ONE STEP AT A TIME

Two days of being on the old regimen of Kaletra, DDI, and Epzicon.
Other than the familiar Kaletra diarrhea, I'm feeling remarkably ok. That may be in part due to the antibiotic Dr. A. gave me to knock out the sinus infection I've been dealing with.

So...
I don't feel too bad about the climb I will be doing on Mt. St Helens on Monday. I guess Robby and I will head up tomorrow afternoon to spend the night at the trail head.

This climb will be poingant -- remembeing a climb from before.
It was about 9 years ago that Graham Harriman, Bruce Bills, and myself made the trip to the summit. We had all been pretty sick with AIDS, and was just coming through the fire with the help of the new treatments.
I remember the slow slog to the summit, but mostly Bill's efforts. Many years before he had suffered a severe brain injury when he was rifle butted by someone trying to break into his house. He had to learn to walk again, and use his arm. Yet, he had never fully regained the use of his leg or arm, and still walked with a limp. I remember from the climb that we had to unzip and zip up his fly when he had to go pee, his fingers were too gimp to do the job for himself.
But he was always of good cheer, and an easy friend to be around. I asked him during that trip if he ever regretted what he had lost from his injury. He said only that he could no longer play the guitar again. His determination still allowed him to lead a full life, which included being an avid skier. The week before our climb he had been skiing on Mt. Hood, and had decided to make one final jump, and had crashed and broken some ribs.
He wasn't sure he could do the climb, but here he was, dealing with AIDS, partial paralysis, and broken ribs.
I knew he was in pain, which even broke through the vicadin he was on. Bruce was normally, jovial, of good cheer, and would frequently make an off color joke. Ok, and he was also a good looking guy, as only a natural athlete could be.
As we got within in the last few hundred feet of the summit rim, I could tell that Bruce was in incredible pain. But yet there was this look of solid determination in his face. I have never seen anyone force himself through a wall like Bruce could, sweat dripping from his face.
As we summited, Bruce's good humor returned, and we spent an hour basking in an incredible day on the rim.
Bruce died last November. Whew....
Bruce was someone who was so alive, you can't imagine him not being here.

A few days after the climb, Bruce gave Graham and I a lamented momento of the climb...