Today is Liz's birthday. My love, my rock, and my soul mate, have a wonderful day. I'll make sure you can do anything you want.
Yesterday Liz and I went to see RUSH. The movie about Formula 1 drivers James Hunt and Niki Lauda. In the opening scene the cars are all set for the start of the race and I recognize all the drivers names on their cars. I followed F1 and GT gran prix racing during that time very closely. Unlike today where the cars are the stars with paddle shifters, telemetry on the engine and suspension. Those guys drove. They listened. The felt how the car was driving. They ran clutch, brake, gas, and shifter like a symphony. It was real racing then. They are fast now, but it's not the same to me, watching the drivers not even have to drop a hand to shift. It's just different, and as far as racing goes, I'm way old school. Niki Lauda, besides being a great driver, was also a leader in safety. Even after his horrendous wreck and burning, he wanted to race, just race under the safest conditions possible. He and Jackie Stewart were leaders in that area. So many terrible wrecks and so many of those avoidable if the track owners had done what they needed to in order to handle much faster cars. All that being said, it was a good movie about two competitors that over the years also became friends. The movie doesn't show that as much, but it was still a good movie. Not and In Your Face kind of affair, but a bit more subtle. Lauda had most of his face burned away, and was back in a Ferrari 43 days after his wreck. Huge determination, and inspiring. Liz like the movie as well. So it was a win/win there.
So yeah, I'm way tired these last few days. It's part and parcel to an aggressive cancer that is doing it's best to piss me off. And it's succeeding. The rat bastard. It's working on me by not allowing me sleep that's all continuous. I have to wake up more often at night now to clear my trach tube so I can breath better. I've had to give up my bed again. I've tried sleeping in it a few times, but I end up feeling like I'm drowning. That sucks. The bed is more comfy, and I can reach over and feel my wife. Turns out after 21 years I got used to going to sleep with one hand on her. Go figgar. So I wake up tired. There's been weather changes here as well that kind of have me off normal. The cool weather is great, but it's also not helping some of my physical ailments. Imagine having a runny nose, or sinus drainage that has no where to go, and makes it hard to catch a breath through your nose or mouth. Then imagine that causing you to gag and possibly vomit. Yeah, that's been me for a week or so now. Weed pollen is high and of all the things we can do to dry up my sinuses, alway dry my mouth out so badly it gets sore. I also have a sore spot in the back of my mouth today. Not sure if it's to do with the drainage or cancer. I'll have the hospice nurse check it for me.
I started trying to do some extra stuff early yesterday and this morning, hoping to retain some of the muscle mass that I'm losing. It's damn painful at times, but I think it's necessary for my body and my mind to get into a holding pattern at least. It's damn rough mentally for me to watch myself kind of shrivel away. Folks say I look ok and that I'm looking strong. Bless them, it's a boost for me. I feel it going. And maybe, since it's my own body, I'm hypersensitive to how it's working. I know I don't feel as well as I did three weeks ago. I do know, however that the lymphedema therapy has done wonders for pulling the swelling out of both sides of my face, neck, and shoulders. That helps a lot, both physically and mentally. To me the biggest part of this fight I'm in is mental. I can't stop the physical sides of what going to happen, that's a given. But by God I don't have to let it run me mentally as well. Even when it's a struggle to stay up beat and ahead of what's coming, I will strive for that every day. No, not every day is easy. In fact they get progressively more difficult. For example, at the movie yesterday I had to get up three times, got to the hall and suction out my mouth and as much of my throat as I could. Was it fun? Fuck no it's not fun, but I didn't let that take away from going to the movies with my wife. Our first date was to a movie, DOA with Kenneth Branagh. I was a little preoccupied to notice much of the movie. Liz is a beauty and I had trouble keeping my eyes on the screen and not her face. I was sure hoping that evening that we could have a few more dates down the road. Turned out to be a lot of dates and a lot of years. Best part of my life, really.
It's been really nice out. So to take advantage of that, I'm going to try and clean up the back yard some. It needs it badly. Redneck Paradise has fallen into disrepair since the city put on added payment for water bills. It's a sliding scale. Use up to X amount and its so much per hundred gallons, over that the rate increases. Then really increases. We are in a drought, so I didn't mind not watering the lawn. Although front and back look terrible now, the new water source should be into Midland by the middle of next year and Liz can start watering again. That'll help out a lot. So, here's how I'll have to do my thing in the back yard. I can work about 10 minutes, then set and catch up for about 20 minutes. Yes, that's how much the cancer has taken from me so far, but fuck him, I'll do what I can just to spite the miserable bastard. Liz is working the football game tonight. They have portable x-ray equipment at the stadium. I think she's scoring me a pass so I can get in with her and watch the game, which also means watching my son march in the band at half time.
Jumping into the Way Back Machine. I made a mistake once in 1982. We had a wireline company coming out to reperforate a well we were doing a workover on. These guys had been out a lot with us all that summer since we were balls to the wall trying to improve production over an entire area. Nothing but work overs that summer. The other rig companies got all the rod and tubing work. Bless their little pea pickin hearts. Anyway, the guy starts walking up to the rig and I hollered "Dude! How's your wife and my kids?!?!" He screamed and started running at me. Being of more survival instinct than normal, I jumped onto the rig and headed up the ladder. I knew the guy was afraid of heights and was hoping he's stop way before I ran out of derrick. He did, and when he calmed down, he told me that his wife had been screwing around on him for several years, and that 2 of his kids weren't really his. I was a bit more mindful after that, about what came flying out of my mouth.
Book of Rock: Be assertive, but don't be an asshole. You'll get more accomplished with other people if your attitude is "Let's all of us do this. But remember, I'm still the boss here. If things aren't going like I'd like them, we'll stop and find out why". Works pretty well. In fact the only times I've blown a complete gasket while ramrodding gangs in the field, was when it was blatantly obvious that they were ignoring everything I told them to do. I put things in a certain order at work, so that when we are going along, we aren't doubling back constantly. Start wasting my time, and your ass is grass. If we have to change plans, and that happens, it's not big deal. We sort that out. Last year I was put in charge of rebuilding an entire tank battery. Six production tanks, one water tank, and eight heater/treaters all jumbled in like they were put there by mistake. I had 8 days. We were cleaning out the heaters and had to have them all finished in one day so the crane could come move them out of the battery the next. A truck driver took one load to a disposal. Should have been gone about an hour. Four hours later he shows back up. I was asking him nicely what took so long, since we are so far behind now. He messed up. He smiled at me, turned his back to me and started to laugh with his swamper. By the time I got done eating his ass out as loudly as was possible for me, the other three drivers and roustabout gangs saw Mr Temper. We finished that battery in 7 days, with the exception of two small wells that we didn't quite get hooked up. New well came on and it was ready to rock and roll. I never once had to stop and find out why we weren't moving along ever again. If there was trouble with something, the gang pusher came to me and we worked out a different direction. Works wonderfully.
Do the right thing today, even if no one is watching. Go the speed limit, use your directional lights. Acknowledge some stranger. A little of that goes a long way for other people, and yourself.
Firm handshakes for all. No one likes a handshake that's like grabbing a recently deceased person's mitt.
Love ya
Friday, October 18, 2013
Thursday, October 17, 2013
Went to see my buds at work, maybe for the last time
Yesterday was Safety Meeting Day at my Apache field office. Since it's open enrollment time for next years benefits, three area offices were in attendance. 120 plus men and women. That's a lot more than we had two years ago. Then there would maybe have been 50 or maybe 60. Doubling the employment for field and field office help in two years is pretty amazing. Their benefits from health, dental, vision and life insurance are very good, always have been. There are some other options going in new next year as well. I went to not only see my work buddies, but to be the poster boy for taking advantage of everything Apache has to offer benefit wise. They've taken great care of me, and helped my wife after I went on Long Term Disability when I wasn't considered an employee any longer. That's going above and beyond, and I let the HR people know that, and asked if they'd let Houston know that as well. Great company to work for, and if any of you would be wiling to move to West Texas, I'd advise looking into Apache above the other companies.
There, my benefits and Apache rant is complete, let me move along. It's such a pain for me to travel anywhere now, that driving fifty five miles one way, sitting for around three hours of safety meeting and benefits meeting wore me plumb the fuck out. I will say this though. It was worth every minute of it. After the meeting was over, a bunch of the guys hung around shooting the breeze. I hadn't laughed that hard in a long time. On a not so happy note, it may have been the last trip out there I can make. At least solo driving. It took so much out of me that I could barely move when I got home. I know I've got to get more active, and that will help some, but it's still difficult right now. There's a lot of things, though, that makes me want to suffer through the extra bullshit and go see my work friends more often. Besides being a bunch of really good men, we accomplished something out there in the field that we should be very proud of indeed. I chatted, as best I can write anyway, with our area Supervisor. I told him "thanks" for giving me the opportunity to live up to my own hype, and how much I appreciated his support. It wasn't an easy decision on his part, when I first moved to that field I wasn't the most cooperative employee. Field Foreman and I didn't get along. New Field Foreman later, and I was promoted to Instrument Tech. And I got the chance to show the bosses I wasn't just bullshitting, that I really could do the work. I like to think I succeeded. I also told him that I was proud to work under his supervision for the entire three fields he supervised. We accomplished a lot of rebuilds, adding new production that's been very stable over the past nearly two years. It was an entire turn around for the field, and we all deserved a little pat on the back for it. The guys that replaced me are doing good work as well. I'm very proud of the way the field turned around, and that the men who replaced me see that as well, and continue to do yeoman's work to help carry on that standard. Trust me, that ain't easy either. The job didn't define me, I defined what my job should be, and along with my Field Foreman, we hit that goal. I will try and get back to the field office at least a couple of more times. But as I told my boss and the Area Super, that was probably my last trip out there. I'm gonna have to suck it up, put on my "non bitch" oil field pants and suffer the consequences and go back out there a couple more times.
So, all that being what it is on my "have fun" front, I promised I'd keep updating on the cancer's progress. I know I have mentioned my throat bleeding a bit more often and that's no shit, it's getting worse. We've had a change in the weather from very warm and dry to cool and humid. That's causing me to secrete more mucus and saliva. My coughing increases from that since I can't swallow much of anything at all anymore, which in turn as made my cancer spots in my throat and more to become irritated. That is part of the increase in bleeding. It's not all of it though. A big part of it is that the cancer, besides working itself into a frenzy to kill me, likes to cause my throat to bleed. My cancer is an asshole. Sometimes, the harder I fight it, the meaner it gets. So I fight it harder. And it gets meaner, so I fight it harder. Beginning to see a pattern yet? Yesterday I was asked what the good things in my life are. That's something no one has asked before. I had to think about it. Waking up topped the list, even if it means I'm not getting enough sleep, it's still a good thing to wake up. Walking around a bit is a good thing. I can't go as far, but it's still out in the open, right? I write this blog, which I thoroughly enjoy. Yeah yeah, I had to get pestered into writing it, but I'm glad I started it. It's, I hope, a little educational and a bit therapeutic for me. It's a good thing. Watching my family go through their daily routines, that's a really good thing. If I stop and take the time, my really good things far outweigh the dying parts of this trip called Terminal Velocity.
Yeah, the bleeding is getting worse. I once again felt how far my legs have gone. My right leg gets a slight limp when it gets tired. It get's tired quickly, since it's missing a goodly sized chunk of quadricep.
I'm not ready to be a tottering old man who can barely get around. So beginning today, I'm going to work a little harder and regaining some muscle mass all over. All the while hoping that I don't cause my face to swell up again, like it's done in the past. It's a bit painful, as well, to work my upper body. I have to really watch what I'm doing, or I'll tighten the area where they removed my pec and cause it to be mad at me and cramp. Or go into chronic hurt. That's what happened the last time I worked out steadily. I did more harm to myself than good. I say that because I lost range of motion in my left arm and shoulder, as well as losing it in my neck and head. I know at this point I'll never get as much neck and head movement that I could have had they been able to continue reconstructive surgery on my pec areas. So I must watch myself. And I'm terrible at watching myself.
The last times I've worked out at the gym I had something happen I'd never experienced before in all the time I trained. I lost heart. I got down on myself for not making the gains and strides I felt I should have. I'm messed up, right? Missing a big portion of my quad, my pec is stuck in my mouth, I've got an aggressive cancer trying it's best to kill me sooner rather than later, and I get down on myself? Hell, boy, what the fuck is wrong with you? It's how I am, that's whats wrong. I like to see gains, but this is the first time, knowing all that's not right with me physically, that I got disheartened. I had to step back and remind myself that this is going to take more time to do than any other time I've lifted after a hiatus.
I didn't even let it bother me when my bicep tendon repair job had me slowed to a snails pace lifting wise. I'm not really certain why I got the way I did, but I certainly wasn't giving myself the needed break to continue. I tell people, because I heard it from more than one trainer, that lifting and training are 90% in your head. And it's true. This time the head won though. I must get started doing something, and I know it's going to be with the elastic bands I got when I first started PT. I can use those and maybe hold off losing more muscle mass. Or at worst, slow it down a little. It bugs me that I've gotten too gun shy to lift. Mental thing, but also a reality. Time to get my shit together a bit, while I'm still strong enough to carry it around.
There are some other things going on that I'm not so sure aren't cancer related. I wear out quickly. Some of that is because I'm more sedentary than I had been in the past. I can fix that. But I know some of it is because the cancer also exacts a price for feeding itself off of my body. As it grows, my stamina decreases. That's why I went to see the Doc again a little less than a year ago. I knew something wasn't right, because I was losing steam too quickly. This is what I'm feeling now. The cancer is moving about and gaining ground. That is going to cause me to lose ground. I dislike that, but it's something I know I have to contend with. It could be worse, I could be to the point that I can't get out at all. That would suck all around. I take today, and give it 100% of what I have in me at the time. That's not a change for me, I tended to do that when I was healthy. I also find that if I get in the proper mindset I can get done more than I originally thought I could. That's a goal to set. Just to piss the cancer off even more, by working harder at what I can do, and gaining some personal goals, no matter how small they are.
Okay, that's the rant for the day.
Book Of Rock: If you don't like your job, and find yourself bitching about it all the time, QUIT! Don't let your negative bullshit infect the people around you who may enjoy what they do. Everyone has a day or so at work where it's bitch time. Everyone. But most people enjoy what they do and that bitch time is short lived. If all you've got are things to complain about, get the fuck away. If you thrive on your own misery, bitch to yourself away from everyone else. Constant complaining is like a cancer in the work place. Eventually, it starts to affect others as well. They don't need to hear you gripe, ever.
Now, go forth, enjoy the day. Revel in what ever you can find that's out of the ordinary. It may be the last time you see what ever is out of the ordinary again. Make the most of it. Every day is a gift, treat it as such.
Hugs and quick grope for the ladies. Fellas, you're on your own for a quick grope
Tuesday, October 15, 2013
Dammit
It's been my week to piss people off, and it's only Tuesday. That's getting close to a new record for me. I used some very strong language on my Aunt's FaceBook status. Something I shouldn't have done, apologized for, and set a new rule for myself. Without going into detail, I won't be offering any help, good, bad, or indifferent to the person that needed it. Not ever.
So, along with my volatile temper, I'm finding that I don't drain fluid throughout my body as well as it did even a month ago. That makes for different kinds of pain in a lot of different places. The Lymphedema massage helps greatly. At least for now. My face as of this morning isn't as swollen on either side. The area around where the put the pectoral muscle isn't rock hard like it was yesterday. My neck is somewhat reduced as well. Twice a week is all I'm scheduled for, but that does wonders. When it ceases to help, and it will, I'm going to miss the help it does give. It reduces all different kinds of pain for me in more than one area. The retention of the fluid balls up in my neck. That makes my traps sore, which in turn makes the area around my shoulder blades sore, which also makes my lats sore. And in some cases just plain damned sensitive. On the way to the Therapist yesterday, my lats and shoulders got to hurting and spasming enough I was afraid I'd have to stop and get someone to come get me. Bad enough little drops of water fell out of my eyes for a few minutes. Then it all kinda backed off long enough for me to drive that last mile and get in for therapy. I was at an 8 when I went in (told the therapist 6, because she worries if I'm 8 or over on the pain scale), and by the time I left it was down to a 2 on the pain scale. I like that.
My reconstructive pec muscle in my face has been cramping up like there's no tomorrow. More than a few times a day. It also runs the gambit of just a little light cramp, up to and including cramping so hard it pulls me head towards it, and makes the other side of my jaw pop in and out of place. That'll but hair on your chest. First time it happened I was near freak out. Did I panic? I did not! But I wanted to for a second or so. It hurts bad enough I see colors flash past. Reds and blues most often, sometimes orange and yellow. It's base is also still attached to my chest, so when it cramps like that it will pull my noggin down and to the left, and tends to close my left eye. Talk about looking like a cross between the Hunchback of Notre Dame and Popeye with one squinky eye. As a rule, until the last six or eight days, it only cramped once in a while. That's becoming a time or two every week. And since Sunday, 4 times a day. So far this morning I've managed to miss that. I'm not certain how because the cramping stuff started about 4 yesterday morning and hit about every 4-5 hours all day long. Yesterday and some early this morning was "Let's cough and keep Rocky awake" time. I slept a couple of hours, coughing fit. Chatted with a person online. Fell asleep for about an hour and half. Coughing spell. This time I just stayed up. I did spend the better part of an hour coughing until my sides hurt. It finally slowed up enough to allow me to get my meds in. Got that done, waited a bit, then fed. Fortunately, digging around in my box of feed bags, I found one with large bore tubing. Fifteen minutes to feed. That's a lot better than the forty-five minutes to one hour it takes to get 16 oz of formula in for a portion of my days eating.
I'm going to our field office tomorrow after therapy. Possibly my last trip out. It's only 110 miles round trip, but even that wears on me now. And it's a bit rough emotionally. True, I'm glad to see the guys I work with. But it's hard to think that I'll not be back to work. No, not think that. I know I won't be back to work. I didn't let work define who I was, but I certainly like the challenges it offered. It was nice to be needed and relied upon. I'm at an impasse with that right now. I feel pretty damned useless at home. My strength is going, so I can't carry some of the things I used just reach out and grab. I wear out rapidly, so I can't get accomplished some of the things I'd like to get done on any given day. That's probably why I have very little tolerance for people that whine, or get snotty when you offer them help. I'll work on that, but giving it a try is all I can promise. The same thing goes with someone who has been through cancer treatment, get sick because they HAVE to be out in bad weather, then piss and moan about being sick. I don't believe I have time to coddle over the choices a person makes. Not all mine have been perfect for certain, then again, I don't whine about them either. My purpose of going to the field office is that the HR people are going to be there going over all the stuff in our benefits package. I'm going to be there Poster Boy, and they don't know it yet. I worked way hard keeping the jobs I've had through several boom/bust cycles. It wasn't luck, it was determination. I worked in place of a couple of people, more than once during that period. Never bitched about it either. Just went out and did what they asked of me, to the best of my ability.
The reward for that is keeping all the insurance, stock options, and retirement that I have now. I went where the work was, did what they asked of me, and did that without bitching. Okay, I didn't bitch to anyone but myself. At least not some in ear shot of other people. I chased the money as well. I don't have a college degree, and for what I do that doesn't matter. I always did the best I could, never counted on a raise or even keeping my job. Giant Pet Peeve: People who go to college to acquire a degree in some area of education that you can't make huge money doing. Then they complain that the pay isn't any good, or that the benefits aren't great. You knew that going in, don't piss about something that you've chosen to do in your life, knowing full well what the pay was going to be right out the gate. I've offered different people at different times help in finding a job in West Texas. Oil related for certain. Nearly all of them said "No way I'd live in Texas!!". Fine, fucking starve on unemployment then while you're waiting for the next job that isn't coming around.
I seem to be a bit ranting and rambling this morning. Apparently I was a bit more pissed than I thought I was. I tend to get that way when people are snarky, and expect to be taken care of at my expense. I probably should end this here, lest I become incredibly preachy about being self reliant.
Have fun today. There are far more good things out there than bad. Find those and enjoy them. I'm going to enjoy watching the insides of my eyelids in a bit. Right after I take the boy to school
So, along with my volatile temper, I'm finding that I don't drain fluid throughout my body as well as it did even a month ago. That makes for different kinds of pain in a lot of different places. The Lymphedema massage helps greatly. At least for now. My face as of this morning isn't as swollen on either side. The area around where the put the pectoral muscle isn't rock hard like it was yesterday. My neck is somewhat reduced as well. Twice a week is all I'm scheduled for, but that does wonders. When it ceases to help, and it will, I'm going to miss the help it does give. It reduces all different kinds of pain for me in more than one area. The retention of the fluid balls up in my neck. That makes my traps sore, which in turn makes the area around my shoulder blades sore, which also makes my lats sore. And in some cases just plain damned sensitive. On the way to the Therapist yesterday, my lats and shoulders got to hurting and spasming enough I was afraid I'd have to stop and get someone to come get me. Bad enough little drops of water fell out of my eyes for a few minutes. Then it all kinda backed off long enough for me to drive that last mile and get in for therapy. I was at an 8 when I went in (told the therapist 6, because she worries if I'm 8 or over on the pain scale), and by the time I left it was down to a 2 on the pain scale. I like that.
My reconstructive pec muscle in my face has been cramping up like there's no tomorrow. More than a few times a day. It also runs the gambit of just a little light cramp, up to and including cramping so hard it pulls me head towards it, and makes the other side of my jaw pop in and out of place. That'll but hair on your chest. First time it happened I was near freak out. Did I panic? I did not! But I wanted to for a second or so. It hurts bad enough I see colors flash past. Reds and blues most often, sometimes orange and yellow. It's base is also still attached to my chest, so when it cramps like that it will pull my noggin down and to the left, and tends to close my left eye. Talk about looking like a cross between the Hunchback of Notre Dame and Popeye with one squinky eye. As a rule, until the last six or eight days, it only cramped once in a while. That's becoming a time or two every week. And since Sunday, 4 times a day. So far this morning I've managed to miss that. I'm not certain how because the cramping stuff started about 4 yesterday morning and hit about every 4-5 hours all day long. Yesterday and some early this morning was "Let's cough and keep Rocky awake" time. I slept a couple of hours, coughing fit. Chatted with a person online. Fell asleep for about an hour and half. Coughing spell. This time I just stayed up. I did spend the better part of an hour coughing until my sides hurt. It finally slowed up enough to allow me to get my meds in. Got that done, waited a bit, then fed. Fortunately, digging around in my box of feed bags, I found one with large bore tubing. Fifteen minutes to feed. That's a lot better than the forty-five minutes to one hour it takes to get 16 oz of formula in for a portion of my days eating.
I'm going to our field office tomorrow after therapy. Possibly my last trip out. It's only 110 miles round trip, but even that wears on me now. And it's a bit rough emotionally. True, I'm glad to see the guys I work with. But it's hard to think that I'll not be back to work. No, not think that. I know I won't be back to work. I didn't let work define who I was, but I certainly like the challenges it offered. It was nice to be needed and relied upon. I'm at an impasse with that right now. I feel pretty damned useless at home. My strength is going, so I can't carry some of the things I used just reach out and grab. I wear out rapidly, so I can't get accomplished some of the things I'd like to get done on any given day. That's probably why I have very little tolerance for people that whine, or get snotty when you offer them help. I'll work on that, but giving it a try is all I can promise. The same thing goes with someone who has been through cancer treatment, get sick because they HAVE to be out in bad weather, then piss and moan about being sick. I don't believe I have time to coddle over the choices a person makes. Not all mine have been perfect for certain, then again, I don't whine about them either. My purpose of going to the field office is that the HR people are going to be there going over all the stuff in our benefits package. I'm going to be there Poster Boy, and they don't know it yet. I worked way hard keeping the jobs I've had through several boom/bust cycles. It wasn't luck, it was determination. I worked in place of a couple of people, more than once during that period. Never bitched about it either. Just went out and did what they asked of me, to the best of my ability.
The reward for that is keeping all the insurance, stock options, and retirement that I have now. I went where the work was, did what they asked of me, and did that without bitching. Okay, I didn't bitch to anyone but myself. At least not some in ear shot of other people. I chased the money as well. I don't have a college degree, and for what I do that doesn't matter. I always did the best I could, never counted on a raise or even keeping my job. Giant Pet Peeve: People who go to college to acquire a degree in some area of education that you can't make huge money doing. Then they complain that the pay isn't any good, or that the benefits aren't great. You knew that going in, don't piss about something that you've chosen to do in your life, knowing full well what the pay was going to be right out the gate. I've offered different people at different times help in finding a job in West Texas. Oil related for certain. Nearly all of them said "No way I'd live in Texas!!". Fine, fucking starve on unemployment then while you're waiting for the next job that isn't coming around.
I seem to be a bit ranting and rambling this morning. Apparently I was a bit more pissed than I thought I was. I tend to get that way when people are snarky, and expect to be taken care of at my expense. I probably should end this here, lest I become incredibly preachy about being self reliant.
Have fun today. There are far more good things out there than bad. Find those and enjoy them. I'm going to enjoy watching the insides of my eyelids in a bit. Right after I take the boy to school
Monday, October 14, 2013
Rain, we need it, but rats all the same
I broke one of my cardinal rules, partly because I was not feeling well, and in part because my wife had to work Saturday morning from 0230 to 0900. We'd planned on going to see the 50th CAF Airsho on Saturday. I felt kind of puny, and I know Liz was tired, so we opted for a Sunday trip out there. West Texas, 50% chance of rain is deceiving. Normally it wouldn't rain with 50% chance out here than monkeys can fly. We get all settled in, watch 2 aerobatic flights, we can hear them warming up the big Pratt and Whitney's on the bombers to our south, the cloud ceiling made it over 1500' so all looked good for a nice cool day, even if it was a bit overcast. Nope, not happening. It rained a short down pour. We rode that out. Liz and I got to watching the sky to our southwest. Time to go home. So, we missed the Airsho, dammit. Although it came an actual toad strangler of a rain. Flooded streets in Midland and Odessa both. Although six drunks pissing into Wadley street can make it flood. I did notice the River Dentcrest got damn near curb to curb full. It hasn't done that in a long while. And yes, we needed the rain something fierce. We are six and a half inches shy for the year. And hopefully this will knock some of the pollen out of the air and I'll be less snotty. Silver lining. I did check out how much it cost to ride in a B17 Flying Fortress. $450 to ride in the waist gunner's spot. $625 to ride in the nose gunner/bombardier spot. I decided that it wasn't neat enough to drop that kind of cash upon. Although, man, how cool, right?
I pissed a couple of people on FaceBook off. And I find through those folks that I'm incredibly rude. I can live with that. I was honest, and when that's considered rude, I'll stick with honest. It started with me asking if anyone knew why President Barack Hussein Obama no longer has is license to practice law. I got a reasonable answer from a guy, then the very next post he put up was "Sorry that such a boring explanation. There may be more to it, but that's all I found". My response was "All I asked for was an answer, I don't give a shit if it's boring or not.". That's apparently rude. The explanation was enough to satisfy me, so why throw in the part about boring unless you're looking for an argument? Boring played no real part in the answer. I was honest in my assessment. That's rude? Perhaps I should practice better diplomacy. On second thought, fuck that. I don't have time to winnow out that which may or may not piss you off. I weary of PC and all the bullshit apologies that are continually being asked for. Be honest. I still sleep as best I can, and although my face is kind of fucked up, I can look myself in the mirror and not be ashamed of who I am. That being said, I am rude. I'm rude in the fact that superfluous comments are always going to get the same type response from me. If I make them, I expect to hear about it as well. That kids, is my political vent. I will try and keep from doing any more like it. No apology is forth coming for the rant. Don't expect to see one.
Last night my oldest and I were setting on the couch. I made her laugh. I like that. I don't get the opportunity to do that as often as I'd like. Sitting here as I am all silent. And writing a response in the flow of general conversation is difficult. Usually by the time I get something written down, it's moved on and I'm stuck with having people back up and take that in. So mostly I listen. Turns out I've got a whole herd of pretty freakin smart people in my house with me. I really enjoy listening. There's a cadence to the family's conversation. I never noticed that before. Shame on me. Listening to them talk is almost like hearing the ocean. There are peaks and valleys in the pitch and tone of their speech, as well as in the timing. It's also very relaxing. Of course I pretend not to listen, or pay attention. That helps me listen without injecting anything that would interrupt the flow of conversation. Since I can't speak well, any remark I can make on the spot generally has to be interpreted for me, and that takes the fun out of it. So I'll set here quietly and listen. That's going to be one of the things I'll miss the most. I'm going to make sure I get to do that every chance I get. This is one of the things I am almost saddened I didn't pay attention to sooner. Bear that in mind, folks, when you're hanging with your families. Unless they are speaking directly to you, just set and listen. It's a nice thing.
My face is swelling again. For some reason (duh) the fluid won't drain out of it like it does in healthy folks. It's part and parcel, I believe, that my pec in my mouth has been cramping a lot lately. It's miserable when it happens. Mostly because it closes my left eye, and, if it's a big enough cramp, it tries to dislocate my jaw on the right side. Since I don't have a left hand lower mandible, I guess that stands to reason, huh? I don't like it, but I can tolerate it. With my face swelling it can be a pain in the neck (no pun intended) to keep my tongue in my mouth. That's partly because the left side of my tongue is atrophied, and because there's a chance the cancer has gotten in to that part of it. Fortunately what little reconstruction they did back in July has helped that along. I'm actually about in the same place I was prior to surgery in July. When I got back from that, my tongue and neck were in much better shape. Now it's headed the other way. Once again, that's to be expected, and once again, I don't have to like it, but it is what it is. Everything is getting tight on my neck again, and no matter what I do, I can't seem to fix that in the long run. K Tape helps some, and I'm going to start doing that again this week. I just have to have help putting it on. I have to ask for help, damn. After all this, I still hate asking for help. Help is fine for other people, and I'll gladly do what I can for any one of you. I just hate having to have it for myself.
Yes, I know that the family doesn't mind helping, and that it's their way of showing their love and worry for me. I get all that. I still hate having to have help. It's my flaw, and I revel in it! HA! It's one of the side effects of living as I damn well pleased and without a lot of help. Don't confuse that with the things Liz and I have done. I'd be less a person without Liz help, but that is something entirely different than getting help taking care of myself physically. I generally did pretty much all that on my own. Excluding cancer, I've been to the doctor less than a dozen times since 1979. That's including broken bones. I had to have help yesterday when I had a bout of throwing up. I couldn't rush to the bathroom because I don't have time to get there anymore. One minute I'm fine, in a split second I'm throwing up. Then I need help with getting me something to throw up into, besides a towel I keep with me to cough into. And yes, that chaps my ass. It's a two fold ass chapping as well. One, my body no longer gives me warning when it's going to heave, that chaps me off. Two, having to have help. Plain and simple. Having help when I'm tossing my insides up really frosts my cupcakes. I was the one that is supposed to be helping everyone else in the family, not this way around. I'm slowly, I mean snail slowly, coming to the realization that I'm going to have to have some help after all. Of course, that doesn't mean I have to like it. I do appreciate it greatly, but I don't like it.
My legs are really going. We walked maybe a mile yesterday, to and from the parking to the air field to watch the air show. By the time we got home, they were jello. I'm assuming that my body needs the energy to run my legs elsewhere, or they wouldn't do that. I noticed when I walk, though, that my distance has been getting lower and lower. To match that, my time to recover is getting longer and longer. The doc and I talked about that, and I know it's going to happen. But I'm startled at how rapidly that's changing. Or, is it that I just now noticed it and it's been going on for some time? Hard to say, but more than likely it's the latter. I'm not so sure that denial isn't slipping in there a little bit. I'm human, mostly, so that isn't so far outside the realm of reality. I'm sure that on some level, even though I'm trying to not deny anything thing that's going on, there is a little denial factoring in. Knowing that, and correcting that are two different things. I work on that daily, so as not to fall into that denial trap that can be far worse for a person in the long run than just facing what is happening full on. I caught the second time cancer came around because I didn't deny that I was feeling run down, and that my throat was getting sore. Taken together, that was my warning flag. If I'd denied that was the case. I'd have croaked way sooner. Then I wouldn't have the fun of writing this blog. And although the reason for the blog is exactly the most fun, sharing it with all of the readers certainly is. Even if at times we don't agree, I'm always glad people are here.
Enough with the mush.
Today is Columbus day, Go out and find something new by accident, that's how Columbus found this part of the world, strictly by accident. Miss calculated the circumference of the world. Oooops, new island though. Win!
In the immortal words of Ben E. Smith food delivery trucks "Eat out more often"
Fist bump and shit
I pissed a couple of people on FaceBook off. And I find through those folks that I'm incredibly rude. I can live with that. I was honest, and when that's considered rude, I'll stick with honest. It started with me asking if anyone knew why President Barack Hussein Obama no longer has is license to practice law. I got a reasonable answer from a guy, then the very next post he put up was "Sorry that such a boring explanation. There may be more to it, but that's all I found". My response was "All I asked for was an answer, I don't give a shit if it's boring or not.". That's apparently rude. The explanation was enough to satisfy me, so why throw in the part about boring unless you're looking for an argument? Boring played no real part in the answer. I was honest in my assessment. That's rude? Perhaps I should practice better diplomacy. On second thought, fuck that. I don't have time to winnow out that which may or may not piss you off. I weary of PC and all the bullshit apologies that are continually being asked for. Be honest. I still sleep as best I can, and although my face is kind of fucked up, I can look myself in the mirror and not be ashamed of who I am. That being said, I am rude. I'm rude in the fact that superfluous comments are always going to get the same type response from me. If I make them, I expect to hear about it as well. That kids, is my political vent. I will try and keep from doing any more like it. No apology is forth coming for the rant. Don't expect to see one.
Last night my oldest and I were setting on the couch. I made her laugh. I like that. I don't get the opportunity to do that as often as I'd like. Sitting here as I am all silent. And writing a response in the flow of general conversation is difficult. Usually by the time I get something written down, it's moved on and I'm stuck with having people back up and take that in. So mostly I listen. Turns out I've got a whole herd of pretty freakin smart people in my house with me. I really enjoy listening. There's a cadence to the family's conversation. I never noticed that before. Shame on me. Listening to them talk is almost like hearing the ocean. There are peaks and valleys in the pitch and tone of their speech, as well as in the timing. It's also very relaxing. Of course I pretend not to listen, or pay attention. That helps me listen without injecting anything that would interrupt the flow of conversation. Since I can't speak well, any remark I can make on the spot generally has to be interpreted for me, and that takes the fun out of it. So I'll set here quietly and listen. That's going to be one of the things I'll miss the most. I'm going to make sure I get to do that every chance I get. This is one of the things I am almost saddened I didn't pay attention to sooner. Bear that in mind, folks, when you're hanging with your families. Unless they are speaking directly to you, just set and listen. It's a nice thing.
My face is swelling again. For some reason (duh) the fluid won't drain out of it like it does in healthy folks. It's part and parcel, I believe, that my pec in my mouth has been cramping a lot lately. It's miserable when it happens. Mostly because it closes my left eye, and, if it's a big enough cramp, it tries to dislocate my jaw on the right side. Since I don't have a left hand lower mandible, I guess that stands to reason, huh? I don't like it, but I can tolerate it. With my face swelling it can be a pain in the neck (no pun intended) to keep my tongue in my mouth. That's partly because the left side of my tongue is atrophied, and because there's a chance the cancer has gotten in to that part of it. Fortunately what little reconstruction they did back in July has helped that along. I'm actually about in the same place I was prior to surgery in July. When I got back from that, my tongue and neck were in much better shape. Now it's headed the other way. Once again, that's to be expected, and once again, I don't have to like it, but it is what it is. Everything is getting tight on my neck again, and no matter what I do, I can't seem to fix that in the long run. K Tape helps some, and I'm going to start doing that again this week. I just have to have help putting it on. I have to ask for help, damn. After all this, I still hate asking for help. Help is fine for other people, and I'll gladly do what I can for any one of you. I just hate having to have it for myself.
Yes, I know that the family doesn't mind helping, and that it's their way of showing their love and worry for me. I get all that. I still hate having to have help. It's my flaw, and I revel in it! HA! It's one of the side effects of living as I damn well pleased and without a lot of help. Don't confuse that with the things Liz and I have done. I'd be less a person without Liz help, but that is something entirely different than getting help taking care of myself physically. I generally did pretty much all that on my own. Excluding cancer, I've been to the doctor less than a dozen times since 1979. That's including broken bones. I had to have help yesterday when I had a bout of throwing up. I couldn't rush to the bathroom because I don't have time to get there anymore. One minute I'm fine, in a split second I'm throwing up. Then I need help with getting me something to throw up into, besides a towel I keep with me to cough into. And yes, that chaps my ass. It's a two fold ass chapping as well. One, my body no longer gives me warning when it's going to heave, that chaps me off. Two, having to have help. Plain and simple. Having help when I'm tossing my insides up really frosts my cupcakes. I was the one that is supposed to be helping everyone else in the family, not this way around. I'm slowly, I mean snail slowly, coming to the realization that I'm going to have to have some help after all. Of course, that doesn't mean I have to like it. I do appreciate it greatly, but I don't like it.
My legs are really going. We walked maybe a mile yesterday, to and from the parking to the air field to watch the air show. By the time we got home, they were jello. I'm assuming that my body needs the energy to run my legs elsewhere, or they wouldn't do that. I noticed when I walk, though, that my distance has been getting lower and lower. To match that, my time to recover is getting longer and longer. The doc and I talked about that, and I know it's going to happen. But I'm startled at how rapidly that's changing. Or, is it that I just now noticed it and it's been going on for some time? Hard to say, but more than likely it's the latter. I'm not so sure that denial isn't slipping in there a little bit. I'm human, mostly, so that isn't so far outside the realm of reality. I'm sure that on some level, even though I'm trying to not deny anything thing that's going on, there is a little denial factoring in. Knowing that, and correcting that are two different things. I work on that daily, so as not to fall into that denial trap that can be far worse for a person in the long run than just facing what is happening full on. I caught the second time cancer came around because I didn't deny that I was feeling run down, and that my throat was getting sore. Taken together, that was my warning flag. If I'd denied that was the case. I'd have croaked way sooner. Then I wouldn't have the fun of writing this blog. And although the reason for the blog is exactly the most fun, sharing it with all of the readers certainly is. Even if at times we don't agree, I'm always glad people are here.
Enough with the mush.
Today is Columbus day, Go out and find something new by accident, that's how Columbus found this part of the world, strictly by accident. Miss calculated the circumference of the world. Oooops, new island though. Win!
In the immortal words of Ben E. Smith food delivery trucks "Eat out more often"
Fist bump and shit
Sunday, October 13, 2013
Sunday Funday
I'm sitting here using my gravity bag to feed. The tubing on the ones that everyone can find is so small it takes 45 minutes to an hour to feed with. I believe these were more for being used with a pump. At least with the pump you can adjust the time it takes to get 16 oz of formula down. I realize that I don't have a lot to do, nor can I do a whole lot anymore, but 4 hours out of my day just really pisses me off. So I kind of split it. I used the bag when I'm not in a rush, or am reading. Otherwise I use a syringe. The problem with that is how fast I can run it in. Too fast and I'll throw up. Not a pleasant thing to do in the least. On the other hand, with the syringe there isn't any real "too slow". I've gotten better at it. Takes me 10 to 15 minutes to put the formula in with a syringe. That's "push, push, pause". Hmmmm that sounded like something from a Lamaze class.
I managed to mess up my sleep patterns again. Friday I'd had a long day of bleeding. Not a lot, just a steady drip. Saliva and mucus all had a nice pink tint. So, apparently that bugs me on a sub conscious level. I tried to go to sleep, nothing. I'd doze off, 15 minutes later, wide awake. I finally gave up that fight and just played my video game. Finally, after a shower and all the meds and one feeding in, I fell asleep. That was 0400. I made it until 0830, fed, watched a little boob tube, fell asleep. Out about an hour. watched some football with my wife and oldest daughter. Fed, fell asleep. Out for 2 hours. See where this is heading? Yep, slept a big chunk of the day away, but still got extra tired about 2200 last night. Dozed off, 15 minutes later, wide awake. This time though, I only stayed up until 0200, and woke up at 0700. I can live with that, I'm getting closer to getting the sleep patterns back to normal that way.
Today is the final day of the 2013 CAF Airsho. I'm planning on going. I've only missed a few, and that was because we all kind of thought "We've been every year for the last 10, let's just skip it". That was true, to an extent, but this is the last time I'll get to see all the WW2 fighters, bombers, and recon planes running and flying. I just love the sound of a huge radial engine running.They are wicked. Jets are great and all. Fast, sneaky, (if you're not expecting them they really can fly in faster than the sound they make) and modern. All kinds of great avionics and computers to help fly at speed and accurately target enemy aircraft. The guys that fought with the planes in WW2 had none of that. Compass and essential instruments is all the had. To do aerial combat then, you had to really fly. It was up close and personal. Amazing the things those guys did. During a period when if you got into a war, you fought to win, not like today when we fight to draw. And win they did. We aren't speaking German or Japanese. The one thing that bugs me over all of WW2, was the lack of open tribunals for Japanese war crimes. They committed their share, including wiping out an entire city in China. They killed everyone, including babies. They beheaded POW's on Chichi Jima, the Baton Death March. They should have had the same open and ultimately deadly, for most, war crimes trials as we did in Germany.
Maybe it was a guilt thing for Roosevelt putting Japanese Americans in concentration camps, when their only crime was being Japanese. The most decorated unit in WW2 was the Japanese American unit that fought in Europe. Or maybe it's from dropping two atomic weapons. I've got an Uncle that thinks that was the right thing to do. He was awaiting orders to move into Japan with the Marines strike force. He's glad he didn't have to do that.
I'm hoping we can talk the grandson and kids into going as well. It'd be a fairly nice family outing. When my youngest was just little, I'd put him on my shoulders and we'd go stand at the taxi way and watch the warbirds taxi for the spot to take off. And it was a neat way to go hear the engines crank up. The whine of the mag as it's charging, the starter popping and the old Pratt pop, then boom, then settle into a nice hard sounding idle. They fire so hard you can feel it in your chest. Damned amazing engine the Pratt and Whitney Radial. I like the sound of a V12 Allison, or Rolls Royce Merlin as well. The German engine in an ME 109, that baby just howls! It was inverted and fuel injected, and had a 22 millimeter cannon that sat right beneath the pilot, the barrel comes out of the prop nose cone. The 109 could just turn it's nose straight into a dive, the American and others had to roll over into a dive so they wouldn't empty the carb. Little stuff like that I pick up.
So, what goes on with me now. I am realizing I bleed a little bit every day. Not the once a week, that became a couple of times, that became a couple of times with a longer duration. Nope, now it's a little bit, off and on all day. I really see it in the morning when I do my "Get this done, so you can have fun" routine. So that's there now. Back in July my surgeon told me I'd be needing more sleep as the cancer progressed. I scoffed and said "Yeah, right. I never need more than 4-6 hours tops.". I hate when doctors are correct. I do require more sleep. And forcing myself to stay awake is getting harder to do all the time. I'll fight it today, since I want to go see the Airsho. Hmmm, maybe I could play the Terminal Velocity card and get a ride in one of the bombers. A B17 would be my choice. Naw, I don't even play that card at home. Okay, okay, I don't play it very often at home. Sheesh. Also, it's a touch harder to control the pain. I'm afraid I'm going to have to up my pain patch again. I'm stubborn, so I'll wait until it doesn't do much at all, then up it. I'd make a terrible drug addict. I don't like how it makes me feel. Like I'm not in control of myself. Which is wrong, I am, but I don't feel that way on the pain meds. It's harder to get around. My legs are giving up on me. They are getting weaker. Even when I was lifting (before it got painful) I noticed my legs were not agreeing to get stronger, they seemed to prefer being the desk while I type in the recliner. I'm losing upper body strength as well. Even using the rubber band things, I'm not as strong. I'm assuming that my body is taking from one to fight the other. None of this is unexpected on my part, but sometimes it startles me to see it happening. I'm not afraid, I'm a bit pissed off about it, but that's a waste of energy. There's no use in being angry about it, because the cancer doesn't care if I'm angry or not. Well, with the exception that it makes me tired. I think the cancer thrives on your being tired and angry. Being that way helps fill its dance card. I feel better when I'm laughing as well. I honestly believe the cancer dislikes when we are having a good time. When I'm laughing, I have more energy, and it stays with me longer. When I laugh, so does the family, and that's always a good thing. They worry too much about me. This is going to happen whether they worry or not. That being said, we need to laugh more.
I'm watching a thing on the news about what is average for men these days. Age 30-39. BMI 29, waist 38, height 5' 9". Now I've got to laugh. At 230, my heaviest, I had a BMI of 16. My waste never got over 36. My height was 5' 10", but chemo shaved a full inch off that. All that and the Fed listed me as obese. The Fed says I should weigh 165 lb. I say of course, if I'm some scrawny pencil necked geek in Washington who wishes he could live my life and have to buy close that have an XL on the label instead of Medium. Shit, even with all the weight and muscle mass I've lost since December of last year, I still wear an XL shirt. On the "Don't Do What I Do" front, I smoked. some days more than others. But I could still get three miles in 24-25 minutes, when I felt like running. My pulse was 62-65, BP was 120/70. And I was over 50. All the bad things I did. I probably shouldn't have ever smoked, but alas I did. With this cancer, there are a lot of possibilities that could have brought it on. Smoking, drinking, HPV, any other those. Or none at all. It may, and I think is, be in my genetic make up. Not everyone that smokes or drinks gets cancer. All those do is increase your risk exponentially. Thinking people know that inhaling smoke into your lungs can't be good for you. And it's not, truly. But smokes aren't the "be all, end all" in cancer, they are a portion of the entire picture. We all know what is said about smoking, and we are all over 21. Do as you please, but look at the outcome down the road as well.
Orders for the day: Be more self confident. Walk the earth like you own the damn thing. Make today yours, and screw anyone that wants to try and get a piece of it from you. There's nothing about you that is so bad that you can't overcome it. It's a matter of deciding how one wants to live.
I'm so self confident it borders on arrogance and being an asshole. That's a thin like to walk. No one likes an arrogant prick.
I'm also so confident in myself, I can admit when I'm wrong. No hem hawing around, if I'm wrong I own that as well.
So endeth the lesson.
Go be yourself, you're the only one like you out of 6Billion plus. Make sure everyone knows that.
Hugs, and bang on the ear
I managed to mess up my sleep patterns again. Friday I'd had a long day of bleeding. Not a lot, just a steady drip. Saliva and mucus all had a nice pink tint. So, apparently that bugs me on a sub conscious level. I tried to go to sleep, nothing. I'd doze off, 15 minutes later, wide awake. I finally gave up that fight and just played my video game. Finally, after a shower and all the meds and one feeding in, I fell asleep. That was 0400. I made it until 0830, fed, watched a little boob tube, fell asleep. Out about an hour. watched some football with my wife and oldest daughter. Fed, fell asleep. Out for 2 hours. See where this is heading? Yep, slept a big chunk of the day away, but still got extra tired about 2200 last night. Dozed off, 15 minutes later, wide awake. This time though, I only stayed up until 0200, and woke up at 0700. I can live with that, I'm getting closer to getting the sleep patterns back to normal that way.
Today is the final day of the 2013 CAF Airsho. I'm planning on going. I've only missed a few, and that was because we all kind of thought "We've been every year for the last 10, let's just skip it". That was true, to an extent, but this is the last time I'll get to see all the WW2 fighters, bombers, and recon planes running and flying. I just love the sound of a huge radial engine running.They are wicked. Jets are great and all. Fast, sneaky, (if you're not expecting them they really can fly in faster than the sound they make) and modern. All kinds of great avionics and computers to help fly at speed and accurately target enemy aircraft. The guys that fought with the planes in WW2 had none of that. Compass and essential instruments is all the had. To do aerial combat then, you had to really fly. It was up close and personal. Amazing the things those guys did. During a period when if you got into a war, you fought to win, not like today when we fight to draw. And win they did. We aren't speaking German or Japanese. The one thing that bugs me over all of WW2, was the lack of open tribunals for Japanese war crimes. They committed their share, including wiping out an entire city in China. They killed everyone, including babies. They beheaded POW's on Chichi Jima, the Baton Death March. They should have had the same open and ultimately deadly, for most, war crimes trials as we did in Germany.
Maybe it was a guilt thing for Roosevelt putting Japanese Americans in concentration camps, when their only crime was being Japanese. The most decorated unit in WW2 was the Japanese American unit that fought in Europe. Or maybe it's from dropping two atomic weapons. I've got an Uncle that thinks that was the right thing to do. He was awaiting orders to move into Japan with the Marines strike force. He's glad he didn't have to do that.
I'm hoping we can talk the grandson and kids into going as well. It'd be a fairly nice family outing. When my youngest was just little, I'd put him on my shoulders and we'd go stand at the taxi way and watch the warbirds taxi for the spot to take off. And it was a neat way to go hear the engines crank up. The whine of the mag as it's charging, the starter popping and the old Pratt pop, then boom, then settle into a nice hard sounding idle. They fire so hard you can feel it in your chest. Damned amazing engine the Pratt and Whitney Radial. I like the sound of a V12 Allison, or Rolls Royce Merlin as well. The German engine in an ME 109, that baby just howls! It was inverted and fuel injected, and had a 22 millimeter cannon that sat right beneath the pilot, the barrel comes out of the prop nose cone. The 109 could just turn it's nose straight into a dive, the American and others had to roll over into a dive so they wouldn't empty the carb. Little stuff like that I pick up.
So, what goes on with me now. I am realizing I bleed a little bit every day. Not the once a week, that became a couple of times, that became a couple of times with a longer duration. Nope, now it's a little bit, off and on all day. I really see it in the morning when I do my "Get this done, so you can have fun" routine. So that's there now. Back in July my surgeon told me I'd be needing more sleep as the cancer progressed. I scoffed and said "Yeah, right. I never need more than 4-6 hours tops.". I hate when doctors are correct. I do require more sleep. And forcing myself to stay awake is getting harder to do all the time. I'll fight it today, since I want to go see the Airsho. Hmmm, maybe I could play the Terminal Velocity card and get a ride in one of the bombers. A B17 would be my choice. Naw, I don't even play that card at home. Okay, okay, I don't play it very often at home. Sheesh. Also, it's a touch harder to control the pain. I'm afraid I'm going to have to up my pain patch again. I'm stubborn, so I'll wait until it doesn't do much at all, then up it. I'd make a terrible drug addict. I don't like how it makes me feel. Like I'm not in control of myself. Which is wrong, I am, but I don't feel that way on the pain meds. It's harder to get around. My legs are giving up on me. They are getting weaker. Even when I was lifting (before it got painful) I noticed my legs were not agreeing to get stronger, they seemed to prefer being the desk while I type in the recliner. I'm losing upper body strength as well. Even using the rubber band things, I'm not as strong. I'm assuming that my body is taking from one to fight the other. None of this is unexpected on my part, but sometimes it startles me to see it happening. I'm not afraid, I'm a bit pissed off about it, but that's a waste of energy. There's no use in being angry about it, because the cancer doesn't care if I'm angry or not. Well, with the exception that it makes me tired. I think the cancer thrives on your being tired and angry. Being that way helps fill its dance card. I feel better when I'm laughing as well. I honestly believe the cancer dislikes when we are having a good time. When I'm laughing, I have more energy, and it stays with me longer. When I laugh, so does the family, and that's always a good thing. They worry too much about me. This is going to happen whether they worry or not. That being said, we need to laugh more.
I'm watching a thing on the news about what is average for men these days. Age 30-39. BMI 29, waist 38, height 5' 9". Now I've got to laugh. At 230, my heaviest, I had a BMI of 16. My waste never got over 36. My height was 5' 10", but chemo shaved a full inch off that. All that and the Fed listed me as obese. The Fed says I should weigh 165 lb. I say of course, if I'm some scrawny pencil necked geek in Washington who wishes he could live my life and have to buy close that have an XL on the label instead of Medium. Shit, even with all the weight and muscle mass I've lost since December of last year, I still wear an XL shirt. On the "Don't Do What I Do" front, I smoked. some days more than others. But I could still get three miles in 24-25 minutes, when I felt like running. My pulse was 62-65, BP was 120/70. And I was over 50. All the bad things I did. I probably shouldn't have ever smoked, but alas I did. With this cancer, there are a lot of possibilities that could have brought it on. Smoking, drinking, HPV, any other those. Or none at all. It may, and I think is, be in my genetic make up. Not everyone that smokes or drinks gets cancer. All those do is increase your risk exponentially. Thinking people know that inhaling smoke into your lungs can't be good for you. And it's not, truly. But smokes aren't the "be all, end all" in cancer, they are a portion of the entire picture. We all know what is said about smoking, and we are all over 21. Do as you please, but look at the outcome down the road as well.
Orders for the day: Be more self confident. Walk the earth like you own the damn thing. Make today yours, and screw anyone that wants to try and get a piece of it from you. There's nothing about you that is so bad that you can't overcome it. It's a matter of deciding how one wants to live.
I'm so self confident it borders on arrogance and being an asshole. That's a thin like to walk. No one likes an arrogant prick.
I'm also so confident in myself, I can admit when I'm wrong. No hem hawing around, if I'm wrong I own that as well.
So endeth the lesson.
Go be yourself, you're the only one like you out of 6Billion plus. Make sure everyone knows that.
Hugs, and bang on the ear
Friday, October 11, 2013
I skipped a day, neener
So I skipped yesterday. It was a frustration day for me. Starting with texting Hospice to get some drugs refilled I needed. I'm setting staring at the bottle of meds in liquid, and being told that they don't come that way, never have, never will. I was nice and didn't say "Look, numb nuts, I'm holding the bottle in my hand, it was delivered last Saturday. So what magic fucking fairy brought that too me? Keebler fucking Elves?". I felt like that, but said instead "Fine, I'm too tired to argue, just send the tabs that I have to crush, that plainly say "do not crush" on the label." Passive aggressive worked. I hate to have to do it like that, but it seems in this day and age people offering a service always seem to know more than their clients.
Later the Hospice social worker came by. I related my frustration. In two hours the assistant director of the Hospice was on my couch. And the Social Worker just left. I hate to have to be a damn grouch and mean old man to get someone's attention. After all, for shit sake, they offer a service. And it's no different than any other service, except that dying people are kind of hindered for palliative care. So, they will either work to please me, as a service should do, or I'll raise hell all over the damn place until they are so humiliated by their lack of action and help, that they'll wonder why in the name of all things Holy they didn't just do the easy stuff to begin with. I'm appalled by the lack of civility in all areas of service these days. From wait staff in restaurants, to oil field services. "The customer is always right" has been replaced with "Oh fuck him, he can wait". A piss poor way to run a service business. I only require a few things from my services: If something changes, call me. Be polite and don't argue, if I'm wrong I'll be the first to admit it, but you better damn well be ready and have all your T's crossed and I's dotted before you make the attempt to bullshit this old man. Because I do check, and I don't ask for specifics unless I'm looking right at it. That's what was expected of me, even within my own company, and it's not unreasonable to expect other's to be the same way.
The Hospice Chaplain came by yesterday as well. He's a nice fella, but I believe a bit naive. Unless I just can't read him like I do other people. No, he's naive. Anyway, we are visiting along and he looks at me and says "Gee, Mr Smith, you've really had some changes in the last month haven't you?".
Well duh. I'm going downhill!! It cracked me up, actually. I mean, damn, if that's a pep talk, I'd hate to see your depressing interpretation. I laughed on the inside and said yes, I'm headed downhill. I know he meant well, but it still came out, to my ears at least, as a bit less than inspiring. I believe it's an anomaly with people who are dying, that others can't find the words they want and in doing their best, sometimes stumble. That's okay as well. In that case it's the idea that counts. Lots of people tell me I look great. They are trying to cheer me up, I'm sure. I know I don't look great. I'm getting baggy eyes, and I feel run down a lot of the time. In fact, today my throat has been bleeding a bit extra, and that makes me tired and a bit cranky. I try not to let that show, though, since the people I see only want the best for me. They should see the best of what I have that particular day.
Here's how I look at that. I'm dying, fucking slowly, but still. It's getting to where though I still have more good days than bad, the bad days are starting to gather a little steam. One day it'll be 50/50 good and bad days. Then the balance will begin to swing the other way. For people I see and meet, you deserve to see the best of everything I have that particular day. You show your concern, so I can at least be the best that I can be for you and myself. I know I don't look good, but in all honesty it makes me feel better when people say "You look great today". It's a morale boost. It will put a little spring in my step that may not have been there before. And for a while, it often makes me go a bit longer without being so tired so quickly. If folks are willing to put forth that effort, the least I can do is try and match it. That's the courteous thing to do, and proper. I'm not always the most proper person you'll run into, but if you put out some effort, by God so will I. If you follow this, you've invested a piece of yourself in my life. My honor demands that I give you the same respect and investment in return.
You all are giving up something to this blog and myself that's far more important than any amount of money. You're giving me some time. And that, girls and boys, is something we can never get back. I owe it to you to give as much back to you as I can. Unless I'm a complete asshole, I'll give back what I can without complaint. Because you honor me with part of your life. That's a heady situation, and deserves a part of me as well. Thank you
So I set here, typing away, with that coppery blood taste on the back of my tongue. I've been out twice for a couple hours each this morning. It makes it a bit worse simply because I exert a bit extra getting around. And that's something I will not trade away. It's a wonderful morning out. The extra icky shit that goes with getting out is well worth the trouble. It's still a big world out, even though I'm pretty limited in what I can do, you'd be amazed at how nice it is to smell some fresh air, get a little sun, and sit to watch people go about their rat killin. I also find myself getting tired more often and with less effort expended. These are the side effects of a growing cancer. It's feeding itself off what I put in to keep my engine primed and running. It seems he's a relentless bastard, this cancer. He doesn't take rest time, he keeps on doing what's in his nature. That includes wearing me out. I'm not certain where else he's gotten his little shit hooks into, but my suspicion is he's starting to hang out in lymph nodes. I've got a spot on my right jaw that's hard as a rock, and unless I'm mistaken has grown a bit. It feels longer along my jaw that it once did. It could be scar tissue, since I know they grabbed a couple of them during surgery, and I'm not sure how many hang out along your jawline. I will have to check that out.
I can feel some rough areas inside my mouth and cheeks as well. Different that it was in July, or even last month. My tongue also feels a bit fatter. I don't know if that's from the half that was messed up and gone atrophied from surgery, or if that's part of the cancer. It just feels bigger and harder to control.
No, I don't mean it's running off at the head on it's own, but rather it's hard to keep in n my mouth.
The overall malaise (college word of the week) I'm sure is cancer related.
One day, we can talk about dying. Well, we are all dying, I'm just speeding my journey up. Let me work on that a bit, and we'll see what comes up.
Airshow weekend. I believe I'll go, even if I can't stay long. Jets are all fast and loud and cool.
A 2500 horsepower Radial engine though.....man, that is the coolest sound. And the aircraft are all WW2 fighter and bombers. It's my last chance to see them all, and something I wish a lot of you could see with me. Much like me, the old planes are a dying breed. They came from a time when the United States fought to win, not fighting to appease or almost win. They are inspiring. The pilots that flew them in combat didn't have computers for firing solutions from 30 miles away. They had to be up close and personal. They were real warriors in the sky, just as the guys are the ground were warriors. They did what they had to do to survive, and look after their wing man, and foxhole mate.
Today y'all are supposed to go out and find something out you didn't know previously. Learn something new, even if it's just something tiny. And practice keeping your mind sharp. It'll make you live longer
Hugs and shit
Later the Hospice social worker came by. I related my frustration. In two hours the assistant director of the Hospice was on my couch. And the Social Worker just left. I hate to have to be a damn grouch and mean old man to get someone's attention. After all, for shit sake, they offer a service. And it's no different than any other service, except that dying people are kind of hindered for palliative care. So, they will either work to please me, as a service should do, or I'll raise hell all over the damn place until they are so humiliated by their lack of action and help, that they'll wonder why in the name of all things Holy they didn't just do the easy stuff to begin with. I'm appalled by the lack of civility in all areas of service these days. From wait staff in restaurants, to oil field services. "The customer is always right" has been replaced with "Oh fuck him, he can wait". A piss poor way to run a service business. I only require a few things from my services: If something changes, call me. Be polite and don't argue, if I'm wrong I'll be the first to admit it, but you better damn well be ready and have all your T's crossed and I's dotted before you make the attempt to bullshit this old man. Because I do check, and I don't ask for specifics unless I'm looking right at it. That's what was expected of me, even within my own company, and it's not unreasonable to expect other's to be the same way.
The Hospice Chaplain came by yesterday as well. He's a nice fella, but I believe a bit naive. Unless I just can't read him like I do other people. No, he's naive. Anyway, we are visiting along and he looks at me and says "Gee, Mr Smith, you've really had some changes in the last month haven't you?".
Well duh. I'm going downhill!! It cracked me up, actually. I mean, damn, if that's a pep talk, I'd hate to see your depressing interpretation. I laughed on the inside and said yes, I'm headed downhill. I know he meant well, but it still came out, to my ears at least, as a bit less than inspiring. I believe it's an anomaly with people who are dying, that others can't find the words they want and in doing their best, sometimes stumble. That's okay as well. In that case it's the idea that counts. Lots of people tell me I look great. They are trying to cheer me up, I'm sure. I know I don't look great. I'm getting baggy eyes, and I feel run down a lot of the time. In fact, today my throat has been bleeding a bit extra, and that makes me tired and a bit cranky. I try not to let that show, though, since the people I see only want the best for me. They should see the best of what I have that particular day.
Here's how I look at that. I'm dying, fucking slowly, but still. It's getting to where though I still have more good days than bad, the bad days are starting to gather a little steam. One day it'll be 50/50 good and bad days. Then the balance will begin to swing the other way. For people I see and meet, you deserve to see the best of everything I have that particular day. You show your concern, so I can at least be the best that I can be for you and myself. I know I don't look good, but in all honesty it makes me feel better when people say "You look great today". It's a morale boost. It will put a little spring in my step that may not have been there before. And for a while, it often makes me go a bit longer without being so tired so quickly. If folks are willing to put forth that effort, the least I can do is try and match it. That's the courteous thing to do, and proper. I'm not always the most proper person you'll run into, but if you put out some effort, by God so will I. If you follow this, you've invested a piece of yourself in my life. My honor demands that I give you the same respect and investment in return.
You all are giving up something to this blog and myself that's far more important than any amount of money. You're giving me some time. And that, girls and boys, is something we can never get back. I owe it to you to give as much back to you as I can. Unless I'm a complete asshole, I'll give back what I can without complaint. Because you honor me with part of your life. That's a heady situation, and deserves a part of me as well. Thank you
So I set here, typing away, with that coppery blood taste on the back of my tongue. I've been out twice for a couple hours each this morning. It makes it a bit worse simply because I exert a bit extra getting around. And that's something I will not trade away. It's a wonderful morning out. The extra icky shit that goes with getting out is well worth the trouble. It's still a big world out, even though I'm pretty limited in what I can do, you'd be amazed at how nice it is to smell some fresh air, get a little sun, and sit to watch people go about their rat killin. I also find myself getting tired more often and with less effort expended. These are the side effects of a growing cancer. It's feeding itself off what I put in to keep my engine primed and running. It seems he's a relentless bastard, this cancer. He doesn't take rest time, he keeps on doing what's in his nature. That includes wearing me out. I'm not certain where else he's gotten his little shit hooks into, but my suspicion is he's starting to hang out in lymph nodes. I've got a spot on my right jaw that's hard as a rock, and unless I'm mistaken has grown a bit. It feels longer along my jaw that it once did. It could be scar tissue, since I know they grabbed a couple of them during surgery, and I'm not sure how many hang out along your jawline. I will have to check that out.
I can feel some rough areas inside my mouth and cheeks as well. Different that it was in July, or even last month. My tongue also feels a bit fatter. I don't know if that's from the half that was messed up and gone atrophied from surgery, or if that's part of the cancer. It just feels bigger and harder to control.
No, I don't mean it's running off at the head on it's own, but rather it's hard to keep in n my mouth.
The overall malaise (college word of the week) I'm sure is cancer related.
One day, we can talk about dying. Well, we are all dying, I'm just speeding my journey up. Let me work on that a bit, and we'll see what comes up.
Airshow weekend. I believe I'll go, even if I can't stay long. Jets are all fast and loud and cool.
A 2500 horsepower Radial engine though.....man, that is the coolest sound. And the aircraft are all WW2 fighter and bombers. It's my last chance to see them all, and something I wish a lot of you could see with me. Much like me, the old planes are a dying breed. They came from a time when the United States fought to win, not fighting to appease or almost win. They are inspiring. The pilots that flew them in combat didn't have computers for firing solutions from 30 miles away. They had to be up close and personal. They were real warriors in the sky, just as the guys are the ground were warriors. They did what they had to do to survive, and look after their wing man, and foxhole mate.
Today y'all are supposed to go out and find something out you didn't know previously. Learn something new, even if it's just something tiny. And practice keeping your mind sharp. It'll make you live longer
Hugs and shit
Wednesday, October 9, 2013
Sleep and new meds, they are both nice.
So, I finally get about 5 hours of sleep, only awake twice and only for a few minutes each time. That's nice. Unfortunately I'm going to have to crash on the recliner. I might not have woken up at all if I'd not been in bed. I can't keep the angle right to keep from choking just a little, and coughing more than just a little. I'd rather be in bed with my wife. I like her a lot, and she's like a little pastry oven these days, where as I get chilly. The world has truly turned upside down. We used to be 180 degrees different. I slept above the covers because I melted (unless Liz was PG, then no one was more of an oven) and Liz froze. I liked those days. Now I can barely stay warm enough. Weird.
As per my rant yesterday, the change in drugs works. I'm not nearly as snotty, and I'm coughing about 75% less. This is a good thing. It also means I'm in a lot less pain, which is even better. I'd been telling them I had to crush my Prilosec to take it since January. That's not supposed to happen, but it was the only way to get it into the PEG tube so I could ingest it. Finally, I get liquid. Gosh, it's nice to to vurp a little, and not feel like I'd swallowed a tablespoon of Drano. One of the physical problems is a weak and 95% functioning esophageal sphincter (i said "sphincter", heh heheheheh heh). It doesn't close as tightly as it should. So instead of everything staying in my stomach where it belongs, I get little dabs of things in my throat and mouth. I'm honestly hoping that as the cancer moves along it closes that damn problem. It's nasty as hell to burp a little, and carry some fricking formula into the back of my throat where I can't swallow it, or suction it, but can taste that rancid shit. I can tell I've overloaded, not because I feel full, but because I can taste what ever it is I put in the tube. Sometimes that's not a bad thing. Other times, like a good vurp or too much formula too fast, it's enough to make a feller vomit. Which is also no fun. It's worse than testing a cheese grater on the back of your thigh. The joys of Terminal Velocity are many, yes indeed.
I've been able to write the blog, and get some small stuff done, like make it to therapy. But as far as concentration goes, I can't read a damn book. A video game? No problem. I start to read a book though, and in a couple of minutes I'm asleep. I've got two I really want to read, and I'm going to give it a shot again today, but this is something new and odd for me. Normally I can read through a decently written, and well plotted novel in a day. Say from, 0900 to 2100. That's eating and a nap thrown in. That's not the case now, it seems. And this is something new in the last two weeks. I reread the last Lee Child novel one afternoon, just for kicks, about two weeks ago. I can't even get a good start on the last two that were given me. That's somewhat problematic for me, on a personal note. I'm not certain if it's burn out from reading so many books this spring and summer. Although that's never been a problem for me. I've read as many as six novels in a week, but have done that before as well. So I don't believe it's that. I don't think it's physical, because I'm too clear headed. I don't get lost or distracted too easily, so I don't think it's that. And one is an author I've always enjoyed, so I'm not sure what the deal is. I'll sort that out soon enough, I'm certain.
Things I miss. Hmmmm, quite a long list, so let's prioritize it a bit. My oldest son. We got to the ages where we are buddies. Not just father and son, but friends as well. I liked when I was able to be that with my dad. It's something else, too. We never stop being parents, but it's a different thing when the kids start leading their own lives with goals and ambitions. I'm proud of him, as I am all my kids. We haven't really text each other for a couple of weeks. He's in a hectic place right now, looking at a promotion and the decisions that that will involve. I've got all the faith that he'll make a decision based on what is best for him. He's sharp, and driven. I'm very proud.
I miss seeing the Flint Hills in Kansas. My parents lived there and my dad's family was from there for years. His grandfather Smith was raised along the Walnut river with Osage Indians when he was small. Not many can say that. They are pretty hills with great Bluestem grass that's wonderful for cattle to summer upon, terrible for them to winter upon, unless it's cut into meadow hay. When it goes dormant it loses all it's nutrients. Unlike buffalo grass that carries some, Bluestem is just filler. Cattle can starve on it even if it's waist high. The creeks, streams, springs, hills and rivers are all pretty. It's the place of my childhood summers and holiday visits with the grandparents. I will miss seeing them.
The country around Hays, Gorham, and Russell Ks, and points east. All pretty country. Lot's of history in there as well. It's where I grew up as a kid, including a year and a half in Great Bend, Ks. I'll miss seeing that part of the country. Thanks to Douglas Kressly for throwing a good Highland Game in Lucas Kansas. I'm glad I got to be at one of them. It got me back up into that part of the world one more time. I'd forgotten how much I liked it there. It's a shame I can't make the living in Kansas that I do in Texas, but that's just how things work. I'm glad we made the move out here. It's been one of the best decisions I've ever made. Doesn't mean I still won't miss my home state.
There are tons of things I'm going to miss. And I'll try and hit on some of those as time goes along. Mostly because they bring back memories, which is a good thing. But also with the hope that some of it rubs off on other folks, and they go check on things they'd been missing as well, before it gets too late. I don't sweat the stuff I didn't get to see. Those things would have been nice, but they are wants, not "I did that" things. The things I've done, those are what matters most. Wish in one hand, shit it the other to see which fills up faster. That's something I've heard all my life. Wishing is fine, but making it happen is where it's at, not just hoping it happens. I've tried to do that. Every day should have something in it that is new. And for me it always has, and still does. That's as it should be, correct?
Late last week and even some into this week, I was beginning to doubt I'd make it to Fort Worth for my friend's Highland Games on the 26th of October, and at least part of the 27th of October. I doubted it for almost 5 hours. Then I resolved to go. I don't care how hard it is on me, I'll be there. Not only because I want to see some friends that may show up at the games, but also for myself. It's a proving ground. It's also going to be my last fairly long trip. Woe is me to the day that a 700 plus mile round trip is a long trip, but that's how it stands now. I was reluctant to go in part because of my own vanity. I may have to use the walker to get around. My legs are going and I may need the help. My vanity was appalled I'd even think about doing that. My vanity is an asshole. I choose to ignore my vanity and do what I want to, without input from that simpleton. If I have to use it, that's just how it's going to be. If I don't, well that's a win I wasn't expecting and I'll revel in that little victory. I'm not particularly brave, I'm stubborn. I don't like to lose, especially to myself, so I'll be going. Just to spite myself
Book of Rock, Chapter 50, verse 10: "It pays to know someone seedier than you are. You never know when the people they know will come in handy is a bad situation". I've seen that to be true, and it has been for me. Keep that in mind.
Love and all that shit.
Later
As per my rant yesterday, the change in drugs works. I'm not nearly as snotty, and I'm coughing about 75% less. This is a good thing. It also means I'm in a lot less pain, which is even better. I'd been telling them I had to crush my Prilosec to take it since January. That's not supposed to happen, but it was the only way to get it into the PEG tube so I could ingest it. Finally, I get liquid. Gosh, it's nice to to vurp a little, and not feel like I'd swallowed a tablespoon of Drano. One of the physical problems is a weak and 95% functioning esophageal sphincter (i said "sphincter", heh heheheheh heh). It doesn't close as tightly as it should. So instead of everything staying in my stomach where it belongs, I get little dabs of things in my throat and mouth. I'm honestly hoping that as the cancer moves along it closes that damn problem. It's nasty as hell to burp a little, and carry some fricking formula into the back of my throat where I can't swallow it, or suction it, but can taste that rancid shit. I can tell I've overloaded, not because I feel full, but because I can taste what ever it is I put in the tube. Sometimes that's not a bad thing. Other times, like a good vurp or too much formula too fast, it's enough to make a feller vomit. Which is also no fun. It's worse than testing a cheese grater on the back of your thigh. The joys of Terminal Velocity are many, yes indeed.
I've been able to write the blog, and get some small stuff done, like make it to therapy. But as far as concentration goes, I can't read a damn book. A video game? No problem. I start to read a book though, and in a couple of minutes I'm asleep. I've got two I really want to read, and I'm going to give it a shot again today, but this is something new and odd for me. Normally I can read through a decently written, and well plotted novel in a day. Say from, 0900 to 2100. That's eating and a nap thrown in. That's not the case now, it seems. And this is something new in the last two weeks. I reread the last Lee Child novel one afternoon, just for kicks, about two weeks ago. I can't even get a good start on the last two that were given me. That's somewhat problematic for me, on a personal note. I'm not certain if it's burn out from reading so many books this spring and summer. Although that's never been a problem for me. I've read as many as six novels in a week, but have done that before as well. So I don't believe it's that. I don't think it's physical, because I'm too clear headed. I don't get lost or distracted too easily, so I don't think it's that. And one is an author I've always enjoyed, so I'm not sure what the deal is. I'll sort that out soon enough, I'm certain.
Things I miss. Hmmmm, quite a long list, so let's prioritize it a bit. My oldest son. We got to the ages where we are buddies. Not just father and son, but friends as well. I liked when I was able to be that with my dad. It's something else, too. We never stop being parents, but it's a different thing when the kids start leading their own lives with goals and ambitions. I'm proud of him, as I am all my kids. We haven't really text each other for a couple of weeks. He's in a hectic place right now, looking at a promotion and the decisions that that will involve. I've got all the faith that he'll make a decision based on what is best for him. He's sharp, and driven. I'm very proud.
I miss seeing the Flint Hills in Kansas. My parents lived there and my dad's family was from there for years. His grandfather Smith was raised along the Walnut river with Osage Indians when he was small. Not many can say that. They are pretty hills with great Bluestem grass that's wonderful for cattle to summer upon, terrible for them to winter upon, unless it's cut into meadow hay. When it goes dormant it loses all it's nutrients. Unlike buffalo grass that carries some, Bluestem is just filler. Cattle can starve on it even if it's waist high. The creeks, streams, springs, hills and rivers are all pretty. It's the place of my childhood summers and holiday visits with the grandparents. I will miss seeing them.
The country around Hays, Gorham, and Russell Ks, and points east. All pretty country. Lot's of history in there as well. It's where I grew up as a kid, including a year and a half in Great Bend, Ks. I'll miss seeing that part of the country. Thanks to Douglas Kressly for throwing a good Highland Game in Lucas Kansas. I'm glad I got to be at one of them. It got me back up into that part of the world one more time. I'd forgotten how much I liked it there. It's a shame I can't make the living in Kansas that I do in Texas, but that's just how things work. I'm glad we made the move out here. It's been one of the best decisions I've ever made. Doesn't mean I still won't miss my home state.
There are tons of things I'm going to miss. And I'll try and hit on some of those as time goes along. Mostly because they bring back memories, which is a good thing. But also with the hope that some of it rubs off on other folks, and they go check on things they'd been missing as well, before it gets too late. I don't sweat the stuff I didn't get to see. Those things would have been nice, but they are wants, not "I did that" things. The things I've done, those are what matters most. Wish in one hand, shit it the other to see which fills up faster. That's something I've heard all my life. Wishing is fine, but making it happen is where it's at, not just hoping it happens. I've tried to do that. Every day should have something in it that is new. And for me it always has, and still does. That's as it should be, correct?
Late last week and even some into this week, I was beginning to doubt I'd make it to Fort Worth for my friend's Highland Games on the 26th of October, and at least part of the 27th of October. I doubted it for almost 5 hours. Then I resolved to go. I don't care how hard it is on me, I'll be there. Not only because I want to see some friends that may show up at the games, but also for myself. It's a proving ground. It's also going to be my last fairly long trip. Woe is me to the day that a 700 plus mile round trip is a long trip, but that's how it stands now. I was reluctant to go in part because of my own vanity. I may have to use the walker to get around. My legs are going and I may need the help. My vanity was appalled I'd even think about doing that. My vanity is an asshole. I choose to ignore my vanity and do what I want to, without input from that simpleton. If I have to use it, that's just how it's going to be. If I don't, well that's a win I wasn't expecting and I'll revel in that little victory. I'm not particularly brave, I'm stubborn. I don't like to lose, especially to myself, so I'll be going. Just to spite myself
Book of Rock, Chapter 50, verse 10: "It pays to know someone seedier than you are. You never know when the people they know will come in handy is a bad situation". I've seen that to be true, and it has been for me. Keep that in mind.
Love and all that shit.
Later
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