If I'm Dying, Why Won't It Just Get The Hell On With It?

  After almost nine months have passed since every  doc I talked to said, "A year, probably less" with or without Chemo. So, I'm damn near to a year, I am going down hill a little faster than even a month or two ago. I can clock that by how often I feel like I the need to avenge the the pain where I don't have teeth, or my missing Jaw, or missing my voice. I can avenge the pain, that rat bastard Baxter, he's no match for modern drugs and mind over matter. The Voice is tougher, the only way I can avenger that is by becoming a better writer, as well as narrator since this is my very own blog. Today, I have such heavy bone pain, it's unreal. Almost like a broken tooth, but deeper. Like I'm trying to grow a couple of new teeth from right out of the floor threw my chin (right side only) and all the way back to molar. Yeah, it makes my eyes water. Not crying tears, watering from a major OW!!!!!!!

  The pain shit can also make me, how should I put this? The pain makes me, fucking grouchy, short tempered and to keep from hurting (mental and feelings) my family I just take the regular "Push Through" pain medicine of morphine. The food of the gods. Which is why I take it as directed, and exactly on the time span it says. Which one week had me using about 4 times what I had the past two or three months in a row. This was the beginning of March, and didn't go  over well with me or Hospice. They thought maybe I was over doing it. I told them probably so, but my pain was real, and I used as you told me to use it. I did leave out the part where I was burning down the Lortab right along with my morphine. THAT certainly made ole Rocosis a happy Terminal Velocity participant. So, I worked on getting my shit together, because I don't like to take that many drugs. It took a week or so of  self hypnosis to get past that. But it worked and I'm not taking all the drugs I was. Certainly helps with my concentration and mobility. The funny thing is, yes, it helps with my concentration, but it hasn't changed my getting sleepy while I type up the blog. Strangely enough, I've fallen asleep, gone back to work on it when I've woken from a lovely nap of 2 hours and discovered I'd written a couple of lines of  Dumas like intrigue. No, that's a lie. It was more like trying to track the number of places a molecule went during the Big Bang. It spiraled and went no place fast. Funny, but a big bitch when you're trying to hold a thought.


    Okay, back on with the "what the fuck is keeping me alive?" topic. Damned if I know why I'm still alive. Is there something in the grander scheme of things I'm missing? Liz has shown an interest in throwing Highland Games in my name. Is this something in the big scheme? I would hope. It's a good sport, she can do well in it, and she's will see why I enjoyed them so much. I was, on a really fucking excellent day, a middle of the road, athlete and competitor.  What I found though, were several hundred people I might only see once or twice a year, still remember my name, and start a conversation right where we left it the last time. That's fun. There's great support from every athlete while you're learning the game. It's a wonderful way for her, at least I believe this, to connect one more time with me on that eternal level. Will it give her the peace she needs and I hope she gets? I hope so, I never could stand for her to cry, or be hurt, or anything that keeps her from smiling. When I close my eyes, that's what I see. Her face, smiling, laughing and giving me forty kinds of bullshit. She truly is the "Light that shines, and shows me the way."  If that's why, it's not so bad at all. I guess I should ask the head honcho if that's it.
Although every time I've asked before,  all I got was a monkey hand print. Hmmmmmm.


  It's certainly not to determine what we should have for supper, because I'm a damn blank for everyone but myself. My meals come in  a can and kind of smell like Gerber Liquid formula gone bad. If the reason I'm still up is to fulfill some wild prophesy, I'd like to know what that is, please? It's bad enough I have trouble writing the blog, let alone helping fix something that me or show them some new direction or strength.  I've not had any epiphany about what's to come, or who or what I shout do while I am waiting for Death, that old deceiver, to come knocking at the door. Some day, it's gonna happen. I'm somewhat torn as well. I don't really want to die, but my life is something that's about 2 steps above,  just fucking miserable. I say that, only because I get to go on achy, or in pain, or just having this shit pile up and giving me a huge forget about me, go have fun, attitude. (That's also known as the Guilt Them A Little, Daily. As well as 'I'm Whiny, Get Over Me' )

 So, here's where I end this dog. I have no clue why I'm still chugging along. Time will tell

 Love y'all to pieces