NERVOUS, NORVUS?

I used to be a blood donor. It was a quick, easy way to make a few bucks and I knew I was, ideally, helping a fellow human being. Whether I actually was or not was a moot point. I thought I was helping someone and that was all that counted. I prided myself in my readiness to jump in, at a moments notice, roll up my sleeves and pick up a free pair of movie tickets. My altruism blew my mind (he wrote, with all the humility he could possibly muster up). If I saw a bloodmobile in the neighborhood, I knew it was time to catch a movie or make enough to bring home pizza. But, that was then........and this is now. Then – I was young and vibrant......now – not so much. Then – it could be my entree to a movie theater or would allow me momentary hero status by bringing home a surprise pizza or two......now – not so much. Then my blood was a healthy and in-demand commodity - now – not at all. As a rock & roll radio guy in the late '60's and through '70's, my lifestyle gave me enough pause to be a little concerned about whether I ever would reach the, then, dreaded age of 30. If I did, I theorized, then I could worry about the future. In the meantime, anything went...........anything. The lurid details, entertaining though they may be, are a subject for another day. It's the results of those lurid details that turned me from a self serving blood god - the bloodmobile had a poster of me, needle in arm, grinning from ear to ear and flashing a big “thumbs up” - into a pariah......a castaway.......a hemogoblin. The fact that I had made it past 30 told me that I was OK without really having to change anything. Sex, drugs and rock & roll were still the order of the day. No reason for the carousel to stop. It didn't. There was one party, in particular, that comes to mind. It was a record company party for a band from Australia (they were from an area near a little river) that was in the early days of it's looming popularity. At one point, their, then, road manager broke out a huge “rock” of pure cocaine and was scraping off a continuous “line” as he walked down a long table. Yes.....I did. I went on the air a few hours later with no sleep, nasally and dripping into my mustache. It was a two man show but we were useless to each other on the air because we had both been to the party. If I were a prayin' man, I'd pray that no recording of that show exists anywhere. And yet, I still didn't see any real damage. There was no reason stop doing what I had been doing. Unless, of course, you count the fact that I had gotten married and had my first kid two years earlier but not me. My gauge was reaching 30 with little or no consequence and, that, I had done. It was about 6 years into my 30's when, while enjoying a private regimen of Tequila Sunrises, cocaine and cigars – I had stopped smoking cigarettes because they were so bad for my health – that I nearly saw the light. I had been doing a few lines with a friend and went home to mow the lawn. I lit a cigar and went to the garage and got the lawn mower ready. I had made about 5 or 6 passes on the lawn when I started to get light headed and began to turn gray. It seems my heart had stopped beating and was fluttering. I was in Atrial Fibrillation and wound up in a hospital bed. Remember when I mentioned that I nearly saw the light? When I got home, the first thing I did was have a couple shots of tequila and a nice cigar. It was a matter of days before I was back in the hospital and back in A-Fib.....an issue which has now plagued be for well over three decades and for which I still take the same meds. I immediately quit doing cocaine. I never enjoyed it and, really, only partook because everyone else was doing it. Apparently, it was also around this time that I discovered I was part Lemming. I stopped drinking alcohol. All these years later, the most I will drink is a very cold beer on a very hot day. It took a little longer to stop smoking cigars. Over the 30 some years between then and now, I have developed a number of “issues” that dictate a number of different medications. From diabetes to skin cancer to low blood flow in the legs, I deal with these annoyances that often come with the territory. But it was that episode on my lawn that precluded me from ever giving blood again. The doctors gave me medications that affect my heartbeat. One of the meds is toxic and the other controls the rhythm – which, you'd think, as an erstwhile percussionist, I'd have a pretty good handle on. Imagine the look on a blood recipients face if he got some of my blood and his heart started to flutter? Ironically, I was recently diagnosed with severe anemia and had to have a blood transfusion. The last person in the world whose blood I would want transfused into me would be me. But, to whoever was kind enough to donate the blood that made me feel better.....enjoy the movie.