We gave Dylan another subcutaneous treatment today. He absorbs 120ml of fluid for each treatment. He’s getting better at it. We’re all getting better at it. I’m still feeling a little shaky, though.
I insert the needle and my hands start trembling. I pull back on the syringe plunger to make sure there is no blood in the line and then push it down to administer the liquid. Each syringe only holds 60ml, so it needs to be done twice. It takes about one minute to empty one syringe.
After detaching him and cleaning up, it still takes me several minutes before I feel like I’m back in normal reality. It takes Dylan about 5 seconds (that’s not an exaggeration). As soon as it’s over, Adam gives him some catnip and all is forgotten.
Actually, I haven’t felt like I was back in normal reality for weeks, but especially not for the past day or so. I couldn’t sleep last night, so I was up until 1 AM wondering about the point of existence. I do that a lot. It’s not an intellectual thing. I’m not philosophizing. I’m feeling my way through an open space with my eyes closed with my hands outstretched. I’m trying to touch anything that will orient me. Once I’ve done that, I’ll know why I’m here.
Because I’m so tired when this happens, there is truly no point to it. I’m not alert enough to make any significant connections about anything, let alone the nature of the universe.
I had intended that today I would film a youtube video. I started doing youtube a few weeks back and everything was going as planned until the cat things happened. I want to continue with youtube, but I don’t feel quite ready, yet. I can’t imagine continuing making videos without saying a word about what happened. That just seems crazy to me, but talking about it is difficult.
In 1994, I started online. That was back when everything was text based and the only people online were a handful of college students and some geeks. It’s weird to think that youtube is an extension of that same idea: people trying to connect online.
Back in 1996, I started my first blog. That was before there were many (if any) blogging websites existed. I coded my own website to have a blog, but it wasn’t called a blog back then. It was a website with regular updates. It was just a fun thing for me to do, so it really freaked me out when I realized that people were reading it. That always made me stop. I moved blogs several times over the years to keep things anonymous as I could.
Once online anonymity went out of fashion, I really struggled. Being myself in public makes me feel so exposed. It’s not like I ever wrote anything online wasn’t innocuous, especially back then. I didn’t even know enough about the world to say something controversial. I still don’t, really.
But still, there’s always that fear of not being good enough. No matter how many ways I try to convince myself that I am. I have phone reminders, I have gratitude journals, I have lists of accomplishments, but I will never be completely immune. I think that is the hallmark of being human. We aren’t here to make ourselves immune to suffering. We’re here to understand it, so we can also understand joy.