What the hell, lets talk about it

I've always said if you have questions, I'm more than happy to answer them if I can, or at least to the best of my understanding and ability. I get some pretty good questions as well. Some that deal with the specific science I can't answer, because that part either went so for over my head I got a nose bleed, or it just wasn't important to me and I didn't pay attention.

Are you scared?  You know, oddly enough, no I'm not. One would think you should be. I mean, geez, I'm facing the end of my life, right? Scary shit, right? Nope, not really. In fact it was almost a relief. Now, I know for certain. Okay, not for certain because I don't know what's going to happen until the time comes.  But with a better certainty. The gnawing, anxious feeling of "my throat is sore, is it back" is gone. Hell yes it's back, and boy did I piss it off. Whipping it twice apparently just cramped Baxter's style,  and he came back with a vengeance. Baxter was what my daughter Sarah named my cancer the first time: Baxter the Bastard. To me, scared is a bad thing, it clouds your rational thought, you pause when you should act, it makes bad things happen. Nervous, anxious, those are things to work around. Once you're scared of something it's a bitch to get over that fear and it can cripple you. I don't like that to happen. I always tell My Boys "Panic will kill ya", so can being scared and fear. Gut feelings and scared/fear are two different things. That little nagging voice is something we should pay attention to, it's the reason I went back to the Doctor just 2 months after my last all clear exam. Pay attention, it can save your life. It did mine twice. It's funny it was silent between May and July. I need to find out what his frickin problem was then.

How's your family? They are sad. Hell, I'm sad sometimes. They are getting better and more relaxed all the time. We laugh more and that's a good thing. Liz and I can talk about what's coming without breaking voices and tears. That too is a good thing. The two older kids and I text some pretty good conversations. The two younger kids and I go about our days pretty much the same. Not like at first where I think they were too upset to be around me much. That I can understand as well. My siblings are sad too. We don't see each other often enough, and that's too bad. We talk some on FB and texts but I really need to get up north and see them.

If you knew it was going to turn out this way, would you do it all the same? I'd be lying if I said I didn't think about that. Sure I did, but the answer, no matter how I roll it around is, yes I would. See, if I'd taken the chemo, it'd slowed down the tumors, but they'd come back. At the time I started chemo before surgery the tumors were growing fast enough to make it hard to swallow, and talk. My voice was already getting raspy, and sometimes even water was hard to get down. I ate like a pig the month before my surgery, but the tumor and chemo still caused some weight loss. In the end, yeah, I'd do it again. It did clear up the cancer for 6 months. It just wasn't meant to stay away.

Did they give you a specific time frame, or odds? Nothing specific, because people differ and each time of demise is still not set in stone for any of us, and unlike how they feel about it, Doctors ain't God. My odds were 20-30% if I didn't do chemo, 20-40% if I did, and 50% if I did the clinical study. All those are for making it a year. Therein lies the rub. Do the chemo and be sick for who knows how long, do nothing and croak sooner, do the clinical and be WAY sick (but possibly help others down the road). Here's how I worked it out for myself. That nagging gut feeling came back and says to one chemo cycle and see Christmas time. So at least one cycle will happen. Depending on how sick it makes me and results will determine whether I do more. If I'd not been so cut up, and the surgery was not an option at the time, I'd jumped the Clinical Study. They've got all kinds of samples of my tumors, and other body parts that died. That's all they need from me this time.

Did you ask what was going to happen? Yes I did, and it was explained to me in pretty good detail as to what was coming up as far as how things are going to progress. Am I going to share that? Nope, that's mine to keep for me. It gives me focus on the here and now. You guys get to be surprised, I don't wanna be.

How do you stay positive? Really? What's left? Abject depression and hopelessness? I'll pass thank you. This is what it is. It's coming for everyone eventually. Shit yes I'd like to be around to have a couple of great grandkids to play with, but that so far isn't gonna happen. That's just my life, better or worse it's gonna happen. If I get down, I die faster. I'm not giving Baxter the satisfaction, the fucker. And yes, there are times I think "Fuck this, I'm tired/hurting/can't breathe, and I wish it'd stop". That doesn't last long. I think somewhere out there is someone who needs ME to be upbeat so THEY can be upbeat about what's going on in their life. Helping folk is what we should do, right? My niece told me she still laughs about me singing "Les Poissons" from The Little Mermaid to her and Sarah, accent and all. That's a good memory, and a fun one. The more I look at those times, how can I get down in the dumps?

How are you going to spend your year? Hell, I don't know. I'm a bit boogered up so my options are kind of limited. I can probably ride the bike a bit, but I really need to sell Fat Girl to pay for my cremation and stuff. I'm going to a couple, maybe three Highland Games  in September and October. I'd like to set up a "Throw for the cure" event to be held at some games at the AD's discretion. That money that would be raised would stay local to help folk in my position with less insurance. I'll read some, play on the blog, walk, put things in my PEG tube that shouldn't be in there. Keep working on speaking and swallowing (although that may be a labor of Sisyphus), hang out with the family and some friends. Have a "Goodbye Rock" BBQ and party here in Midland and have all my affairs in order before hand. And, last but not least, die on my own damn terms. We should all have a good time.

  I get all kinds of questions on all kinds of topics, and have a good time answering them. Well, until the person asking wells up and their voice  cracks, because then mine will too. That's okay, it's part of facing your mortality.
 I say "It's going to be okay" and hear "No, it's not" back a lot. Yeah, it really will be okay. This is how it is, it's part of my life. I've had fun, loved, fought and lost, fought and won, seen the beautiful and the ugly. It's a good life, and I lived it on my own terms. Sometimes at a snails pace, other times like I stole the damn thing, and it's gone by in a flash. Crazy shit, baby, but it's my crazy shit.
If you've the stomach for a broadside, come aboard, I'll take you places you never thought you'd go. And we'll scream like idiots along the way