I've gotten a few notes asking if everything is okay, since I've not hit the blog or Facebook in a couple of days or more. No, actually, all is not okay. Friday, things were cooking along just like I would have wanted them to do so, simply because it's a Friday, and I felt damn good. Saturday, The Boy and I made Soft Molasses Cookies. I screwed up the first batch, so I let The Boy do most of the work on the second batch and he did a fabulous job. He pays more attention to the directions than I do, and the results proved that out. But, I'm tired all day Saturday. I slept more than I was awake. I just didn't feel right, and come Sunday the explanation would pop up.
I woke up at the normal time on Sunday, couldn't stay awake much more than to put my meds in and feed, and I was back out. I was like that all day. Then around five pm or so, my neck suddenly swelled up so much that I thought the skin was going to rip. We tried several things. Cool compresses, warm compresses, leaving it alone, rubbing it down, nothing seemed to help. About nine pm I had Sarah call hospice and got the on call nurse out. She seemed as confused as we were, and asked if I was comfortable with waiting until Monday to get it really checked out. Well, yes, I suppose I am. Like there was any choice?
Monday, I went to lymphedema therapy. The neck is terribly swollen, hot to the touch, causing me some pain, and messing with my breathing. We don't do much, if it's an infection there's no use in driving it out of my neck to all over my body. So I come home with some of the muscle pain eased off, but the swelling isn't much better. In fact, when the Hospice nurse shows up, the swelling is so bad that my skin is starting to weep a bit. Nasty shit there. I also get an O2 machine and bottle, for those days when I feel like I'm having trouble getting enough air and I'm struggling with keeping my pulse rate down. So now I really do feel like a hamstrung old cancer patients. Somewhere around 11:30 and Midnight Monday, I get this icky feeling and something really foul smelling wakes me up. The spot that the skin on my neck that was weeping, finally did pop, and it's running a gusher of bloody, infection laden, stinking fluid. I don't want to wake anyone up, so I work on taking care of it myself. I did a pretty decent job, too, if I do say so myself. Taking a shower and trying not to get anything in that spot was a real pain, but that's finished and over with. So now it's a matter of keeping a clean something over the spot so it drains into a rag and not all over me. I'm going to have to have some help with this as the day goes on. It's a good thing I've got four or five boxes of gloves for just such an occasion.
Christmas is almost here, and for the first time in a long time I was really looking forward to having a nice Christmas day. We have a six year old boy in the house for goodness sake! It had better be a fun day. Christmas and the rest of the holidays and I have been at odds with each other for quite some time. A lot of the bad crap that's come my way has come during the time between Thanksgiving and the New Year. So when it came down to it, even when things were going just fine, I was a regular Scrooge. I shouldn't have been, the bad stuff was just a turn of the cards. It had nothing at all to do with the season or time of year other than that's just how things shook out. I realize now, that I'd just taken the easy way by being angry with Christmas. Foolish really, but that's how I looked at it.
So, here I am, about to celebrate what more than likely will be my last Christmas, and I'm excited to see the day come. How's that for sudden turn around? Well, it struck me at Thanksgiving, that I had put the bad shit ahead of having a good time and enjoying myself. I will be enjoying myself just because I can and should. I don't have to worry about something bad happening to ruin it, even this stinking, draining, infection in my neck won't keep my from having a good time. Turns out I've known all along what it was supposed to mean to celebrate Christmas. I'm glad to be back to that reason. It only took being terminal to get back to it. Looks like I piddled away a lot of good times. During the first twenty-three years I worked for a big oil company, I spent more holidays at work than I did at home. Not a bad gig, really. Double time and a half pay. Leave real early, Check everything twice, be home before too late in the day. Generally if I got out early enough, noon. If not, then two or three in the afternoon. There were a few times I was on call, I think in reality I only got called out twice on any given holiday, and once was the fault of a guy that just couldn't leave well enough alone, except when he was on call. We had a talk about that. I made him stay and help clean up his mess. I sent him in about 10 PM, I got to leave about 11.
So yeah, this Christmas may be my last, but I intend for it to be one of my best. My oldest son and his family will be here the 27-31. That should make for some nice visiting. It will be good for me to have everyone in one spot, so I can watch how they get along. They are going to need each other, and Liz is really going to need them, in the not too distant future, I fear.
Love all of you. Keep the Faith
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