Well, I'm back up at the proper time, now getting all the sleep at the same time would be wonderful. I slept a lot yesterday morning, then when I went to bed at about 2230 or so, I was wide assed awake at 0145. Hmmmm, I'll try and stay awake longer today and maybe get all my sleep in one fell swoop. Part of it maybe from a damn nightmare. Well, it was either a nightmare or something bad came for me and a guardian angel and I kicked it's ass. I'm voting nightmare for now, unless it continues when I've not take ZQuil to help me sleep. Nyquil used to give me some fouled up dreams, no reason ZQuil wouldn't as well. Depending on what one believes, I won my fight against the bad guys last night. I know I sure woke up ready to knock some one on their ass, but felt like I'd already done it as well.
Back to doing shit my way. I took this mucus thinning crap the PA and Dr with Hospice wanted me to take to make sure my gunk would cough up okay. After my protestations that I wasn't having any trouble keeping my throat and trach clear. I knew better, because I'd had bad experiences with Mucinex in the past. As in, yes, it thinned my mucus, but I can't swallow so what it did was make it hard to hack up to suction out. So I threw it up instead. Oh the joy of a good barf when there's nothing to keep it from going out your nose. Happened this morning at 0315. The best part of waking up is not throwing up, believe me. Soooooo, when the nurse comes to visit today I'm going to ask if she wants the rest of my OTC mucus thinner, because I'm not using it any more. I'll be back on the Sudafed/Benadryl bandwagon. Works best for me, and if I don't barf using it, all is well in my Kingdom. I'm sure there will be protests about that. Then again I'm dying, they aren't. If it becomes their turn to need Hospice, and I hope they don't have to use them ever, then they can decide what's best for them. Until then, if they get too snotty, I've got "Pogue" next to and "X" on my right but cheek. "Pogue" is kiss in Gaelic, "X" of course marks the spot.
I get asked about how I'm feeling. That's kind of hard to pin down for me, actually. I ache a lot, but that was nothing new before I had cancer. I have broken bone issues, and I abused my body (damn near put abused myself, what a horrid mistake that would of been with this crowd) working like I did in the field. Some days are worse than others, but mostly with the pain patch and a dab here and there of Lortab, it's no big deal. Mentally? That's different as well. Hospice keeps asking me if I sleep at night, or during the day, or at all. Well yes I do. I know they are looking for signs of depression, and I'd bet my last buck that I probably am depressed to some extent, but not to the point that depression is what's keeping me from getting a full night's sleep. That's from waking up to hack my trach clear so I can breathe all that much better. I can breathe through my mouth and nose, but it's getting more difficult. Partly, I think, because of the time of the year. Partly because that's some of where Baxter is building his condo. My voice is getting gravely, so I know he's getting a but bigger. The positive side of that is I'm not sweating swallowing like I did before Chemo last December. That was a bitch to have to fight to get chow down. Now, of course, as long as the tube is clear, I get to eat. So yeah, I probably am depressed on some level. More frustrated that depressed, I believe. I was watching the Texans a bit last night and it dawned on me I've never been to a pro football game. OMG!!! Not that important, but ya know, I was in Houston when they played last fall. Coulda gone to a game. Didn't think I'd half to sweat it, figured "oh shit, next fall I'll arrange a check up and catch a home game the day before". Oops, miscalculation. On the other hand, I save myself a chunk of money not going! So, yeah, coulda been worse.
The physical thing is what gets me, a lot. I know I can't do as much as I could. I don't have the muscle mechanics to over ride what's been moved around. I find too, if I flex my pecs, the one in my mouth flexes some as well. Funny, that's a pec in my mouth, no wonder it wants to tighten up. Bad thing is, when it does, it pulls on what's left of my jaw. A couple of times it's cramped hard enough to pop my jaw out for a second, then releases and snaps back in. That'll put the curds in your cottage cheese by gosh. What's happened as well is that it's tightened my neck up to the point it pulls my entire head forward. Makes my back and shoulders scream and me after a while and tell me I'm an ass and to get them some support before they make my pee pee in my pants just a little. Definitely not a positive side to that side effect at all. Now, on the plus end just a bit, they did release that some, so my posture improved almost immediately. It also made a series of muscles and tendons that hadn't worked since late January rediscover they have a job to do, and THEY get all angry with me if I'm not careful. Overall, though, that last surgery helped. And it's the last I'll ever have to do. When it came to a list of surgeries, my Dr at MDA said "That's enough, we're not sure you can stand another, because we can't fix the cancer. No use in putting you through more pain for zero gain". I like that attitude. I can continue to do what I can to help all this out, but I don't have to be sawn upon any more. I'm tellin ya that's a huge relief. I had a feeling something wasn't right, and while I like my plastic surgeon and his assistant, I didn't like being operated on, even if it was to help fix my face and neck. I always felt like I lost ground somehow. It just took a huge toll on me that I didn't let on about. Everyone was pleased, myself included, by the results. And when he came in, sat on the edge of my bed and said "Mr Smith, we found a spot and biopsied it. It looks cancerous". And even though I looked at him and said "Well, maybe it's a localized spot and that was all of it", I knew better. Hearing that, though, a week later was a stunner for certain.
Today I'm going to take some of the medical supply stuff I don't need anymore. I'm taking it to Gifts of Hope, Hope House. They provide a place for out of town cancer patients to stay free of charge. Eight private rooms, a kitchen, each room with a private shower. Gifts of Hope also helps those without or who are underinsured, monetarily or with direct purchase of some chemo drugs. I'm sure they can use some of the basic essentials for drain care and the like. They are a good bunch. I have been able to do much for them this year, darn it. I like the operation and the people that run it.
What I've come to the conclusion at the end of this particular edition is this: "It coulda been worse". I say that a lot, whether I'm healthy, sick, wealthy or broke. Because in all honesty it COULD have been worse. No matter what you're going through, it coulda been worse than it is. Hell's bells, I coulda dropped dead with they said "Palliative Care". That also means I'd be missing out on some really cool time released addictive drugs.
SIDETRACK!!! Why on God's little green earth do they bother to tell a terminal cancer patient they might get addicted to their pain meds? Is it gonna matter? HA!! I think not! My Grandfather Green got entirely pissed off because they DID give my Grandmother Green Laudanum for her pain. "Why that stuff is opium and that's addictive!". Yes, Dell, it is and it is. On the other hand, ole Ruthie had a lot more good days than bad taking the stuff, and she was for certain going to die. Maybe they say that so the family members can blurt that out, then come to the realization that it's not going to matter in the long run. I don't think I'll be Jonesin' for a fix while I'm on the slab. Maybe it is for the family to come to that point where they can't deny what the inevitable is going to be. Which I suppose is better than just blurting out "Well, Rock, your ass is basically done for! Let's get stoned and enjoy it, whadya say?!"
Wow, I'm harsh LOL!!
Take care all you fine and amazing people. Watch yourselves, and for each other too, hear?