Just so everyone knows, yes, the Cancer is getting the best of my body right now. Not gotten as far as my mind yet (though some would speculate it's been there since 1962) and I am on the hunt to prevent that. I have the rare chance to have some asked for and been given help. Hopefully they can stand what Baxter dishes out so at least my mind stays clear. Found my Spirit guides again, and since they are all past lives I've led, I had the chance to jump them out. They never left, they were just being quiet, because I had it under control. All the prayers all of you who follow the blog have put in for me, got the three of them together to help give me strength, which is all I've ever asked to have in the first place. I didn't pray for a cure, nor did I ask any of you all to pray I'd be cured. Held hope for miracles? Of course, but that wasn't the main reason. I've seen many prayers that ask for me to be given some relief from the pain. And that's happened. Liz, who know me better than anyone (sorry, long term friends, she knows things about me I'd never tell even my best friends) seems to become suddenly aware of when I can't hold the pain down, or when I've become anxious (and I hide the signs of that pretty damn well) and she's made the call to my Hospice nurse, and Kent has come by early to check on and take care of me. That doesn't happen by accident, that comes from all of you praying, holding the good thoughts for me, or just plain asking the Karma Police if I can get a break. Liz and I appreciate all that you do for us. We share better now and that in itself was no easy feat, believe me. So, from the Straight Jacket files, all three of my past lives have come to help again. The way it feels, I think one brought along a trusted friend to help out some one close to me. Anyone not feeling like you're all there, don't panic, it's a trusted friend of one of my past lives. You're fine, and helping out too.
I am back on the hunt. I've managed, after a miserable fucking week of either non stop pain, or complete mental exhaustion from sparring with Baxter, to find that place I can go to do the most damage to the cancer, and the most help for my presence of mind. With the head clear, I can work a little biofeed back and fight the cancer without exhausting myself. Your encouragement, and my stubborn attitude have helped the family and I keep me running longer than I had expected. Without you all, my family wouldn't be as effective, I don't think. Not because they didn't and aren't trying, but they are few, but with you all backing them up with prayers and positive thoughts for me to have strength they are successful. This is one of the few occasions where "many hands make light work" fits. In most of my work experience over the last 39 years (yes, I still count this and 2013) the adage is more honest written like this: "Many hands make me want to tell you to get the fuck out of my way so I can work". I do not believe that's how it's meant to work, accurate, but not the intent. It's rough, sometimes, keeping the positive attitude, even knowing full well, if I don't, I'm going to die faster. The Old Scratch that is cancer can't stand it if your attitude is good. It can't thrive there. Sure, it can continue to grow, but it can't grow as fast as it can if you quit fighting and just let things happen. If I'm being honest with you all and myself, I've knocked months off my life, for just the day or so when I felt like giving in.
I can feel that in my bones. If you're honest with what your body tells you, it will show you where to turn next. Even I do that, "Oh Bull Shit! You can't be right. But it is nearly every time. I like it to throwing the heavy weight over the bar in heavy athletics. My best throws ever, is when I've relaxed and let my body to what it has been taught to do…And on it's way up, that 42# or 56# weight feels like it's weightless. Everything working at once and in harmony. That was worth a foot on the 56# and almost 2 feet, almost a foot with the 56#, all from paying attention. So, I'm back on the hunt, let's see how long I can make this work.
Once, back in the old days, I was off playing with the guys who's dad owned the Sinclair filling station. In fact, after the offices in front, their house was right out back. In those days, we wore keys, or off brand tennis shoes. None of them were very good at keeping things like nails out of our feet and the like. Anyway, I'm playing away with these guys and step on a board with a hail coming up. Right into my foot is went. I was only about 5 so yeah, I cried my ass off all the time I was pulling that piece of board off my foot. Bear in mind, there were 3 of those Irwin (knew I'd remember it LOL), me and two kids I didn't recognize. Only one Irwin kid was my age, the rest of that guy were 9 or ten. Anyway, I'm boo hoping taking the nail and board off my shoot with tone of those Irwin boys said "If you don't want that to happen, wear boots, piss pants. So I drilled the loud mouth. Ohhhh what a mistake that was!! I got dog piled, then 9 or 10 year old grabbed my left arm and bit the piss out of it. Black blue teeth marks and blood running out of some of those. "Go tell your daddy cry baby! My dad isn't afraid of yours!" Turned out they were wrong. I rode back up there with me dad. He showed the Irwin's dad my arm, then said a bunch of stuff really fast ( I think one of them was "I won't bite your arm, I'll pull the mother fucker off and shove it up your ass". We went out back. I went first and all those kids were laughing their asses off, until my dad came our with Mr. Irwin. He was pretty pale if I remember correctly. We stood there while he tanned everyone's ass, doubled down on the biter. I did have to have a tetanus shot, and had to carry my arm in a sling for a month from all the surface damage from the biting.
Later on, if First grade, one of the Irwin boys was in third grade in my room with me. He made fun of me for the first two weeks of school. He never could explain how my spit his lips on the leg of the slipper slide, but I knew. No, I didn't blind side him, I was just so mad there wasn't shit he could do about running, fighting back, or keeping me from bouncing his mouth along that post until I got tired. Only 5 or 6 times, I think. None of the former Parochial School kids messed with me after that. It was a quiet ride, up to 5th grade when we moved and I had to go to school in Russell Kansas. It seemed like a metropolis to me, being so small and all.
Hugs and french kiss all day LOL
