The Crazy Season

This is the time of year that gets the busiest for me; the days leading up to the opening of the buildings and moreso the start of the academic year. Although the halls opening has much less impact on my job than getting ready for class does and the return of the faculty causes me more work than the return of the RAs, this time nonetheless is exceptionally busy for me. This year should prove to be exceptionally moreso; it will be a matter of picking out my priorities and focusing on them and ignoring that which doesn't get done simply because there weren't enough hours in a day.

Of course, one of those priorities must be my relationship with Peter, whose job just never seems to get done. We are looking forward to some time together later this Fall, but our anniversary time was severely cut into this year by the demands of both our jobs. We got in some QT, but it just wasn't enough, plus we're both exhausted right now.

That exhaustion does worry me for Peter's health. I'm convinced it played a major part in his profound illness back in March. And our now-former doctor failed to adequately explore what exactly caused it all, in my opinion. We finally found a really good doctor today, one who understands the issues of two gay men and one who, more importantly, seemed interested and caring in his approach. He's far away from us (a good 30 minutes using the interstate) but I think he'll be worth it. This has given me no small piece of mind; do not underestimate the importance of a good doc.

The frustration with the past-doc definitely raised the issue as to why exactly she failed to provide an adequate level of care. Although I never got an anti-gay vibe from her, the question of course popped into both of our heads. It's a shame, really, to have to even consider the possibility. Being white men, it's easy for us to forget the world of priviledge we belong to and how we get by most days without thinking about if we got shafted because of who we are. It is the consequence of being completely out (and I wouldn't have it any other way) that we do sometimes run into the wall of subordinate membership. We may not have been discriminated against, but maybe we did and I hate even thinking about it. I've had this conversation several times with black friends: they don't want to think that they second-hand treatment (or worse) simply because of their race; they don't want to play the race card, yet it's hard not to wonder. And when that pattern becomes repeated, then obviously something is going on here.

My experience is that reasonable people seek reasonable answers. Even when the reasonable answer is, yes, we live in a society that oppresses certain groups daily, usually in the most subtle, unnoticed, or underhanded ways, most reasonable people belonging to a subordinate group look for another reason. Most people want to believe the best of their fellow person, yet the spectre of reality, the reality of institutionalized -isms is lurking right over their shoulder. It whispers about the shadow side of human behavior. And that whisper is impossible to ignore. Some people hear this whisper daily, others, like myself, less frequently. I want to be the reasonable person; I hope I am right in being so.

Nonetheless, being out is an important decision, especially being out to your doctor. Here's a good article about making that decision and how to find the right doctor. GLMA (the Gay and Lesbian Medical Association) is an invaluable resource for our community. We found our new doctor, whom we are estatic with, through this resource.

We now return you to our regular programming...

Peter's and my relationship has never been more important to us than it is right now; never more alive or central. It's become something that's far deeper than I ever anticipated. I always thought the heady rush that accompanies that initial puppy love stage and stays with you for months even was where it was at. I mourned the loss of that feeling. But what I feel now is far more compelling, important, and ingrained to my being. It's impossible to imagine him not in my life, not with me. It's not just a desire to not be lonely - it's about him. No other substitute is possible, even conceivable. It doesn't mean we're the perfect couple. Certainly we still fuss and fight, but the connection, which at times felt breakable in the past, isn't part of the equation any more.

In regards to other priorities, this blog will take a bit of a back seat unless something really rattles my cage or I suddenly find less work to do (not likely)!