renovatio06's blog/

Kristian hat einen geilen Link gefunden. Kinderreporter befragen Politiker nach ihrer Computer- und Internetnutzung. Der Hammer: Ne vielleicht Zehnjährige, ganz ausgeschlafene, fragt Ströbele, ob er sich 'ne eigene Startseite angelegt hätte. Er sagt "nö", und gibt dann wenigstens ehrlicherweise zu, dass er gar nicht weiß, was das sei. Bei Frau Zypries (ja genau, die, die es Männern verboten hat nachzuprüfen, ob sie die Vaterschaft für ein Kuckuckskind übernehmen) kommt's noch besser: Sie weiß noch nicht mal, was ein Browser ist. Und Glos tut ganz groß und meint, er gehe da "nur hinein", wenn er was Bestimmtes suche, also z.B. alte Pressclippings oder so. Der kennt sich ja aus! "Um"bedingt anschauen!

Hm... I've moved my image stock from flickr to ipernity, using their Greasemonkey script, which worked quite well. The only thing I noticed is that the order of images is somehow messed up a little bit - not dramatically, but just a little, like an image here and there out of sequence. Title and caption were retrieved o.k., albeit without the links I put behind some of the word in the caption. Oh well, you can't have the cake and keep it. Also, it feels odd not to see the familiar comments below the images - all of a sudden, they've become orphans and for some time, so have I (but some dear friends have made the move as well, so I'm not all deserted - and I get to meet new people) On the bright side: Lea was really very helpful and also generous. After I had ordered my pro account they welcomed me with an additional upload quota. I can see that they're working hard to accommodate the flickr-mutineers and offer some nice welcome treats. Well, I guess it's like moving in real life: You have to decide on letting some things go and make for others to fill the gaps in time, right?

I really managed to come across the number one of unwanted situations for photographers today: Battery dead when "the show" is rolling! For the past two days it has been pouring rain (reminded me a bit of Vancouver ... ;-)), but late this afternoon the rain took a break here and there and the sun peeped occasionally. So I jumped at the opportunity, took my bike, my camera and a little time and headed for my preferred shooting spot down by the lake (Woerthsee). I was lucky: Only one photographer besides me, so I had the place to myself and was able to pick just about any spot I wanted. Clouds were racing, you could tell that a storm had just come through and in the distance there was a promising bright glow in the sky, which I hoped to make way for the sun to come out fully. So I prepared myself, set up my gear, took a few rehearsal shots and got ready for the big racket which I felt would be going on any minute. And then - the clouds parted and an intense beam of light dipped the entire area into the most surreal and not-from-this-earth light I have ever seen! Even some of my Canada shots can't match the conditions tonight. So I pointed the lens into the light, switch the power on and - ... find myself presented with the "Change battery pack" message on the display! Arrrrggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhh- whoooooowaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaeeeeeeeiiiiiiiieeeeeeeeeeee! Un-effing-believable! In my defense I must add that I usually check battery power before taking off and in my camera bag there's always an additional battery. However, taking the camera bag when riding the bike makes for uncomfortable and unsafe maneuvering, so I prefer the backpack and tend not to move all items from one bag to the other... Well, I guess in the future I will move everything, so I won't ever encounter a similar situation... (and I wanted to try my first bracketing shots and some HDR processing later on... :-( )

Here's just a short apology for presently not being very active in my network. Under my doctors' supervision (oh well, there'll be another post on that part, later...) I have been experimenting with new medication, which - seems to have sent me straight into a very uncomfortable condition. I'm exhausted, disoriented, anxiety-struck and tired beyond belief. Hence, forgive me for stopping to write right here and going back to half-delirium... P.S.: The title is a sarcastic allusion to the idea of better trying new medication under constant supervision in a hospital. P.P.S.: Thanks to Sherry for checking on me.

As already reported in this post, I have tried to move my own blog from Fairhost24.de to 1&1. In my infinite naivety I thought this to be a straightforward undertaking given the fact that 1&1 is a mass web provider and bost themselves in offering a blog and all kinds of services. But intuition told me to better cross-check and so I did by calling them first and asking about moving my blog to their platform. Long story, short: I never got it to work and neither did they. So after having made sure of trying any possible measure I could think of (mind you: I am a certified PHP/MySQL programmer with 1 score short of an A for the final exam) and having had massive correspondence and phone calls with them, I decided to cancel the automated transferral of the hosting fee and got it back into my account. They sent me another notice informing me that they don't see any failure on their part and denied access to my web-hosting package. Just a good thing I configured the HTTP-refresh/forwarding directive prior to them shutting me off my account. At least, something comes up when entering projectwestbound.com into the browser's address line. This is the second unpleasant experience with large corporations in the web 2.0 sphere, shortly after the flickr desaster... It doesn't seem a good idea to let big companies run the services we're all using on a daily basis...

Alas - I've finally convinced them that the moving of my blog on my migration doesn't work and most likely won't work as expected. 1&1 offered to let me out of their contract, which would legally bind me to a six-months-minimum period. However, since I was never able to import my existing data into their framework (a stripped-down wordpress installation with a preinstalled and a separate, individual MySQL database) and never really got my blog to "fly", they finally gave in to my request of getting out of the contract and not having to pay for the amount of time so far. On that last part they were unbending and want me to pay for the 2 months I've been "using" their platform. Oh well, I'll just have to write this one off as "life experience" and agreed on that arrangement. After all, it's not worth it going to court over some 60 Euros, isn't it? However, the result of this experience is: You may well have a blog at 1&1 using Wordpress and MySQL as long as you start over from scratch, meaning I'd have to enter any post, comment, picture and whatnot manually. I don't think this is the original idea, when Wordpress clearly has an export and re-import functionality. Why 1&1 took exactly that plug-in away from their Wordpress-installation... well, you're welcome to leave your speculations on that below in a comment (and mind you: I HAVE installed a separate wordpress-installation WITH the export-/import-plugin - and that's exactly how this "experience" came about...) P.S.: This matter has come to an amicable solution: They let me out of my contract early and I don't have to pay. Immediate conclusion: Perseverance seems to pay off.

It's the weekend, summer's back at temperatures in the 90ies, I got to sleep in, in brief: I have felt worse. Another two hours into this splendid day and Mom calls to let me know, a distant cousin hanged himself yesterday. And you say, you were wondering, why I wanted to migrate to another continent? Grow a fucking brain - or heart... Happy weekend, everybody!
P.S.: In my defense for the language and tone: I'm currently watching "Scrubs" on TV - it's so freagging inspiring ;-)
P.P.S.: I sadly learnt today that apparently he didn't know how to do it right and must have strangled himself for an eternity of seven minutes...

No, hell no! Cuz if I did, this sure as heck wouldn't have happened: Went to another of a gazillion doctors' appointments I'm having as of late. She's a gastro-enterologist and apparently top-notch in her field. And actually quite attractive, too. With good taste for interior design and in a chique downtown Munich location (a quiet street in Nymphenburg). My regular lady doctor from Herrsching sent me to see her on behalf of my long history of gastro-enterologic problems and diseases I've had for the past 30 years and which have reduced my quality of life considerably, to the point where I'm repeatedly having enough and just want to die. So anyway, she comes up with fresh approaches to my problems, which I'm most grateful for and presents herself as compassionate, caring, competent (Memorize the three-Cs when seeing any doctor, cuz frankly anything less is just a waste of time AND money). In doing so, she suggests a number of check-ups that haven't been done so far and I gratefully agree, happy to find new hope and eventually deliverance from what has been plaguing me for most of my life. She goes "I'm going to examine you now. Please alert me immediately, if anything hurts or feels uncomfortable". Says it, and prompts me to turn sideways on her examination bank, slips over her rubber gloves, goes for a brief "this is probably the most uncomfortable part of this, I'm going to examine your rectum" and before the phrase is finished I have her index and middle finger in that exact same body cavity. Y-I-K-E-S!! Holy shit! (fortunately, not...) "And while we're at it, I'm briefly going to check your prostate, as well". In the matter of split seconds I'm being sent to a flash of unpleasant body sensations that the gay guys amongst us rejoice in so much. For fuck's sake...! The good news: I'm absolutely positive, I'll never take a liking in any homosexual activities (no offense meant towards the gay community!), not in this lifetime, not for any insane amount of money or any other reason - I'd rather have my life taken than repeat this. You live and learn - my ass! (Literally...)

Did I mention that I hate dating? You have to act like a fool, go out of your way only to impress with the very dim hope of landing some romance, not to mention "action". I hate it, from the bottom of my heart. It makes me feel cheap, helpless, dumb and much more like a loser than I already feel. Who invented that crap? Who wrote the rules to that no-fun game? Why is it that men have to take the initiative and "woo" a woman? I have now decided that I will boycot dating from now on. If I should stay single for the rest of my life, so be it. I will not "advertise" myself anymore, I won't date. I hate all that. HATREEEEEEDDDD! Dating sucks.

I have recently noticed anonymous visits on this blog. Uh-uh... no way, José. So I have "upgraded" a bunch of you guys on my network to "friends" in order to have some level of control over who gets to read these sometimes/mostly very personal thoughts and statements. So, if a) you find, the latest visible post to be Dating Sucks" and moreover, if certain posts have disappeared, and b) you would like to see them again, please drop me a line saying "I want to read your blog". This way I know, who you are and that I'm o.k. with you reading my blog. If you don't care, that's cool, too. I just needed to do this, since tracking anonymous visitors isn't supported on ipernity as far as I know. And let's just say that not everything is meant for the entire public... No offense... Peace.

I am presently undergoing a series of medical tests again to make sure of or rule out intolerances to certain nutritional substances. Particularly, I'm being tested on lactulosis-, fructose- and lactose-intolerance, starting with lactulosis today.

In order for the test to produce some valuable results you have to show up fasting, meaning having not eaten after 6pm the day before until the test and after - that makes 18 hours without food or drink, only decarbonized water is allowed. The test was scheduled for 9am this morning.

To my own surprise I showed up there in time, that is 9am sharp, not one minute earlier or later... ;-) I was then ushered to the lab, introduced to another gentleman and his family, who had already started the procedure and then got instructed on how the test was to be taken. The doctor was a very nice, helpful and compassionate lady in her late fourties, I'd say. After having detailed the test procedure, she prophylactically showed me the restrooms, quick to explain that the liquid I was about to drink generally produces and enhances the symptoms I've been suffering from for most of my life and which brought me here in the first place. It turned out to be a very much needed advice...

So, 9.10 am I'm having about 200 ml (a drinking glass) of lactulosis, which is a bi-saccharide (sugar) contained in many foods. I am then instructed to exhale into a syringe for about 10 seconds, close it with the according plug and repeat that routine every 10 minutes for a total time of 2 hours. Fair enough and no big deal apart from being a little drousy after having exhaled hard, not having had any food nor drink this morning and showing up after a lousy night with maybe 4 hours of sleep in total.

The gentleman I had been introduced to starts a conversation, which I'm initially very grateful for, as it has me forget my own lousy condition this morning. Also, his wife and particularly his daughter seem to be very nice persons and I'm beginning to think "Oh, this is going to be a walk in the park, and afterwards you reward yourself with a big, "fat" Thai lunch at a nearby restaurant.". That was the plan...

Five minutes into the first testing cycle, I sense an unpleasant sensation in the abdomen and lower intestinal parts. I can't hang on to that thought for too long and hurry to excuse myself, then practically running to the bathroom I was shown before. Did the lady doctor mention getting the runs...?

However, I can't take too long using that bathroom, either, as I have to "whistle" into the syringe again before ten minutes have elapsed. What can I say? The morning continued in much a similar fashion, with cramps and abdominal pain accompanying the four or five times of my attempt to set a new sprint world record for the nearest "utility area"...

If I had needed any proof of how much better I have been feeling eversince addressing my severe health issues about two and a half years ago, it would have to be today's experiences. Apart from the embarrassment of having to "go" every 10-20 minutes, I literally felt like shit. And then the pain. Then migrane setting in. Loss of appetite. Sweating. Shall I continue or are you already throwing up? I can't get myself to imagining, how in the world I have managed to go to WORK in such a condition, let alone just endure this for about 25 years NON-STOP!!!! If you think, I'm being overly dramatic, go ask my ex-wife about our time together...

And then, being in the company of this very nice Bahraini family, it made it all the more apparent to me how limiting my condition has been all along: I mean, if you have to monitor your bowels permanently, how can you possibly enjoy just about ANYTHING? No surprise, I'm being totally burnt out from enduring chronic disease...

Speaking of that: I'm afraid I'm about to face complete bankruptcy given my condition. But that would be another post.

In closing, do I need to mention, I felt literally sick the entire day? Having endured the symptoms from this "drink" sent me to bed right away. I slept for two hours and then drove me to get up again to get some email checked upon and replied to.

Next week, the testing (make that "torture"...) continues for another two sessions...

Little miracles do happen: This morning when I set up my usual pot of coffee, I heard a distinct "plopp" outside on the porch. Opened the door to the terrace and looked around, not seeing anything at first.

When looking closer, I found a little birdie fella crouched down near the window, the little tailpiece in a sharp angle, wings folded up, breathing heavily and the little pump going at quite a pace. "Oh shit!", I thought to myself - he must have fallen against the window. I saw him sit there, probably suffering from quite some pain, a little spot of bloody substance in not too far a distance from him - I felt so fucking helpless! My mind was racing, what I could do in order to make it easier for the little birdie, thinking of reaching for water or holding him or anything. I dismissed that thought then, as I wasn't sure, whether he had broken anything. Same with the water: Maybe he had severely injured his little organs and drinking would have been pain.

So I just stayed around, talking to him, watching out for the neighbour's cat, so it wouldn't eat him alive (which I had to witness once briefly after moving here).

I then proceeded with my morning routine, occasionally checking on the little guy and guarding him from the tomcat. He had moved himself closer to the window to seek some more shelter and I put a cardboard box on the other side, so the cat wouldn't see him. His eyes fell shut and my mind went "That's that", breathing slowed down...

I went inside, because I couldn't stand the thought of watching him die in front of me... I was sad, didn't feel much like having breakfast any more.

About 15 min. later or so, I went outside again to see, whether I would have to remove his little corpse. Guess what - his eyes were wide open now, he moved his little wings, I started talking to him and the next thing you know - it flew away towards his buddy bird sitting on the fence, calling for him!!

I take this as inspiration to get better, even when the situations seems dim or futile. Thanks, little birdie for teaching me!

A classic. The epitome of romance. To me - better than the old black and white classics, starring Bergman and Bogart. Go see it (Havana! Not Casablanca, of course...) - period. Over 'n out.

Today I have spent an entire day in the city. I haven't been doing this in a long time, but it turned out quite nicely. In the morning, I had another appointment with the gastro-enterologist (yes, the one who put her hand in my behind... LOL) and was given a preliminary status on my health situation. To keep it brief: It's not life-threatening or fatal, but there are some serious and very limiting conditions concerning my gastric/intestinal body section. So, this part of my body, I can't go easy on and will have to watch closely and take medication for the rest of my life. I had had hopes of becoming 100% healthy, physically, but I will have to let go of that expectation. It's a challenge now to look at this in a positive way, but I'm doing my best in that regard. I know, it could have been much worse, but it weighs on me that I can't be spontaneous and careless about when, where and what I eat. Like I said: I'm doing my best to see this positively, in terms of my body exactly telling me, what's good for me and what not. I just can't afford to mess with this and will have to keep listening carefully. Later on, I met my editor-in-chief, whom I presented with those medical findings and whom I prepared to the fact that given this condition, a regular office-situation is not for me. He'll try to keep me as a freelancer, but can't say how long management will give him that freedom. He's still strongly encouraging me to come back full time. I'm amazed and impressed by the amount fo understanding and empathy he has shown in this all along. Wow, those qualities have become rare in today's business life! During the afternoon, I ran several errands, one of which being to rent music equipment for the boss and his upcoming wedding. I hung out at the store for a while, checking on pianos and other stuff, always interesting to see, what's in the stores at a given time. At 6pm I met with another group of Munich/flickr photographers and Klaus, who was in the first meeting I initiated. We couldn't stay long, as Klaus had promised to shoot some images for a gospel choir and their website. I must say, it was a really, really lovely evening! We had a lot of fun taking images of the guys, the choir was amazingly good, met a huge and enthusiastic audience in a lovely setting in the Olympic Park, in a little open-air arena made in the fashion of those antique greek and Roman amphitheaters. Just very, very nice! And I realized again that I miss playing music as an activity in my life... So I introduced myself to the choir and offered to audition, as they are currently looking for singers... Now i will have to sort out about 800 images I took that night over the next few days... oops! But it'll be worth it, I'm sure! (And darn, I need better lenses...)

... to my list of all-time-favourite movies: The War. The title may be misleading and is a bit of a poor choice for it. But it's the fiercest 120-minute emotional roller-coaster I've been through on silver screen. Starts out light-heartedly with lots of good dialogue, hilarious moments, funny little episodes, and gets more and more serious, but still warming your heart and leaving you glued to the screen. Stock up on tissues, I'll guarantee your faces being drenched by the end. A total treat!

OK, I admit it: This is a highly manipulative headline - one that I would believe works similar to how most headlines of today's media work: You suggest one thing of common and high interest, while the rest of the story talks about something entirely different. Did it work? ;-) Now, on to the real content: My mother just called, letting me know that by perusing the local newspaper this morning she uttered a high-pitched shriek when coming across this image. It depicts my dad back in 1965, when the two of them went on a vacation on the only family vehicle at the time, a then-famous brand of scooters called Heinkel (the same company also produced air-craft engines and you can see a typical model to the left; Dad's is a bright red one, however. He meticulously restaurated two more, a plain white and a purple one; they're all in good condition and driven every now and then, back at the family house in Krumbach). The reason for him appearing here is because the editor called him asking for a photo of that time as they are covering South Tyrolia in a special article, re-introducing it as a tourist destination that is recently seeing anewed popularity. I will try to get a higher-rez picture from them, so the details are better visible. Oh: I was about nine months when that picture was taken and I believe it was taken by my Mom, as she was the pillion rider on that trip. Time flies, Mom, Dad, right?

For those of you who have appreciated my movie watching tipps so far, here's another one, you might wanna check out: The Fisher King, conincidentally also on my list of all time favorites (which may have some wonder, whether I do have a blacklist of non-favorites as well...? Trust me, I do...). But not only will you have to make use of tissue from crying, but from laughing hard just as much! There is some dialogue and scenes, which will bring you close to getting booted from being noisy with laughter, I guarantee you! :-D Check it out, tell me what you think.

P.S.: I don't mean to ruin it for you guys, so I'm saying just one thing: Chinese restaurants rule! ROFLMAO!

I have come to appreciate them a lot, those evenings at the lake. And I like them best, when there's only a few people around or when I even have the place all to myself. Like today, when after a series of rainy and chilly days everybody seemed afraid of the water being too cold.

I usually bring a book or some other read with me and enjoy to chill out a bit first, after having pedalled my way here by bike. I like feeling the warm summer breeze caressing my skin, listening to the gentle whisper of the wind in the trees and the intense song of blackbird, who have always been the purest representation of summer to me.

Today's read is a classic: Albert Camus' The Stranger. After having read a few more paragraphs, I decide it's time to do my swim before the sun will disappear behind the line of trees in the distance. One lap to the far end of the lake and back I would assume to be a little bit over 300 yards, so that's a neat and well-defined distance.

On days like this, the water's surface is completely even, much like a giant glass pane. When getting into the water I've made it a routine to do it quickly and not hesitate or procrastinate or anything like that. I found it much easier to get over the initial temperature "shock" by just marching resolutely in with giant steps, then immediately starting to make a few strokes when "falling" from the water's tension. It is always a thrill to curb the physical sensation from the warmed-up body against the cool water with the temperature difference making for a bit of hyperventilation at first. But on days like this, I steady myself and force myself to swim in calm, steady strokes, so the surface doesn't get all agitated with my movements. I do so to honor the serenity of the place, the nice and calm evening atmosphere and also to listen to the sounds around me and be able to watch, sense, feel everything as detailed as possible. Like fish jumping a few yards ahead of me, some in giant leaps that reveal their entire body, seeing the light breaking through the trees and reflecting from the water, then fading out into the solid green of the areas lying in the shade. It's a meditation.

It's also an exercise. Not so much in terms of physical fitness, but in building confidence - in myself. And faith. Faith to believe that nothing is going to happen as I make my way towards the other end, that I won't have a spasm halfway between the two banks, that I won't have a sudden attack of hypoglycemia making me dizzy and tired and that I won't choke or anything else. For the lake is about some 20 yards deep and although there are some worn out surfboards banked, there's no life guard on duty here. So - I HAVE to have faith.

And sure enough, I'm always being rewarded with a sense of accomplishment upon reaching the far end. It is a very small accomplishment and probably not worth mentioning, as I would consider myself a practiced swimmer. However - it's the mental challenge, willpower winning over anxiety, mind over body. And it also is - the immediate answer to a prayer, the prayer to be rescued, to be safe and sound, to be alive and kicking.

The lake has taught me a lot this summer.

I have to hand it to you (whether you needed me to share this or not): I love driving, especially since I got the MINI Cooper. It's no less than the ideal car for me. But again, I'm digressing... (and you thought, I'd make for a good writer, Sherry, Sara? I will have to learn how to focus first... LOL).

Anway, let's just consider this a fact for now (my love for driving). HOWEVER - I only like it so long as nobody gets in my way... And driving in Germany means: EVERBODY gets in your way! And when I say everybody, that equals 80 million people squeezed into as much land mass as - say - Texas. So - we're packed around here!

Usually, I would just take over and enjoy the shocked expression on the other driver's face. But then, I'm not totally stupid or irresponsible and there are just situations, where it would be exactly that: Stupid to even try. And then I find myself stuck behind a senior driver, whose younger brother is called Methusalem and he must have bribed the DMV for them to renew his driving license. I mean, I know I'll be old one day myself, and I'll be more than happy to be in a shape that'll allow me to drive my own car. But hell - I hope to have some time left until then and for now, I want to go fasssstteerrrrrr! "Hey Mr., the gas pedal is the one on the right, you have to step on it for your vehicle to move! Yes, I said 'on the right', not 'what a night' - o.k.?!" Gosh... And then those pauses at eternity's length, when the lights switch to green! "Hello, anyone in there? You can go - go NOW!" (*mumbling for God's sake*). "Short tempered", you say? "Take your time", even? Awww, aawww, not me!

So, again, anyway: I was on my way to a doctor's appointment today and there is this one winding road to Starnberg that feels like a race track (hey, my visitors from the states: I'm not talking about boring highways, that go straight for hundreds of miles without a bend in the road, I'm talking no less than a rallye track!). I felt good, had had enough sleep, enjoyed my car and tried to break my personal record of 12 minutes so far ;-) - when I have to brake hard all of a sudden behind a bend. Cows, you think? Bicyclist? Sheep? Aww, aaawww - a Mercedes Benz in front of me... which is the sloooowwwwww mooooovvvivng equivalent of a tea table at a nursing home, the combined ages of passengers probably reaching back to the beginning of time - or at least as far back as when the wheel was invented... Phewwww.... "Take a deep breath", I'm thinking to myself. "TAKE A DEEP FUCKING BREATH, my goooood - what are you doing there?!"

I yelled, my face went purple, I broke out in sweat, I rolled down the window, I took another attempt to continue breathing normally... - it was hopeless! The driver in front of me must have gone for the exact opposite of my personal record in that he must have wanted to find out, how slow you can go without killing the engine.

So - I had to do something to keep myself from homicide... yes, think of a joke! Or something funny for that matter! So I thought: What if Mercedes cars (which kind of have an image of being made for - errr - a 'seasoned' clientele) came equipped like a hospital room? Because sooner or later, if that person is not going to accelerate, he might just come to a standstill in the middle of the road. And we don't want that, don't we? The solution of course being: Mercedes-Benz cars, fully equipped with cardio-machine and respirator and all! And then, Mercedes could call it the new "Mercedes +CRD": Cardio-Respiratory-Drive.

Right? Errr, actually, I might need one of those at moments like these... awwww, take another deep breath... ;-)

OK, things really do come full circle now: I have recently had another - presumably final - series of physical tests and lab reports as to a chronic condition I have been suffering from for the entire length of my life so far. It's a fact: My pancreas is the root of all "evil" in terms of maldigestion and all the embarrassing symptoms accompanying that condition. We don't know, whether it's genetic or the result of a previous severe disease or operation, but I'm a results-oriented person, so that bit is irrelevant to me. The more relevant question is: Can it be cured or how do I cope with this?

The setback first: No, it can't be cured. My pancreas doesn't do its job and it won't for the rest of my days on earth (for the medical doctor students amongst you: It doesn't process food into the amino acids the body uses to produce energy in terms of body heat, build-up of muscle mass, motion etc.) That's pretty shocking and unsatisfying as I tend to be a perfectionist. I usually don't settle for less than 150 %. Not so in this case: I will have to find a way of making peace with far less than 100%, basically way below 50% in this case... So - that's a fact. The other aspect I have difficulties coming to terms with is this: I have been addressing this issue as early as my teen days (first love, being shy and insecure about yourself, wanting to impress the other gender etc. - remember all that? How do you "sell" yourself with constantly feeling sick from being bloated after EVERY meal? Answer: You don't... until you have built enough self-confidence to at least tell the world, you have a right to be as well, which took me roughly 25 years, five shrinks, the monetary equivalent of a condo and a marriage...). Of all the doctors I have been consulting for those past 25 years, couldn't any of you pathetic scumbags at least fucking POINT me into the right direction? I want each and every single one of my past doctors to rott in hell for at least as long as I had to endure being there - which is those 25 if not 30 years!! To be clear: I want hellfire on you sorry-ass fuckers! (with the only exception of my doctor in the military, who I remember being the only one, who really tried hard in helping me...).

As for the positive perspective: It is not (yet) a fatal condition. So I won't die immediately. However, with the pancreas not being able to do its job, chances are it'll deteriorate completely. With this being said, chances are the organ will cease to function and that then equals the time of exit for me. But with some more altering of my diet, constantly controlling what and how much of what I eat, what the ingredients are etc., my nutritionist - actually a very zealous, energetic young lady with a similar condition herself - convinced me of the possibility of becoming _almost_ symptom-free. To me this means something else: I realize that controlling my diet is a vital aspect of feeling somewhat healthy. But -... as I'm also suffering from what has become generally known as Irritable Bowel Syndrom, I realize it doesn't stop here. I wil have to figure ways of establishing a lifestyle that eliminates as many of the initiating aspects as possible: Stress, aggressive individuals, difficult relationships, fast-paced workplace, excess consumption of substances etc. etc. - in sort: I might benefit from seriously looking at a culturally different lifestyle altogether... which is another bitter pill on me, as I enjoy our modern-day technologies like the internet a lot. But: They don't seem to do me much good, healthwise. To be more distinct: I might have to evaluate ways of adjusting to the far-eastern lifestyle, with ancient traditions, continueity, day-to-day "therapy" like Tai-Chi, meditation etc., treating the other person with respect and consideration.

I'm results-oriented: I want results. If that means to give up on the very way I was brought up in, so be it. I need to be healthy... - I so know the very meaning of the saying now that health comes before all else...