It’s almost routine. Monday again, and same ol’ shot of little soldiers on a search and destroy patrol. I don’t even fret about getting poked. I barely feel it. I get sleepy-tired at various times all day. I nap a little, but the sleepy-tired anemic feeling stays around most the time. That is the only nuisance anymore. I’m told by Dr. Bartley that we don’t check the virus until 12 weeks.
We are off to New York in two days. Once again, a gig is happening well into the week, and I’m a distance from the two Interferon affected days. New York will be a great experience; two shows, lots of press, a radio appearance with Dave Marsh, our old buddy from the heyday of the band. I bitch about the travel, but this is the greatest job in the world. I love it in spite of all its weirdness. “It’s the sound that abounds and resounds and rebounds off the ceiling.”
I wonder why I even care about attacking the Hepatitis C virus. I have two reasons basically. One is to be as strong as I can for my family. I frittered away a lot of my natural health when I was a young person because I was more interested in experience than excellence. Now I have a progressive outlook and a family that looks to me for many things. It’s a housecleaning of sorts. The second reason is that I want to be an example for people who are Hep C positive. If I can inspire someone to pick up the gauntlet and powerfuck the virus out of their system, it’s a worthwhile thing to tell my story. Plus I like writing anyway. So I found a muse for myself at the same time. Ok, all you metal-heads, that’s it for this week. There just aren’t many chilling tales of horror with the treatment. I’ll be back in SoCal on the red-eye Sunday night. I will have the update on the NY gigs and any associated maladies that cropped up with regard to being at war with THE VIRUS. ‘Til then..