Introduction & Early Stages

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November 2002

Tuesday, November 05, 2002

Today is "Back to the Future" day. My friend Emily always refers to November 5th as "Back to the Future" day because this is the day they set the Delorean to in 1985 to go back in time. Pretty dorky, huh? But if youíre into the 80ís movies, Michael J. Fox and Steven Spielberg, today is your day.

Which makes me wonder, naturally, what I was doing on this day in the last 21 years. Most likely in school, at least for the better part of the years. Through elementary school, middle school, high school and finally, college. The last three "Back to the Future" days have gone by so quickly, I remember so vividly my freshman year, especially since I sit next to my old roommate, Pete, in one of my classes. Everyone has grown up so differently, itís amazing.

I think about the people in my life that have come and gone. The thought of all the girlfriends makes my hair hurt, frankly. But most importantly, perhaps, is the thought of "if I knew then what I know nowÖ"

I ask myself "what would I do if I could go back in time? Would I instead choose to go forward and see my future?" If I were to go back in time, I would probably pick November 5, 1998. Fall of my junior year in high school. I think I owned the world then. Great grades, fun times in school, active (to say the least) social life. New license to drive. More to the point, new license to do whatever I wanted. This was the age of happiness. The biggest problem I had was whether or not I would get into Harvard (note to 1998 self: it ainít happening). I felt great. I dressed great. Life worked out.

But then I ask myself "what if thatís how I feel about now in 5-10 years?" Scary thought, huh? I mean what if Iím still living the golden life and I just am not realizing it until I think hard about what made my last life so great? Is a time machine all it would take to make me happy now by seeing then?

And in the words of Huey Lewis: "don't need money, don't need pain...don't need no credit card to ride this train..."

Tuesday, November 19, 2002

It’s been a wild weekend that included yet another trip to the emergency room. This time out of sheer stupidity. No matter how many times I tell the story I still laugh, and the person who hears it always has a different interpretation. But for the record there was no alcohol involved and I didn’t jump off and nobody was there to catch me. It was purely accidental.

We’re at a big party at Brandeis. I’m sober. Up on stage with a bunch of people dancing. I decided I needed to take a break and hopped down the 3 feet to the ground. Just as I was mid-air a girl decides to walk directly in my landing zone. Careful not to take her out, I threw my legs out to the side and landed hard in a way that was never intended to be a landing. I was sober. I call my friend Kevin over to help me up and when he does, I realize that walking was out of the question – at least for the next five minutes.

Sitting to the side wondering what I’m doing and how swollen my knee is getting, I slowly summon the courage to get up again. I figure "I’ll walk it off, how bad can it be?" And did so with charm and character. Fifteen minutes later I’m dancing again, only this time looking uncoordinated and as though I desperately needed Ritalin. Another half hour and I was finished – I could no longer walk and was having a lot of trouble just standing around. I’m sober.

Now it’s an hour later and I decide to go home, dropping everyone but my friend off. She and I hang out and watch some TV and talk. It’s around 2 in the morning and I notice my leg is shaking and I’m sweating. She asked if I was OK and I think it was then I realized maybe I did some kind of damage. But the gentleman that I was, we waited another 15 minutes or so for the rerun of SNL to finish. I drove her home and then figured I’d stop by the Newton-Wellesley Hospital for a quick peek to make sure I didn’t do anything bad. I figure if you’re going to go to the emergency room at 3 am that’s when you don’t deserve the fanfare of ambulance sirens. So just drive yourself.

To make a long story short I will be seeing my orthopedic surgeon for an MRI and a real checkout next week when I go home for break. Hopefully it’s something I can live with and nothing I need operated. I tore my lateral collateral (sounds like a bank statement?) ligaments in my right knee pretty badly. Definitely no time in my life for knee surgery, but I obviously need to do what I need to do. All surgery will do is merit a knitted sweater from my mother while taking me away from my chance to go out and have fun. Sober.

Tuesday, November 26, 2002

Next time you are faced with the option of getting an MRI, take out a pencil, sharpen it, and shove it in your eye. Because you're better off holding the pencil steady in the emergency room, wondering what you'll look like in an eye-patch, than spending 45 minutes inside of this thing they call an MRI. Between you, me and the technician named "Vic", MRI stands for "jet engine", because that's what this thing looked like, sounded like and felt like.

What made my experience so pleasant, I believe, was the fact that "Vic" played country music in the headphones by accident. Without being able to move a muscle, let alone speak, I was stuck listening to the "hits" of the 70s, 80s and of course, contemporary country music. This, my friends, made an otherwise painless scan feel like torture.

I had a hundred and one thoughts go through my mind, all of which I had plenty of time to carefully consider and thoroughly ponder. Like "what if an oxygen tank goes flying through the air and takes me out?" Or, "am I going to be able to have kids after this?" Down to the most popular thought I had, "if they can put a man on the moon, why can't they make these things a tad more comfortable?"

And thus my MRI experience - first one ever - had come to an end. No harm done, and no results until next week. At the end of the day I'm dealing with really minor stuff (comparatively). Either I bruised my bone, which can get better in 6-8 weeks, or I tore my lateral meniscus ligament and will have to fix it surgically over winter break. Either way I need to continue milking this baby for as long as it hurts.

And as for no longer being an MRI virgin, at least I got to keep the blue scrubs.