It's gotten to the point, or damn close to it, that I count "Good Hours" instead of "Good Days" versus "Bad Days". It's been a couple of weeks since I had a complete Good or Bad Day. The Bad Days overtook the Good Days about ten days back. I didn't let on so much because I wasn't entirely certain myself. I mean, geez, I didn't keep a record of Good Vs. Bad Days. Too much like Mad's "Spy Vs Spy", and we can't have that at all. I've had the damn Anxiety mixed in with Restless Leg Syndrome. I tried to tell them it was just my feet wanting to see how far up someone's ass I could shove a boot, even as poorly as I feel. They did not buy that. Now the swapped Xanax for Diazepam (Valium) but they won't let me mix the two. Must be some problem there I don't see, and I didn't ask, which is odd in itself. Damn Valium knocks my pee pistol in the dirt. Not that that is such a bad thing, and I don't set around with my feet and legs flopping like a fish out of water, and that's a good thing. The Jaw, well that's another story. Still get hit HARD with that bone pain, just not as often, and the tendon pain is getting a bit better. Both of those are good things. The sad thing about this list of good things is how quickly they get separated from the rest of me. Apparently my individual body parts don't have a GPS.
The crux of all this is that once I'm up, if the day looks good, and I feel fine, chances are now that failure to maintain that is coming up. Had a bit of that this morning. I hated it, but I did get some steam blown off, and I got to spend a pretty darn enjoyable time with Liz. Which later on went sideways for that as well. So you see. One minute I'm hunky dory and the next my everything hurts and I can't get shit right with an adding machine and someone using it for me. Which makes it hard for me to be lovable, which I am, really. And why is that? It's because I'm losing ground, and I've lost my spirit guides. The three past lives that I've had. I can't find them anymore. I don't know what's become of them.
A couple of weeks ago my sister Kathy mentioned she's seen me as a Highlander, Templar Knight, and a Viking. Cool stuff by golly. I think she's correct. When I was in Houston, I refused 99.9% of the pain killers they gave me, because quite frankly I didn't need them. So I worked on my self hypnosis to help me sleep. It worked alright, but also cranked up my mind for some other things. I don't know what came first for Kathy, but I saw the Templar Knight. He was off his horse, praying. I hope he was praying for strength as he guides me through my pain, and later the near fear and debilitating news that there was no more they could do for me, surgery, chemo, radiation damn sure out. That'd kill me. So, he was there, then a few nights later, I'm doing the same thing. I find it easier to get to the "relaxation" areas of my brain when it's a little more quite. Like a hospital ward offers. So out I go and the Viking shows up, he too is looking for strength for an upcoming battle, and he asks the Hammer of The Gods to help him be brave and steadfast. From what I saw, he was. I got close, asked for some guidance, he laughed and walked away. Well, he didn't need me for a ride, so that didn't bother me. Two weeks later, we are close to going home. Seriously leaving Houston and only coming back for check ups. That's when I saw the Highlander. Same thing, asking for help to be brave and strong, no matter what happens. I can relate, I do that myself. I did have a ride, and he did accept it. He was meeting with two other men that he said I'd already met.
Sure enough, the Templar and the Viking were there. We stopped, they talked about helping guide me in my quest for relaxation and pain. And which is better for right now. I mentioned the woman and how she wouldn't sell, loan, or just give me a bite. The said that was okay. I'll have other choices down the stretch. Then it dawned on me, these guys are my guides. General Patton believed in reincarnation, why shouldn't I? They all have different attributes. The Viking is relentless in his quest to wipe my cancer out, with my help. We fight, laugh, have a couple of huge drinks, and go back at it. The Templar, he's God's right hand. He won't fight unless you feel the person he's fighting isn't from God. Then there's a problem, they Templar will hill them. The Highlander, he's honorable, brave, and a fierce fighter. He has no problem with killing what ever is killing me. So he doesn't like cancer either. He was glad that the fight was at his front door this time. I've got to find the hole it went with, go in, kill what's there, then come out the other Side. I'm a bit torn. Let him take the turn he wasn't going to take, or follow him a bit to see what I'm supposed to do, or if I'm to help him. It'll come to me.
I'd shoved all this to the back of my mind. And, foolishly, torn out the pages of Lortab schedule of which I'd been keeping track. Then thinking about what I'd written down about the three past lives of mine, I thought it best to ditch that shit too. So I did. After Kathy mentioned it a week or so back, it had been killin me trying to figure out who these guys were. Mental imagery, wishful thinking, or spot on. I chose spot on as the winner. Not because there's more to this world or the next than the eye can see, or is able to see. But because the places we've traveled, folks and I, Liz, kids, and I, me by my lonesome. At one time or another I'd catch a glimpse of one helping me look out for the stupid shit I have nearly stepped in. Sometimes two or all three, when things were going really well. But, I've lost them. The stuff I used to do to find them, finds empty space.
Liz believes they have brought me along as far as they can, that they are waiting for me. That's a possibility I can see. Since they are essentially me, at different lives I've been given, at different times in History, certainly they would be waiting. I do hope I am slated for at least one more life. And that somewhere, Liz is going to share THAT life with me as well. The really cool thing might be that Liz and I have always been together, although that's not what I picked up from the Templar or the Viking. Neither one of those lives had "wife" written in for any reason I can find. Although, the Viking was way into North America before he had to go at it alone.
Time to close this out, before the Loony Squad gets me fixed up with one of those extra long sleeved shirts with now end in them at all.
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