Lifting and training was a part of my life for a long time. I put it on hold when I got married the first time. Started again when I was in Elkhart. Put that on hold while I was moving to Midland. Got started again and unless I was too sick, or really hurt, or on vacation, I didn't miss any days. I went while I was on Chemo, both times. I went infrequently while I did radiation. This is the longest stretch of time I've been without. It's disheartening to see how much strength I've lost. It makes it difficult to get wound up and dive in when it seems the harder I try, the more ground I loose. I also know that sounds foolish, since I've got a limited amount of time left. But that's part of why I'm determined to get back in and do something, even if it's with piss poor results. I used to pride myself in being able to out work and out last the guys half my age. Boy, that's turned around a bunch. I can barely walk a quarter mile without being winded or having to suction myself. Pain in the ass.
I've had so much surgery that nothing from my neck to my shoulder blades work right. Before I'm headed to the old urn, I'd like to try and fix some of that. Somewhere out there is my way to get that done before things take that southern turn and I can't do diddly shit for myself. Finding that within myself has gotten a bit more difficult the last few months. I'm not sure why, exactly. Yeah, it makes me hurt like nothing I've ever had hurt before. If I'm not careful, it makes my pectoral muscle squeeze down enough to make me dribble in my gym pants. That's not the problem, those are things that everyone who trains runs into from time to time. Nothing unusual there. I don't think I'm depressed. Not enough to just quit, at any rate. I am sure there's probably a bit of that going on, I figure to not believe that is probably like pissing up a rope. Impressive until it starts running back down. So, somewhere I've got to rat out where that bit of determination went. It's there, it's just hiding out for the time being. Or maybe it's tired too. I am. This has been a long haul. It's gonna get longer. Maybe Determination can't do both. That is help me fight the cancer for as long as I can, as well as get me to drag my ass into the gym. We'll see, starting tomorrow. Now I've got to figure out how to not go at it so fast I really wear myself out.
I am losing more and more of my ability to speak well. That's going to be a pain in the ass for me. I was getting used to the family being able to understand 90% of what I said. That's sliding. I see it everyday if they don't. The SLP is helping hold it where it is for now. But I'm not sure how much longer I can justify using her time on a losing game. Non communication other than the damn board sucks ass. It's hard to keep up with conversations. I can't write fast enough to keep up with what's going on. Sucks. I've got 10 bazillion wise ass remarks that just lose something on the board, 5 minutes after they should have been tossed in. I may go back and find my old double sided board I carried to work with me before my voice came back from the radiation frying me. One side was "Fuck You", the other was "Kiss My Ass". In the oil field those are two of the most common responses you need to most chatter. It's not quite like being trapped within your own head, because I can still make my thoughts known, but it's still disconcerting. I used to think that nothing would be worse than not being able to walk or something else more obviously physical, but I was wrong. Not being able to communicate is worse than any of that. It leaves you basically at the whim of what ever is going on around you, with no way to input what kind of help you need. And not even help, just simple conversation. I like the quiet, but I also enjoy being able to talk to people. This is the not so fun part. The rest of it is going to come as it will, not talking is the hard one.
I miss cooking. I can't taste food well enough to feel comfy cooking. I've tried it a few times, and aroma memory helps some, but it's hard to beat tasting as you go along to know what the chow needs. Now, don't get me wrong, I wasn't a chef by any stretch of the imagination. I did, however, like to tinker. Like putting pineapple and raspberry in stuffed, bacon wrapped, jalapeños. Hot and sweet is always good. Putting cajun sausage and some chopped blackened shrimp in a damn old meatloaf isn't too shabby either. So, what do I do. I OD on the FoodNetwork. I live vicariously through other people's cooking. Shoddy and not as good as the real thing, but it'll have to do. The family won't eat in front of me. Makes em feel guilty. Even when I've said "NO!!! I like how it smells! It's great!". Actually they are getting better. They'll have snacks and stuff. I love the smell of popcorn. That's a good snack. I also don't remember Doritos smelling so strong. They smell strong enough that I can almost taste them. Almost. The smell of ribs on the grill, heavenly. I've not eaten in so long that I can smell the blood on a medium rare steak, it's fabulous. Still, hands on is best. I've tried wooling around a chunk of food so I can taste it, then letting it fall out. That sucks. All the taste, none of the fun. There's a line in there I'm gonna skip. Because I've gotten nicer.
All right, girls and boys!! Throw a hot dog on the grill (is there any better way for hot dog?) and have a cold beer for me today!
Enjoy yourselves, and take a second to relish that taste, smell, and conversation. Losing any one of those is horrid thing.
Hugs bitches
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