Finally got my grade back after a week of holding my breath. I got an "A". Man - Why do I put myself through these things? I never know what grade I'm going to get until the very end. There have been times when I have been almost certain I would be at least passing a class when BAM! I get the rug pulled out from under me. I just goes to show you that you can't take anything for granted.
Now I'm enthralled in an introductory sociology class. It's an Internet class so I don't ever really meet the professor or the other students physically. But I do interact with them using e-mail and a message forum. I'm curious how we are all going to interact with each other.
I recieved some good news this past week, My financial aid appeal was approved. My financial aid had been denied because I had attempted too many credits without acually getting and AA degree. I was up to 99 credits attempted. You only need 60 to get an AA.

This waiting is killing me. I’m waiting to get my final test results for college algebra. I just want a “C” so I can go on to the next math class which is statistics. Math has never been easy for me. I’ve always had to work very hard to get through algebra. As a matter of fact I have been tortured with this algebra class for 22 years. The first few years I took it I didn’t get it at all. Then I made a few feeble attempts just to try again. The last couple of years I decided I needed to do this just to prove to myself that I could do it. First I took the pre-algebra class for no credit. Then I took the Intermediate pre-algebra class for no credit. Then I took college algebra. I sort of understood it. When it was time to take the final, I froze. I experienced test anxiety. My heart was racing; I could feel my heart thumping in my throat. I was sweaty, I couldn’t think. I had memory loss. I had a complete shutdown. After 4 hours of working on the final, I finally turned it in and I got a grade of 43 on it. I received a “D” in that class. I was so depressed about that for such a long time. I was having side effects from medication and it was messing with my mind. It reminded me of my grade school days when I would flunk a math test and feel like the stupidest person in the world.
I laid low for awhile. I finally adjusted to the medication, and I registered again and got a better tutor. I worked very hard day and night to get through college algebra again with a better grade. I had an “A “ average at the end of the course, I go to take the final which I studied for really hard and then I took the test fairly confident that I would do well. It was the same exact test. I knew how to do most of it. There were a couple of problems that I tried to do but I know I messed up. I reluctantly turned in my test. Then I go home and wait….. And I’m still waiting. I check the web page every hour to see if the instructor has graded the test yet. I sit with baited breath (what does that mean anyway?). Well here it is –I "Asked Jeeves"… Posted by James Briggs on January 18, 2003 at 17:51:35:
In Reply to: Re: Bated breath posted by R. Berg on January 18, 2003 at 17:36:24:
:: Would like to know The meaning of the phrase Waiting with baited breath??
: It's "bated breath." It means waiting while holding your breath; compare the popular saying "Don't hold your breath," used when the wait for something is expected to be long and, more likely, the thing may never come. "Bate" means "to lessen the force of; moderate" and is related to "abate" (American Heritage Dictionary).
This use of 'bated' is about the only example left in the English language; 'abate' is much more common. Both words come from the Old French "abatre", to "beat down" or "fell".
...If I get less than a 70 on the final it doesn’t matter what I got the rest of term, I still get a “D”and I have to take it over again. Waiting, waiting, waiting…still nothing. I guess it’s time to abate.

I dreamt that Nelson and I were in New York on vacation and he was in pain so he couldn’t go out. I went out and saw this performer who was a very beautiful girl or I just met a very beautiful girl. She invited me out for her birthday and I said yes so we go out and were going to different places and she’s so beautiful and we are having such a good time and I get so close to kissing her because she is so attractive.
In the basement were we were staying there were animals like calico cats dogs ands pigs. They all had the same calico pattern on their fur. I accidentally let one dog out of the basement and he ran away and I couldn’t catch him. It was the first time he ever was able to run free and he didn’t know how to at first then he started going faster and then he was happy to get away.

Thought about the first part of the dream: I read several Dan Savage columns dealing with bisexuals yesterday. The pros and cons of being one being in a relationship with a bisexual and why they seem to be not liked by gay men because they are too much trouble to be with, ET. They are outcasts in an outcast society.
My thoughts on that is that we are all to some extent a certain percentage male and female, it’s just that some percentages are larger than others. We’re all basically the same except for one chromosome.
Thought s about the second part of the dream: The animals in the basement signify that we as human beings even though we are different we are all the same. We strive to break out of forced behavior patterns thrust upon us by society as we strive to escape our social prisons.

I had a dream about my favorite Aunt Maryjane. Not so much about her but about pictures of her church and her upcoming funeral. Warren was also in the dream but not as Warren but as the lover of a former boyfriend. It was an odd dream. Wet pictures and wet folded up pieces of paper of days gone by. Having to unfold the wet memorabilia and let it dry, which contained one page take home flyers from my late uncles funeral with the address and picture of the funeral home on colored yellow paper with black ink, like the one page take home paper I used to get from the church as a kid. I suppose the dream was inspired by the call from my brother Ben last night that my favorite aunt was on her deathbed on her 89th birthday. I was feeling guilty that I didn’t correspond more with her over the years, and now that she had a do not resuscitate order since she came down with pneumonia, I was not able to even attend the upcoming funeral, which my brother, who is a catholic priest, is prearranging for her per her request. He called just to let me know what was going on, not with any expectations that I would attend the upcoming funeral due to the cold and wet conditions that exist now in New England. He said he didn’t blame me for not taking the virus infested plane ride at this time of year. He says he always gets a cold when he travels up north at this time of year. It’s funny that the first thing he asked me was what the weather was like in Orlando today. I said it was 82 degrees and getting hot. I just assumed it was summer time up North since it was starting to get hot here again. Funny how my mind went there for a moment, and I forgot I lived in the tropics for a minute. I really haven’t been anywhere since I was in the hospital with pancreatitis Christmas before last, and I haven’t left Orlando since because I wasn’t well enough to travel. I was contemplating going Fort Lauderdale to visit Paul during spring break, but now I’ll feel guilty if I go and I have several doctors’ appointments that I would have had to rearrange.

The parade of strange dreams continues. This time I’m at an unfamiliar gay bar, a nice big bar that is well lit and spacious and new, with no smoke. There is a movie playing and I’m trying to watch it but I can’t get comfortable. I continuously move around the bar because I don’t want to sit next to anyone. As more and more people come into the bar I move more and more. At one point I’m sitting on the beer coolers and the waitress can’t get to them and she has a frown on her face and I ask her if I should move and she hesitates and then says yes. I move some more. I can’t find a seat that I can see and hear comfortably in. I move some more. I’m standing in the back and stay there for 5 minutes when this guy sarcastically makes a comment on how I can’t sit still. After he makes his comment, I fire back in my passive aggressive way that he always sits still. His lover or friend laughs and he doesn’t know if he should take offence and doesn’t know what to say. I then wake up. I feel fine for a second then I feel nauseous as usual. I then go into living room and don’t notice Esther half snoozing in her reading chair. She asks me if I’m ready for our usual lox and eggs Sunday brunch and I say no, not right now but I don’t go into detail. When I’m nauseas just talking about food makes me more nauseas. I decide to eat a package of peanut butter crackers to settle my stomach. Ten minutes later I go to the bathroom and the nausea lifts. Oh happy day! I finally find something that works. Usually I just get more and more nauseas until I get the dry heaves or if I dare to eat lunch I just vomit.
Today I beat the illness (for now). These little victories can be so sweet.

I post these journal excerpts from the past to share/compare how I’m doing today.
Notes for my Infectious Disease doctor
Sunday, July 20, 2003, 11:29:45 PM

Some sort of change in my medical condition has been getting progressively worse for the past several months. I can’t stop worrying: I feel the constant physical, emotional, and psychological stress will dramatically shorten my life span if it keeps up. It seems I’ve felt this way ever since I came home from the hospital after being treated for pancreatitis: worry that a heart attack or some other physical breakdown will result from this.
My partner and family have become terribly concerned because they've been watching my vitality, stamina, and abilities to relax & cope diminish. They also say that I’m looking more & more weak and run-down —truth is, I really do feel as bad (sometimes worse) than they say I LOOK.
—see such profound changes and worry that a heart attack or some other physical breakdown will result from this.
Something very bad has been happening lately though: continual worried to where the pressure is crushing me: I can't make it stop.
Up until now, I've always been very laid-back. I've never been the type to worry about things because I’ve always seen in this as a pointless exercise that drains valuable physical and emotional energy
We’ve tried several anti-depressants but nothing is helping at all.

Physically:

• Very often, my heart feels like its beating way too fast. At these times, I often lie back and close my eyes to try and bring things under control. Often, I can "hear" the sound of my blood in my throat pumping way too hard: it’s like my hearts beating out-of-control. It’s frightening.

• I’m constantly dropping things. I walk into furniture, hit my head, etc. My muscles and tendons feel so tight they could "snap." It feels like the strings of a guitar or violin being drawn so tight that something's getting damaged: me. The tendons in my hands feel like stretched catgut. Other muscles/tendons are being affected in strange ways too. My hipbones feel like are hitting against each other when I move my legs a certain way. The vertebrae in my neck crack very loudly. It’s very discerning. Everything just hurts especially my hands. Especially my right hand. I wear leather workout gloves and the pain goes away. I’m guessing the heat keeps them from hurting.

Current Medications used for this:

• At times I need Ambien to get to sleep sometimes I need ½ Zanax and 1 Ambien to get to sleep—when I often have bad dreams.

• I have panic attacks—like I’m going crazy and am going to lose it any minute—and have to take a ½ a Zanax to calm down.

• Initially, I tried Effexor to treat some of these symptoms, but that really sent me over the edge. Then I switched to Celexa and still am anxious but not as bad as with the Effexor.

I find myself going to the gay.com site all the time now. I don’t try to pick anybody up or anything like that. I just like to look at the pictures in the photo gallery. Just for a hoot I did a search for a 1 mile radius from my zip code and came up with 200 photos. I was surprised and shocked that there were that many gay men in my neighborhood. NOT I always thought we were isolated here in the east end of Orlando. It’s nice to be thinking about sex again. For a long time I just accepted that I didn’t have a sex drive, that it just sort of came with the territory. I thought that I was getting too old too. It’s funny how those thoughts can creep into your head and you just accept them. Well I miss sex. I don’t miss having it control my life like when I was younger. (that’s how I got into this mess)
Well that’s not true. I have to cut myself some slack there. I didn’t really consider myself a whore, hell I was just trying to keep up with my peer group (they are mostly dead now). So I guess I ‘m glad I didn’t keep up with them completely.

I'm totally amazed on how fast 21 one years can just shoot by. I first found out I had the HIV virus in 1983 in Chicago. I was 26 and so naive. My partner had signed me up for a free medical exam for a drug company that was trying to develop the first mass distributed blood test for HIV. My partner Paul and I were part of a 600 participant group. Over the years that figure has dwindled to just me and him. It boggles the gay mind. At first I had am "oh well" attitude. Then as more and more of my friends, lovers and acquaintances were getting sick and dying, I started to get scared. I was self medicating at that time and wasn't really facing reality anyway. I had run away form my home state of Massachusetts when I was 21 to escape the shame of being homosexual, and had totally immersed myself into the gay subculture of Chicago's gay bar life.
I was dating Paul; a bartender at the time at Carol's Speakeasy, a gay bar and disco, and it was a world that was totally new and exciting to me. We had met when a mutual friend, Arthur, had asked me to participate in a bar league softball game. Just a Saturday afternoon in the park with the boys. I agreed and was placed on the Carol's Speakeasy Team. I was in the outfield and the opposing team had hit a pop fly. Paul and I both ran for it and knocked heads trying to catch the ball, and that's how we met.