Well, since I finally got all the steroids washed out of my system, and since I am working on being less of a little bitch, I feel much better and way more relaxed. The hardest thing will be not being angry over how the general public behaves. That's the real rough thing for me to correct, and one of the things that really bugs my wife about me. I'm not much for letting people slide on being assholes, and in turn I'm sure that's how I come off. I gotta learn to just ignore the pricks and let bygones be bygones. It'll probably make me feel better as well, I just have to work on that.
Liz said she wanted to learn how to fix some of the stuff around the house. She got the chance. The way they laid out the plumbing for the drains in the house is ridiculous. Not one central line with everything on a 45degree angle to get into the line, but two separate lines dividing the drains in the house by south and north. One half has the kitchen, wet bar, and laundry on one side, the other is both bathrooms. The side with the most trouble is the kitchen side. About once a year, sometimes less sometimes more, that line gets a partial plug. It's done that since we bought the place. Anyway, I go rent us an electric snake with around 80' of line. I have to wait until she gets home in the first place to help unload the darn thing, because with all my surgery, I can't lift Jack Shit any more. Also because she's going to run it instead of myself
So, out the darn thing comes, and into the side yard we go. It's dripping melted ice off the roof, and besides being really damn cold, it's almost like it's raining. We get all set up and I run over some rudimentary safety stuff. Like "don't grab that, and "If this happens, run", kind of stuff. She gets the plug out of the wall access and starts in. I'm running the foot pedal to spin or stop spinning the cable. It's going okay, but, (this is my fault, I didn't think about what might happen) her jacket sleeve gets caught up in the cable. News for all of you, that little 1/2 HP motor can break a limb like they are twigs if you don't stop. Fortunately, I was about to drop off the drive to begin with. We got that fixed and her jacket sleeves tucked into the cuffs of her gloves. There's something about running one of the rota-rooter type snakes. It's feel. Liz said she felt like it was stopped. Cool, that's the end of the line then.
Pulled out the snake and I started water in the kitchen sink. Nope, still plugged. So, it's my turn, not because Liz can't do it, but because I want to see what I missed as we went in the first time. It ran in like a champ. There were two marker flags on the the line, both of them were in, plus about 10' after the second went past. I see now, what we missed. I can feel a solid spot, but it has some give to it. I believe it's what Liz felt, and it's also my mistake that we have to run it twice. A little back and forth with the blade rotating and it slipped through. It went about another 6-8' then really stopped. I'd hit the Ell going into the main line. Liz did everything I told her to do, so the last two things are my fault for not giving her enough info to run the machine like she could have. At any rate (4.75% is a rate), she got the drain line cleaned and ready to rock and roll.
She's concerned about not being able to fix a lot of the stuff around the house. She'll be better at it, because she is patient. I am not, and with some stuff around the house, I get to the point that no one wants to be around me to help. A shame on my part, I should have been showing Liz and Dec how to fix all the simple things around the house that I tinkered with over the years. Not that I'm looking to live long enough for all of them to pop up, I just need to settle in and write down what has somewhat of a schedule, and explain how to fix it so they have a little reference guide to go through. I'm not stupid, and I know there are so many things that can go wrong I can't cover them all, but they deserve a shot at finding and getting them fixed correctly. I'm betting Liz is sore today, especially in the shoulders and upper body.
Yesterday, early in the AM since I'd slept so long the day before, I showered and was getting ready to start my day. Shower, fix the trach with gauze to keep the outside from getting in there. Well, in the course of the shower my sinuses drain. I can feel them backing up in the back of my throat where I can't suction them very well, but they will eventually cover my epiglottis, which means I can't take in air normally. I've got the trach, but I believe I'm breathing about 50/50 normal/trach tube. If I bend over, it really makes it worse. I'll damn near throw up. I tell people this, just so they know in case something happens.
Something did. I put the tube in and cinch up the collar, slip in the inner canula, and can't draw a breath. Zero, zip, nada. Okay, big inhale through my mouth (i exhale right before I put the tube in every time to relax), nothing. I gurgled a little, then nothing. Okay, so the trach should be okay now, right? Wrong, nothing there, either. Wow, I got just a little bit of a breath, not much but it helps. I'm closing in on panic. Can't breathe, that's a fight losing problem. Okay, mild panic starts. Had to shut that down, because I try and practice what I preach and I preach "Panic Kills". Panic is avoided. No breathing from anything. Just as the edges start to get black, and I have to sit or fall, I undo the trach collar and yank out the tube. HUGE breath!! Oh man does that feel good!! I get rid of the "almost passed out" black edges. I try and suction again, still no good. Finally, the mucus causes me to gag and try to vomit. I do not vomit, but I do get rid of the huge plug. I check my trach tube and find a solid blood clot blocking it, about half way up into the tube. That explains why I had a hard time taking out the inner canula, it was wedged in. Spooky stuff. All that cleared up and I'm able to start the day. I wish I'd had time to get one of the kids awake, but it was way too early for that. That was a pretty close call. Nearly passing out. I'm not sure that I'd awoken again. If I'd passed out and relaxed, would the plug in my throat cleared itself? I don't know. I do know, however, that if I'm beginning to struggle with my airways like that again, I'm waking a kid up, if I have to light a bomb to get them up. Back in the day I'd had two episodes of hypoglycemia causing me to pass out on both of them. One at home, one on the rig. On the rig was bad, home wasn't so. I sat on the couch, passed out and woke up about 10 minutes later totally refreshed. I fear that would not be the case with this problem.
All in all, what with the steroids helping me make really stupid decisions and being angry at the people that matter most, nearly passing out with real possible chances of not recovering, and some of the other stuff that happens on my way outta here, this week has probably been the worst of the lot. Finding out I was terminal isn't as bad as the way I treated the family and Liz while I was on the damn steroids. Something I knew better than to take in the first place. You know, because I'm a dick for taking them anyway. How bright is a person that tells the nurse, who tells the PA, who tells the Dr (who hasn't even seen me) how steroids affect them, then goes ahead and takes them anyway. All the bad side effects with none of the positive that's supposed to happen. It's like hitting your forehead with a hammer. How long to you keep that up if it hurts the first time?
The chilly/damp weather is playing hell with my legs and joints. I've got a touch of arthritis in both hands and both knees. I suppose after breaking eight of my ten fingers makes me a bit arthritic there, and I've twisted both knees, plus being on my feet 12-14 hours a day for fourteen years didn't help my knees any. I know I'm not as bad off as some of my football friends. When I do finally slip these mortal coils, I'm hoping I don't have that stuff on the next level. And that once there, I can round up a few folks I know, so we can work some shenanigans. Tom Ruch had better be ready.
Book Of Rock: For God's sake if you know something is going to affect you adversely, don't fucking take it. It's your life, not some Doc with God envy, who knows what it your body will stand.
Today, since we are so close to Thanksgiving, take time to look around at the things that you have. They all have a place, but for giggles take a look at how many you really need or can just be kicked to the curb. You'll be surprised what you don't really need after all.
Just a little something to look at and ponder upon. I know, for myself, that I don't need a whole lot. I have a lot of toys, they are for pleasure, not necessity. But having them makes me happy to an extent, so I'm keeping them all. It's nice to be to the point in my life that I can have those, and still have the open space that I so truly enjoy
They talk about living on "The Rugged Llano Estacado". I have news for ya, folks who reside in the Basin. Living here isn't any more tough than up north in the Big Open. A short 240 miles north at Amarillo it's much tougher to live than here. It's not only colder, but it's every bit as hot in the summer. We folk that grew up in The Big Open are a hearty breed. I think that's why I fight this so well. From growing up in the High Plains of Kansas to the Big Open around Liberal Ks and the panhandles, it's a tough row.
If you're breathing, be thankful. If not, may you speed to your next location, and find it in need of a top hand