The shits of this entire gig is that I'm losing more and more of my independence. Everything seems to be affected by the cancer. I tried working out, but that caused a lot of pain, and took away all the gains I'd made with my bio-mechanics. Well, that and the surgeries that I would have had to correct it all, but won't happen because the cancer came back, there's nothing left to do to kill it, so further surgery is a waste of my insurance and, more importantly, my plastic surgeons time. As my time grows shorter, it's just the opposite of what's going to come along in the months that will lead up to my demise. All the bad stuff that's been off and on, or not even on the radar yet, is starting to show up bigger, faster, stronger, and more ruthless. While my body gets weaker and my ability to live more or less independent is going out the window faster with every week I'm alive. Those weeks I'm alive though, I can give the cancer the Single Finger Salute every day, all day, if I so choose.
Those weeks that I stay alive all seem to be wonderful. At least that's what one would think, and in part, that's true. It's the constant adapting to new issues, and to things that wouldn't have even given me the least amount of reason to be bothered by them, that are hardest to deal with. Probably since they are so small that my psyche doesn't like dealing with them. But, though they be tiny, together, they be fierce! That's why they are so hard to deal with at all. Drives me bat shit trying to keep all the little fires knocked down that once in a while a big fire over runs my ass.
The time that I'm most dreading will come when I have to give the truck keys to Liz. I've heard that is one of the most difficult things for men to do, surrender the keys to the vehicles. I know I'm going to have to do that, but it doesn't mean I have to like it at all. I can see some of my skills slide a little bit, nothing that I can't compensate for now, but in a month or less, I'm not so sure whether I can keep that up. I'll know when, by a combination of things. I've asked my son to be honest, and when I start to scare him, I'll quit. On top of that, the things I notice now, when they get larger and easier for me to see that I'm not doing them right, I'll quit. To rely on others (something new and still a little bothersome to me) is the tough move. I don't want to sit by and watch life go past, I get enough of that during the day. Watching people move about their daily life is good, but it's a little saddening as well. Knowing that I can't do all those things any longer, and that one day, I'm just not going to wake up. It's a bit tiring. The doc's said anywhere from 6 months to a year. I'm crowding the heck out of a year now, and I'm wondering if they weren't right. I am starting to drag down quicker. It's more difficult for me to stay hydrated. I don't know why, but I just don't seem to want to ingest all the liquids I was even 3 weeks ago. I do that knowing full well it's not going to help me, and does more harm than good. I will work on fixing that little problem.
This is going to be a darn short one, since I've started, deleted all the text, and restarted at least a dozen times in the last week or so. Crazy man, but nothing seemed right. I'm not sure that it does now, but this is what I could put together.