers bled so much that I got really dizzy and lightheaded with a real danger of falling and passing out (going down a flight of stairs was iffy business), but it was not particularly painful. For this I finally got admitted into Mount Sinai Hospital, the services of which I find increasingly amenable on each visit. I had a couple liters of blood pumped into me, and have been on iron supplements and acid reducers ( pantoprazole ) since. So physically, I am slightly weak but mostly recovered. I should be ...

I miss sleep. There were maybe one or two nights of uninterrupted sleep in August, but since leaving the hospital I haven't slept more than six hours at a time, and frequently only three or four before I get up in discomfort around my abdomen. I'm not sure if it's the lying down that aggravates things, or the staying still, but sleep, true restorative sleep, escapes me for now. You may think that I had a lot of free time in the hospital but it simply was not so -- I was constantly switching between pain and/or nausea, or had my mind clouded by Morphine or had eyes droopy with Gravol. In such states I could do very little but lay down until that fog would pass. Still, when the colitis symptoms were under control I did manage to watch a few of shows: Sword Art Online: Why do I keep going back to anime? Nostalgia for the halcyon days in university? To avoid having to engage my face-reading skills of real actors? In any case, overall I enjoyed the first season of SAO, with...

I got my Remicade infusion on Friday, August 12, a seemingly simple enough procedure. The nurse said it was chemotherapy, which stuck in my head. I guess I'd imagined chemo to be more involved or multi-stepped or something. The next day was mixed, and I had a couple bouts of nausea and retching, squeezing my innards past empty, so that by the end I screamed putrid gusts of air. Sunday is when things got serious: I had a fairly regular bowel movement in the early evening but it was soon followed up with a flood of blood BM. And then another even more urgent, even more torrential evacuation, so much so that I lost my vision for a second. And lo, as I washed my hands I experienced a head rush strong enough to make me stop, to make me slouch over the sink and slowly slump onto the bathroom floor. I rolled my head around, attempting to shake this heaviness off, this foreign dark fog of the mind. I awoke to find my face on the floor at an distressing angle. I lay there a few moment...

I don't remember having to deal with such incredibly strong musical hallucinations the last time I was sick with colitis in the hospital. I really think I would, as it's currently driving me quite mad -- I keep hearing the same lame guitar riff fading in and out, some tired 80s rock ballad that is better left on tape. It is of course just my hearing's interpretation of the constant fans in my room, but the illusion is so damn convincing. And it is keeping me up, alongside the bubblings in my abdomen and the prednisone sweats. Yes friend, I have once again tread back onto that murky path of pain, nausea, suffering, insanity that is ulcerative colitis. That I find myself so deep inside makes one's spirits fall, that all light should shudder so suddenly, so fully. The same disdainful nurses, the same apathetic system, the same curious doctors and their repeated questions -- all have passed before me as they do now, and having done so does not make the repetition any eas...

EMP Museum Though it may seem so, I have not forgotten about you. It's just that many, many other things preoccupy my mind and my time, so much flotsam and jetsam. The colitis is still with me, and my condition worsens. I am hopeful to get more powerful medication next week, when my specialist returns from their vacation. My days are a struggle with frequent, painful trips to the bathroom, my energy and mood low. Space Needle I have sold my condo, which is now empty save a couple chairs, my bed, and kitchen items; the rest is in storage, hidden away while my place was being staged. Mary Jean and I are moving in together to Riverdale, northeast of the downtown. A big step, sure. In fact, we plan to get married within the year. Yeah, that's the big news I have for you since I last wrote. Wheels are in motion! Work, work is much the same. I did spend a week in Seattle for workshops, with a couple evenings to enjoy the city: open green hills, gentrifying neighbourhood...

My ACL knee surgery went as planned back on March 10th, a long day of traveling, anxiety, then realization and moments of suffering. Realization that my leg was pretty much useless, more a raw stump than a leg, unable to bend, packed tight with fluid. After the first ragged night I kept to my prescribed pain medication (Percocet), as well as the anti-inflammatory Naproxen. Unfortunately, this latter drug triggered my colitis, so that both my leg and stomach assaulted me when the Percocet dreamstate subsided. Once it was depleted, I found myself stressed that I would soon be unable to bear the waves of colitis nausea and pain. Thankfully, my gastroenterologist was able to get me a batch of Mezavant , and the worries went with it. Still, my internals are rather touch and go even now, some 19 days after the surgery. Oh, the surgery, the very act of, was of little excitement. Sure, there was the stress of waking to make the appointed time with all of the required documentation, but the a...

My internet, that blessed fount of procrastination, has been restored, restored after no less than five Bell technicians and uncounted phone conversations. What a kerfuffle! But now that it is here, surrounding me, binding me to the outer world, I have drunk deeply from its waters and have been fairly actively playing video games. Peace, when have I done otherwise? For the computer, I have thus far played: - The Book of Unwritten Tales: Downloaded this one way, way back and finally got around to finishing it. Really a lot of fun, with intricate hand-drawn graphics and lots of self-referential humour. Worthy point-and-click adventure. - Convoy: I Kickstarted this one, intrigued by the notion of a FTL-like in a Mad Max-esque world. The combat employs a novel engine that plays like an RTS on rails. Fun, but graphics leave much to be desired. - The Curious Expedition: Lovely, tiny pixel figures crawl around the world, annoying (and sometimes befriending) the locals while pillaging t...

My ADSL connection has gone way off, rarely any connection at all now. A lot of back and forth between Teksavvy, myself, and Bell, a maddening circle of bureaucracy to which I wonder if any relief can be found. If I say I don't have internet but the company desires that I prove it, what is the conclusion? I would more seriously consider dropping the whole thing if I didn't so enjoy watching videos, though I suppose I could get used to foregoing even that if it meant I could satisfactorily escape this hellish cycle. January has now past, and my age has increased again. What more is there to speak of? I had my MRI for my knee on the 5th, and it confirms our fears -- my ACL is torn, and surgery is required if I am to contemplate karate, or any activity that requires sudden changes in direction. I have tentatively booked an operation for the 10th of March, to be followed by a couple weeks of rest followed by rehab. I am nearly used to the idea of going under the knife, though a...

Wednesday, December 16th, 2015 A long day of travel: flying to Newark airport, the train to Penn Station, subway to Grand Central, another train to New Haven, then a shuttle bus to the corner of Chapel and Temple street onto the green of Central Park, ending under a purple sky. Unseasonably warm, dense air. On foot to the Courtyard Marriott, my right knee complaining from all the schlepping of carrying my bags. I'd managed, in a momentary lapse of judgment, doubly triply quadruply burdened by the heat, my sweat, the overboiling of humanity swarming under New York's Grand Central Station, to break the tow handle of my luggage. Thus I carried it like some atomic weight for much of the journey. After settling in under the hotel's mediocre WiFi, I marked out a couple highlights on a paper map and made the trek across town, a solitary walk through downtown New Haven which was nearly silent at 8 PM on the Wednesday the week before Christmas. The pizza (or "apizza...