The Minnesota Fugue Finale ...

I promised myself that I would never quote anything from Wikipedia but in continuing with my “fugue”, I thought this explanation was pretty spot-on:

A fugue state, formally dissociative fugue or psychogenic fugue (DSM-IV Dissociative Disorders 300.13[1]), is a rare psychiatric disorder characterized by reversible amnesia for personal identity, including the memories, personality and other identifying characteristics of individuality. The state is usually short-lived (hours to days), but can last months or longer. Dissociative fugue usually involves unplanned travel or wandering, and is sometimes accompanied by the establishment of a new identity. After recovery from fugue, previous memories usually return intact, but there is complete amnesia for the fugue episode

It seems that my Minnesota fugue state will be ending pretty soon. I have been offered a position back in Pennsylvania and plan to start working there in late August. Indulge me in a “memory dump” before my Minnesota amnesia kicks in.




It has been an eventful 10 years.

I moved here fresh out of residency with the woman I thought I was going to spend my life with. Almost giddy with the possibilities we rented a duplex in South Minneapolis for too much money from a landlord that we later learned was a total asshole.

The wife started her fellowship at the U of M, and I scrapped around for urgent care shifts. After enduring 3 years of intense scrutiny, I was happy to be relatively unfettered by work responsibilities. Eating out, exploring the new city and sleeping in on weekends became the new norm.

It was good, or so I thought.

I soon took a Locums position in Red Wing to stabilize our meager income and things started to unravel. I soon experienced the “Minnesota nice” of rural Minnesota in full force. “You ain’t from around here, are ya doc?” No, I wasn’t, and everybody pointed that out to me, albeit passive-aggressively.

The wife seemed to be doing better. Making new friends and acquaintances; even a new “study buddy” from class – study buddy with “benefits”, it seemed.

I was operating on an assumption that the wife and I both wanted the same things out of life and each other. But alas, I was wrong. I wanted kids, and she, well … wanted to sleep with other people.

Usually a deal breaker.

Definitely was a heart breaker.

To deal with the heartbreak, I got a job and threw myself into it. I would rather have bought a dog, but the wife not only abandoned me, but she also relieved herself of her 2 obese cats as well. So, the job became catharsis in a weird way.
Suddenly single with some disposable income, another catharsis was travel.

One trip back to New York reintroduced me to an old friend of some friends who later would become my best friend and wife. (I know – awkward sentence – the best friend and the wife are the same person for clarification; also my new, 2nd wife for even more clarification. ok, I'll stop now.) A singular entity who is smart, beautiful and one of the few truly "good people" out there that can really make me laugh. Not just polite chuckles but real honest to goodness guffaws that cause you to smile involuntarily when you think about it later when you’re alone.

We planned some more travel (a little trip across the pond in the fall), this time together. We got re-acquainted over a few months via AT&T long distance - planning our trip.

We fell in love in walking around Paris in the rain and making out on the floor of out friend’s apartment when we should’ve been sleeping off the jet lag.

A few years and a lot of frequent flier miles later, she moved out here to join my Fugue.

Bought a house, got married and set up establishing a home. Distractions abounded with dinners out, trips around the state, sleeping in. My dabbling in bonsai became an obsession. I finally took that “Learn to Row” class that I always wanted to and 6 years later, I’m on my third single scull. I’m regular on the Mississippi River at 6:30 am most weekday mornings from May to October, dodging barges, flotsam, jetsam and an occasional dead carp.

We decided to visit our mutual friends (from New York) in their new digs in Lausanne, Switzerland. Two weeks of travel, new experiences and good old fashioned fun – proved to be life-changing in many ways.

Peter was born 9 months later.

Brought into the world kicking and screaming through a Pfannestein opening, he has not ceased to amaze, astound and confound me every day.

Three years and change later, Matthew followed his brother’s path, literally, and is possibly the happiest soul I have ever encountered.

I’ve done some cool shit in my life and have accomplished a lot, but it all pales when I watch my sons make a new discovery or master a new idea or concept. Proud is insufficient.

The wife and kids are joining the journey back east of course, so they’ll be exempt from the fugue. And for that I am thankful.

Some things that I want to forget:

1) “Coon Rapids” – Really? I’ve been told it’s not a racial slur, but … come on! I don’t care if the houses were made of gold and diamonds grew on trees there, I would never, ever live there.
2) Once again, not supposed to a racial slur, but if I ordered a “Hot Dago” sandwich in South Philly - I’d seriously get my ass kicked.
3) Minnesota Nice. Sorry. It does exist. It’s not out in the open, but it’s the tangible feeling between words, quick looks between natives and general aloofness that permeates the day to day interactions that make it hard, nigh, impossible to make a true friendship. With that said, Laura will miss the Moms and I’ll miss the Dads, but probably not that much. Cathy Larson, you are the exception. Bruce, a close runner up.

Let me be clear. I don’t hate Minnesota. In fact, we're sticking around just long enough to hit the awesome spectacle known as the Minnesota State Fair one last time.

I don’t begrudge my time out here. I have learned a lot and have changed a lot, good and bad, I’m sure. But I’ve never felt like I was “home”. I know now that Laura and Peter and Matthew are my home, but deep down I know that I “ain’t from around here”, and I want to go back to where I know I am from.

I can’t wait to “UN-disassociate” my fugue.

Peace. I won’t let the door hit me on my ass on the way out.

It's the bitch of living ...

Ok - I need to rant a little.

Sometimes in life, you can do everything right and still get screwed. Now, I don't pretend to do everything right, but I try most of the time. And believe me, it's tiring.

I woke up at 5:40 am to go to the gym before work (so I can spend time with Peter and Laura after work). I did 26 minutes of cardio on the treadmill, then another 26 minutes of circuit weight training, followed by stretching and an attempt at core work. I ate a relatively healthy breakfast and then hydrated with non-carb fluids all morning. I thought I was living the diabetes straight-edge.

Around 11am, I felt crabby. Not just a little crabby, more like set-a-basket-of-puppies-on-fire-and-then-put-out-the-flames-with-my-urine crabby. It didn't help that I had a run of particularly trying patients that were pushing all my buttons.

I knew I had to test my blood sugar. My CGSM said 110. No way. Uhn-uh. That can't be right.

I pricked my finger and the numbers glared back at me: 399.

Fuck.

I don't test for ketones, because I luckily don't produce them too easily, but I new I had to change my infusion site, put on a new CGSM patch, give myself a shot of novolog in the butt and spend the rest of the afternoon checking and chasing my blood sugars. All while continnuing to perform my job at a high level with intent and compassion.

I'm normally pretty resiliant, but my "highs" have been starting to take the wind out of my sails these days. I think I'm "burnt out" on my diabetes. I spent the next few hours not giving a crap.

But, too f'in bad. Even if I want to give up and take a holiday from my diabetes, I can't.

I can't because the diabetes never takes a holiday from me. If I ignore it, it doesn't ignore me - it slowly breaks blood vessels in my eyes, ruins neprons in my kidneys, causes inflammation and plaque in my arteries, overloads my nerves causing them to short out, messes with my emotions and makes my nights fitful and sleepless.

So, I felt sorry for myself. Then I felt angry that I have to deal with all of this. Then I felt envious of those who can go work out and play and be active without ever having to worry about getting low or wonder if you have a power bar in your back pocket if you do. Then I bargained with God that if he lets me win the lottery, then I'll be the healthiest person he had ever met. I never felt denial, though - I've had this too long and that emotion has been played out and dried up for years.

But, as I always do in these little moments of crisis, I then felt acceptance which brings me some peace. I take a deep breath, give myself a little insulin and figure out what to eat at lunch that won't be too bad for my sugars.

It't the little grieving process that I (as well as others with type 1) go through about once or twice a week. It's brought on by highs, lows, good blood test results, bad test results, good doctor's visits and bad doctor's visits.

It's the bitch of living. But, I guess it could be worse. I have a good job and a beautiful family and that's alot.

So ... rant is over. For now.

Peace.

A look back in horror ...

... well, maybe not "horror" but 2008 had a lot of sketchy moments for me, the country, our planet.

But - I'm not going to blog about any of them. Who wants to reminisce about the crappy stuff? Life's too short for bitching and moaning all the time.

So, today's the last day of 2008 and I can't believe how fast time flew. In fact, I threw a clock and a banana out the window this morning to compare and contrast how things fly. Not very well, I might add, and now I'm going to be hungry and will probably sleep in tomorrow.

Anyway, family life continues to be fun and comfortable. Peter can be a handful at times, but he's also the spark that lights my way home after work each day. Laura, who hates to be mentioned in anything on the Internet for fear of identity theft (and doesn't know I have this blog), is becoming an awesomier (probably not a word) mom every day. Laura and I are able to catch our breath every now and again, and remember to be crazy-in-love couple of 39 year olds.

Our extended families are doing well and we're thankful for their love, guidance and distractions.

We are starting to make a few "friends" out here in this barren wasteland, so staving off insanity and depression for another year is definitely a plus.

Work is fine - there are sick people in the suburbs as well, I have found. Some of them actually take their meds and listen to my advice. It's shocking, frankly.

I was able to row and scull much more this last summer and while I have an extra few pounds on these days, I'm pretty healthy for the most part (knock on wood). My bonsai's are doing OK and I had my first official visitor to the "Steve Cytrynowicz Saint Paul Bonsai Reserve" this summer (Hi, Linda!).

Laura and I are trying to scrape together offspring #2, but it's taking a few months more than the last time. Keep your fingers crossed that my swimmers are good and her eggs aren't past their expiration date. Guess we'll have to keep on trying (wink, wink, nudge, nudge).

So, the economy sucks, we have too much debt, we still live 1300 miles away from our closest family members and we still don't have too many friends in this weird state.

But, all in all, I fell pretty lucky and thankful these days.

So, until the "fugue" clears ... Peace and Happy New Year!

It's been a while ...

... and I'm trying to get back into the swing of things.

Life has kind of gotten in the way - you know - work, play, family, career (ie - a boring on-line course that took too much time and energy for the yield it has provided) - but I need a little "release-valve". Something to exorcise (or exercise?) the demons in my mind.

Also I'm a little slow today at wotk and my knee hurts - may be more on this later.