Chapter Sixteen:
Running in the "Red"
1999 was the year in which I worked as a fire-towerman, in Prince Albert National Park at Wabeno Lake, plus a few days at Blue Bell tower, near Blue Bell Lake also in the Prince Albert National Park. The summer before, I had gotten a job at a remote tower located at Sanctuary Lake, also in the Prince Albert National Park. Those were interesting times…. I would climb a ladder about 80 ft (27m) high, that led up to a little structure that was built, up above the forest canopy, on a steel rectangular foundation… The structures were apparently lightning resistant. The structure was a type of octagonal hut that was big enough for a person to sit, comfortably inside and it was fully enclosed in an octagonal shape with plexiglass-type windows, and, in the very center of the hut there was a rotating compass-that was actually a circular piece of steel with North marked on it and 0-360 degrees was marked out on the steel. There was a rotating steel sight on top of it that you could look down and take aim at a landmark out on the horizon. If you saw smoke, which was the actual job, (to look for smoke during the forest fire season,) then you could line up your iron sight on the compass with the smoke column you saw and then use the radio that you were equipped with, to call in the location of the smoke by the degree heading from the tower. For example you might see smoke 10km away at a heading of 270 degrees. You could call that in to dispatch. The dispatcher and the team at headquarters could then take the information that was given by the towerman, and then plot a course for aircraft pilots to fly out to research the potential fire and then further action would theoretically ensue, which might include an airstrike with water bombers and then a crew of initial attack fire fighters, to be dispatched by helicopter, to suppress the fire with water pumps and hoses and hand tools.
Yes, I was part of that world,.... Not for long, mind you, but a part of it nonetheless. I really enjoyed going to my various gigs as a towerman. I saw some beautiful and interesting things during my short career too,....Once, at Sanctuary tower, in the middle of a sunny afternoon in mid August, a large bird of prey, an Osprey perhaps, flew by my tower, clutching in its talons, a freshly-caught fish that was still wet and wriggling! Another day, I looked down and saw an Elk walk by,.... There was that, plus hundreds of pelicans, wildflowers around my cabin,..., and a wonderful chance to experience something off the beaten track of everyday civilian city life. I didn’t know it at the time, but I was very lucky. Flying into the towers was interesting, as we flew in by helicopter, and then staying in the cabin for about 12 nights and working thirteen days straight with no human contact was really something- something different and difficult. The solitude was beautiful and hard at the same time. I would sit up there in my tower and just think,... About the things I told you about earlier,..., about AIDS, and the existence of God, and the meaning of life and suffering, and the future, and happiness,.... My mind was full of questions and it was no different up in the tower, but it was better than sitting at home!
1999 was also the year in which I dropped out of University. That happened in October. I couldn’t handle student life. In the fall of 1999, it was an embarrassing and awkward situation walking into my parents house and telling them sheepishly, yet sincerely and urgently, “I think I have a mental illness,...” They didn’t understand what I was talking about, most people don’t understand or have a difficult time even imagining what it is like to have OCD. But life went on.
My parents and relatives had their own beliefs about what was normal and what was good. Everybody has their viewpoints and beliefs. I was lucky in many respects because my parents cared enough for me that they never really scoffed at my plight. They would listen,.... They wouldn’t scoff,..., and, they might not have given me great advice either,..., but in the end, they would always encourage me to press on and to look for the good in life…. They always had a place for me in their home. They wanted the best for me. It was because of them that I could go out and do all that hunting. My parents did as they thought was best, knowing what they knew. It didn’t always sit well with me. My parents expected me to stay busy and to be either working at a job or studying something. I didn’t feel like doing anything. OCD was bothering me at all times, asking questions, creating imaginary scenarios, flooding my body with fight, flight, or freeze reactions and the accompanying stress….
Toward the end of 1999, I began to experience discomfort in my stomach, coupled with loose stools and the passing of blood from time to time during bowel movements. This was prime “food for OCD thought.” I was already overwhelmed by my mind. With the occurrence of the stomach troubles, I was troubled far more….
The stomach troubles weren’t too bad, but the bowel movements were very disconcerting. The holiday season came in 1999 and parties were being thrown. A friend of mine held a gathering at his place and I went, as I loved to drink, either alone, or even better, with friends or – acquaintances…. In those days, I drank beer, like I breathed the air, and I stocked the basement with 24 packs of Molson’s Pilsner. I also kept a bottle of whiskey in the cupboard and every night– and I mean every night, I would drink beer or whiskey or both.
My friend threw a party and I went, and it was quite an event,.... I would sit and drink my beer, trying to enjoy the people, the atmosphere, and my surroundings,.... It was difficult to do that though, because all the while, as I sat there, in the company of my high school mates, I would constantly be aware of different things going on in my mind that caused serious discomfort…. I might see a woman, and feel an attraction, but at the next moment, be filled with the memories of all the times I had spent obsessing over AIDS, and that would really disempower me, and then I would think of other things that I was obsessing about during that day, even things that I was continually doing, that very day, like how I had panicked when I used the washroom and flushed the toilet, and worried that I had somehow got poop on my hand, and now there might be traces of it on my hands, and, couldn’t you get sick from that? And, what if I was making passionate love to that woman and she,... ”-- and I would be overcome with those feelings of panic again, in real time, in the company of friends…, It was a real problem. It was disempowering. It filled me with fear, despair, and sadness. How could I enjoy myself, just sitting and chatting while drinking my beer with friends? It was Christmas time. I had shot deer and ducks. I had witnessed divine spirit, yet now it eluded me again, and I smiled my best fake smile and I was terribly distraught inside and reached for another Pilsner. It was easy to feel hate. I wanted to feel better,... and so I drank, and I did so on a nightly basis. I’ll always remember looking over at the sink near the bar at my friend’s house that night, and feeling a jolt of panic, as I checked to see if there was any water coming out of the faucet. It was just something I would do. Is the water on or off? I was so troubled about it,.... I looked at the faucet and nothing was coming out, but the question “what if you were wrong?” flashed and I felt I had to look again,.... I didn’t want to look. I wanted to resist the compulsion! Why did I care about the water and the faucet? It didn’t make any sense. That just added to the stress of it all. I wanted to resist it so badly, and yet, that feeling of sheer panic, that icy feeling of doom and that raised heart beat,... it began…. Five minutes passed and then maybe seven…., I could hardly handle it,.... I was physically at the party, but mentally I was long gone, back into the secret personal war,..., and in my mind and body there was an anxiety present - as if bombs were going off and dirt and foulness were flying at me, and all there was was uncertainty, and a panic-filled feeling of doom! A feeling of doom that might befall you if people with freshly severed arms and legs and with shit oozing out of their gaping abdominal cavities, were crying for their mothers and some ghastly enemy was advancing on them (and you) and they were begging you for your help—.... I was completely powerless against it (but I could drink more beer, and check things more carefully…). It was not of this world! It was an enemy in the brain–so terrible and indomitable– far beyond the strength of the steel of my rifle or my hunting knife, and it could reach me at any time or place, and it usually found me when I could least handle it and when I least wanted it– the war was real and the feelings were…
Somebody mentioned my name at the party,..., and I came back into the room and turned my attention over to the conversation that was taking place near to where I was sitting. I saw the steel faucet that had been troubling me, glistening in the light out of my peripheral vision–....
“What’s up?” I asked with a smile…. The TV was playing off to the side and a group of High school mates sat and watched it. On the TV there was a tall skinny guy talking about something…. He had grey jeans on and running shoes and a white t-shirt, and he looked very silly…. The man on TV was talking to a lady who also looked a little silly too… I turned my full attention to the TV screen now and the characters were talking about something of no interest to me,.... I hadn’t even noticed it, but the man on the TV screen was completely bald on the top of his head and then he had thin, wispy hair, growing from the back and sides of his head,..., his wispy hair, full of split ends traced down over his shoulders and it looked awful.
One of the people at the party who was sitting nearby was a guy who liked to insult people. He was sitting nearby just waiting for an opportunity to say something mean so that he could feel good….
“Hislop!...” he said in a loud voice,--- and the room grew quiet,...
Before I could think he continued,..
“Hislop!” he laughed out merrily,... “You should grow your hair out like that,...” he chortled in sarcastic satisfaction as he pointed to the guy on the TV screen….”
The room was quiet. Everybody heard him say it. He was making fun of my baldness. In front of everyone…
I sat there and soaked up the full impact of his comment. I was, for all intents, and purposes,...,totally bald…. I was hurt, even more than I had been before he said it, if that was even possible,....
My face immediately went beet- red and flushed, hot with shame and anger! You probably couldn’t see it in the dimly lit room but I was overwhelmed with shame,..., and I sat there thunderstruck,.... Maybe some people would have been unaffected by the comment, but it cut me right to the bone. I was, and still am, an extremely sensitive person. I could have retorted with something cutting and cruel- but I didn’t. This guy, the one who said it, was a compulsive liar, who told the most unbelievable lies, and the kicker was that he had such confidence in his own bullshit and his own ,( ridiculous) made up lies!—and that no one would notice it—- ! But his lies were so incredibly incredulous!!!– they were absurd, laughable even, and I knew they were lies, instantly, whenever I heard them because he would tell me outlandish stories about his deer hunting and he didn’t realize the sheer volume of hours that I had spent in the woods in search and in study of deer! He hadn’t the faintest clue how stupid his stories sounded to me, and how pathetic they sounded,....
I thought of it- it wasn’t worth it, to retaliate toward this moron,.... I had my own nightmare I was living, I didn’t have the energy to try teaching him not to be an asshole, or that his lies were so easily spotted, as such. Besides, how would that help me? I already had enough stress happening in my mind, so I sat there in silence and let his insult go unanswered, sheltered somewhat, by the cloak of darkness that engulfed the area of the room in which I sat. Everyone seemed to continue to watch the show- and I mumbled something in reply, trying to make it seem as if I didn’t care,... but I did care.
I gradually began to drift back into the land of my mind, checking the silver faucet, reviewing the conversation that had just taken place,....while I began to think, remembering the silver faucet…. I felt a pang of panic- I caved in and looked over at it– naturally it was still as it had been 15 minutes before. I turned to the host of the party and checked with him, as if his reassurance might stop my OCD…
“That tap is off, right? I asked him nonchalantly-, hoping he wouldn’t turn to me and say, “WHATT??” and look at me like I had three heads!
He looked over at it and said “yeah,...” without even giving it a second thought, and then he turned back with a smile to his conversation with a couple of other chums….
I looked all around the room…, groups of people were spaced out around the room, sipping their drinks and listening to each other's stories, some talking, others listening and nodding in step as they conversed. Everybody was busy in the moment– living life,-- but not me…. I was living in my head. I drifted back into the mire of the mind where everything was doom and despair and I marveled at the sheer foulness of my life at times,.... I went over to my case of beer and grabbed another one,.... If I couldn’t control people or my reaction to people and my addiction to checking things to relieve my anxiety, well, I could at least get floor-lickin’ drunk!
A couple minutes later, somebody offered shooters of tequila and I charged in… “I’ll take one!” I declared, defiantly! I took the shooter and I downed it in a quick gulp. It burned going down and I liked the burn because it was within my control. I knew it wasn’t ideal, getting drunk at every opportunity,..., but before I could be ideal, I had to first survive. Within a couple of hours I was passed out on the floor. That was how I survived.
The year of 1999 was coming to an end, and everybody seemed to be talking about the coming year, “2000.” It was a phenomenon to which the term “Y2K” was coined. Everybody was talking about “Y2K”,.... People worried about possible (catastrophic) cataclysmic events that might or might not take place, around the world, when the clocks and computers rolled over to the year 2000…. I didn’t care one bit, because I had my own personal war and it captured my attention at all waking hours of the day and each day, even though I had been struggling, full time, for nearly 2 years, it was still a terrible struggle, to which there was no end in sight.