Of course it is, and why wouldn't it be? I survived an entire year so far. It's taking me down the road to Critical Mass, but it ain't made it yet, so this is a happy start to the new year. There are a lot of things that make it a good start, but I'm not going to get into those this trip out, I figure everyone has a reason this is going to be a good year for them, and those should kind of stay private at some level, if you catch my drift. I'm sitting here feeding, and it's kind of making me woozy, I hate that. Time for a shower, we'll catch up a bit later on in the day.
Hmmm, I'll be damned. As usual my body had other plans but didn't let me in on them at all. I put the computer down, sat back, finished feeding, and fell promptly asleep. Totally didn't see that coming at all. I certainly wasn't sleepy, or so I thought. I know I'd only had about three hours of sleep last night, maybe a little less even, but come on, geez. I find my body is doing a lot of things that it's not letting me in on in the least. This running short of air thing and my racing heart come to mind right away. I wish I knew what to do about both of them. It looks like I'm going to have to drag the portable O2 bottle around and just take off walking. I'll begin that tomorrow. Or so I say, unless my body says different.
I'll bet some of you are wondering if I've lost my damned mind. This is the year I'm supposedly going to bite the dust, buy the farm, kick the bucket, expire, meet my maker. Sure, that's probably going to happen. I slip a little bit at a time every day. Quite frankly I am still not so sure where I get the drive to stay at this living thing. Because I'm too stubborn just to quit is why. This is going to be a year of change, no doubt. I'm more than likely going to have a tremendous life altering event in my future. I mean, gee, croaking is pretty life altering. It will be a definite change in dynamics for the family, something I wish I could avoid, but know I can't. What I've done is set a goal of keeping the family involved, so when the time comes, they are a bit more prepared.
Last week, when that swelling turned out to be a very fast growing infection, and with all that I was losing in the way of fluid, I had a couple of minutes there when I thought "Shit, this is going to be the end of me. Honestly, my neck drained nothing but infected fluids and blood for the first three days after it split my skin to drain. It was awful. The minute I took off the bandage or wash cloth I was using to absorb the drainage it would be running either down my front or down my back with so much speed and amount it was hard to keep rinsed even in the shower. I'd never in all my life had an infection that acted like that. Even the bacterial infection I got from the dead muscle didn't drain like that. I stopped in a day or so, as far as draining went. And it didn't have the terrible aroma. I smelled like death, literally. Even the dog shied away from me those first three days. It was terribly hard to keep a positive attitude. Liz, though, was my rock and anchor. The times, during those first three days of that infection, that I thought "well, fuck. this is it, the infection is going to check me out ahead of time" were cut short thinking that I'd let Liz down if I died from some silly assed infection. I know it could happen, but not this time.
In the last month, I've had nearly equal good days, bad days, and neutral days. November, on the other hand, had nearly double the good days to bad or neutral. Shifts like that I catch pretty quickly. I'd like to hope that January is more of a November type month. We shall see. So far, on this the first day of 2014, I've been awakened with some pretty intense pain. I ran out of air taking a damn shower, a shower. Good Lord that's fucking sad, huh? I coughed up and right out the tracheotomy stoma a very large blood clot, and a couple of really nice, bright red loads of material, all while taking a shower. That's not really my norm, like I have any sense of normal left. The bleeding has, though, taken another chance at just lying still and isn't as intense as it was early on in the week. The first part of the week prior to Christmas, I spent a lot of time bleeding. I can't tell whether it's in a couple of spots in my throat (although that is one of them, as I discovered while covering the trach tube to cough. I blew a lot of blood out during those times), or in my trachea and heading lower as into my lungs. I know that is certainly a possibility, and in all likely hood a probability. If it does take a move into my lungs, that should pretty well put an end to me. I've got an online cancer buddy that maybe he didn't want broadcast all over, but he has some of the same problem I've got, only worse since it's entered his lungs and it making it incredibly difficult and painful for him to breath. Yet he carries on. He's one of the people from who I draw inspiration.
So, even with all this, it's still going to be a great year. Why? Not just because I said so, and that's reason enough on a normal day. It's because as I go along, I'm heading toward that long stretch of highway that's going to carry me on my trip through the next great adventure. The unseen land that is on the other side of this mortal life. Yes, I do intend on trying to find a way to communicating from that side of the shade to this side, rest assured I'll communicate. There wouldn't be any fun in dying if there wasn't some way to talk with you or other people and scare the bejeezus out of them. Or, like a little someone who tagged along with me from some road trip I did on the bike, and keep uncovering my feet. I simply asked that they end somewhere else to play with other people, and they did. This year, to me at least, January marks the beginning of the end. If I am to believe the doctors, and so far they've been damn correct, this is the first of the months in the year of my demise. I guess that means I've got to embrace the suck. And yeah, it's gonna suck. I keep dropping off, so this is where I end the blog today. It's crazy enough without nodding off for a fifteen minute nap every so often.
I'm setting in this bar in Victor, Colorado, on vacation with the parents at Wild Horn Ranch north of Divide. Divide, at the time, had a great little restaurant that was owned and operated by a chef that graduated the American School of Culinary arts. Since it's been over thirty years since I've been there, I wonder if that place is still open, and still serving the same great chow. Any way, I digress. I'd ridden my bike up there from Kansas, and was running around looking at stuff with the old folks, when we stopped in Victor. Mom and Dad were having Bloody Mary's with some of their friends who went with them, and I went to the bar to have a Crown and coke. I'm setting on a bar stool, breezin with the bar tender, who was very cute. No, dammit, it was a woman, not a man, sheesh. I was having a pretty good time and laughing my ass off. I went to the head, came back and sat down, and had just upended and powered down what was left of the drink I had, when another one gets slammed down in front of me and I hear "This one is for you from me". I slowly turn around expecting to be surrounded by either a real ugly woman, or a guy that's pissed for talking to his girlfriend. (that has happened before, and once when I was talking to an ex wife, the ex husband stabbed me in the chest with one of those really big, thick swizzle sticks) Only she wasn't all that unattractive, but she certainly was strong, and dressed in a nice gingham print dress, a faded out jeans jacket, and combat boots. Now, normally that wouldn't be a problem because I really like women of all types. Only this time my 'rents were cracking up, the bar tender was trying to keep a straight face, and the woman that bought me the drink looked kinda like she might kick my ass if I didn't drink with her. So I did. Then we danced. She was actually a pretty good dancer, except for riding my leg like it was a long lost bannister made for crotch rubbing by the lovely gingham dressed lady. I'm beginning to get a little nervous. Suppose the old folks, for a joke, jumped up and split. I was going to be at the mercy of Amazon in Gingham. And once again, that normally wouldn't be a problem, except the bar tender is now about to kill herself to keep from laughing. Had I been alone, on the bike it might not have been so nerve racking. No, this was Twilight Zone Episode 156 "Rock Gets Laid". Yeah, by a woman that would kick my ass if I did it wrong. I shudder.
The parents put an end to my misery and said they were ready to leave. I told the nice lady that I had to go, because I was those peoples driver. They loved to come to the mountains, but didn't like to drive, so they hired me to drive them where ever they wanted to go. I believe she didn't quite buy that, until I got out to Ma and Pa's Caddy. I opened and closed door like a professional driver, and split. Twenty years later, the Parents were still cracking up over that. And now, as I'm skidding into Critical Mass from Terminal Velocity, I wonder how badly Amazon in Gingham might actually have hurt me, had I been on the bike, drinking, and semi attacked. Much like Tootsie Roll Pops, the world will never know.
Love and all that shit. Eat your Black Eyed Peas, dammit. We skipped 2012 and look what happened
