ONE STEP AT A TIME

2010-05-16T08:11:00.000-07:00

After the past 7 years, and several failed attempts, managed to climb Mt. Hood again.

This time, achieving my dream of climbing it solo.

Luckily, I was helped by the weather, and great climbing conditions.

Good to be on the Summit again.

2010-02-20T15:50:00.000-08:00

Finishing up a hectic week in San Francisco -- covering the big annual scientific and research conference. Always amazed by how much work is being done out there. No cure, but at least this year, you heard rumbles by some of the scientist about that now being the target.

We did over 50 interviews and panels. Again, I feel privileged to meet some of these top doctors and researchers.

Our blog and interviews from there:

http://www.ifarablog.org/

2010-02-01T11:18:00.000-08:00

Some things to think about during the church service yesterday. (My choir sang, so I got to sit in the choir loft hearing much of the service twice.)
Before our choir went out, our choir director, Mark, had us hold hands as usual, and gave a prayer. (Well, as Unitarians pray). The thing he said that stuck with me was that when we sang, to sing with "Acuity".

I think that is a good model for life. Another way of saying to be present. The Now is all we have, and everything else is just an illusion. Too often we miss this moment because we are living in this illusion. And we miss the people in our lives, because we are never really "with" them. I remember something that Mark had said in choir practice last week, that the greatest gift we can give to someone is our presence.

The other thing that got me thinking was during the minister's sermon. Why should we live as if our paradoxes always need a resolution? Trying to force solutions onto our lives, into the mystery of our being; it only forces situations and people into circumstances where they do not belong. I've often argued against fundamentalism for that reason. That compelling need that some people have to see things in black and white, the dogma of their truth, the inability to live in the in-between, in that mystery of the unknown.

"Morning Poem"

Every morning the world is created.

Under the orange sticks of the sun
the heaped ashes of the night turn into leaves again
and fasten themselves to the high branches –
and the ponds appear like black cloth
on which are painted islands
of summer lilies.

If it is your nature to be happy
you will swim away along
the soft trails for hours,
your imagination alighting everywhere.

And if your spirit carries within it
the thorn that is heavier than lead –
if it’s all you can do to keep on trudging –
there is still somewhere deep within you
a beast shouting that the earth is exactly what it wanted –

each pond with its blazing lilies
is a prayer heard and answered lavishly every morning,
whether or not you have ever dared to be happy,
whether or not you have ever dared to pray.

-Mary Oliver

and....
to end this church inspired blog, we're singing this song by Holly Near, the words, and emotion of which touch me deeply:

2010-01-16T10:23:00.000-08:00

On a rainy Oregon morning,

I go back to the video I did last spring:

2010-01-11T14:53:00.000-08:00

AIDS and depression -- how we all deal with it.

Last night, I saw the movie, "The Road" about a post apocalyptic world where a father and young son travel through a stark devastated world where leafless trees fall mindlessly on an ashen covered landscape. They were walking the road toward someplace better, but where? It all seemed so mindless, their fight for survival among savaged people ready to kill them for food. Most times, griping their gun with 2 bullets, either to kill someone else at the slightest suspicion, or to use the bullets to end their own misery. The seems pointlessness of it all, as they create stories of why to keep on to keep traveling down that road, toward some goal. Where? All the while trying to sustain a belief to justify their existence. That somehow, they were the good guys, who still had the virtue of the sustaining fire of humanity within.

Falling asleep last night, I could only think that the world in which they live was so much like the landscape in which I seem to exist all too often within my own mind. Treading the hopelessness of AIDS, trying to sustain the fire within.

I remember seeing a report a couple of weeks ago about the high incidence of depression among those with type-2 diabetes. The constant monitoring and shots.

I think of the twice daily shots I do for Fusion, along with all the other medications I take. Mostly I try to do it out of habit, without thinking about it. What's the point of working myself up over a situation I cannot change?

In summer, I use hiking and climbing as my anti-depressant. But....Winter in Oregon presents another hurdle. I guess that's when just creating a habit, and then going through the daily motions comes into play.

Putting one foot in front of the other, believing that there is some sustaining fire worth preserving.

2010-01-01T10:02:00.000-08:00

Back from Ecuador a couple of days ago.

Good trip. Exploring Quito, going to the Amazon, and ended up for a few days staying in the hills/mountains around Laguna Quilotoa. All the time finding time to hike. Of course, the highlight of the trip was climbing Cotopaxi.

I've often wondered about my relationship with hiking and climbing and having AIDS. Especially when it involves tough hikes and climbs of endurance. People may ask why someone living with a life-challenging illness would risk their health further by taking on physically demanding endeavors.

I see it differently.

In order for me to climb a tough mountain, everything else in my life has to be in place. I can't just show up one day, and start putting one foot in front of the other. My life has to maintain a balance to get to that point. If I'm truly serious about being successful, I must be aware of and maintain my physical, mental, and spiritual health. Each day, I must be motivated to exercise, eat right, avoid undue stress, and maintain a openness and awareness of what is going on in my life that might disrupt the goal of obtaining a summit.

Sure the climb itself is tough, but I know to be successful for the climb, everything else must stay in balance for months beforehand. I can't take things for granted. To work for that summit, I need to make sure my whole life is lived in health.

In some of the classes on living with HIV that I teach, I like to tell people who are newly infected, especially if they are in their 20's or 30's, that if they "get it", and realize how important their health and life is, and start doing the things needed to stay healthy (eating right, exercise, disease and stress management), then by the time they turn 50, they will in many ways be healthier than the average 50 year old in this country.

Being infected for going on 25 years now, I've probably had a harder time than most. Only recently being able to maintain an undetectable viral load. During all that time, I kept climbing.

On the day I climbed Cotopaxi, probably 25 other people reached the summit. I was undoubtably the only person with AIDS standing on the top of the highest volcano in the world.

More surprisingly, I think I was the only person over 50 to reach the summit that day.

That did not happen by accident.

That is why I am alive today.

2009-12-21T07:54:00.000-08:00

(Cotopaxi)

In Ecuador, doing the things I love most.

Hiking & Climbing.

Never knowing what my capabilities are, but I push it, maybe too much. Rage against the Disease.

Yesterday, getting up at 12am from the refuge on Cotopaxi, getting gear together: harness, iceaxe, crampons, etc., embarking on the journey again. Tough, but beautiful climb, which I had prepared for by doing a couple of hikes up to Rucu Pinchincha during the week. At 15,300 feet, I hoped the hikes were enough to help me acclimate to Cotopaxi.

Of course, always worried about he stress on my body. I end up taking an extra dose of my HIV meds at midnight, because I get so caught up in the climbing, that I can forget a dose.

And of course it was tough. I try to not make AIDS (or my age an excuse), but it does come into play.

Near the summit, I end up taking 10-15 steps, needing to stop, to fill my damaged lungs with air. If not, I'd end up coughing and gagging. Thank God, my 3 member rope team were patient enough. The climb took about 6 hours to the summit. Then we were there....

And I Never felt more alive.

2009-12-06T12:12:00.000-08:00

It had been like dying, that sliding down the mountain pass. It has been like the death of someone, irrational, that sliding down the mountain pass and into the region of dread. It was like slipping into fever, or falling down that hole in sleep from which you wake yourself whimpering. We had crossed the mountains that day, and now we were in a strange place.

Annie Dillard -- 'Total Eclipse'

Sunday Morning trip to Powell's books, picking up a couple of travel books for my friend in Ecuador. Browsing through several sections for something to take for myself. Rumi? Gracia Marquz? Annie Dillard came into my mind, so I picked up a compilations of her work. The first paragraph struck me, and I settled on it.

Much like traveling. Going to an unknown time and place. The death of something, the birth of somethings new. Like my move to Portland Oregon over 14 years ago. Four days, driving across country with a few meager possessions in back of my truck. Some boxes of odds and ends, clothes, a few books. A dresser was about the only piece of furniture. During the drive I continued with my fevers which would start up in the afternoons, and increase to 101 or 102 by the time I'd find a cheap hotel for the night. It was irrational. It was the death of someone. It was in some ways going into the region of dread, knowing that I might be dead by the end of the year.

Looking back, I want to say I was totally at peace, that I welcomed and embraced everything that would come. That I had no sleepless nights. But it was tough. All I knew is that I did not want to live the few months I had left in South Carolina. And I did not want to die in the place where I was born, where I felt no longer safe. I was willing to risk going into the unknown, even the dread of it for the chance, the hope of something better.

How many times in history has that happened? Where people have traveled across continents, across oceans, in the hope of the unknown, knowing the risk, knowing the dread, but driven from the intolerable, to jump off the edge of a cliff, falling, falling, sliding, down, down. Hoping to at the least to come to rest, in a new strange place, the potential, the possibility. Of? The just maybe, maybe....

Sliding, I come to a halt, take a breath, and slowly, slowly, open my eyes....

2009-12-04T08:36:00.001-08:00

Slowly pulling things together for my trip to Ecuador next week. My friend there has given me a list of things to bring, which I don't mind doing.

Yesterday, he informed me that his partner, who is HIV+ cannot get one of his HIV meds, because of a disruption in the supply chain. I've been going through some contacts here to try to locate the particular med. The best I can do so far is find someone who has some outdated bottles, or another dual combo pill that has the med in it along with another unneeded one.

In the process I've come head on into realizing the fragility of living with HIV in a third world country. Almost all the meds I'm on, the "latest and greatest", which have saved my life, aren't even available in most third world countries. I realize that if my friend in Ecuador should fail his current regimen, he probably as few options left. The meds I'm on will aren't available there -- and they probably won't be in the foreseeable future -- they are simply too expensive. (The ones I'm on probably run $75,000/year).

And my friend is one among many. Many millions, who are in the same boat.

It's like being in a row boat in a vast stormy sea, steadily rowing, hoping we make it, somewhere.

2009-12-02T16:41:00.000-08:00

Cross Country Skiing on Mt. Hood

Getting cold, falling down, snot running down my upper lip, falling down again, sweaty from overdressing, getting cold again, falling down again, more snot, achey muscles.

All and all, I say it was a pretty great day.

2009-11-10T07:51:00.000-08:00

Got back from a 2 week trip to the South. Spending time with family, and friends, and got out to the Great Smokies for a 3 day hike. Less than 20 miles, but it was nice being in the mountains, surrounded by the Fall Colors. A lot of people out, day hikers, and a few overnighters like me, but my favorite times are one the trail alone. (The whoop and hollar of all the day trippers up to Mt. Le Conte was a bit much). I'm entertaining the idea of sometime in the next few years of doing the 70 mile through the Smokies. Not sure if it would be to relive old memories, or to open myself up to the moment.

Also, did Enjoy my trip up Round Mountain, near Roan Mountain near the end of my stay. One of my favorite hikes in the Appalachians. The trail went on and on behind me, but I had to head down.

And ... back in Portland. Something about the Fall, and the inertia of the darkened days that makes even the smallest task seem insurmountable. AAAhhh, the power to just power through on days like this. Sometimes, I wish I had that bit of chemical in my brain that some people have, that puts them into a constant state of euphoria and drive. Just take an pill, prozac, etc. Turn on, open out. Would be kinda easy, wouldn't it.
But would I be any more alive? Would I be experiencing life any deeper?

Instead, I'm planning for my trip to Ecuador next month. But .... Is that my pill?

2009-09-29T08:25:00.000-07:00

TO BE A SLAVE OF INTENSITY

Friend, hope for the Guest while you are alive.
Jump into experience while you are alive.
Think ... and think ... while you are alive.
What you call "salvation" belongs to the time before death.

If you don't break your ropes while you're alive,
do you think
ghosts will do it after?

The idea that the soul will join with the ecstatic
just because the body is rotten -
this is fantasy.
What is found now is found then.
If you find nothing now,
you will simply end up with an apartment in the City of Death
If you make love with the divine now, in the next life you
will have the face of satisfied desire.

So plunge into the truth, find out who the Teacher is,
Believe in the Great Sound!

Kabir say this: When the Guest is being searched for, it is
the intensity of the longing for the Guest that does the work.
Look at me, and you will see a slave of that intensity.

Kabir

2009-09-14T10:42:00.000-07:00

Feeling the end of a quick and filled summer ...

I think the 9 day trip around Mt. Rainier would be the memory I most take away from it, even more than a trip half way around the World to Cape Town.

It isn't the physical journeys I take, but the mental ones that are the most memorable. The delving deep inside of who, and where, and why I am in this World. Breaking away to new places and cultures can often break me away from the staleness of the everyday, and awaken a new awareness, but I still must have time to live within and soak into that experience. Often the whirlwind of travel doesn't afford that. Something about the rhythmic plodding on trail, or glacier, or mountain, awakens a deep awareness of being that is can be lost in the blur of images of new experiences.

..... And being away from the electronic umbilical cord of modern life. To often, I find myself defining myself in terms of "the other". How my life plays upon someone else's stage. It is difficult to break far enough away, that I am able to stand alone, and say, "This is me".

Even when hiking, I will find myself in communion with another, discussing, arguing, loving, embracing. Only after several days of walking, plodding, climbing, descending, that do I begin to awaken into the moment of being. Apart, but connected to the eternal.

Robby and I took maybe our final hike on Mt. Hood for this year. It's one of my favorite trails, about 12-14 miles, up through forest, and then meadows, and finally the rocks hugging the side of the mountain.

2009-09-03T17:16:00.000-07:00

Wonderland Trail

Mt. Rainier

Had an incredible 9 days on the Wonderland Trail. Would describe it, but I think the above video speaks for itself.

Also, before the Wonderland Trail, had a nice weekend in Bend, and climbing South Sister with my Doctor, Mark, her brother and wife, Marty, and of course, Robby:

2009-08-21T06:44:00.000-07:00

Heading to Bend today for the weekend. Will be climbing South Sister again this year with my doc. Robby, my partner is coming, so that's an extra treat.
It's a long 5000 vertical foot slog to the summit. But the view north is worth is. You can see Middle Sister, North Sister, 3-fingered Jack, Jefferson, Hood, etc. I think you might be able to get a glimpse of Mt. Rainier way off there.

And there comes my next (questionable) adventure. One Monday, I meet up with Robin to take 9 days to backpack around the Mt Rainer. It's over 93 miles, and probably over 25,000 vertical feet. It's will be grueling, with no break days, and I wonder about my stamina, and the logistics.

My Health is good, except for some lingering "feverishness" after Africa. I took a couple of courses of antibiotics to get over a bad case of diarrhea, but think that is solved. I think one reason I do this to disprove to myself (and to the world) that I am not fragile. That I can push myself to the limit.
But I also know the reality of having AIDS, and it's complications. At least 2 pounds of my weight on the trek will be meds. My biggest concern is the fuzeon, which involves mixing, and twice daily injections, all in sanitary conditions that are less than optimal.
I haven't talked about my latest numbers in awhile. I'm still undetectable, after a minor blip last fall. I know the studies say that as long as I am adherent to my meds, that should remain so. I rarely miss a dose, maybe a small screwup every 3-4 months. But I do wonder what factors having diarrhea for a week plays. My CD4 count has slowly risen to about 475. Good, but my CD4 percentage is only 13% (pretty bad), which according to some docs, is borderline full-blown AIDS, and puts me at a much higher risk for opportunistic infections. I want to believe I can't live my life according to lab tests, but I can't ignore them either.

So here I cam heading off. Sometimes - 20 miles or so from the nearest road, and logistical problems of being halfway around a mountain if something should happen, and I should need to bail out.
My main goal is not to affect my health over the long term.
Planning, Endurance, and Faith.

2009-08-15T18:43:00.000-07:00

After coming back from Cape Town, many impressions of the city and the country. A place of inequities, despair, but of unimaginable beauty and hope. It made me realize how a country can walk the chasm between possibility and ruin. It made me further appreciate the great role that Nelson Mandela has played in the country, and how he is one of the great leaders of the past 25 years.
The Sunday after returning, a choir at my church sung "Lamentations of Jeremiah". Many people around me were crying. I was crying too, perhaps from the raw earthiness of awareness from where I had just come:

2009-07-09T21:08:00.000-07:00

I was listening to the words of the poet Jim Harrison today. (Would like to get his book of poetry, 'in search of small gods' for my upcoming trip to Africa.

He talked about getting older, of boiling down your life, to it's very essence, much as a cook would boil down the broth, to it's bare flavorful essential self. All the fluff in life becomes less important.

I've often spoke of climbing a glacier, alone, in the middle of the night. Just me, the stars, and the silence, except for the sound of a slight breeze, and the rhythmic crunch of the crampons on the hardened snow. In one sense, feeling so small and insignificant, but never feeling more alive and complete, as my total self is concentrated into a single moment of being, without all the external noise of me having to scream out into the world, "This is me! This is me!", seeking some empty identity in the void.

I've come to bemoan Facebook, Twitter, Blogs, etc.. It often seems that way. People crying out for a connection in some digital world. "This is me! This is me!" When the secret is being more alone, more alone than you've ever been, lost, meaningless on a darkened glacier. Then, and only then, finding connection to the eternal.

Hiking with Robby and Robin on July 4, up to camp Muir on Mt. Rainier. Not quite alone, but close enough to the heavens....

2009-02-23T10:41:00.000-08:00

Beach wandering and hiking in Kauai -- but mostly not doing anything. I remember other trips, and planning every moment, and at the end of it all, feeling that I had never lived the experience.
The mountains to climb, the trails, where they lead, were all the more meaningful in the not knowing.

2009-02-03T10:55:00.000-08:00

THE STREAM OF LIFE

The same stream of life that runs through my veins night and day runs through the world and dances in rhythmic measures.

It is the same life that shoots in joy through the dust of the earth in numberless blades of grass and breaks into tumultuous waves of leaves and flowers.

It is the same life that is rocked in the ocean-cradle of birth and death, in ebb and in flow.

I feel my limbs are made glorious by the touch of this world of life-throb of ages dancing in my blood this moment.
--- Robindranath Tagore

2009-02-02T11:15:00.000-08:00

One of the things I do miss about South Carolina, were the magical evenings that would happen for a few nights each year, probably late spring, early summer.
I'd walk out on into the yard on a hot and muggy night, and down by the creek, among all the trees would be thousands of fireflies lighting up in the night darkness. Each searching as if reading some ancient scripture; maybe drawn by the yearning to find another, or even by a deeper meaning and purpose in their being, designed in the ages, spoken in the now.

One of the songs we sung on Sunday...

Where do we come from?
What are we?
Where are we going?
Where do we come from?
Mystery. Mystery.
Life is a riddle and a mystery.
Where do we come from?
Where are we going?

Leaving for Montreal in a few days....Brrrrrrr.

2008-12-29T10:33:00.000-08:00

SNOW OF DECEMBER 2008

2008-12-20T15:02:00.001-08:00

2008-11-12T15:14:00.000-08:00

Busy past few weeks....which can go by too fast ... without reflection ....

Was in DC the week before the election. The long anticipation about the possibility of an Obama success. Couldn't help but think about it while visiting the Lincoln Memory, at the spot where MLK gave his famous speech. One of the last times I was in Washington was during the Gay Rights March in 1993, as we wait.

In London during the election. Seeing the reaction the world over.
Also saw the musical, "Billy Elliot", which was the highlight of my trip. As we all search for the truth in who we are.

2008-10-07T09:57:00.000-07:00

Singing a song based on a poem by Wendell Berry in church choir. It's how is how I feel when I need the peace of the outdoors:

I Go Among Trees and Sit Still

I go among trees and sit still.
All my stirring becomes quiet
Around me like circles on water.
My tasks lie in their places
Where I left them, asleep like cattle…

Then what I am afraid of comes.
I live for a while in its sight.
What I fear in it leaves it,
And the fear of it leaves me.
It sings, and I hear its song.

2008-09-26T10:28:00.001-07:00

Finishing up the intro from out trip to the International AIDS Conference in Mexico City:

2008-09-11T18:30:00.000-07:00

Back from climbing Mt. Olympus in Washington State. Ended up being a nice four days -- although demanding -- 50+ miles and 8000' elevation gain. Enjoyed spending time with the three "girls", all lesbians who live full and exciting lives. We had to delay the climb by a couple of days because of a death in the family of Saskia (she had two "grandmother" figures , who had been part of her life since childhood, one had died at the age and 102, both women had been together for about 70 years). But this gave us time to get to know each other better while staying in Port Angeles Washington.

The Olympic Peninsular ended up being spectacular, and the hike up the Hoh River toward Mt. Olympus was like going back into time into a primeval forest. Some ticky parts along the hike, log crossings and a major trail wash out, but seeing the inside of National Park, in all it's incredible beauty.
The climb went well, although having to stop at the False Summit, bacause the crevasse and mote around the the real summit made it in assessable.

2008-08-15T09:27:00.000-07:00

Back about a week from Mexico, and yes climbing some pyramids.
Seems far away at this point. Returning, learning that my 27 yo nephew had died, the final result of many years of drugs. I try to relate it to things I know. Myself being about 27 when getting infected with HIV -- a lifetime away. All irrelevant, knowing the pain that my sister has been going through. And all the insane family dynamics surrounding the death.

On a happier note, the Mexico trip was enjoyable. I took Tolle's book, The Power of Now, and constantly reminding myself to stay present during the hectic conference schedule.
One of the more memorial moments was the anti-homophobia march at the start of the conference:

2008-07-27T10:54:00.000-07:00

LIVING ON THE RAZOR'S EDGE?

Is it possible

to narrow the Now down to such a small point in space and time

that it becomes irrelevant?

2008-07-23T22:07:00.000-07:00

I was reminded today about when I first moved to Oregon 13 years ago, thinking I had only a few months to live, going through several major illnesses, getting down to 125 pounds at one point. And then the Oregon winter -- and the constant overcast skies and the mist and rain. I would walk alone in the streets at night. You know, when there's few people out, and the street lamps shine across the wet pavement, and you can hear the silence of the eternal bearing down. It is those times that I feel most alive, without the distractions and echoes of everyday life.
I remember during one of those walks coming across a haiku to the Japanese-Americans who were wrongly interned during WWII. Seventy Years ago. A minuscule amount in the vastness of time. There is always comfort, reasons to be grateful, always hope, even in the rain.

2008-07-21T16:33:00.000-07:00

This past weekend, went on the South Sister Climb with my Doc, her husband, Mark, and Marti, the RN from the clinic. It was a long 12 hour day -- but the weather perfect, and the views spectacular, and the friendship and camaraderie meaningful.

Like last year, Diana not quite sure she could do this, but when it comes down to it -- "just make it that that rock up about a 100 yards up there", and take a rest, and "let's go just up the bend there..."

and before you know it --
you're at the summit.
It's great getting to know Diana better, and Mark (an oncologist), displays passion that makes you realize that most doctors are really involved with their patients care, and Marti, her ever giving presence -- waiting at the lower mountain for 8 hours when she decided she couldn't make the climb this year -- cheerful as ever.
I guess when I think about it I still find it kinda strange that I climb with my HIV Doc -- maybe it's symbolic in some way, or maybe it's more of the way the world should be...

I was accepted on another North Sister Climb for this weekend, but have decided I would have to give it up, since I'm leaving on a 6am flight next Monday for Mexico City and the International AIDS conference. Maybe I'll climb a pyramid while I'm there.

2008-07-15T09:40:00.000-07:00

And I'm on top of a mountain again...

After the hike on Table Mountain, I began to doubt my ability to keep on climbing. I had been wanting to re-climb one of my favorite mountains since last summer, and had long ago put it on the schedule for the past weekend. Robin had decided not to go earlier in the week, and then the day before, Robby had backed out, but I knew my spirit needed me to go, so on Saturday morning I headed up to Mt. Adams.
It was nice just being with myself. I think this was my fifth climb of the mountain, and it seemed like I was with an old friend, I knew what to expect and could more simply live the experience. Sounds simple -- but I've had to teach myself to do that. One response to knowing something is to want to rush it -- to get to the destination. I've climbed and hiked too many mountains and trails that way.
For this trip, I felt that I could be the mountain as myself. Although there were over 200 other climbers, I was in my own space, able to climb at my own pace. A handful of people passed me by, but that was ok -- as I rose up the ridge line to the glacier ahead.

Usually the trip up the first glacier to a camping spot at the lunch counter at 9000 feet is a long tedious slog, but I again paced myself, enjoyed the moment, and easily found a good camping site at the first place I looked. It was 4:30, and I was surprised to find I had made it up in about 4 hours -- time was timeless.

There were many hours to relax, cook dinner, get water, and enjoy a beautiful sunset behind Mount St. Helens -- the rays reflecting over to Mt. Hood. I also noticed a puff of smoke rising up from a few miles from the trail head, and wondered if it could be a campfire. Odd, the mountain was pretty dry to be lighting such a large campfire.

I slept much of the night outside my sleeping bag, getting up several times to look out, awed and inspired by the heavens surrounding me -- especially enveloping after the moon had gone down. This is why I came. The untold trillions of stars and galaxies. So incomprehensibly vast. The Milky Way stretching from horizon to horizon. I guess there are some people who feel so alone when they experience this, but I feel comforted in this vastness. Everything is where it needs to be, and I am part of that vast whole.

And each time I awoke, covered by stars, I would look to the south west and the sky lit up by the lights of Portland, and I would also look down into the valley, and see the embers of a fire beginning to grow. I realized that the smoke I had seen earlier was a small forest fire beginning to grow into a life of it's own.

In the early light of 5:30 am, I headed up the mountain. Again, my pace seemed so slow, but consistent, and I was never out of breath or tired. I didn't bother to stop until a few hundred feet below Pikers Peak to eat breakfast, making it up to the False summit by 9am. After a brief break to take off my crampons, I was at the true summit by 10. The last few feet are amazing. All of a sudden, Mount Rainier is just, bam!, right there in front of you. It was so clear you could see Mt. Baker off to the right of Rainier. And to the south, Mt. Hood, Jefferson, and the Three Sisters. Below, in the valley, the smoke was beginning to rise.

I headed down after a short visit on the top, and was able to do my first 400 foot glissade from the summit, and then from Piker's Peak, an amazing half mile glissade. What had taken me over 4 hours to climb, took about an hour to descend.

I could see the fire growing below me. Occasionally whole trees would go up in flames, and the smoke began to take on a yellow reddish glow. I quickly packed my tent and gear, and headed down the glacier. (I almost took a wrong turn. The glacier can take you down into 3 different gully's -- point to remember -- it's the middle one.)

Although I would have liked to have taken a slower pace, and stopped at least once, I decided it was more prudent to head down without resting -- without being frantic about it. As I got into the forest, the smoke began to take up larger part of the horizon, and the sounds of planes and helicopters began to echo across the mountain. I finally ran into a Ranger who recommended camping on the snow covered hillside for another night, but said it was still safe to go down to the parking area. Since my water, wallet, etc. were down below, I opted to head on with the hope of being able to get out. At times it seemed like I was hiking straight into the smoke and flames. Twice, I got misted by a helicopter carrying a giant bucket of water. Once again, I got held up by a ranger, until an all clear was given.

Once down at the parking lot, the ranger there said the fire could be jumping across the only road out, and we may not be able to leave for awhile. He also recommended repacking any gear for the possibility of having to head back up the mountain in case the wind direction changed. Fortunately, about a half hour later, they felt that a window of opportunity was there to allow a group of cars down the rough mountain road. Dirt and dust flew as was sped down the mountain. I only slowed down when the rutted road began to shake the struts and shocks and my vehicle.

On the way out of Trout Lake, I pulled over at the local school to join the locals in watching the devastation the fire was creating in the forest surrounding the mountain. This time -- from a safe distance.

2008-07-08T10:02:00.000-07:00

Hiking in the Gorge again this weekend, again hitting against my limitations. Gosh.
It was a tough hike, up to the top of Table Mountain across from Bonneville Dam. The worst part was coming down. It was one of the steepest decent I've ever down on any hike. Robin spent part of the decent on her butt, it was that unstable. But hey, Spectacular Views!

Coming down, I started to get the scarlet rash on my lower legs again. I went online yesterday and what I thought was due to chaffing is something that some doctors in Australia decided to call, Golfer's Vasculitis (I guess because mostly older men get if from walking in the heat playing 18 holes). Why not a more macho name, Climber's Vasculitis, Apparently, it it's only an annoyance, so that's the good news, the bad is there's no clear treatment or preventative measures to take. Ouch!
The worst thing was after getting down (and hunting down our teenager hiker who decided to go it alone for a second time during the day), I developed chills like I had hiking in Ecuador, and getting home, developing a 101 degree fever for several hours. (Robby stuck around and took care of me.) It seems like my metabolism has become so screwed up after dealing with 20+ years of HIV. What can I do about that? Always thinking of solutions.
Suppose to climb Mt. Adams this coming weekend......

2008-06-19T13:22:00.001-07:00

"Dog Mountain Wildflower Tour 2008":

2008-05-08T07:06:00.000-07:00

One of the most profound moments of my life was 25 years ago, after a 5 day trek, hiking down into the Kali Gandaki Gorge in Nepal, the sun setting creating an eternal glow on the world surrounding me.
It was a long day, coming down from 9000 feet. There was fear and the vast darkness of the night began to envelop me ... yet there was this lightness of being, this profound sense of being, that I was moving towards ...

... As i descended, there was the incredible heavenly presence of Mount Macchapucchre (The Fishtail Mountain) glowing at the far end of the gorge -- never knowing if I would get there, but seeing it in the distance was enough for my soul....

2008-04-22T11:49:00.000-07:00

All my energy could go into complaining & resisting -- or it could go into living.

2008-04-20T13:41:00.000-07:00

Not all who wander are lost....

2008-04-20T12:14:00.000-07:00

Yet at times I may not quite know the way...

2008-04-18T21:36:00.000-07:00

Happy Birthday Greg

(1987 - pre-HIV))

Life is linear, yes?
50 years old
20 years since learning I was HIV+
30 years since hiking alone on the Appalachian Trail
40 years as a 10 year old- when i first felt the emptiness of the eternal ...

(2008)
(1998)
(1988)

("1978")

("1968")
("1959")

2008-04-15T19:37:00.000-07:00

The things I remember from Ecuador, the times of being in the present, where I felt the deepness of being, things that I bring back that confirm and strengthen my present:

Sitting on the top of the tower on the Vota Basilica, seeing the valley of Quito spread out before me as a thunderstorm moves in with its rumble and lightening flashes. Being in the moment, as the rain pours against the basilica, and through the cracks in the towers -- dripping, dripping.

and we wait,
there, in the moment, as it rains.

In Banos -- sitting in the pools of the hot baths before sunrise -- the waterfall trickling down from the mountain, the quiet spaces of the pools -- feeling my toes, legs, and body in the warmth...

or the night before, above the pools, as the waterfall tumbles around me, a perfect sunset -- realizing - forever is now & only now

2008-03-14T14:32:00.000-07:00

maybe i should post before i go.

Leaving for Ecuador next week. It's been a bit stressful thinking about the trip. Mainly because I have to know and plan everything. But, once I get there, I'm sure acceptance will set in.

Unfortunately, this is the rainy season in and around Quito, and this year, apparently due to El Nino they are having much more than usual. I have been communicating with one climb operator in particular, but there is no resolution yet, so I will be checking in with him and others when I get there. Me being me, I don't want to waste my money on something that does not have a reasonable chance of succeeding.

I'm doing my best to change my perspective and expectations, going with an open mind to what ever this trip my offer. Even boredom? Well, that would be my own damn fault, wouldn't it.

always before a trip like this, there is foreboding.

But I will come back, and then go on to the next thing.

We've had a few good days here, as the weather changes. Was hoping to get out to the Gorge one more time, but doesn't look like it's going to happen. Being an Oregonian now, you'd think I'd finally learn to enjoy hiking in the rain and drizzle.

Robby and I did get out to Angel's Rest last Sunday. Nice day. Always like getting up to this view -- giving me a chance at perspective and peace....

2008-03-14T14:30:00.000-07:00

sometimes i go down to the water edge
and try to peer into the deep mysteries

more often, I just look into my own reflection

2008-01-09T19:56:00.000-08:00

A perfect New Year's day cross country skiing at Trilium Lake with Robby, Robin & Elliot.

2007-12-29T11:21:00.001-08:00

I found this guy on youtube, BradinTampa. Liked the simplicity of his rendition. I cried once or twice when listening to it. I couldn't help remembering the night when I first learned of my HIV status, sitting on the couch with my sister holding me.

2007-12-29T10:08:00.000-08:00

BTW -- Happy Holidays....

2007-12-28T19:40:00.000-08:00

Hi --
As usual, when life becomes more predictable, I fall away, and have no reason to communicate.
OK -- Still undetectable after one year. Whee. The only sour note in this is that my t-cell count seems to be stuck at about 250, and worse yet, my CD4 percentage is about 9%. But, can I complain. Haven't been sick. The worse I can say is that at times I am tired. Can I blame it on AIDS, or just the usual Oregon winter? Just wanting to sleep.

Catching up.
Had an eventful summer. Tried a couple of climbs with the Mazama's (the climbing club in Oregon). I tried Mt. Hood in May on my own, got up to the Hogsback by about 7am. Beautiful day -- but it was the weekend, and so many people trying to make it up the pearly gates, that I decided as a solo climber not to compete with all the groups there. My legs were also giving out -- and on the way developed excruciating tendentious. At home that night -- could hardly walk. But, by the next day, feeling better, and several days later, recovered, so decided to do it again, this time with the Mazamas.
It was a nice group, a collection of newbies and oldbies, and then people like myself -- but the weather was pretty hairy. Freezing rain, followed by sleet, then snow -- and by the time we got up above the Palmer Snowlifts at 7000 feet, the winds were kicking up pretty good, and visibility was down. Several people turned around, as the leader, Dan Shuster, decided to go on ahead. I fell behind the others, but finally made it up again to the Hogsback. It seems that this week I would have thought I was on a completely different mountain.
And as soon as I joined the rest of the group of 8 or so, the wind really kicked up, with gust of about 75mph. Our only choice was to hunker down to keep from being blown around, and to try to keep warm. People were shivering. I was ok, except for my hands, which were freezing -- better gloves next time. Dan felt that on the summit there could be 100mph gust, so an attempt was not a good idea. We found a break in the gust and headed down. Though it was an aborted attempt, and I wish I had was stronger, I enjoyed the comradery of the group.

I didn't make any climbs in June. Ended up this was a bust of a year for climbing. The weather was not cooperating, and many groups had to abort their efforts. I had wanted to head to Mt. Adams before leaving for Australia, but a busted head gasket on my truck prevented that, although Robby, Robin, and I did hike up to 10,000 feet on Rainier on July 4, Robby's 50th birthday.

After a busy month in Australia for the International AIDS Society conference, and then some traveling, as well as Scuba diving, made it back in mid- August, when I took my Dr., Diana, her husband, Mark, and Marti, the RN at the clinic up Mt. St. Helens. I enjoyed the climb (my 5th?) up to the rim. Each time it seems easier for me, but I could appreciate their struggle, for this was their first mountain. (Marti had climbed Mt. Hood as a teenager). I could hear them swearing on the way up, but by the time we were back down, they were hooked, and we've been talking about an Adams trip next summer.

I didn't take any pictures, but did do this video. Not too great, but it'll tell you something about the trip.

Finally, the week after the Mt. St. Helens Climb, went on a final climb for the summer -- my nemesis, North Sister. Again, this was a Mazama climb, with a extra full contingent of 12 people. I found out that Ken Bueller from last year was going, so felt his support in making another attempt after the previous summers fiasco on North Sister. But this summer was not meant to be. The leader, although very likable and competent, had never tried this particular route so late in the year, and we floundered on the rock and scree, and ended up decided by late morning that any feasible way up onto the saddle would be much too dangerous with such a large group. Although I had kept up well with the group, I was one of those voting to come back down, realizing that even a successful attempt would probably mean not getting back to our vehicles until midnight.
Next year? Maybe try to again. I'm mostly concerned about my knees. Been trying various training to try to strengthen the tendons, etc. I will continue climbing as long as they let me.

Listen to this article

2007-04-01T10:07:00.000-07:00

Long time.
Funny, when you have hope, other things seems to be a priority.
Went to the Conference on Retroviruses in LA last month -- doing the usual interviews on HIV AIDS issues. We also did a webcast to several sites across the nation, which I guess went ok.
At one of the get-togethers one evening for many of the national activist - members of the AIDS Treatment Activist coalition, I went in the door, and immediately saw this distinguished black guy who looked familiar. As soon as he saw me, he let out a yell. It ended up being Morris Jackson, who I knew from my time with the Palmetto AIDS lifesupport Services when he and I were both volunteers as a pal to people with AIDS. I hadn't seen him in at least 14 years. We could only both exclaim, I thought you were dead! He had moved to LA about 2 years ago, and gotten involved in national issues. It was good reminiscing.

Went to see Dr. A the week I got back. Still undetectable.

So... I said if I was undetectable, could go to Australia for a couple of AIDS conferences, and then see the country. This summer.

Listen to this article

2007-02-06T10:40:00.000-08:00

On the new treatment of the Merck Integrase Inhibitor (in expanded access) along with Truvada, Presista and Fuzeon. Did become undetectable after the first month. I'm not celebrating yet. Wait and see if it holds. I was happy to see that my cd4 count went up to 333, and my lymph nodes are the smallest they've been in 20 years. Hopeful, but still....

I do have a certain sadness. If I am undetectable, what does that mean, and who will I be.
And I think of the people who have died over the past year, especially Bruce Bills, and Peter Englehart, Bob Terry, Ross Hamilton, etc., who may have been saved by the new Integrase along with Presista. But time ran out for them.

For now, just dealing with the side affects, primarily of Fuzeon. Again, the achy, flu-like symptoms.

2007-02-06T09:22:00.000-08:00

Roberta Dahle, Production Assistant

2006-10-30T17:09:00.001-08:00

2006-10-28T20:43:00.000-07:00

Suppose to discuss the negative thoughts that run into my head...again something from this possitive living course thingy.
Yea, yea --- I know the concept....
Become aware of your negative thoughts, and then change them into positive ones.

The negative thoughts I've been going through for the past couple of days since finding out on Wednesday that my test for Fuzeon resistence has come back showing that -- yes indeedy, I probably am resistent to Fuzeon.

So -- my thoughts are of just giving up, what's the use. I think alot of it has to do with the initial disappointment and feelings of loss. The loss I feel is that of the final hope I had that I could somehow find myself a viable treatment, become undetectable, and be able to look forward to the next 5-10 years of life, being reasonably healthy. Now I realize that the struggle will continue to be from month to month. So much of my life, and my defiance of my illness has been around being physically fit. Now, can I live with AIDS while having to deal with constant fatigue and limitations. Will I climb other mountains?
Somehow, trying to just turn it all into negative thoughts just doesn't work for me.

I know from all my research about the drugs coming up what the limitations of my life will now be. I'm dealing with the immediate real loss that has happened to me -- and it's important for me to be with that loss honestly and realistically -- to embrace it and hold it, and to include it as part of who I am now, like it or not.
I've always dealt with my illness head on, holding back no punches.
That is how I survive.

2006-10-20T14:49:00.000-07:00

Been thinking alot lately about some of the statements I heard Barak Obama make recently on TV.

Our culture values and rewards things like beauty, wealth, celebrity, cleverness. Why can't we equally value being useful?

Only a very few can be famous, but everyone can be great. (MLK)

2006-10-19T13:07:00.000-07:00

Last day of my commitment.

I thought I had long ago left behind meaningless things that you only did because you had to.

Again, today we will meet, and again we will have to decide what next weeks goals will be. Last week, a couple of guys talked about working out, another quit smoking, etc. What am I suppose to do?

If there is something more I can do to help me in my fight against AIDS, please tell me, and I will do it.
The only peace I know is in knowing that I've done all I can do, and then make the best of my life as it is.

2006-10-17T19:49:00.000-07:00

Going up to McNeil Point will hopefully sustain me for the long Oregon winter. Always having to guard myself against depression which may set in this time of year -- although I never went off the anti-depressant, which I usually do in summer, so maybe this Fall will be better.
Maybe being part of the Health Management Group will help also.

Yesterday, saw Dr. A. Left me a bit depressed most of the day -- maybe because the rains set in on Sunday -- and everyone seems to be a little down now. I was her first patient -- and I asked her what direction I should head. Her response was that did it matter what she thought, since I'd do whatever I liked anyways. She didn't say it attackingly, and obviously something else was going on. OK -- so it turns out she now has 3 teenagers in the house, and I think she was probably saying it more to her 17 year old son, than me.
We're still waiting for the result of my Fuzeon Resistance test to come back -- probably this week. She also said she would present my case to the weekly doctor's meeting they have on Thursday.
We talked about whether to go on TMC-125, or MK-0518. Dr. A didn't feel there wasn't much of a different, especially since the merck drug is so new and may have unknown problems. But my research suggest otherwise. I already have 4 NNRTI mutations, and studies show that for people with that many mutations, there is only a .52 log drop in virus, as opposed to someone without any mutations achieving a 1.6 log drop. That is quite a difference.
Also, found out from Dr. A. that there were only 1000 or so slots available for MK-0518 in expanded access, and if I waited until Kaiser was approved as an expanded access site in January, they would probably all be gone by then. It was recommended that I go ahead and call the other site in town, The Research and Education Group, and get on their list. So, when I go home, I called them, and talked to Toni, and she put me as number 4 on their list.
Now, my concern is that I may have to make a decision to go ahead and take the Intergrase, even if my viral load (which is now 27,000) and t-cells (260) stay stable, when I would prefer and wait until a decline.
Decisions.
I think of the mountain.

2006-10-16T09:52:00.000-07:00

I spent Friday night sleeping restlessly, knowing I had to be someplace.
By Saturday morning, I woke up, and started going through the motions, knowing there was someplace I needed to be. I headed up to the Mazama trail. The day started out foggy, but became clearer as I head up the steep trail, not stopping until I came to what I call Robin's picture spot. It took me about 2 hours to get there, and I was dragging from needing nourishment by the time 1 pm rolled around. But, after having my lunch of the BMT sandwich from Subway, I was revived, enjoying the beautiful Fall scenery, especailly the bright crimson's and yellows from the blueberry and huckleberry bushes. After another hour I reached the "summit" of McNeil Point, immediately climbing the high rock (which I used to be afraid to climb), and finding a perfect resting point to perch below the rocks of Mt. hood.
Why to climb?
In the end, I decided the psychological and spiritual damage I was doing to me by not going would be worse than any physical damage I might do by climbing.

2006-10-13T11:59:00.000-07:00

Whew.
I really don't want to write, but made a commitment.

Last week, started taking a HIV Health Management Course. Was pretty skeptacal at first. I'm taking it primarily because I was asked by the county to go to Standford and take a course to become a leadership trainer for further courses. I figured that before I started training other course instructors, maybe I should take the course to begin with.
The purpose of the course it to offer managmenet tools, in a support group setting for those dealing with HIV. In my class, there's 6 people with HIV. I was skeptical about the course for myself in that I've had HIV for so long, that I think I'm already doing a good job in managing my illness -- and the idea of "support groups", with their whining and complaining, and wallowing in their illness isn't for me. There is a practical aspect to this course, and of course, I can always learn something new.
One of the lessons of the course is to set weekly goals. My first week I decided to eat an extra helping of vegtable a day. (OK, simple I know...)
For this week, I said I would explore some of the issues concerning my health, in at least four blog entries.
What brought this up is that I woke up in the middle of the night several times the past week -- not really a nightmare, but just going over the limited possibilities of my future. Of course, I know I've been in worse places in the past, but after having been relatively healthy for the past few years, this is a new unwelcomed space to be in.
I'm just concentrating on living each moment -- though this week has had some disappointments in it. I've wanted on several days to go on a strenuous hike up the Mazama trail one more time. I wasn't interested unless I could do the whole 14 miles -- staring again at the side of Mt. Hood. I'm afraid of compromizing my health, knowing that I would probably end up with a feverish feeling for several days after the trip. I know I am bidding my time right now, waiting for some possiblity in the future -- if there even are any good possiblity.
So I'm just been going on the climb in my mind -- but not feeling the same...

2006-09-29T11:16:00.000-07:00

Regretts.
Maybe I made a mistake by climbing Mt. St. Helens.
Or by going on a 25 mile bike ride last weekend up through the trails of Forest Park.
Or by spending the day washing and restaining the back deck.

Starting to feel that feverish feeling for the last few days.

Yesterday go my final results which were done one week after I quit the trial. My viral load had popped back up to over 46,000 in only a week. Whew. They also included the genotype testing which was done. I compared it to the one I had started at the start of the study. 2 more mutations in the NRT class, but my susecptibility to Truvada seemed unaffected, it still gives a reduced response with about the same fold increase. Three more mutations in the protease class. The questions were these new mutations that had arose, are were they the ones they just started testing from. Most disturbing is that I have a reduced response rate now for Presista. One less totally good drug, which I had been holding out hope for in the past 2 years....

OK, the question now is with Fuzeon. I had asked Dr. A about doing some sort of resistance testing a couple of weeks ago, testing for the GP41 mutation which I had read about online. I had also posed the question to Eric Daar on TheBody.com, and he also thought it would be a good idea.
Got a call from the clinic yesterday, and Dr. A. wants to go through with the test -- which is pretty specialized and will have to be sent to Canada. I guess she also got my resistence test from the study, and realized that my options are again beginning to deminish.
Will have the testing done on Monday, along with a new viral load and T-cell.

Now, the questions is what I can even do with the information.

Didn't sleep last night, worrying -- feeling like things are closing in. The immediate task, staying healthy for the next few months -- realizing that I may need to reduce any strenuous activites such as climbing a new summit. I've already got a tough enough summit to climb.

2006-09-15T21:30:00.000-07:00

Made it up, again, to the rim of Mt. St. Helens. Each time I do it, each time I climb, something revitalized in me, I'm awaken to living again.

Robby and I went up late Sunday afternoon, sleeping in the parking lot at the trailhead. We headed up alittle past 7am -- sleeping in a bit as I heard the poles of some climbers heading out at 5am -- too early for me.

As usual, Robby took more of a quicker pace, a spring I'd call it, for the first few miles, but we finally caught up together at timberline. I told him when we started that it was meant to be more of a Marathan than a sprint, knowing the day would be long.

As we headed up the climbers trail from timberline, we passed by many other climbers, beginning to struggle up the rocky attempts at a trail. As you got up the first "hump', the trail divides as most people seem to take the lower part, and then others, probably unaware of the lower trail, scramble up the the top of Monitor Ridge, where the poles set in piles of rocks, mark the trail.

It seems, as we get above 7000 feet, that's where I start to feel more and more in my element. This is where I need to be, and all is right with the world.
But I couldn't help thinking of Bruce from the earlier climbs, and I related the stories to Robby of Bruce's triumphs over the rocks, and of the triumph of his own spirit.
As we headed up the last 500 feet, I could tell that Robby was running low on energy. I tried to explain the benefits of the rest step, of the slwo and methodical placement of each foot, allowing the body to rest just for a moment. But I han't learned the rest step during my first climb of the mountain. I remember doing as Robby did, sprinting up 10 feet, then needing a few minutes to rest, but doing another short sprint. I didn't learn the rest step until the Rainier climb a few years later. And even then, I remember by second climb of St. Helens, and how I could go a few more feet before taking a break, and the third time, how it seemed so much easier, and now, even though older, how it seemed like I could go forever.
What is climbing? Maybe, 50% conditioning, 25% attitude, and 25% technique?

I made it to the rim 15 minutes before Robby, and took pictures of his triumph to his first summit. At first he was glad he did it, just for the sake of he told people at work he said he would, but I think after some time on the rim, he began to feel the magic of being on a summit, and appreciate the worth and effort it took to arrive there.
...Of Course, then began the Rocky Decent back down....

2006-09-09T14:06:00.000-07:00

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...

2006-09-08T11:29:00.000-07:00

At times of change,
thinking of the last 18 years, and the shock of my original HIV diagnosis.
From my journal then:

April 22, 1988
Hi. The end of a long week. What else an i say about it? On Monday, I turned thirty years old. It's suppose to be one of those traumatic experiences, right? People at work must have thought I was taking it particularly bad. Who could i talk to? Was there anyone who could understand -- when you get to the point that you feel you whole life had ended....and the mere fact of turning thirty is the least important thing you can think of. I thought of postponing my appointment. Something about going to find the result of my AIDS test on my birthday seemed a little bit too dramatic. It was like a bad television movie. If the results were negative, I knew it would open up the rest of my life to me. i felt like it might even be a new beginning. There was a girl, April, the nurse at the Spartan Plant whom i've wanted to go out with for a long time. It had gotten to the point where being gay or straight really didn`t matter. Sex wasn't as important as it was when I was younger. What was becoming more important was a strong monogamous relationship with anyone who could love and care about me and accept the love and caring I had to give. The gay world had offered that promise....but had ended in disappointment as I became hurt so many times. I had become to feel that it was not there. I had accepted a truce with my loneliness, but the hope was still there -- if not in the gay world, that there might be a girl out there who could care about me -- although I had failed to find it during my twenmty-eight years of trying to live the straight existence. But the hope was still there.
The hope. When I went into Dr. Pagents office that day, what did I expect? To be honest, I was prepared for the worst. I felt I knew my body, and the swollen lymph nodes I knew were indicative of a much larger problem. Still the hope was still there. Dr. Pagent had told me the week before that it was very unlikely that I had AIDS, especially that I would be showing symptoms already. I simply did not have the extent of the gay experience necessary for the usual exposure. Still I knew.
The answer came easy as I walked through the door. All it took was a simple quip on his part: "We do not have good news for modern man." And he again expressed his surprise that the test was positive...but of course this was irrelevant. And the complications began to set in. How complicated my life would become. The big question of confidentiality. How to deal with insurance, with my job, with my family...with the whole damn rest of my life. And the anger...the anger I felt towards the people who had used me when I had first come out. The anger towards myself...for letting myself and my family down. For my life being a failure. The ultimate failure, and I would die. The thought of death did not bother me as much as the failure, and the loss of faith in the world around me and the people I had known in my life. And the sadness in my attempt of having some hope in a god which I had tried to believe in, and the anger towards him, first, for making me gay, and then for killing me for it. And the bottomless disappointment...for living my whole life, and giving the ultimate sacrifice, my life, just for the chance of finding someone who could, who might love me, and having failed in this. And I did not want to live. There was a part of me which was glad that it was over. I had tried so hard, and I was tired. Perhaps it was time now to give up. I( wanted to yell out: "OK, now you have won, take the final breath from me and be satisfied!"
And that was just the beginning. How to describe for someone who has never been through this? For all of my life, even when things had seemed the most hopeless, even when I thought I had nothing left and even toyed with the idea of suicide, I still felt I had control. CONTROL. I could not find love, and sometimes not even friendship. I often failed at things I had attempted. But deep down inside, I felt I always had some control left. Now there was nothing left. I was totally alone, and I had been most of my life, but this time I did not even have myself to depend on. I had lost myself and all meaning and control over my existence. I was never so helpless. I went back to work, but of course I could not work. I would stare off into space, no even knowing where I was. Not caring. There was no place to go, and I could not even look to myself for support. Of course, I could reveal nothing to the people I worked with. I suppose they thought I was having a traumatic experience form turning thirty. I wanted to tell someone, anyone. But I as totally alone. AFter work I went to the YMCA. Trying to put some structure back into my life. But there was nothing to hang onto, and i left. AT home, in the relative saftey of my aloneness, and the total aloneness of it, everything broke loose. I layed in the grass of my backyard, yelling and screaming out of control. I had lost everything. Nothing was left. There was no hope, no life. Everything had conquered my being. There is no was to describe it. No way.

April 25, 1988 Monday
Time heals many things? You go into the fire, and then you come out again, but are you the same?
Last Monday night, with the depression I felt, and the many considerations...like that of being a martyr, and keeping the pain to myself, I did tell my sister. I had told her previously of my suspicions of being exposed to AIDS, BUT i knew that for her, as well as for me, there was always the hope that it wasn't true. We sat upon the couch for a long while, slowly talking of the many ways it would affect us. Her, telling me how unfair it was. Me, responding by asking what is fair? She would rub my hair, as a mother would a child...comforting the moment, knowing that the future would be many unanswered questions.
How could I sleep that night? Did I sleep? You wake up early in the morning, things going over and over in your head. Over and over. Not really caring about going to work, but doing it out of habit. I guess that's one good thing to say about habit -- it helps you to make it through when you are incapable of even the slightest thought. (Needless to say, I didn't get a whole lot accomplished at work that week -- one of those times when I wish I worked at a dull monotonous nonthinking type of jobs.
Tuesday morning, trying to hold the pieces of the puzzle, of my life together as it starts to fall apart faster than I can put it back together. Coming to the realization, that i've never had before -- that I cannot make it alone. By nine o'clock that morning, I knew I had to call someone before I totally desentegrated. I had been given the number of a Phillip Hudson by Dr. Pagent. Dr. Pagent had described Philip, and I half-way knew who he was because Phillip was a regular habitual Y goer like me. So I called, introducing myself by telling him I didn't know why I was calling, but only that I know I couldn't make it by myself. Just having someone to listen to me., We talked for about a half-hour, and I collected myself enough so that I could return to work and make it through the rest of the day. I saw Phillip again that night at the Y, but did not have the courage to go up him and say hello. I was very vulnerable at that point, and the last thing I needed him to say was Greg who? I was also still suspicious of why he was doing this. The attitude that no one really cares about each other in the gay world, so who was this strange creature called Phillip hudson. That night, Phillip called me one the phone, and we talked a long while. I began to feel more comfortable, and that maybe I could control things...maybe i could experience what happiness was again.

Listen to this article

2006-09-07T19:48:00.000-07:00

Strangely sad.
Several appointments today. First with Doctor Antoniskis at 10:30. We discussed what had been happening with my treatment and where to go from here. My viral load taken at Kaiser Permanente was 1300, confirming some sort of breakthrough. (My viral load from the study center taken at the same time was 2000).
Dr. A. also thought it was a good idea to go off the study med and go back on my old regemen, and wait for Merck's Integrase to go into expanded access. Maybe Fuseon and Presista havn't been lost yet. Dr. A. reminded me that Fuseon developes resistence quickly, so I guess I can't expect too much, but of course, therein is my hope. Can I even build a viable regimen without Fuseon?
It seems pretty hopeless, but it is what it is.
From talking with Dr. A., I know it's useless to second guess my past decision. The only consulation I have is that I've done the best that I could. And if that is not enough?
The wait begins. And seeing how far and how fast my health declines as I wait for Merck's drug. Will I have enough time?

Afterwards, road my bike over to the study center, the Research and Education group. Got there just in time for my 12 oclock appointment. But some guy who was scheduled for 11 oclock showed up over a half hour late, so they pretty scrubbed my appointment. In my 20 years with HIV, I don't think I've ever forgotten or been late to an appointment. It's ironical that the people who always show up on time get shoved aside. (Some way to build responsibility in people -- punish those who are responsible). Or maybe it was because the other guy was new meat for a study, and I'm just the guy who is withdrawing from the study after failing it, so I'm no longer profitable for the study research center, who only gets paid by the drug company when someone participates?
It's the American way.
So, I'm starting my old regemen tonight.
Two steps back.....and where am I going?

Kilimanjaro AIDS Climb Africa HIV (Gregory Fowler, Christopher Carloss)

2006-09-06T16:18:00.000-07:00


Two Climbers living with HIV, Jack & Greg, go to Africa to climb Kilimanjaro, the highest peak in Africa.

2006-09-06T16:11:00.000-07:00

2006-09-06T15:47:00.000-07:00

Somehow I ended up on this blog----
It seems like a change in my life, so maybe it's the right time.

Deciding tomorrow to change HIV medications.
I went on a research study several months ago after failing pretty much all of the available drugs out there. I've been HIV positive since, I figure 1986, although I didn't have the courage to go through the test until 1988 -- and I got the result back as it happened, the day of my 30th birthday. In 1993, my T-cells plummited, and I ended up on therapy -- AZT monotherapy to be exact. Those were the days when you took a high dose of AZT several times a day, and became violently ill for several months, as your body tried to tolerate the drug. From there, I added the drug DDI, then so on, until, wahlah!, pretty advanced resistence. (At one time, I was on a seven med combo). Luckily, I was able to stay on a cominbation that included Kelatra for 6 years, enough time to buy myself a few more drug options. But last winter, my t-cells again started to plummet, unit by May they were down to about 100. I had been "saving" the drug Fuseon, and with the study, went on TMC114, with a 50/50 chance of getting TMC125, and adding in Truvada and DDI for good measure. I acheived undetectable faster than anyone else on the study, after only 2 months, but when the 3 month test came, my viral load was 1200. We've just retested it, and it is now 2000. I'm afraid of loosing Fuseon and TMC114, so tomorrow, I will probably go back on my old regimen, and wait for the Inegrase Inhibitor from Merck to go into expanded access (fingers-crossed) in a few months. One more chance to reach undetected, and maybe start to worry once again about the normal things in life, not just surviving.

Gregory Fowler