Losing a battle, winning a war

Journalists tend not to look at the bright side of life. As a reporter, editor or journalism instructor, I will tell you that stories are stories.

However, I am not interested in crafting or editing lightweight features about a day at the county fair or a little kid who grew a gigantic pumpkin. Give me a homicide story to cover or coordinate. Let me or my team of reporters dig into political or governmental corruption.

Anything with conflict and drama. Something that people will move people to act. Something that will make an audience sits on the edge of its seats.

So, with that mindset, it is tough to get excited about the good news amidst the bad.

My internist called me in Wednesday to explain the results of blood work he ordered. I have sarcoidosis. It affects my lungs and heart and I am taking prednisone and methotrexate to control a wicked flare up of sarc symptoms that landed me in the hospital in March.

Good news: My blood pressure was lower than ever 117 over 70. The goal was 125 over 75. That is cool. My cholesterol level is good enough that it “is considered a negative risk factor for CHD (coronary heart disease)," according to the lab report. OK. My lungs sound clearer than they did the last time I visited my doc six weeks ago. Fine; got that going for me. What else?

Bad news: I have developed type II diabetes. Blame it on the prednisone. The drug saved my life in March by halting the development of scarring that was compromising my lungs and heart. It also has many side effects and there is no way to predict which ones will develop until you start taking the drug. Prednisone side effects I am dealing with include mood changes; insomnia; headaches; weight gain; constant hunger; fluid retention, high blood pressure, soreness, thin skin…and, now, diabetes.

On the bright side, I don't have other nasty prednisone side effects, including glaucoma and other irreversible conditions. And the good test results are indicators that clean living and the medications, for the most part, are paying off. I have to stay on top of things and obviously, in the wake of the diabetes thing, have to make more life style changes.

But, hey, I have already quit smoking, drinking, and drastically reduced caffeine – trying to quit that, too. I am eating right, exercising every day, getting eight hours of sleep, brushing thrice daily and flossing…

...Helping old ladies cross the street, and trying to generally be a good scout and…

Fuck, I am pissed off and frustrated. I will not throw in the towel or have a pity party of one or anything like that. But I have to express my shock and outrage at this shit. I just did not see it coming even though I have been psychologically preparing myself for a moment like this one. I know my war against sarcoidosis could be a long one. It could take up to two years to rein in symptoms and the changes I have made are permanent. I loved smoking but I cannot go back. I loved having a beer – or two, or three – must give that up, too (definitely while I am on methotrexate and my new pharmaceutical friend, metaforin.

A field general does not agree to lose battles in effort to win a war, but that is exactly what I did when I decided to stick with prednisone for as long as possible in this fight against sarcoidosis. My goal is to get off the corticosteroid and all the drugs I am taking to manage prednisone and methotrexate side effects as quickly as possible. I want off before something else crops up.

Sarcoidosis, prednisone, methotrexate and these other drugs make me feel like Robert DeNiro in Raging Bull. Its the story of middleweight boxer Jake LaMotta who, while wrestling with life’s demons, literally gets into the fight of his life against the great Sugar Ray Robinson.

LaMotta is a slugger, a hell of a fighter. Think Marvelous Marvin Hagler, a tough street brawler type, only Italian American. Robinson is widely regarded as the best boxer of all times. He was a smart, strong, precise and methodical fighter. He would break down an opponent piece by piece – much like good old sarc.

During a championship bout on Feb. 14, 1951, Robinson beat the snot out of LaMotta. This was the sixth time the great boxers met in the ring. The scene is graphically re-imagined by film director Martin Scorsese. (Left, portrait of greatest boxer ever - period) Robinson really kicks LaMatta's ass. Exhausted, bruised, battered, and leaning against the ropes, The Raging Bull implores the champ to go for the kill. To take him down. Robinson obliges, releasing a flurry of punches that make LaMotte’s face look like cube steak (Yes, a boxer's face can look like raw meat after a bout), The fight is ended; technical knockout in the sixth round.

But LaMotta is still standing. “You never got me down, Ray. Ya hear me? You never got me down,” LaMotta says to Robinson. Sarc, prednisone and the rest are dealing out some heavy blows, but they did not knock me down.

They will never knock me down.