Six Days

VI

“All men dream, but not equally. Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their minds, wake in the day to find that it was vanity: but the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act on their dreams with open eyes, to make them possible.”

-Thomas E. Lawrence


Six days. Today I broke the bubble of pain, before it broke me.
Not to say that the pain went away. Although surgery will decrease the occipital neuralgia, I must remember that it is not a fix-all, there will be headaches and pain management.
But hopefully not as bad as this.

No, what I mean by breaking the bubble is that…well, maybe I should begin at the beginning. As you may have earlier read I have been eagerly looking towards this day, my Grandmother invited my to the opera. [It is an art many claim they have to suffer through, if someone drags them along. I have loved classical music since I was young. Often to the puzzlement of my rock-roll, punk friends…even the Jazz heads, whom I count myself among, just shake their heads and smile. I prefer Schubert, Mozart, of course, most of the masters…chamber, baroque, I enjoy the oft overlooked darker works. And Beethoven’s 9th is orgasmic, when it is done right. My lifelong, most beloved piece is Schubert’s 3rd or Unfinished Symphony. If you have never sat down and just listened to it, you have missed a treasure of human art.]
Tonight was a selection of Verdi arias. Yes, I wore my best suit, and a good thing too, for the others were all looking quite splendid.

Giuseppe Verdi was as brilliant, passionately political and as bizzare as any of the great composers, yet he had rare deftness, a subtleness that eluded some of his rather heavy-handed contemporaries. He worked to free Italy from Austrian rule and served in the Italian parliament for four years.
[I was talking about the bubble of pain that has been smothering me for days, don’t worry there is a connection here]
The outstanding Anchorage Opera performed a great selection, but it was the beginning of Act 1 that nailed me to my seat. From the opening notes, the music felt aimed directly at the pain and fear which has been dominating my life. I am in no way ashamed to admit that I was quickly driven to tears. Though yoked by pain in my seat, it was the sheer beauty of the music and the stunning voices that brought a lump to my throat and very soon the cathartic tears. They began with La Forza Del Destino, then the Aria: Il lacerato spirito from Simon Boccanegra.

I reveled in every note that followed, though unfortunately I had to leave the hall when they started in with selections from Aida at the end of the last act. By then King Headache was throwing a tantrum.
Yet in those sublime minutes, when Verdi’s music washed through me, I was finally able to come to emotional terms with my pain. The pain hadn’t changed, was terrible tonight actually; yet something relaxed inside me that had been twisted, strung way too tight, for more than 18 months. It was a flash of pure acceptance and suddenly the viscous bubble isolating me just popped.
I regained my weakened faith that even within my own orchestral agony there could be such beauty and joy, sang in the same breath. Though this is a poor description; it will do for now, at least until I can explore it further.

As well, I made a new friend tonight. Also invited by JP, we turned out to have a few mutual friends…Anchorage, though huge in space is small in community. When my headache and neuralgia had spiked badly, and I was beginning to wonder if I would make it through the whole performance, she reached out and took my hand.
It sounds like a small thing. Yet it meant so much.

After the opera we stopped by a getting-out-of-Alaska party for Jackie; who is soon going to Alabama, there to homestead and be a mental-floss tycoon. I was thrilled to see a lot of friends I hadn’t seen in almost four years. Hours later, the potent energy for health and recovery that they infused into me is still thrumming through my spirit. I realized, yet again, just how damn lucky I am. To their credit, the shock at seeing my scrawny-ass, sallow condition (plus the oddity of scruffy me in a suit w/no hair) seemed to pass pretty quickly, or was well hidden.

Although I was/am sick and scared, they welcomed me back into a community, that I had sorely missed, with grace, love and some obligatory proof-of-brain jokes. (which I was actually glad to hear)
What’s more they didn’t make a big deal about it…interested in what is happening to me, but not reacting with fearful pity…and for that I will always be grateful.
Especially since I leave on Monday and won’t get to see many of them until I get back.

By the way, this goes for a lot of people who deserve much more than just a mention here, who in the last months have constantly dropped what they were doing and run to come help me.

And while I am at it: Big Love and Props the size of a 2-ton motor to my love Jenn Roseti, who jumped out of a perfectly good airplane today. Talking with her on the phone after she landed, I caught myself with a giant grin on my mug, a rarity these days.
She dedicated her dive to me and I am honored.
Someday Jenn, we dive together.

These last two entries have focused on my family and friends for a reason. As I head toward the launch pad all but the really important things are slipping away like so many autumn leaves.
I love all of you.
And in six days I get a fresh chance to show you just how much.

—End Transmission—
Dawn McKenzie