Dammit anyway.

I am talking to my Old City sponsor every day at this point.  His cancer has a lot of momentum and is romping forward gleefully.  He's a hospice patient which means that his care now revolves around pain management and end of life quality issues.  Our conversations have been on the topic of death and dying, being prepared for what's next, spiritual certainty, and other threads that are  grim on the surface but end up being strangely uplifting, and this despite his attempts to steer the conversation back to me and my circumstances.  Alcoholics make a big deal out of standing tall and facing our problems instead of running away in fear.  It isn't pleasant doing this.  I feel weirdly disconnected as I do it.  I can't believe it's me in the middle of these talks, and I'm not the guy who's sick.

I've been swimming against the tide of some low-level anxiety the last couple of weeks.  A lot of the time I can put my finger on what idiotic, unimportant problem of prosperity is bothering me, but this spell has been of the free-floating variety.  I'm not an overly emotional guy - I'm pretty steady-as-she goes in my approach to life, never too up and never too down.  Still, I think this is affecting me in a way that I can't really appreciate right now.  I don't feel Upset!! but I think I'm upset, and I think it's the impending death of this man.

Little Westside Jonny helped a posse of guys from one of my sponsor's regular groups take a meeting into his care facility last night.  He said it was a powerful meeting, listing the same reasons that I've just finished detailing when I asked him to clarify his remarks.  Men and women on a true spiritual path inspire in so many ways.