Life in the Slow Lane

For the past ten years, ever since I was diagnosed with sleep apnea in my late fifties, I've been on a quest to get a decent night's sleep.

"There are no good options here," the surgeon said, confirming what I had just figured out, the realization snaking its way into my mind and body.

I've never been one for sitting still...

I live in a communal house in downtown Boston, on the city's historic Beacon Hill.

I was lying on a gurney at Massachusetts General Hospital, my stomach gurgling and growling after two days with virtually no food...

Over Memorial Day weekend, I found myself sitting in the Great Room in the lodge at Easton Mountain, a retreat center for gay men in the wilds of Upstate New York.