The Adventures of Kidney Boy

A Journal About Living With End Stage Renal Disease. Dialysis. Transplants. Love. Family. Friends. The Unsung Donor. This is my life, from the end of a needle to the bottom of a pill bottle.

Saturday, December 4, 2021

The wind is like a knife that chills you to the bone.

 It was a cold night here in Central New York.  I ventured out of my house for an event at the Museum of Science and Technology (MoST) where I was promoting the video games I make. Getting out of the house still seems weird in this era of the pandemic, and I actually had a lot of anxiety about it all day today.  It's not even about being sick; I've just found myself dealing with more social anxiety than I ever have in my life.  I used to be quite a social person, but I've become more introspective as I've aged and I've found I really don't need, want or require the stimulus of being out in public like I once did when I was younger.  I'm okay with this; my time as a social butterfly was fun, but not something that really brings me a ton of joy.  However, it was nice to force myself up and out - stepping outside of your routines and your comfort zone is good for one's self, and I did enjoy being out.  I often feel trapped in my own head at things like this - but it was nice to show off the work that me and my friends have made. I do often spend the quieter moments where I'm not engaging with other people, reflecting back on my life - who Steve was at 25 vs. 30, vs. now is an interesting experience.  I'd like to think I have a little bit more "chill" than I once did; I was kind of hyper and spastic when I was younger.  It's how I coped with existence.  But I enjoy seeing how I've changed and grown, and it's a real introspective moment in the middle of the madness that kind of centers me.

But as I packed up my stuff into a suitcase, and rolled it outside, I strolled upon the sidewalk for a bit, in Downtown Syracuse in December on a very cold, slightly windy and snowless night.  Armory Square bustled with life, even in these frozen times.  The lights of the city stood aglow all around me and the wind whipped through my coat, chilling me to the bone.  I get cold very easily these days, due to my anemia, and I recall the crazy, foolish young man I was once who had no problem with the cold. I was that asshole who would be wearing shorts in December, with a coat on above them.  No more - I felt older, and colder, as I walked that side walk - but I appreciated that I had the age and wisdom behind me to appreciate the cold beauty of the evening, and to just be glad I was alive and out and about in this world. I've almost lost it all more times than I can count, and any day I get to be able to walk along the street of my own accord and feel the wind on my skin is a win.  In life, even the mundane moments are a blessing, and I took note of it as I reached my car, put my belongings inside, and prepared to drive myself home after a night out.  My life is far from perfect, but it's my life and I'm still living it - which really is a miracle.  Sometimes good fortune and miracles is being chilled to the bone and being conscious enough to realize it's happening to you.  I drove home in the cold and the dark, lights of the city fading behind me as I drove the freeway home.  Driving down a road I've traversed literal thousands of times, and thankful that I have gotten more chances to do so.  Tomorrow I'm going to get more in the season, set up my Christmas Tree, decorate my house and spend time with my children, and - god - I look forward to it so much.

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