Liz wrote a wonderful blog that I had one hell of a time typing for you all. I had this damn wet eye problem several times when typing it for her. Of all the wonderful break throughs in medicine and science they can't seem to stop this wet eye syndrome I get reading stuff Liz has written or done for me. Well hell, what she still does for me to this day. I'm sure until the day I finally kick off, she'll be right there, as I would for her.
Anyhow, things change all the time. I'm certain that when they do everyone (okay, not everyone, because some folks are less surprised than I) probably is as shocked as I am that so many things tie together. Had I known that dying slowly would have so many complications and add ons I'd have opted for slightly faster. Not immediate, but slightly faster. That's a hard call, even with all the information I have. Normally I'd say "I wouldn't change anything, since all the things I've done, good, bad, or indifferent, made me who I am." Why would this be any different? Hard to say. So I'm just going to rough it out like I had good sense.
So, onward toward some of the new stuff. I know one of the triggers I have for an anxiety/panic attack are my legs getting achy I start to get antsy. That moves right up into "Fuck, am I not getting enough air?", and that runs it's way into "Oh FUCK!!! I'm not!!". That shit will start a hyperventilation problem I definitely do not need. I thought I could walk it out. You know, like when we were all younger and we'd feel like our legs were aching and it was probably just from lack of doing. So I'd get up, got walk around and sure enough, that was generally the problem. Or I was dehydrating. Something that's easy to do now since I'm not as active. No such luck. Over hydrate, no change. Walk, no change. So I'd panic for a bit, snag a Xanax (which pisses me off to no end, that I can't control something without medication) and that usually helped. Not today. Liz got to see me spas out. That wasn't my most shining moment, I can tell you for certain. She's not afraid to call my Hospice nurse, either. I'm not afraid, I just want to figure a way to overcome the problem without another drug. Turns out, it's drug induced and not unusual. It's the combination of Morphine and Fentanyl that causes it. I wasn't expecting to see my nurse until tomorrow, so I was about half zonked when he showed up. My Pop used to be able to take himself completely away from pain. I can to an extent, not like the old man could, but well enough 99% of the time I can get over it. Not so with the cancer, I can't get that far way. And that's how I was when the nurse showed up. About half gone. So, we've traded a Xanax pill for Valium sublingual liquid. Tastes like shit, does it's job. I ain't gonna complain.
I've never had a problem with coping with pain. But I'm here to tell ya, this shit kicks my narrow white ass right into the ground. It's because it never lets up, it doesn't take a breath even. Wicked assed shit. Going up 50ml on the Fentanyl patch worked really well. It's even taken the bone pain in my jaw out. That's fucking impressive. It's cut down on my morphine use to once or twice a day, when it had been running six to eight times a day, and not sleeping. I still have occasional insomnia, but that's mostly from boredom and sleeping too long during the day. Not too annoying, but somewhat a pain in the ass. I can still take the son to school, drive to get coffee and to and from therapy. And maybe this week, out to the office to say high to everyone Wednesday. That's going to become too difficult for me to do in the next two or three weeks, I believe, maybe a bit sooner than that. It's starting to affect my depth perception and my head rotation is getting smaller. Some of that is from fluid retention, 90% of it is cancer moving in and increasing it's hold on my neck and head. I feel it, I see it, and I believe a lot of people do as well. Just from their expressions. Shit, my lower lip on the right side is getting fatter. I haven't had that problem since the last time some dork jacked my mouth. That, boys and girls, is another story all to itself. One you won't get to read about either. That's one of those things I said when I started this blog that I just wouldn't discuss. Suffice it to say, the jack ass deserved what he got, and I hope he walks okay.
I can see myself slipping, and Liz made the mistake of showing her text message to my Hospice nurse, where she mentioned what I was going through, and that she can see I've slipped a long way in the last two weeks. She's correct, but I didn't think she'd notice. For crying out loud I was doing my best not to let her see that, dammit. I have dropped off a quite a bit in the last two weeks. I seem to do this weird, at least in my mind. I'll trip, slide down the rabbit hole a bit, then flatten out for a while. Damn weird to me, or it might be that I just notice later since the changes happen to me and I'm a bit too close to see the changes as they come along. We'll just wait and see, won't we?
I've been slack the last couple of weeks doing up the blog. There's been quite a bit go on, and there are somethings I can't share, or won't share because those are family things. I love you all that follow this blog, but baby, somethings gotta stay with me and Liz, and aren't for public consumption. Some of it is probably a good thing, not all, but some of it. I know that Liz and I are talking more, and being more open with each other. I had kept my mouth shut hoping to save her from being hurt or frightened. Mostly what I did was hurt her feelings because I wasn't opening up to her. I didn't let her help me do anything, because, in my mind, that was saving her from the nasty shit that I have to do on a daily basis. I should have known better. What I was doing was making her feel helpless and useless to me, when the opposite was the truth. As a rule I'm not a stupid man, I don't think, but I didn't ever in my wildest dreams want Liz to ever feel useless to me, or herself. What I did was close off the one direction she could get close to me. How foolish and short sighted was that? I was unintentionally hurting the one person in my life that's been my life. Kids, all of you are part of why I get up in the morning, you always have a big chunk of my heart. Liz owns the entire thing though, you guys have to share with her. I hope that's alright with you.
I've been slacking as well for what's probably going to sound silly to some of you, some of you may see it as part of me being me. For better or worse, this is why. I got spooked. For the first time in my life I was really frightened. I don't mean startled, I mean shit your britches scared. I've never had that feeling, not ever. I've been anxious a few times, but not to the point of being scared. I just never had time for that. So, when that happened for the first time, there was no way in hell I was going to let it get out. Reasons? Silly. I didn't want people to find me weak. Or weak in spirit. Or lacking in fortitude. Hundreds of reasons why I didn't want people to know. After all, I started this blog so people could learn how NOT to be afraid of the end. What the fuck, now I'm being a hypocrite. Those were my thoughts. What I didn't take into account, what how little the time was that I was truly scared. Not long at all, in reality, an afternoon.
This is what happened. I had a coughing fit that shut down everything. I couldn't catch a breath. I was coughing so hard it was making me dizzy and causing me black spots. I was almost over the problem when it hit me that I was afraid! I was truly scared I was going to cough myself to death, and there wouldn't be anyone around. It's not like I wanted an audience, and still don't, but on that day, in that moment, being alone scared the fucking shit right out of me. Now I'm back to about normal. Having to learn how to deal with the anxiety that in itself can be debilitating. Same thing with a panic attack. I use less medication than I did, though, so I figured out part of what the deal was, and how to work around that. Liz saw me be fruit cake fucked up this afternoon, and did something I normally wouldn't have done. She called my Hospice nurse right away. Because she's seen people who have this restless leg syndrome go from bouncy legs straight into anxiety/panic attack. So she was thinking ahead, where as I was going to bring it up when the nurse did the home visit. In about half an hour, I've got to start getting my shit together for my day. If I get a jump on a shower, meds, and clothed. I might be able to sneak in a feeding and maybe a coffee with the boys. Come home, take a nap, take the boy to school, and then go have a cup with my oldest daughter
As you can see, my life isn't really all that shitty. I picked a damn fine bunch of people to have for family. They truly are my rock and salvation. They make me be more than I probably would be on my own. They are the joy in my life, and the worry at the same time.
Being so fortunate to have so many supportive friends. It amazes me that I am so blessed in so many ways. I've done something right, somewhere, some time. I've been told many times how much I'd helped people in the past, when all I remember was just talking and having a good time. Thank all of you, for being yourselves. You've never failed to tell me when I was screwin the pooch, and you all have been great about praise when I earned it.
Now, it's time to put together my daily self. You'd think with so many pieces of me missing you'd think that would only be 10 or fifteen minutes. But nooooo, let's not do it easy. Takes me almost an hour to two hours to get my ass ready in the morning. But by God it's my time and I'll take it! HA
Hugs and all that mushy stuff. Y'all be good, hear?
