Good Enough

When logic and proportion Have fallen sloppy dead
And the White Knight is talking backwards
And the Red Queen's "off with her head!"
Remember what the dormouse said: "FEED YOUR HEAD!!"
--Jefferson Airplane, "White Rabbit" (1967)

I talk a pretty good game when it comes to what I write in this blog.

Occasionally, my entries are more a call to arms for myself, my own pep talk. I've learned, though, that sometimes, making positive changes in one's life isn't as simple as saying "Yes, I will do this and yes, I will change that."

***

On Tuesday, I had a doctor's appointment to get a lesion on my leg tested to see if it was another ringworm. The outbreak I had before had finally healed and, up until a week ago last Thursday, I was sitting pretty, confident that it had blown over and the Ringworm Situation was over.

Then I took a walk, a long walk around my neighborhood, just to get a little cardio in, blow off some steam. Well, I got what looked to be a mosquito bite on my leg, right above the knee. It itched like crazy and yeah, I'm not gonna lie, I am all about scratching mosquito bites, the little fuckers! Eventually, the head of the bite got kind of dry and scabby and, like the idiot that I am, I pulled what looked to be the head of the bite off. Low and behold, it began to look more and more like a ringworm lesion. At the same time, though, I was pretty convinced that it was a bite. It started off looking nothing like the lesions from before, so I tried to remain calm--no easy task for me, as I'm sure many of you reading this can attest to.

Eventually, even my parents--bless their hearts!--were pretty convinced that it looked like a ringworm lesion. But we couldn't be sure, so I decided to finally take it to my doctor, Becky (love her to death!).

She looked at it and said it looked like a ringworm but because it started off as being more like a mosquito bite, the only way she'd know for sure is if she did a skin biopsy, an idea she quickly nixed ("Trust me...Ya don't want that."). Instead, she prescribed a lotrisone cream that contained a steroid to knock whatever it was out quickly. The End.

Not.

Believe it or not, all of the above is pretty much beside the point of what I want to talk about. During that appointment, I told her how I'd been pretty much freaking out for the last two months, how I've been constantly paranoid about the ringworm. She knows I suffer from OCD and has believed for a long time that I should be put on medication. And the truth is, she's right. Oh sure, in the past, I've been on different meds like Effexor, Lexapro, and Prozac, but they all had one side-effect that I couldn't live with.

I couldn't have an orgasm.

Now, don't go thinking I'm like this pervy sex addict who needs to have an orgasm 24/7, but come on, let's be honest, not being able to have an orgasm in the throes of passion or, while we're speaking frankly, by oneself is one of the most depressing and horrible things a person can ever experience (next to hair loss, but that's a blog entry all by itself, thank you very much). I mean, yeah, in the grand scheme of things, not being able to experience The Big "O" doesn't exactly rank up their with tragedies such as the 9/11 or the Titanic sinking, but it sucks major ass (no pun intended. Obviously. Ew!)

Anyway, my doc just looked at me and said, "Hal, you don't have to feel this way. This is your life. You don't have to live your life this way."

She's right. Dammit, she's right. So, I told her of all the meds I'd been on, the Effexor was, well, the most effective. The only drawback, besides what I've already mentioned, is that it increases my appetite and slows my metabolism; something I'll have to keep my eye on and be mindful of. I can't be eating every piece of chocolate that's shot in my direction (wait! What am I talking about?! I do that already!)

So, she gave me seven weeks worth of pills and told me to call her as soon as I start to run out. Since I have a history of just quitting the meds cold turkey without telling her, she made me promise her that I would call.

***

How do I feel about all of this? Well, it's a mixed bag.

I mean, I'm optimistic, intrigued and excited about it because it might help me be happy (with the right amount of counseling) and less paranoid about every little cough or mark on my skin. At the same time though, I'm a little sad, ya know? For the last couple of years, I've tried to fight my OCD on my own and, for a little while, it seemed to work. But what I have to remember is that it's not something I can turn on and off. It is a chemical imbalance, a mental disorder. I didn't do this to myself, no one caused it. It's no one's fault.

I know all of this. But I'd be lying if I said I wasn't feeling just a little defeated, weak. And yeah, I'll say it: I going to miss having orgasms. I guess I'll just have to get over those feelings. What can I say? Sometimes, sacrifices have to be made.

And I know that I could just go on with my life and do as I've done for the last two years and try to push down the fears and the paranoia the best I can (which, at the end of the day, I'm not all that successful at doing really). I could just toss the pills into the trash (hey, they were free! Samples rule!) and live my life the way I've been living it. You know, leave well-enough alone.

But there's something I'm finally starting to realize. To be sure, it's a realization that anyone who wants to improve their quality of life probably has, sooner or later, whether it be a homosexual coming out of the closet, a spouse unhappy with their marriage or, like me, someone who has a disorder that is preventing them from functioning normally in their daily life.

Sometimes, "well-enough" just isn't good enough.