Saturday, April 15, 2006
Callous
So my sister called me the other day to inform me that Paul Wirtz, my skating coach in Montreal, has died. He couldn't have been very old. I quit skating about ten years ago. He would have been in his early forties then, I imagine. Maybe 39 to 42. That range. So he would be in his early fifties now. What a tragedy, bla bla bla. I don't care. I don't care that this man is dead.
Don't get me wrong, I'm sad that we don't have a cure for hodgkinson's disease. I have an academic pity for those who loved him. But I won't miss this man at all, I don't feel that I lost any chance to contact him, or remain in contact with him, I don't feel I've lost a mentor. He was an abusive and stupid man that I was glad to have realised that I didn't need to be shackled to. When I realised that continuing to skate was actually my decision to control, and not my mother's or my father's or my skating coach's or the judges of the competitions or ANYONE but me, I felt so beautifully free.
He said things like "school is really important" to my parents, and directly contradicted that with me: "I don't care about school, you're here to skate." I was in grade eleven, a straight A student when I went there, and I was seriously considering dropping out of school. Appalling. He was a bad teacher, a bad mentor. His boyfriend was beautiful. That's about it.
In other news, I am concerned for my health, but have been debating telling my doctor when I get the check-up, that I had unprotected sex with the Vancouver asian. Gah. I know a lecture would be forthcoming, and I would deserve one, but I am already stressed enough for my doctor, myself and everyone else in my entire life. Any of the things I say to allay my fear (he seemed healthy, he told me he was negative, he had friends, he has a kid, he was in a long term relationship with someone, he pulled out) are all pale comforts. I feel like an idiot and I don't want to die.
Don't get me wrong, I'm sad that we don't have a cure for hodgkinson's disease. I have an academic pity for those who loved him. But I won't miss this man at all, I don't feel that I lost any chance to contact him, or remain in contact with him, I don't feel I've lost a mentor. He was an abusive and stupid man that I was glad to have realised that I didn't need to be shackled to. When I realised that continuing to skate was actually my decision to control, and not my mother's or my father's or my skating coach's or the judges of the competitions or ANYONE but me, I felt so beautifully free.
He said things like "school is really important" to my parents, and directly contradicted that with me: "I don't care about school, you're here to skate." I was in grade eleven, a straight A student when I went there, and I was seriously considering dropping out of school. Appalling. He was a bad teacher, a bad mentor. His boyfriend was beautiful. That's about it.
In other news, I am concerned for my health, but have been debating telling my doctor when I get the check-up, that I had unprotected sex with the Vancouver asian. Gah. I know a lecture would be forthcoming, and I would deserve one, but I am already stressed enough for my doctor, myself and everyone else in my entire life. Any of the things I say to allay my fear (he seemed healthy, he told me he was negative, he had friends, he has a kid, he was in a long term relationship with someone, he pulled out) are all pale comforts. I feel like an idiot and I don't want to die.
// posted by MSR @ 8:46 AM 
Comments:
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Why tell your doctor? Say you want a bloodtest and whatever else you might need as a general health check, knowing that you're in a high risk community. If he asks if you've been involved in any high risk activity, say no but it's good to make sure. Don't let fear of a lecture stop you from getting some peace of mind.
We've all done it before, too, by the way. We're just lucky, and so too will you be.
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We've all done it before, too, by the way. We're just lucky, and so too will you be.
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