not your everyday rejuvenation spa

lift tix: $42.00

wonderful 2 nights/ 3 days in the high-rise specialty rooms of one of portland's medical megolopolises: only $5046.61. throw on the additional doc visits, pt, medical devices, pharmacology, acupuncture, and surgery yet to be had, and the total thing is looking to be in the $25k and up range.

learning everything i never wanted to know about thrombosis and near-death living: priceless.



appreciate what we got.

we'll miss it when its gone.

shitty first drafts

scribbled on butcher paper with crayons:

1)
Picking a future sends you hurtling
toward it.
Choose ONE and the permutations
soon become apparent.
Choose wise, and know you may
always change
your mind.
It may happen that you find yourself
Involved in Unintended Consequences.
Fear Not,
and
Dream On.

2)
Share your Dreams wisely.
Knowlege of forethought is
POWER.
Most will be indifferent.
Some will support.
Others will reject or
Worse.

3)
Create only from within,
from Passion.
These are the universal truths
and those only we can hold as
Uniquely Ours.

4)
Hold close that which nourishes
Passion,
and Cultivate with Mercy.

Discard quickly anything that violates
this Pact,
for the time to Dream
Is Short.

Soon, we all awaken
to nothing.



PS)
...and always remember and never forget...
"What would Brian Kinney Do?"

burning

flame on. burning. combustion. chemical oxidization. we breathe starstuff, we burn starstuff. from the first gulp to the last gasp. we are burning.

i am oxid.

i am feeling rather temporary, as a flame. the fuel that burns in me is a bittersweet melancholy. when there is nothing else i know this as a certainty like no other, i have one spin around this here teacup, and i better make it the best as i possibly can. there are no floatation devices, or as jim morrison said exquisitely 'no eternal reward will forgive us now for wasting the dawn.'

i burn.

i burn with rage. i burn with sadness. i burn with frustrations, anger, joy, excitement, terror, amazement, hunger, want, desire, greed, lust, bliss, misery, angst, and of course, love. i burn with all these things, not because it is comfortable, but rather because of the discomfort that makes me squeal with delight and mutter with contempt.

i am warpup. i burn.

an oxid.

good morning!

what a beautiful morning. feels like dawn on the playa to me, without the buzz of the cracked out hangover.

life, my friends, is nothing short of beautiful.


...and what else do we have anyway?


************
3:09

what i mean to say is that i think people are kind. kind in spirit, kind in nature... at some point we recognize that we are all here for a short time and cut each other and ourselves a little bit of slack.

the thing is, i am a real cynic. add to that then events of my life recently, and i figure the world to be a pretty dark and brutal place full of much angst, pain, and sadness.

i haven't been 'light' for awhile. and i mean light, not as in cavalier, but as in actual light. positiveness and recognizing goodness where it exists.

now, before you say "stfu hippie!", i must really impress upon you the time that i have felt less than stellar about the human existence...

it's been awhile.

therefore, my friends, it is a beautiful day.

having the wrong dream?

so my dreams of a speedy recovery are dashed against the rocks of modern science and statistical probabilites.

i had hoped to return to work today, but doc says no.

i had hoped to begin physical therapy and excercise tomorrow, but doc says no.

i had hoped to get a massage and a hot tub, but doc says no.

so.. more days of elevated leg and passing time within these four walls.

i am feeling better, the pain has subsided to tolerable. i can bear weight on the leg again (and as i mentioned prior, take stairsteps again), every day is an improvement. i just want to start working on the flexability again. my range of motion is severely limited.

at least i don't have to take the injections anymore. my inr is down to 2.0 which is the low end of the scale (i need to be between 2.0 and 3.0), so i will be bumping up my coudamin dosages for the next four days.

paramount to me, though, is the question of "what is the risk of embolism now?"

answer: low, because of the drugs i am on, but still there. the development time for the body to re-absorb the clotted tissue is two to three weeks, and its only been a week.

long term prognosis: scar tissue has developed in the vein and will be troublesome for the next six to nine months. this is why i have to take the coumadin for this period, to keep from creating more clots as the scars heal. after that, i will have problems with the vein and leg for the rest of my life, including swelling, discoloration, pain, and poor circulation.

i hope i am at the thin end of the bell curve on this one, baby. the good end. the end where things go smashingly well, even better than expected.

my track record thus far has not been stellar, for certain... but can't a boy hope?

now, where the hell is my naturopath?

***********
6:38
for the silliness and passing the time, only two questions, and nailed me pretty well (thanks michelle!):

"I am affectionate and skeptical"

Questioners are responsible, trustworthy, and value loyalty to family, friends, groups, and causes. Their personalities range broadly from reserved and timid to outspoken and confrontative.

How to Get Along with Me
Be direct and clear.
Listen to me carefully.
Don't judge me for my anxiety.
Work things through with me.
Reassure me that everything is OK between us.
Laugh and make jokes with me.
Gently push me toward new experiences.
Try not to overreact to my overreacting.

What I Like About Being a Six
being committed and faithful to family and friends
being responsible and hardworking
being compassionate toward others
having intellect and wit
being a nonconformist
confronting danger bravely
being direct and assertive

What's Hard About Being a Six
the constant push and pull involved in trying to make up my mind
procrastinating because of fear of failure; having little confidence in myself
fearing being abandoned or taken advantage of
exhausting myself by worrying and scanning for danger
wishing I had a rule book at work so I could do everything right
being too critical of myself when I haven't lived up to my expectations

Sixes as Children Often
are friendly, likable, and dependable, and/or sarcastic, bossy, and stubborn
are anxious and hypervigilant; anticipate danger
form a team of "us against them" with a best friend or parent
look to groups or authorities to protect them and/or question authority and rebel
are neglected or abused, come from unpredictable or alcoholic families, and/or take on the fearfulness of an overly anxious parent

Sixes as Parents
are often loving, nurturing, and have a strong sense of duty
are sometimes reluctant to give their children independence
worry more than most that their children will get hurt
sometimes have trouble saying no and setting boundaries


take the test here!

always searching

time to rejoin humanity and civilization. woke up, shaved my face, cup o' joe, some yogurt and grape nuts...


now what?



i can do anything i want today.

what is it?

********
3:38

i would have never in a thousand years have thought this is where i would be today. this was not in the plan. this WAS NOT in the dream.

to think that i won't grow old with the woman i love...

i can't tell you how hard this is.



paint me miserable with heartache.

**********
3:42
for the better news, i did my first stairstep with my left leg today in four weeks. gimpy steps, for sure... but still.

then i did three stairs. then four.

five was pushing it.

...so i did five.

no more love

yay! no more lovenox! took my last injection this morning. now, its upward and onward. also going to try today without any vicodin because i figure its making me too punky.

last night was horrible. i kept myself awake until about three am only because i was terrified of developing an embolism in my sleep and not waking up.



you kids have no idea.

*********
1:27

gave myself a mission of sorts, to go to the post office and retrive tax forms and wotnot. run a couple of errands, get some lunch... god, its good to be out of the house. managed pretty well, though i had to go to three post offices before i found what i needed.

the walking is still a bitch. i really cant wait to begin pt again and get moving. debating about going to work tomorrow. i'm sure i could handle a couple of hours, but is it worth getting there for only a couple of hours?

...and then there's the bleeding. fucking hell if i am not bleeding out of nearly every orfice of my body. its not critical, barely worrisome actually... but still. ick. ugh. blah.

tax time.

ready? go.

and so it begins

the weekly blood labs to determine my inr (international normalized ratio) levels for the coagulation time of my blood plasma. i have to do this once a week for the next 8 months or so to regulate the amount of coumadin i am supposed to take. the theoretical window for my inr level under theraputic use of coumadin should be between 2.0 and 3.0.

this morning i was a 5.5

this means i am i high risk of bleeding out in the event i am further injured.

coumadin's half-life is around 2.5 days, so... no coumadin today, and reduce my dosage for the next couple of days and recheck my inr on thursday...

coumadin is derived from many plants, including woodruff, licorice, and lavender.

and



it is also used as a rat poison.

when the body falls, the heart and mind may follow

oof.

so. interesting morning thus far. woke up, did my injection and other drugs, made coffee and went out on the porch for a smoke and propmtly went into shock, passed out for a bit, woke up, puked, and then my phone rang. mom on the other end of the line.

her: "hi. good morning!"

me: "ugnh."

her: "whats wrong?"

me: "um. uhng. hang on a sec."

her: "warren, what is going on?"

me: "ugnh, wait. um."

...and so on until i was able to get my head together enough to explain what was happening.

fuck me running. i tell you what, this whole thing about being afraid of my body and what it can (can't) do these days... its a bit upsetting.

we've calmed down now. called my doc, who seemed less than overly concerned, "call back if it happens again."

dee made me some superjuice and soup.

i am tired.

exhausted.

...and i've only been up for two hours.

and thats just the physical. add to that my emotional angst and frustrations... i feel like i've been through a wringer.

disconcerting. discombobulated. dismayed. distressed.

how can i possibly not be lusting for my past life at this point? being here now is all well and good... but i mean, come on man...

i dont mean to idealize my history... but really now...

there were salad days, after all. before all this, before the doubts and fears. before the running amok. back when we knew without thinking what was good and right and what love ment.

oof.

you know how they say your life flashes before your eyes when you are dying?

will we know the difference between living and watching? does it matter?

oof.

**********
12:40
it occurs to me that i may have been imparting a bit of perhaps revisionist history to my past. it seems to me that i have and/or recollect feelings of being carefree/worryfree at some point, but i cant assign a place/face to those feelings. i do manage to associate those feelings with julie, but i cant be more specific than that...

and of course, i have to wonder how much of this is drug induced, or how much is associated with my current mental state of feeling close to my mortality versus any actual life experience.

and the overriding question which keeps repeating, "does it matter?"

some things i know for certain:
- the people i love, i love fully. there is no middle ground or questioning of what is this or that. there is no dichotomy.

for one reason or another, when i am at odds with some people i love... i firmly believe this has to do with misunderstandings and failures to communicate at one level or another, and the eclipsing of love by all manner of ego and righteousness.

i believe it is possible to love without trust. this is perhaps the most painful emotional experience a human being can travel. it is a road i would not wish upon any soul, and yet i continue to find myself in the backwoods of this state.

and yet, i push farther into the unmapped brush, quietly granting qualities upon those deserving. passport stamped in triplicate.

everyone i fall for, i fall forever.

and then, she looked at me with those big brown eyes and said, you aint seen nothin' yet...

its good to be home and sleep in my own bed, such as it was. sleep was difficult, not only from the comfort point of view (the leg hurts like hell, and i require to be doped up most of the time just to function), but also the nagging feeling in the back of my mind that i may not wake up.

i took comfort in the fact that a friend loaned me an article of clothing, which i held close, and my uncle gave me a silly velvetine flower that i've been calling my magic wand which i also kept close.

i dont know that i've ever been so glad to see the morning sun in my life.

woke up, did my morning injection and drug regimine, and now sit here leg propped up with an ice pack on it. my sister is coming over to make breakfast this morning.

i've certainly become more appreciative of little things, not that i wasn't before... i've always maintained a reverence for the moment... but today the world seems a little more crisp and vibrant.

today, we're going to do some healing energy work and chakra balancing.

i'll take whatever help i can get.

dvt update

just got out of consult with the doc, and clarified a few things:

1. the clot.
the clot is not 'a clot' as you or i would think of such. initially, i envisioned a ball hung up in some part of my groin. what he 'splained to me today is much more ominous: i have a 40" long clot running from my ankle to my stomach, which is why all the alarm from the heathcare folks. there is a high risk of breaking off a part of it and pumping it straight to my lungs = pulmonary embolism. this is why they are keeping me in hospital.

2. they are keeping me in hospital another day. see item 1.

3. as time passes and the anticoagulant drugs go to work, the clot will stabilize (adhere solidly) to the vein wall reducing the risk of the embolism. the next 7 days or so continue to be 'high-risk'.

4. when they release me home tomorrow, i will continue my own injections twice a day until the oral thinners metabolize and begin their effectiveness. after that, i will require weekly blood draws to determine my dosage for the following week. this will continue for 6 to 9 months.

5. i will probably have leg and foot problems the rest of my life.

6. when i get to go home tomorrow (hopefully) i will still be high-risk of embolism, which could be incapacitating. anyone with some free time this weekend or the first part of next week is encouraged to come hang out with me, not only because i love you and want to see y'all, but also because if i throw a clot i may not be able to call 911 on my own.

there you have it.

sux all around.

deep vein thrombosis

don't do it. take my word for it.

*******

i am such an internet whore. i couldn't wait to get down to the lobby once i heard there was internet access. $2.95/half hour, but a junkie has got to do what he's got to do.

on the bright side i could throw this clot at any moment, and die of a pulmonary embolism. ...and yet i choose to spend my time here, with you, rather than the james bond marathon on amc.

i am learning to give myself shots of lovenox (luv-en-ox), a blood thinner. go figure... the guy thats always going on about love needs an injection of something called lovenox.

i hope my heart can stand it, as i've already been bleeding out of it continuously for the past two years.

*******

so i head into my doctor's office this morning for my weekly check, and he's curious as to why my leg is still swollen like a wiesswurst. he orders an MRI.

MRI lab can't get me until tomorrow, so he sends me over for an ultrasound just to be sure.. i know something is up when the technician won't tell me what she found.

next thing i know, i am admitted to hospital and everyone is very concerned for my well-being. it takes repeated descriptions and explanations for me to grasp the situation.

this could kill me.

at any moment.

but... just to make sure i wasn't thinking too deeply of my own mortality.... they placed me on the oncology ward.

out here, in the provinces

i've decided to keep it after all... of course everything changes as we go. here are some notes about these pages, and some recent additions.

please welcome tineke23 and sephony and their new endeavors to the blogroll. yes, it is love.

i've added a new section waaaaay down at the bottom of the right column, 'you googled me how?'. these are search engine queries that returned one or more of this site's pages, and the operator decided to clik it. mostly, i get returns on the word 'warpup' but recent searches have become more interesting, like the person in the uk searching for 'ow my leg hurts' or the one in california looking for 'nancy piepo' and getting my blog.

in other news, i just saw 'garden state'. how ever did i miss this brilliant film?

valentine's curse

dig deep into the vault. valentine's curse. my heart breaks in slow motion.

*********

my heart breaks in slow motion. more like a tear or rip. pulled in half, forces find the weakest seam.

it starts at lonesome.

each stitch yields only a little resistance on its own.

pop

pop

pop

altogether wrenching

after a point all the stars of the universe have poured out and lie in a scattered pile at my feet.

**********

those stars, each of them unique and brilliant, now dot the landscape of my world. as i make my way through the convolutions and theater of humanity, i brush upon them as i walk, filling me with whatever each offers.

my heart? i traveled to the end of eternity. i had wandered far from home and the velocity of the clockworks of spacetime flung me to the outer egde of the spiral. there death introduced me to spider who taught me the economy of fibers.

crow fell from the sky and gave me his beak. i fashioned a needle from the gift and began to sew a web around the pieces of my heart. each stitch making a mark. each stitch a story unto itself, until my heart was covered with the tale of me.

this is how i heal my heart.

**********

today i look through the windows of the heart of a man injured. you might say i had an accident, of sorts, but there are a hundred thousand ways to fall.

mine was not intentional in a strict sense of the word... but i did place myself in situations where the heart would be pulled apart. just to see... just to know... what happens to this thing...

i am a scientist, after all.

test.

********

some things about the heart:

it is a muscle. let it sit and it atrophies. work it hard without stretching, and it can rip.

when given the gift of a heart, treat it with care, tenderness, respect. hold it for a moment, recognizing that it is not yours.

return with compassion.

when love knocks, open the doors. there's plenty of room.

when someone enters your heart, show them where everything is. its what a good host does.

********

i may be a bleeder.

the sutures just won't stay tight enough.

do me

http://kevan.org/johari?name=warpup

http://kevan.org/nohari?name=warpup

*eep*

so this is it. a constant vigil against the self-loathing.

is that what i have to offer?

mister "can-do, but if"?

i am sooooo fucked.

my friends.

i am

so

fucked.

power struggle

i dont talk about my energy and what its doing.

rather, i try not to.

it can come off as embarrassment or aloofness, the not talking about it. i can see that, but thats never where i'm coming from.

its more basic than that, its a feeling of wanting to maintain the primal.

for example, i'm having a conversation with a person and they say "woah, you just sent all this energy over here, like wahvoom!" [makes motion of a moving sphere with hands]

i think (or rather try to not think), great. thank you. i'm breathing still too, its just something that happens. i dont control it, and just let it roll out there. ...but wouldn't the experience be just as great, maybe better, if there were not words assigned to it and it was an elemental feeling?

i mean, if i poured you coffee, you wouldnt jump up and say "wow! you poured me coffee!" you might, there are some of you... okey whatever. you might comment on the coffee, you might say something about the aroma, or if you wanted some cream... be that as it may...

i dont talk much during sex. i communicate, sure. big time. but with little or no words. laughter is usually a good sign, as are a hundred thousand other groans and grunts.

hold something nameless, and we're playing with an aspect of god.


or


is it better to become conscious of it, excercise it, and use it for those pre-frontal and frontal drives and desires?

i keep

trying to piece my life together like some big epic. you know, thats what we all want, right? thats the romantic notion. that i've used my time to do amazing things and create things which affect the world in a positive way, that i've known a few people closer than perhaps i let myself know, that i've seen some things that no one else ever would, that i've loved a few in some way that no one else would. that i've made some sort of difference in the grand scheme, if anything, to simply make it more bearable.

but what if i'm just some guy, you know?

all my adventures are more colorful to me, all my endeavors more terrifying, all my friendships more meaningful.

but only to me. to anyone else, i'm just another sack of proteins kicking around for a short time.

is that the field of subtrafuge i must travel in?

if i am truely to become my own hero, i'll need to lose that range of perception. or do i?

its a case of that old binary exclusion come back to haunt me. this or that. black or white. one or the other.

look ma, no hands!

its both, and everything inbetween.

my life is epic, because i say it is.

and, i'm just some guy... you know?

restless

its almost the same. the sitting on the front porch and thinking that this... this is my life bleeding out from under me. tic tic tic tic its slipping away now right now and i have this fucked up leg and all i can do is sit and wait and watch.

here's the hard part, the part that we all know about but dont talk about. its the facing the failure of having it all and losing it, right? thats the dream, right? to fall in love and happily ever after, right? this is what we're drilled with, this ideal.

so when we have it


and when we lose it


who

the FUCK

is to blame?

could it be you, or you, or you there in the back?

no. it could not be. because you were not there. you werent there to see and feel the stones as they came tumbling down around our ankles.

it was us.

and most particularily, there's the whole 'my part of the equation' to deal with. every slight, every taunt... even casual gestures or remarks... how much was that, too much? is this where we cracked? before then? a long time ago? sooner?

you see, i've been in love and lost it.

i must be a moron. a dope extraordinaire to

allow

that.

the day after ow

okey, i really hurt myself yesterday. i spent the first couple of hours just telling myself it needs a few minutes to chill and everything will be fine.

well, that didn't happen. what did happen is my entire leg swelled up and feels like its burning from the inside out.

as i go through the parts of the fall in my mind, i feel in my leg each of the microbursts of pulled flesh. the initial collapse and full contraction of joints under the weight of my body [rip rip rip], the full extension afterward [tug rip tug], and the second weight-bearing foldup job [shearing shearing]. yeah, i took everything that was already tight and tornup and pushed it to the edge not once, but twice.

i'm not moving much or hardly at all. getting to the kitchen or bathroom or the porch for a smoke... its just too much. and i'm worried about kitchen chores and laundry.

interesting thing about pain, how it becomes a focal point to the exclusion of all else.

this sucks.

ow

i just took a header down the stairs.

i had some people over last night, probably had a little too much red wine. went to bed. got up, and the leg hurts more than usual. crutch my way to the stairs, and head down.

near the bottom, i wasnt paying attention and my crutch slipped off of the stair. my full weight came down on my hurt leg and i sank to the floor. fire lept up from my left knee and ripped up the inside of my leg. i pushed up with the right leg and came full standing pulling my left thigh up chest high with my lower leg and calf dangling there in twisted pain.

i shrieked and made a slow motion collapse to the stairs, trying to extend my left leg. open open open slow slow slow slow every half-inch of movement of my foot sent a continuous wave of screaming ripped flesh up my leg and back.

i felt the chilling sweats of shock overtake me and as my vision collapsed into itself, my body slid down the steps to the lower landing.

i woke with my face pressed against the wall and my left leg curled up underneath me, now fully engulfed in some sort of cellular burn screaming at my brain to do something. i dragged myself out with my arms, pulling my body over the floor trying to gain my full length and straighten that leg. the floor is cool and i am glad as the burn has taken my head and i sweat shake cold through the tremors of post shock.

i'll just lay here a moment.

hmm. i need to sweep.