About My Friend Mr. Jeff Hannemen

Three Years Ago Today: The Highlight of My Musical “Career”

I'm sticking with the Heinekens, but doing a few shots here and there.
– Jeff Hanneman

I did not have plans to add this post until I saw a memory from 3 years ago pop up in my Facebook feed. It was a scant three years ago when my friend, the better guitar player in Slayer, and notorious recluse Mr. Jeff Hanneman introduced Dick Delicious and the Tasty Testicles add a show in Spartanburg, South Carolina.

At the beach with Jeff Hannemen don't tell me how to ruin my life
As I mentioned in other posts, some of the craziest stories still sitting in a Microsoft Word document. I have a lot of almost unbelievable stories involving Jeff, including but not limited to handing him his guitar (later became my guitar) right before he walked on stage at the Big 4 in Indio California (his last performance with Slayer.)

I shot this video of Jeff Hannemen's final performance in Indio California
Because of my utmost respect for the man both as a human being and a personal hero, I have been holding these tales back (unlike Sebastian Bach or Charlie Sheen). There are a lot of people in heavy metal that claim to be “the real deal, ” but Jeff was true to the core.

There will be more about Mr. Hannemen in future posts.

Until we are again reunited…somewhere “South of Heaven.”

At the rate I'm going, it won't be long.

JQ

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The Sebastian Bach Career Ender Video

 

“Karma, karma, karma, karma, karma chameleon, You come and go, you come and go.” – Boy George

The Sebastian Bach “Career Ender” Sex Tape!

For those who choose to watch this video: Do so at your own discretion! In a unique way, it's equally is haunting as an ISIS execution:

The Sebastian Bach Career Destroyer from Jason Quinlan on Vimeo.

Amended 12/18: it looks like Minnie Gupta filed in DMCA request. That's OK because I was going to take down the video anyways because she explained she had been dealing with harassment from him for the last two years. Honestly, I was going to apologize to her for not getting around to posting it sooner! LOL See: http://forums.metalsludge.tv/forums/viewtopic.php?f=1&t=337966

If you were late to the party, this is what you missed.

The ISIS execution might be going a bit far, but you get my point.

I've had this sitting on my Vimeo account set to private for months. The footage was sent to me by my ex-girlfriend, who went on to date Sebastian Bach a few years after we broke up.

We were friends before we dated for a year and are cool to this day. She's a rad and smart girl, way out of Sebastian's league.

I thought it was an odd combo.

I always sized up Sebastian Bach is being a massive douche bag, but in the few times that I met him, he seemed like he was pretty cool.

After hearing a few horror stories from her, he must've on his best behavior because he knew her ex was present.

Initially, I didn't know why she sent it to me, but then I read he dumped her for some bimbo he just met, married her days later and charged people money to come to his wedding.

Talk about a douche move?

Can't get much douchier!


A friend suggested she was obviously hoping I’d put it on the internet.

Seeing as the whole Charlie Sheen controversy didn't exactly hurt my Alexa and I don't have anything to lose….

I said, “Fuck it” and posted “The Sebastian Bach Career Ender“.

So now I have to ask myself a question?

Am I like Jules from Pulp Fiction, “The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the iniquities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil.” or am I a douchebag blogger taking advantage of a celebrity to get more traffic.

It helps to see people whose life and is more of a mess than mine and to look down on!

jason quinlan hallowen pulp fiction
I know one thing for sure: The world-famous penis chart from Metal Sludge can't be entirely accurate because my dick is way bigger!

Just for fun, we can put this to a vote….

JASON QUINLAN: Douchebag blogger or champion of women's rights?

View Results

Loading ... Loading ...

If you would like to help me keep writing so I don't have to keep sneaking into Starbucks for WIFI and can actually order of mocha Frapuccino, donations are always appreciated!

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Don’t Me How to Ruin My Online Privacy!

Do You Think This Video Might Have Landed Me on a Terrorist Watchlist?

Just checking in from another lonely night stranded in the Mexican Ghetto.

Last week somebody stole my mountain bike.

No that isn't a punchline to a joke!

I figured while I had already sunk to this level of depravity, I might as well get myself put on the terrorist watchlist for the second time. Now that I think about it, the first round of security antics would be a great topic for the next chapter.

Meanwhile, or somebody turned me on to the Lightbox Firefox Plugin. It allows you to see every website that is monitoring your activity in real time and it's pretty scary.

Check out the video above, and you will see how many eyeballs I had on me just from surfing Facebook and Google. Then I escalated to 12 minutes of surfing jihadist, FBI, ISIS, and NSA websites and you can see the eyeballs multiply exponentially.

I find it pretty scary in 12 minutes I caught the attention of both the US Government and Radical Islam.

Since we are on the subject, even as broke as I am, there was no way I could pass up this deal. Do you have a private VPN for only $2.45 a month and is a pretty impressive thing.

I don't think they are holding this deal for much longer so get in while you can….

pure vpn ad 2017Peace 2017,

JQ

The Next Four Years Should Be Interesting…

Sorry for the brief hiatus from updating this blog.

My Mac got a virus.

Yes, Macs can get viruses.

I thought I lost the entire 180 pages I had written.

Luckily, I searched my Gmail and found what I think was the last draft of the book.

Get ready for more of the bad old days.

I better get this thing published before Donald Trump gets in office or the moon collides with a half-dead earth.

Whichever comes first.

Till then, enjoy this white lady racist remix.

Now that I cannot play guitar…

I have too much time on my hands.

JQ

If You Don’t Have Anything Good to Say: Don’t Say It?

The Descent Continues

Let me see…last three years have been a downward spiral. I lost my house, car, got run over by a truck, lost ability to play guitar (probably the biggest blow), insurance, my bike, got my identity stolen, can't go to the gym anymore because of this stupid Ulnar nerve injury, I had to go to court 5 times to beat a completely frivolous civil complaint (even though I won, I lost after lawyer fees, don't really have a place to live, I can't feel half of my right hand — I'm sure there's more suffering lost in the haze. People always want to blame drugs or alcohol. All my “friends” have left me for dead.

I was expecting that.

The fact is, you don't see me. I'm a recluse. I don't like people. You don't know what the fuck I do. I've been the soberest I've ever been in my life: IT SUCKS!

As far as the rest goes: I don't steal, I'm a man of my word, I have a good work ethic, I help people when I can…

I can tell you what day all of the started and spiraled downward: October 8th, 2013:

Fuck all you greedy bastards.

No matter what I try to do life just sucks more and more. Suicide doesn't even interest me. I'm a sadomasochist I want to see how much I can suffer.

I'm sure there are some schadenfreude human-trafficking motherfuckers out there reading this with the enjoyment.

It not like I want my life to suck, no matter what I do life just keeps smacking me down.

People say “it's all up from here”, but is it?

Really?

The was no point to this article.

Just venting.

#FML

Life In A Mexican Ghetto: Going Back To Cali

I'm going back to Cali, Cali, Cali
I'm going back to Cali – no man I don't think so

– LL Cool J

the real cerberus from your pretty face is going to hell photo

Sorry, I haven't updated this blog in a while, but life has been more tumultuous than normal. I've promised many times that this blog would be a re-accounting of my past, and someday I'll get to that, but when your current life is more fucked up than the shit-show of the past 44 years: That's a bold statement!

Let's do a quick recap because I'm quite sure there's a lot I left out. While I was waiting for the short-sale on my house through Keller Williams. The house had been in short sale negotiations for a while but hadn't reached escrow (or so I was told). I figured I would have at least 60 days to figure out what I was going to do once it went into escrow.

On August 29, Kellar Williams called me and asked if I could be out by the 15th. I asked what happened to telling me about escrow? He made up some bullshit story, and I reminded him that wasn't giving me a hell a lot of time to figure out what I was going to do with my life. He said he would try to buy me some more time and then called me back a few minutes later and asked if I could be out by the 16th.

I've told him, “Jesus fucking Christ, what's the difference?”

So I had to make a plan and make it fast. I figured I would go back to Atlanta where I am more respected as a musician and get back into playing music, maybe even get Dick Delicious back together, and keep on doing the Internet marketing thing. Since I had stayed there many times in the past and for the next three years would not have enough credit to get an apartment I hastily called the Highland Inn in Atlanta to see if they have any rooms open. It's one of those extended stay hotels, it's in a pretty decent neighborhood, and they have free Wi-Fi.

I sold off most of my belongings except for some guitars, amps, computers and clothes. I had about $13,000. I figured I could live on that for a while. So come the 15th, I loaded up a U-Haul behind my 2002 Expedition and started the cross-country trek from Los Angeles to Atlanta which didn't go as smoothly as planned. The day I arrived in Atlanta I noticed I didn't have any feeling in two of my fingers on my left hand. It wound up I had a compressed ulnar nerve and would need surgery. To this day, this is the worst event of my entire life. I can no longer play guitar, and despite the surgery, the symptoms have not improved as of the writing of this blog.

Also, on the first day in Atlanta they have a big Black Lives Matter protest that blocked off the highway. Here is a picture I shot from my Bicycle off one of the bridges that wound up all over Twitter.

Atlanta black lives matter protesters block highway

It was okay back in Atlanta. That is where all my real friends are anyways, of course, in the past 15 years everyone's gotten older and mellowed out quite a bit, and that really didn't bother me. I concentrated on getting my Internet marketing career going again.

After a few unsuccessful attempts at correcting my nerve damage with the chiropractor, I finally went into surgery, and they told me I might feel normal and 18 months to two years, But they couldn't even promise that.

jaso quinlan ulrar nevrve surgery

Two days after leaving the hospital, I went to brush my teeth one morning and was trying to spit up a giant lugee. I couldn't understand why I couldn't spit it up, so after clearing my mouth of toothpaste, I noticed my tonsils were the size of golf balls. I immediately went to a nearby walk-in clinic, and they told me I had tonsillitis which I probably picked up in the hospital. If the swelling didn't go down, I would require another surgery. They gave me some steroids and antibiotics and fortunately they worked, and the swelling subsided, thus dodging going under the knife again.

Sometime over the next few days, I logged into my bank account and saw that it was at negative $888,888.00. My first thoughts were that the IRS had gotten me. I knew I owed them some money, but by doing the math there's no way it could've been not much, so I began the four-hour process of trying to contact Bank of America.

It wound up, in my haste to move, I left a checkbook because someone got a hold of it and started writing bad checks until they had completely drained my bank account. I was able to log into my online banking and find all the bad checks. After a week or so it was resolved, and the money was put back in my account.

Of course, I couldn't stay holed-up my room hacking away on my computer I had to get out and socialize occasionally. From time to time I would visit my favorite local bar the Highlander, but only once a week or so. After my operation and up to now I have not been able to go to the gym or ride a bike as it puts even more undue stress on my damaged nerve.


One day, my friend Juan hit me up and asked me if I wanted to go out and get a few drinks. We got drunk but not THAT DRUNK He was right around the corner, so I went and met him at the bar. We hit the Virginia Highlands and then I returned to the Highland Inn.

The Highland Inn his old school. They have these metal keys for your door. For the last week the metal had fatigued on my key and almost broke off a few times. I should've had it replaced, but I didn't want to be a pain in the balls. That night after returning from the bar I put my key in the door, and the metal on the key started to break. I managed to wiggle the key out of the door before it broke off completely and went down to the front desk to get a new key.

When I reached the front desk there was no one there, but I could hear some guy playing guitar and singing Bob Dylan songs in the back room, and I tried to yell to get his attention for a good 10 minutes to no avail. So I got aggravated and figured I would give it one more try.

I went back to my room and wiggled with the half broken key for a good 10 minutes fighting with the lock and couldn't get it to budge. Finally, out of exhaustion, I just sat down next to my door and said I would try it again or go back to the desk in a few minutes. I sat down, and I fell asleep in front of my door.

Eventually, somebody came by and let me in, and I finally got some sleep. When I woke up the next morning, a note had been slipped under my door saying that I must check out immediately. Of course, I didn't have a Plan B. So I called my friend Shane Morton, and he let me crash at his house for a few days.

It became apparent to me between the nerve damage, tonsillitis, bouncing checks, and forced evictions that Atlanta doesn't want me back. So I decided to move back to California. I have a friend who was kind enough to offer a place to stay if I moved back. She is the bartender at The Rainbow (my favorite bar in LA).

After staying at Shane's for a few nights, I caught a flight back to California. This time, I wouldn't be living in some 2.2M home, I am staying smack dab in the middle of a Mexican Ghetto in West Hollyhood. To be honest, it's no big deal (or at least not yet).

One thing I have learned about life: Material things is not that important. Because as soon as you start owning a lot of stuff, your stuff owns you.

Where do I go from here?

I haven't a clue.

If you would like to help me keep writing so I don't have to keep sneaking into Starbucks for WIFI and can actually order of mocha Frapuccino, donations are always appreciated!

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Thursday 8/18/2016: The Worst Day of My Life!

They got a name for the winners in the world
I want a name when I lose
They call Alabama the Crimson Tide
Call me Deacon Blues – Steely Dan

Jason Quinlan on guitar in Los AngelesThursday Was The Worst Day of My Life By A Long-Shot!

I've been through a lot of hard shit lately, but this week, by far, has been the most difficult pill to swallow: I am officially done as a guitar player, which has been my life lifelong ambition and one real passion.

photo of ulner nerve surgery
After losing my house in California, I was forced to drive across the country with the few things that I wanted to keep: My guitars, amps, computers and other musical equipment.

One of my big reasons for coming to Atlanta was because, even though I was in bands in LA, I always just joined just to keep up my chops, not because I was particularly into what they were doing musically. I always had to be playing. Even if I wasn't jamming in a band, I would pick up the guitar for at least a half hour a day to practice. Despite all the craziness and my detour into porn, I have always considered myself (above all things) a guitar player. I think if you Google my name it even suggests it. I figured I could move to Atlanta, join a few bands, and slowly start piecing my life back together.

Jason Quinlan practicing guitar in Los Angeles

Of course, I would never have that kind of luck. My drive from Los Angeles to Atlanta was loaded with detours and road construction. I should've known I had bad luck in the mail when on the second day I went to adjust the driver's side mirror, and it just fell into the highway and smashed. The 35-hour drive turned into a 45-hour drive.

By the time I was on my third day, I was still west of the Mississippi. I decided that no matter how long I had to drive, I was going to reach Atlanta. I drove from 10 AM that morning until 1 AM the next day without stopping once, except to refuel and grab a coffee and gummy bears.

By the time I reached Atlanta, I was exhausted, but glad I finally made it. I immediately crashed out for a few hours and then when I woke up, I took my beloved ESP Guitar (which belonged to Jeff Hanneman) and tried to play a few notes. My ring finger was half numb, and I couldn't feel my pinky at all. I had lost all dexterity in both fingers and didn't even have the strength to push the strings down with my left hand.

I'm left-hand dominant; I just play guitar right-handed for some reason.

At first, I blew it off, thinking it was just my body tired from the drive, but after a few days, it didn't get better. I decided to go to a chiropractor, after a few adjustments, he told me if I hadn't seen any improvement at all I should see an orthopedist.

I had already been doing some googling, and I had correctly diagnosed myself with a “compressed Ulnar nerve“.

In the meantime, some asshole found one of my old checkbooks I left at my house in California and thoroughly emptied my bank account to $0 (-$500 actually). I am still trying to straighten that out with the bank.

This past Thursday I went into the Emory Spine and Orthopedic Center to get checked out.

You know you were in trouble when you go to the doctor, and the first thing he says is, “Oh shit!”

Apparently, I have some of “the worst Ulnar nerve damage” he's ever seen. Oddly enough, it was the driver's side door from Los Angeles to Atlanta that did me in. Too many hours of it bumping around on the door compressed something in my elbow and impinged the nerve.


I'm going in for surgery on Tuesday, but it's a “Hail Mary”, best case scenario 18 months to 2 years recovery time, but I'm likely never to recover because the nerve is already dead and the muscle in my hand has already begun to atrophy. I know, the same thing happened to Dave Mustaine, that was in 2002 when he could heal quicker as well.

Of a lot of hard days I've had lately, Thursday was by far the worst.

In case any of you motherfuckers thought I was a slouch on guitar: I could play even the best under the table. I was going to put together a compilation of guitar solos, but it is emotionally too much for me to handle right now. Here's just a taste, follow the link to the video for more:


Discography:

Personal Soundcloud: – https://soundcloud.com/jason-quinlan (a little bit of everything with a lot of unreleased home recordings)

Dick Delicious and Tasty Testicleshttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d2O-sDvLN_o&list=PL72xSCDRz8gKY5DPYV-I9_eKqeEcgu8Sn(perhaps the band I'm best known for)

The Despised: https://www.facebook.com/despisedatlanta/ – A Punk band featuring Atlanta comedy kingpin Rodney Leete. I wrote all the hit songs but got none of the credit. Now my music career is over, they say comedy comes from a place of pain, I have plenty of that.

Bath Salts Cannibals: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLflmlm4r2SuRkvL4_Wx93vcEr0LgXxrj2 – Thrash project that was struck down before it had a chance to bud because the other guitarist developed cubital tunnel syndrome (ironically).

The Spo-It's: https://www.reverbnation.com/thespoits – This band has been kicked out of more clubs in the Southeast than GG Allin.

Operation and Asparagus: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLflmlm4r2SuTXjM_GxrcvDwUi9j1eoOrU – These are all home recordings with me playing every instrument. No particular genre but there're a few hits, perhaps best known for “Ballad of Mr. Marcus” and “Real Men Get Drunk On Tuesday.”

Kreephttp://www.kreeponline.com/ – Los Angeles Project with singer Brett from the band Bile.

Rumble Pig Version 1 & Version 2 – only audio/video record avaialable here.

COV – spare your ears, Lamb of God wannabes.

So that's my musical “career” in a nutshell. Maybe I'll try comedy for a minute, if not, I'm going out like my man HST.

It's not like I make money writing this. Donations are always appreciated! 🙂

jason quinlan paypal

‪JQ

Don’t Tell Me I Can’t End My Life!

“I would feel real trapped in this life if I didn't know I could commit suicide at any time.” ― Hunter S. Thompson

Check fraud Jason Quinlan
Just when you think life can't kick you in the teeth any worse, it does.

Quick recap…

1. I was completely screwed over by my piece of shit partners. That was three years ago and the beginning of my descent.

2. 2015 happened.

3. I lost my dream house, and now I'm living homeless after moving back to Atlanta.

4. The day I returned I couldn't feel any sensation in my left fingers; they were weak, and I have lost all motor skills. It winds up I came down with “cubital tunnel syndrome“, most likely caused by having my arm resting on the driver's side door on the three day trip across the country. Despite what all the trolls and the haters are saying in the comments of the blog my three favorite things to do in life is going to the gym, mountain biking and playing guitar. I haven't been able to do any of this stuff in two months, and it's likely I never will again.

5. Today I found out that I have been the victim of check fraud (see above) and what little money I had left is completely gone.

In the meantime, Charlie Sheen, who is easily 1000 times more evil of a person than I ever thought of being is slowly becoming a hero and an AIDS activist and that makes me vomit.

I still have so many more stories to tell of my “glory days,” Some of them are funny, and I probably should stick around long enough to re-account them, but at this point, I don't even feel like I'm living for pretending like there were any “good old days.”

I'm just existing.

I can exist anywhere. Right now I would prefer to be 6 feet below the ground.

If there is anyone out there, please remove the albatross from my neck or just let me die. I am beyond taking it anymore.

As a caveat, I have a bunch of stupid motherfucking trolls that ride my nuts in the comments of this blog. I am sure they will try to blame this on drugs or alcohol. The fact is, I've been basically sober for over a year now (for the most part). I suppose you are going to blame the cubital tunnel syndrome and the check fraud on the drugs?

Before you start doing that, I've made up a nice batch of blue Kool-Aid for you.

Drink it.

If you would like to help me keep writing so I don't have to keep sneaking into Starbucks for WIFI and can actually order of mocha Frapuccino, donations are always appreciated!

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JQ

I Got My DEATH Threat from Dwight Cunningham (aka “Dave From The Luxury Companion”)

A death threat is a threat, often made anonymously, by one person or a group of people to kill another person or groups of people. These threats are often designed to intimidate victims to manipulate their behavior, and thus a death threat can be a form of coercion. – https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Death_threat

dark picture of Jason Quinlan

I'm so excited! I got my first death threat from this blog today, I was going to leave names out of would fuck it – I Got My DEATH Threat from Dwight Cunningham (aka “Dave From The Luxury Companion”)! I don't fabricate stories to try to get attention and unlike Mike South, I don't take down posts and deny they existed. I dish out bowls of 100% #truthsoup! I do have every reason to take this threat seriously, but to be quite honest: If you kill me, it takes the pressure off me to do something I haven't had the courage to do myself. I think about suicide every day anways. If I kill you trying to defend myself, that is a win-win. It has always been a fantasy of mine to take someone else's life.

I'm not going to say who was the one who made the death threat but I should've kept them on speaker phone longer instead of hanging up so I could capture some of his sadistic rant. I will entrust someone with the name of that person, so if I'm killed, they are likely to spend the rest of their miserable life getting ass-raped in prison.

Oh yeah, when you want to start making a death threats, it's probably a good idea to block your caller ID. I'm sure was done from a burner phone but the number is (213) 379-0075. Check on Spokeo if you want:

<br/ ><br/ ><br/ ><br/ >So if you want to have do some fun, bring it. I'm not hiding where I am or my phone number.

If you want to try to guess who it is, just leave their name in the comments.

I haven't lied to you yet, and I won't start now.

If you would like to help me keep writing so I don't have to keep sneaking into Starbucks for WIFI and can actually order of mocha Frapuccino, donations are always appreciated!

jason quinlan paypal

JQ

Tuberculosis and Me

What do Nelson Mandela, George Orwell, Tom Jones, Cat Stevens, Desmond Tutu, Florence Nightingale, Edgar Allan Poe and Jason Quinlan all have in common? – We Are All Tuberculosis Survivors!

jason quinlan in the hospital
 

In March 2008, I had my official “Off Probation” party! I was free — finally free from rednecks cops in South Georgia.

Or was I?

During that time I was in an on-again-off-again relationship with a girl named Yvette. If there is one regret in this book/blog, I should've stayed with Yvette. At the time I was making money hand over fist, I had a mansion in the Hollywood Hills, a condo on the Vegas strip, a Mercedes, was relatively young, in porn, and had bitches on my dick like they had scurvy and I could cum orange juice.

picture of yvette garcia and jason quinlan

It was a lot of temptation: Being young, rich and having lots of shiny objects. I wanted to live that lifestyle for a minute, or that's what I thought. Now, in this late hour, I can tell you none of it means a goddamn thing.

I admit, I went a bit crazy drinking and partying when the whole probation debacle had ended. I would selfishly break up with my girlfriend, so I could go out and go nuts, and then we would always wind up back together.

But just a month later, in April 2009 I started to wake up late at night drenched in mysterious pools of sweat. At first, I thought it was just my nerves or maybe just partying. As the weeks went on, my condition worsened.

I started to Google “night sweats” on Web MD and saw there were three conditions commonly associated with night sweats:

1. Menopause – I could rule that one out!

2. Tuberculosis – Nobody gets that disease anymore!!

3. AIDS – I knew it, I had the monster: The High Five. All those women. All that unprotected sex. I went down to the AIM clinic (the old porn clinic) to get checked for HIV. You'd get your results in 24 hours. That endless night, I mentally Rolodexed every shady piece of pussy I've banged. I narrowed down to 2 or 3 girls that gave me the bug. Fortunately, of the tests came back negative. For a short time, the symptoms abated. I chalked it all up to being psychosomatic.

It wasn't long before the symptoms came back except a worse. I would start sweating the bed so profusely that I would have to change my clothes and sheets two or three times almost every night, during the day I began to feel weak, but oddly enough I never coughed up blood or did anything like your typical tuberculosis patient.

By the end of May, I couldn't ignore the sickness anymore. I was starting to feel run down and losing weight, but still wasn't convinced that it was anything serious, so I went to see a doctor and told him, “I think I have the flu.” He checked my breathing. My left lung obstructed. The doctor said I should go directly to the emergency room and get a chest x-ray. It didn't seem like my left lung, was inflating.

I was so sick that one of my lungs had already collapsed. The funny thing was, the doctors said my lung had been collapsed for about two weeks. Even stranger, I was still able to workout and go on 20-mile-bike rides. I had no clue I was doing it on one lung!

I got to the emergency room and admitted immediately; I still didn't think I was that sick. The medics start running all kinds of tests, X-rays, TB, HIV, bloodwork, immune response, and everything checked out normal, but I keep getting sicker and sicker. That is the thing with TB, once the virus goes “active” it doesn't show up anymore on those pinprick tests like you used to get school. What they are doing is injecting a small amount of tuberculosis to see if your body will resist it. Of course, when your body is loaded with TB the test turned out negative.


Once I have a negative TB and HIV test they began treating me for rare diseases such as Valley Fever. They put me on antibiotics so hard-core it wasn't used in humans anymore. That just made me sicker.

X-rays show that I have a massive effusion in my pleural cavity. They drain the liquid out of me by sticking some spikes in my back. I was awake for this, and it was terrifying, but the infection it still keeps coming. The doctors think it might be TB and order a second round of test that proves inconclusive.

Halfway through my stay, I have to get a major operation (a thoracostomy) to remove the infection from my lungs. The operation is a success, but the infection still keeps coming. If the source of the infection still couldn't identify, so if this didn't stop I was going to go through all of this again

After being in the hospital for 18 days, they think that I way have had and am released. The day after I get home, a blood test used to screen for TB came back positive. To find out if I had TB, I would have to wait six weeks for the results of my biopsy. To be safe, I was placed on a regimen of anti-TB meds.

The odd thing is withing 3-4 days of taking them I felt as if nothing had happened.

In July, the results of my biopsy came back: I had tuberculosis. Worse yet, I've left the hospital with an active case of it. To this very day they quarantine TB patients.

I probably had contracted TB somewhere overseas in my travels or (even more ironically) in prison. TB an airborne disease that anyone can get, one-out-of-3 persons in the world ARE exposed to it; it just requires something to wear you body down (in my case it was alcohol) enough to become active. I also had atypical pleural TB, which isn't in your lungs, so I could't cough and spread it. If you hung out with me in that period you are fine “I wasn't contagious”.

I spent the whole summer of 2009 sober. I wasn't even smoking weed. Honestly, once the TB meds had taken effect, I felt pretty much normal, aside from the pain from the surgery.

If you have been reading this far, you probably realize: I like to drink. I can't help it. I suffer from a form of social anxiety. I am a silent and shy person naturally; it takes some alcohol to bring be out of my shell. When I am sober, even the most mundane of social scenarios make me nervous and fidgety. If you know me, that may seem ridiculous, but it's true.

One of the cruel tricks TB meds play on you is they completely cure the disease (if taken correctly) but destroy your liver at the same time. The state also assigns the health department on you. It's a total pain in the balls, and ironically it was just like probation!

The last 6 months of 2009, I have been getting complete blood workups done once a month and as of December 17, 2009, I was completely cured, and my liver survived. I would always ask the doctor “Are you sure you have the right chart?” when he said everything as OK.

So, I am free to live my life again, right?

Not Really!

JQ

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