I'm In A Foul Fucking Mood

 Yeah, I'm in a foul fucking mood. For a lot of reasons I'm royally pissed off and I can't really put my finger on any particular one that sent me into a foul fucking mood. I can't even tell how long the foul fucking mood will last, but I believe this is going to last a long fucking time. I'm not just pissed off, I'm pissed off clear down to the bone. That doesn't happen very often. When it did in the past, I could go to work and stay the fuck away from everyone until it cleared up. Christ on crutch I can't even do that any more. I can't walk any particular distance until my leg starts to ache. I run out of wind just walking around the house. I can't pick crap up from the floor more than a couple of times in a row, since I don't have a soft palate everything in my mouth and throat runs into my sinuses. I can't ride that bike. It needs a new battery and an oil change. I can't do either one of those things because I can't lie on one side long enough to get the old out and the new in and put together properly. As far as doing things around the house in the manner of general maintenance, I can't do any of that either. Now I know how tits on a boar hog feel.

  So, I'm getting the pain patches bumped up to around 150mg of Fentanyl, slowly but surely. I think the next big bump up comes Monday. Yippee. It doesn't make any difference what I tell anyone. Hospice nurse, Liz, Lymphedema Therapist, my massage guy, none of them really hear what I'm saying. Yes, I have continual pain in my right jaw, I also have these sharp stabbing pains in it up near where the jaw attaches to your skull. In front of your ear. That stabbing pain is enough to put me clear down twice today. A win, actually, yesterday on the 29th, it put me down four times. The pain in my jaw goes clear into my ear. Can't explain it any more plainly than that. Apparently the continual pain is all that fucking soaks in. I was sleeping pretty well between 1930 and 2000 hrs this evening when one of the stabbing pains hit. Yep, it's still throbbing from that one. I've talked to the Hospice Nurse about it. I suppose the Doc is going to be here tomorrow, on Friday, maybe he'll have an idea as what I can do to slow the frequency of the stabbing pain down. Or he'll do like every fucking one else and complete my sentences for me until I get so fucking tired of stopping and holding up one hand to let folks know "I'm not quite done you pretentious fuck. How about waiting until I quit writing?". Actually that doesn't work either. I've even gone so far as laying my pad and pen down and waiting. When they asked what I was going to say I picked up my pad and pen, "You were so good at interrupting me, I thought you knew what I was going to tell you before I did. I was waiting on you to finish.". The stupid fuck thought I was being funny, and went on trying to finish my sentences. Gosh, I can't figure why I'm in such a foul fucking mood.

   I'm pissed because I don't know how much longer I'm going to be able to drive. I'm losing range of motion in my head and neck. There's going to come a time when I won't be able to take myself places in a car. So it looks like I'll be hoofing it as best I can to go anywhere. And since it turns out I've got to start taking the O2 with me when I walk now, that's probably not going to be very far at all. It's a mile and a half to either one of the Starbucks where I go to have coffee. No faster than I can cover ground, and carrying the extra weight of the suction pump and a small O2 bottle, I'll have to start at 0300 to get there when it opens at 0500. Loads of fun in that, isn't there.  I can, probably, get a ride to and from  therapy if I'm still able to take it. That'd be nice. I won't be able to take the Son to school any more, though. That's a drag and a half. Sometimes I even like to go to the mall, just to sit around and watch people. That'll be out of the question when I'm unable to drive.

  I'm fucking tired all the damn time too. That I expected to happen. I'm not so pissed off about that, as I am that if I'm not trying to keep up with a conversation, or driving, I'll drop off. I've done that twice in Starbucks. It's funny, to an extent. On the other hand it pisses me off because I've got no control, it seems, as to where or when I'm going to to drop off. The last time I dropped off at Starbucks I was reading a book, enjoying a little dab of coffee (I can push it real fast into the tube and get a taste, or get a drop or two on a finger and get a taste. the rest is just that nice warm feeling), the next thing I knew it was 0745. I'd dropped off for almost an hour. Shit, that was embarrassing. Still, it happens. Little shit wears me completely out. I can carry much at a time any more, so I have to make several trips with lighter stuff. We went to Sam's, the walk around wore me out, and having my 19 year old daughter carry more stuff into the house than I could was a real kick in my ego's nuts. So yeah, I'm fucking tired of being fucking tired.

  On a personal note. Cocksuckers, if you can hear me then I can hear you. Just because I can't talk, doesn't mean I can't hear you, you dick swallowers. If you think me clearing my trach tube out is gross, at least have the common courtesy to look me in the eye when you say "Fuck, that's gross, man". Or my favorite "Look at that motherfucker. If I looked like that I'd blow my fucking brains out". You're a lying, or I'd go home and give you the weapon to do it with, you pencil dick. I particularly like older folks who don't get around very well, pushing me the fuck out of the way so they can make it to the front door of anywhere a couple of steps ahead of me. Yeah, I'm slower than the old folks now, but I wasn't pushy and rude when I was healthy you rat bastard old fuck. Maybe I should have been, but then again my mom raised me better than yours did you.

  I tell ya, today has been one of those days when I would just as soon have the shit catch up with me and finish my ass tomorrow. I'm fucking tired.