I wanted to throw Liz a surprise birthday feed. My oldest daughter and two of Liz's friends were helping me out with it. So this how a surprise party gets to be a "Dammit, you better act surprised!" Party.
Liz and I were out farting around Friday afternoon when she gets a text. "OOOO! Cheri wants to know if I can play golf with her in Rankin for a "Night Golf" tourney this Saturday. Can I?"
"No, no you can't"
"Okay I'll.....wait, no? Why not?" You have to understand, I never say no when Liz wants to do something with her friends. Not then, not now, not ever. Her expression was priceless.
"Because, dammit, we were putting together a surprise birthday party for you, that's why. You better damn well act effing surprised too!" I was kinda laughing. Her friends have near perfect timing.
That's no big deal, Liz can pull that off, then later we'd have to fess up and tell folks that she knew and why. In fact, the only time I've ever really surprised her was with renewing our vows this past September. She had no clue.
The youngest daughter, Addison, job is to get Liz out of the house and keep her gone for as long as necessary. We'd all cleaned Saturday morning, and Sarah had snagged a gift card to somewhere. Addison took Liz to a movie, then they were doing what ever until Sarah, I, and Liz's two friends were ready. Stuff was supposed to be finished by 1900 hrs so we could spring a lovely supper of grilled chicken thighs, four huge Tbones, side dishes from everyone, two packs of hot dogs, and around 20 or so bacon wrapped, pineapple cream cheese stuffed jalapeños. I was going to grill for the first time in, what for me, seems like ages. Throw in a new wrinkle. Friends or ours from when we lived in Elkhart text me and said they were going to come to Midland from San Antonio if I was up to company. Well hell yes I'm up for company. Now, how do I handle this. Surprise is already busted. I break the news to Sarah, Brandon, and Dianne that Liz needs to come home early so she can chat it up with old friends.
We got close, but no cigar. Although I did have help cleaning seeds and such out of the jalapeños, so it was a win for me. Liz is hard to catch in a surprise. Seems like the stars line up her direction for surprises. C'est La Vie. I grilled away, Liz had to help me once or twice, because my legs were giving up but I enjoyed cooking on the grill again. For the record, if I should come back as another guy that likes to grill, bear in mind I hate cooking on gas. Propane or otherwise.
It's true. My sticks are going. I can't stand for very long. Too much walking gives me a limp. Apparently my right leg feels like it's been abused since it's missing a goodly chunk of it''s quad. It's kind of a three stage thing with my legs. First, they start to ache. Time on that varies. Yesterday it was about an hour into cleaning the house. Then they feel like they weigh a ton each. That's pretty consistent, about 30 minutes after the aching starts. Then I have to set down to rest them. They get shaky and don't want to hold my weight up any longer. I was at the last stage while I was trying to grill. Makes it a pain in the ass to grill decent victuals when you have to set down every 10 or 15 minutes to give them a chance to recoup a little. We got there though, dang it, and that's what counts. The food was a hit, Liz got a chance to sit out back around the fire pit and shoot the breeze with friends. I had the chance earlier in the day. It was Liz's turn to just let everything slide and just relax with her buddies. I was so exhausted, in a fair amount of pain, and needed to wind down myself. I got the recliner and crashed out for a spell. I'm glad I have friends that will allow me to do that without feeling guilty over napping while company was here. As a rule I find that beyond rude. But at this point in my life, I have to do that or run the risk of being that "Angry old man that's dying of cancer" reputation. I don't want that, nor have I earned it....yet at least.
I'm still plenty tired, and that's okay. What probably is okay as well, but doesn't seem like it, is the amount of blood I'm starting to hack up. I know it's going to increase. I figured on something coming in gradually so I'd be used to seeing the extra. Whoops, wrong assumption. More oft than not yesterday evening it was blood only, no mucus. So much for my theory of aspirating it from my throat. Nope, that theory is blown out the window. That which I'm suctioning isn't bloody at all. That kinda sounds like the opening to one of those cheap startle movies of the late 70's early 80's. The only thing lacking was a soundtrack that included "fweet, fweet, fweet" before the slasher strikes. It's still going on this morning. Although so far it's been off and on, and a mix of everything. I'll talk to my Hospice nurse Tuesday if it's not stopped by then. I'm hoping it has. If not, then that's a sign, I am going to assume again, that the cancer may have moved to my lungs. That will suck the ass out of a dead raccoon. But, it would go a long way to explaining why I get winded so fast now. Probability mode in me says "Yep, that sounds about right", let's move on, shall we? I love my probability mode. I'm still very sore today as well, and not from just from coughing a lot yesterday. (Come to think of it, I have been coughing a lot more lately). I do have some cough meds with hydrocodone in with it. That's helping with the raw in the back of my throat. That's always nice. Which leaves this part with this thought: "Good or bad thing, the extra blood in the coughing towels"
Here's why I have to contemplate that a bit: I'm torn, right now, with this. One: "Thank God it's moving faster". It's not that I don't like being here, but the cancer stuff is beginning to wear on me. Not just the extreme stuff. Hell, that's easy do deal with. It's how the little stuff piles on.
Two: "Shit, I'm not ready to go yet". And I'm not, no where near. But, being a pragmatist, I look at stuff as what I'll miss, not how much I've already seen or done. Because there are things I'd like to do all over again. The scales are tipping toward the death area of the scale.
Here's why I don't really wanna kick out yet. I've not spent enough time with Liz and all my kids. Next week I go to Fort Worth to watch friends throw in a Highland Games (and yes, I saw some of them in McPherson already, these are new guys), and to see some friends in that part of the world. I get to see my oldest son, his girlfriend, and Wyatt. Wyatt is a riot. Well, he was last time I met him. He's getting bigger now, and I'd love to see him and Bo play together a little. It's my last chance to see my old games friends. I want to see the family and those guys more. Alas, this is going to be it, I'm afraid. I don't know when I'll go, so I do have that motivation to see as many of my buds as possible, and to give them a hug. They (meaning all of you) are the reason I'm fighting this so hard. And I need to let you know about that more often.
Short one today. I'm bushed
Shout out to Karla, Renee, and Alex. Thank you so much for going out of your way to stop by and visit. I really appreciated it, and I'm sorry I got tuckered out so fast. Love ya
Today your job, as is dictated by me, is to slow down a notch. Sit for a minute and just look over your family and friends. Memorize their faces, the lilt of their voices. Carry those with you every day, all day.
Pinch on the fannie
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