I got a call from a former teacher and good friend yesterday. Star Craig. She knows I can't speak well on the phone and told me to listen. She and I have been friends a long time. I enjoy her company when I can get there to visit. Even if it's just for a cup of coffee on the porch without a lot of conversation. To me that's a sign of good friends, able to enjoy each other without the need to yap. I've got a couple like that. She recalled my first day as a transfer student in her class in 1975. I was already 8 weeks behind that Monday. She sat all the past 8 weeks of work on my desk and said "Sugar, I know this is a lot of work, but you have to have it done next Monday". She swears all I said was "okay". I got it done. I think that was really the start of our friendship that would grow later as I became an adult. I believe she was the first adult stranger that challenged me to do something I wasn't sure I could do. Pretty good start for a 14 year old kid.
She also tells me I've got "Amour de la vie" to the nth degree. It's true, I do love life. From the most simple to even when its the worst, I love it. What's not to love about life? I get up very early, always have. When I was healthy it was to go to the gym to make myself stronger so I could enjoy my life as best as possible. There's a certain peace very early in the morning. Lot's of people like to see the sun rise. I like being up a few hours before that. If you look closely, as the earth revolves you can follow the stars and see them change position just like the sun. It's quiet. A nice thing, the quiet is. There's calm in the stillness. The feeling of needing to rush isn't quite there yet. It's like you can slow down everything because it's so quiet you're not sure time is even moving. The closer it gets to sunrise is way cool. Long before the sun actually breaks the horizon for sunrise, the eastern sky starts to lighten. A couple of hours before. It's not much, but you can see it on the edge of the horizon. The temperature drops as well. Weathermen will tell you that's not so, and they are full of crap. Look at an hourly temperature table, you'll see it. More importantly you'll feel it. You get that little chill, not enough for it to be alarming, but it's there, and your body knows the sun is coming up.
I love the rush of the road under my wheels. Two or four, it makes no difference. I REALLY like it under the two wheels. Riding the Fat Girl is a blast. You experience a lot more on a bike than you do from a car. Why yes, the car can be more comfortable in the heat, cold, or wet. But you can't smell the new mown hay, the wild flowers, the guy that's bbqing a half mile off the road. You know, the smoke you see by the house farm house. Yeah, that guy. Sure, you get wet, and you have to be careful and keep your mind in the middle. It's about being the most relaxed and focused all at the same time. Relaxed because tense actually slows down your reaction time. Focused because mistakes on a bike are unforgiving. You can get away with a few, and all of us that ride have done that, but if you're not focused, they'll kill ya. Don't get me wrong, I love a good car. The wife's car is a sedan. It's also a secret hot rod. It'll light the rear tires up. I also know it's got a good 145 mph in it. On a stop watch, not the speedometer. I'm not sure what the speedometer was showing. I didn't want to look. We have a little Audi TT. Cornering little devil. Hard to make drift though. It's that all wheel drive thing, I think. I'll confess, I can't do a bootleggers turn anymore. I did in High School. Tried it once on gravel even though I knew better, gravel acts like ball bearings and nothing bites like it should. Ended up in a ditch. Had to dig myself out, on Christmas Eve. The nice young lady that was with me had a father that was very, very concerned when we came in an hour late. Ooops
Confusing people is fun. I don't dress like a bright person. T-shirts and jeans mostly. It's not conducive to being thought of as the sharpest knife in the drawer. But it's a kick showing people not to judge so quickly. I like Shakespeare. Will the Shakes plays and sonnets are ageless and worthy of the effort to read them properly. So, if folks begin talking down to me, I try to find a bit of Will to use back at them. Or to just torture them with what few bits of Latin phrases I remember. Carpe Diem, or my fave, Carpe Jugulum (seize the throat) will throw people off a tad. So many people misquote history as well. There's no Separation of Church and State in the Constitution. Hamilton and Jefferson talked about it, but not to save the government from the church, but to save the church from an over reaching government. Scary little things like that. People get all kinds of blistered over that stuff. It's a laugh. I don't play dumb, necessarily, but there are enough people out there that confuse me having a High School diploma only as a sign that I'm not bright. I like to lie in wait and snap it off in them. I'm confident in myself to the point of arrogance, but I don't use that like some do as a means to bolster my own ego. It doesn't need the help. Keep em guessing, that's my motto.
I never quit trying to learn something. When I first got diagnosed with cancer in 08, I researched it to the hilt, and along with Liz, we wrote out questions for the doctors (the fools always ask "do you have any questions?"). Knowledge is power. When a doctor looks at you after you've asked 10 or 15 questions from cause to treatment and says "you're the most informed patient I've had", I've got his respect, he won't sugar coat anything. That's what you need when you've got cancer. Straight talk, no BS. The only time I BS'd that doctor was over the feeding tube. I was told if I lost X amount of weight they'd put it in me. I lost way past X, but I put four, 5 lb plates in my biker jacket toward the end. I didn't get the feeding tube. Win by cheat. The surgeon at MD Anderson was telling me about how advanced my cancer was back in 2012. I asked that he explain the mechanics of the cancer, and the surgery. He looked at me a bit, and went on the describe the mechanics of the operation. I'd bounce in with, "So if this does X, then Y is what I should expect?". It went well enough along those lines he was pleased to say I understood more of what was going to happen than most of his patients. Pretty cool stuff there. Even when he told us that if the cancer came back, that was the end of anything else we could do, I was ready because I learned all I could about that. Not that I wanted to hear it, but it wasn't as frightening as it could have been. Knowledge is power over my fear. Always has been
My Amour de la Vie is, in short, everything about life. I've always had a great life because just living is the greatest gift we have. I've said before, it's the little things. It is. As well as the good things, the bad things, the things that are indifferent. The joy of holding your baby for the first time, and that nervous, gut wrenching fear of "I hope to God I don't fuck this up". It's finding within yourself that ability to dig deep down when you shouldn't have anything left, and going on anyway. Heart ache to Heart filling. Finding that you can take "That Unforgiving Minute" and in 60 seconds run it to ground. Every day, not just when it gets hard, or is incredibly easy. But every day. If I didn't do that, I couldn't set here and tell you guys how I see it should be done. We all have this desire to see the best of every day. It's sometimes hard to find it, but it's there.
I'm here, with Baxter eating away at my body, reveling in a bright sunrise. Knowing my wife will come home and take my breath away just for a second when I see her. Hearing my both my daughter's voices, my son's, and my grandson's. Watching the idiot dog hump his bed. Going outside for a bit to catch some fresh air. Watching the squirrel run the trees looking for snacks. Hopefully the neighbors apple tree will produce again this year. The squirrel can't leave the rotting apples alone and he gets drunker than Cooter Brown. It's a riot. There's always something wonderful out there, regardless of what you're going through. I'm missing a titty and part of one leg. Could be worse, I could be missing the entire leg. Or worse than that, my ability to think. My ability to be me, regardless of whether or not I can talk well, or throw the heavy shit, or ride the bike. My mind is still here.
My Amour De La Vie, that won't die with me, that will be around always
Saturday, August 24, 2013
Friday, August 23, 2013
The best laid plans
Yesterday we finalized my funeral arrangements. A little surreal, but then again a lot of folks do that early so their families don't have to mess with that when they die. Good idea really. It's zero fun arranging a funeral at the last minute. So Liz, myself, and the funeral directors are going over the arrangements. How I want this, do I want that, and I keep asking Liz "what do you think, I'm not gonna care at that point". Finally she says, "You know what? Whatever you want, it's your funeral". I cracked up, the funeral director just kinda looked at us, but her boss laughed. What's not to laugh at? I don't know how many times I've heard "All Mister, but it's your funeral!". This time, literally. I guess that might bother some folks, making light of a situation like mine. But, honestly there aren't many options left. It's laugh now and be upset later. I mean really, why put your family through the agony of getting your funeral together at the last minute when they could be together, helping each other out? Give it some thought.
I had planned on taking a long ride this spring with my bud John Moye, we were gonna go toward Milwaukee for Harley's birthday party. (the bike, not the guy). We were gonna take a couple weeks, visit some different stuff and generally have a damn nice ride through the country. I like riding with John. We worked out some hand signals for "I need fuel", "I gotta take a leak", "screw this, the traffic sucks", "did you see the boobs on the girl in that car?!?!?!". We enjoy the same kind of things, like historic stuff and places. We like to eat. At least once a trip we eat at a good 4 star place. We hunt around and have been darn lucky to have hit some really good mom and pop places. Especially down south. Most of the joints we've eaten in have home made everything. Shoot, even the bowling alley/restaurant/bar in some little berg in Louisiana had great homemade pies. And was good food. Ya have to be a little careful about that "good food" thing. I've been so hungry that I would have sworn Wendy's made their burgers with Kobe beef. Yes, we take a set of decent duds with us so we can dine in a nice place without looking like we've been thrown off the turnip wagon. There's a really good restaurant in Daytona Beach we ate at twice. Great food, wonderful cuisine, and I'm sure other than Bike Week and pretty solid dress code. We put on the best clothes we have, shine the boots a little and head in. The staff is very nice. We look around, and there's a table with about 12 people sitting at it. Ratty shirts, dirty jeans, squirrelly hair, and loud. I say to John "Jesus, ya know, put on some clean clothes and comb your hair!". He agrees and the closer we look, not a beer one on the table. No mixed drinks. All wine. Not Annie Greensprings, the good stuff. The least expensive bottle this place sells is $75. Something tells me these aren't your typical filthy bikers. Nooooo, these folks are try to pretend to be filthy bikers. Here John and I ride 1400 miles (John closer to 1700) and clean up, and these guys are playing wannabe. There weren't enough bikes out front for them to have ridden. When they leave there are 4 taxis waiting out front for them. Which makes us laugh. Here we do our best to actually ride and be ourselves, and this band of trailer clowns is trying to look like a tough biker.
I had planned on attending the World Master Highland Games Championships in New Mexico this March. I only needed to games early on to qualify without asking for an exemption. Would I have won my age division? Are you kidding me? Not a snowball's chance in hell of me winning, but going would have been great!!! And I was secretly going to save enough money and surprise Liz with a trip to Inverness Scotland in 2014 for the World Master's Championship that will be held there. It would have meant blowing off a big bike trip, but I figure John would understand. I love the Highland Games. It's a difficult sport that I just suck air playing. It's the only sport I have played that I don't get 40 shades of red mad at myself if I don't throw well. Part of that being the level of athlete I throw with. (Notice I don't say compete, I can't throw on the same level as these guys) The other part being that when I practiced a lot, and was doing better, I found myself getting angry at my performance, so I stopped practicing. I decided I enjoyed the sport so much I wasn't going to let myself ruin it for me. I enjoy the other athletes company too much. I've made too many good friends to allow myself to throw a kink in that anywhere. So I throw, I suck, I laugh and have a good time. At the very best, I'm a mediocre athlete, and I can live with that if it means I can still play. At some point I was going to have to stop, I'm sure, but it would have been nice to stop throwing on my terms, not because the cancer screwed my body up so bad I can't. That is a disappointment, and THAT pisses me off.
I had planned on slowing down at work some so Liz and I could enjoy each other's company more. They'd put a guy in to replace me, and when I had been able to come back, there were going to be two of us working at what I'd been doing on my own. How sweet would that have been? It'd cut down my 12 hour days from 4 or 5 to 1 or 2 a week. Don't get me wrong, it'd still be 9 hr days, at least, but those extra 3 hrs in the evening would have been nice. I'd had some plans to take her a couple of nice places. Like Fredericksburg had the cancer been an easy fix. Nice place, cool stuff to see. Wineries to visit. Just Liz n Me time. We've never had much Liz N Me time. Liz became a mom officially September 12, 1992. I had two kids she took on as her own with me. We had 2 more of our own. Sure, we took a couple of trips to Jamaica, but the resorts are a hard place for Liz n Me time. Too many people. I had planned on us getting back to the dating Liz N Me. Where every time we went out we found something new about each other. Yes, there are still things we can find out about one another. I already knew she was a strong woman, this is a shitty way to find out she's an exceptionally strong woman. I'd rather have skipped this part for her, not so much for me, but for Liz. I'd planned on us going places she wanted to see, do some stuff Liz wanted to do. I planned on letting her surprise me with those trips. I think that would have been fun
I planned on living out my life until I was gray, crinkled and a grouchy old bastard. I got to the grouchy part already. And I was starting to gray and crinkle. I planned on showing my grandsons how to do different things. Things they wanted to learn. I planned on giving them a copy of "IF" and taking the time to explain why it's an important poem to me. I planned on being more patient with them than I was my own kids, because Pops can get away with that. I was starting to like getting older. I know 52 isn't very old, but it's getting old enough that I relaxed a bit. People start to listen to what you say. Well, people in their 30's, the guys in their 20's still know everything, right? The getting older thing was really starting to appeal to me. I've always been comfortable and confident in who I am, but now it was starting to be when I was living up to the hype. I figured out that I don't have to do every damn thing, that someone is going to have to do it instead of me eventually. I was getting closer to becoming the guy that ran the old steam rig for the oil show. I need to help find someone to take my spot. It's the last one that's museum quality that still runs on steam. It's important historically.
Yep the best laid schemes of mice and men often go awry. I'd spell it in the brogue Robert Burns wrote it, but it's hard to read the brogue.
These were my long term plans, and only a portion of them at that. Those are all on full stop, unless some major miracle happens. Although I can feel the cancer doing it's thing more and more. This too, will be okay though. It means that farther down the road someone will be doing versions of my plans with their own life and plans. See, our plans are often quite a bit alike, we humans. We all want to have a good time, especially with our loved ones. We just see what is fun in different lights.
So go out and live it up. Make each day a portion of a bigger plan. Let's call that plan "Living", not just life but "Living". I've done that my entire life, and intend to do it on the next leg of the journey as well.
I had planned on taking a long ride this spring with my bud John Moye, we were gonna go toward Milwaukee for Harley's birthday party. (the bike, not the guy). We were gonna take a couple weeks, visit some different stuff and generally have a damn nice ride through the country. I like riding with John. We worked out some hand signals for "I need fuel", "I gotta take a leak", "screw this, the traffic sucks", "did you see the boobs on the girl in that car?!?!?!". We enjoy the same kind of things, like historic stuff and places. We like to eat. At least once a trip we eat at a good 4 star place. We hunt around and have been darn lucky to have hit some really good mom and pop places. Especially down south. Most of the joints we've eaten in have home made everything. Shoot, even the bowling alley/restaurant/bar in some little berg in Louisiana had great homemade pies. And was good food. Ya have to be a little careful about that "good food" thing. I've been so hungry that I would have sworn Wendy's made their burgers with Kobe beef. Yes, we take a set of decent duds with us so we can dine in a nice place without looking like we've been thrown off the turnip wagon. There's a really good restaurant in Daytona Beach we ate at twice. Great food, wonderful cuisine, and I'm sure other than Bike Week and pretty solid dress code. We put on the best clothes we have, shine the boots a little and head in. The staff is very nice. We look around, and there's a table with about 12 people sitting at it. Ratty shirts, dirty jeans, squirrelly hair, and loud. I say to John "Jesus, ya know, put on some clean clothes and comb your hair!". He agrees and the closer we look, not a beer one on the table. No mixed drinks. All wine. Not Annie Greensprings, the good stuff. The least expensive bottle this place sells is $75. Something tells me these aren't your typical filthy bikers. Nooooo, these folks are try to pretend to be filthy bikers. Here John and I ride 1400 miles (John closer to 1700) and clean up, and these guys are playing wannabe. There weren't enough bikes out front for them to have ridden. When they leave there are 4 taxis waiting out front for them. Which makes us laugh. Here we do our best to actually ride and be ourselves, and this band of trailer clowns is trying to look like a tough biker.
I had planned on attending the World Master Highland Games Championships in New Mexico this March. I only needed to games early on to qualify without asking for an exemption. Would I have won my age division? Are you kidding me? Not a snowball's chance in hell of me winning, but going would have been great!!! And I was secretly going to save enough money and surprise Liz with a trip to Inverness Scotland in 2014 for the World Master's Championship that will be held there. It would have meant blowing off a big bike trip, but I figure John would understand. I love the Highland Games. It's a difficult sport that I just suck air playing. It's the only sport I have played that I don't get 40 shades of red mad at myself if I don't throw well. Part of that being the level of athlete I throw with. (Notice I don't say compete, I can't throw on the same level as these guys) The other part being that when I practiced a lot, and was doing better, I found myself getting angry at my performance, so I stopped practicing. I decided I enjoyed the sport so much I wasn't going to let myself ruin it for me. I enjoy the other athletes company too much. I've made too many good friends to allow myself to throw a kink in that anywhere. So I throw, I suck, I laugh and have a good time. At the very best, I'm a mediocre athlete, and I can live with that if it means I can still play. At some point I was going to have to stop, I'm sure, but it would have been nice to stop throwing on my terms, not because the cancer screwed my body up so bad I can't. That is a disappointment, and THAT pisses me off.
I had planned on slowing down at work some so Liz and I could enjoy each other's company more. They'd put a guy in to replace me, and when I had been able to come back, there were going to be two of us working at what I'd been doing on my own. How sweet would that have been? It'd cut down my 12 hour days from 4 or 5 to 1 or 2 a week. Don't get me wrong, it'd still be 9 hr days, at least, but those extra 3 hrs in the evening would have been nice. I'd had some plans to take her a couple of nice places. Like Fredericksburg had the cancer been an easy fix. Nice place, cool stuff to see. Wineries to visit. Just Liz n Me time. We've never had much Liz N Me time. Liz became a mom officially September 12, 1992. I had two kids she took on as her own with me. We had 2 more of our own. Sure, we took a couple of trips to Jamaica, but the resorts are a hard place for Liz n Me time. Too many people. I had planned on us getting back to the dating Liz N Me. Where every time we went out we found something new about each other. Yes, there are still things we can find out about one another. I already knew she was a strong woman, this is a shitty way to find out she's an exceptionally strong woman. I'd rather have skipped this part for her, not so much for me, but for Liz. I'd planned on us going places she wanted to see, do some stuff Liz wanted to do. I planned on letting her surprise me with those trips. I think that would have been fun
I planned on living out my life until I was gray, crinkled and a grouchy old bastard. I got to the grouchy part already. And I was starting to gray and crinkle. I planned on showing my grandsons how to do different things. Things they wanted to learn. I planned on giving them a copy of "IF" and taking the time to explain why it's an important poem to me. I planned on being more patient with them than I was my own kids, because Pops can get away with that. I was starting to like getting older. I know 52 isn't very old, but it's getting old enough that I relaxed a bit. People start to listen to what you say. Well, people in their 30's, the guys in their 20's still know everything, right? The getting older thing was really starting to appeal to me. I've always been comfortable and confident in who I am, but now it was starting to be when I was living up to the hype. I figured out that I don't have to do every damn thing, that someone is going to have to do it instead of me eventually. I was getting closer to becoming the guy that ran the old steam rig for the oil show. I need to help find someone to take my spot. It's the last one that's museum quality that still runs on steam. It's important historically.
Yep the best laid schemes of mice and men often go awry. I'd spell it in the brogue Robert Burns wrote it, but it's hard to read the brogue.
These were my long term plans, and only a portion of them at that. Those are all on full stop, unless some major miracle happens. Although I can feel the cancer doing it's thing more and more. This too, will be okay though. It means that farther down the road someone will be doing versions of my plans with their own life and plans. See, our plans are often quite a bit alike, we humans. We all want to have a good time, especially with our loved ones. We just see what is fun in different lights.
So go out and live it up. Make each day a portion of a bigger plan. Let's call that plan "Living", not just life but "Living". I've done that my entire life, and intend to do it on the next leg of the journey as well.
Thursday, August 22, 2013
Yeah, whatever
Good lord I got pissed off yesterday. At a couple of people in particular, and at myself for being pissed, and several little things that probably shouldn't have pissed me off but did anyway. I'm not all happiness and sunshine, I've got a temper like you would not believe. There's no telling what will open the door to Mr. Temper's room either. Once he's out, he's hard to put back in where he belongs. That's my fault when he gets out. I know enough to let most things slide off so I'm not going sky high over every little thing. Things just kept rattling Mr Temper's cage yesterday until they shook the lock off. Inconsiderate people started it at 5 AM. I go to sit and listen while my buds have a cuppa Joe and shoot the breeze. It's a nice change and I'm not so self conscious about my inability to be well understood. While walking across the parking lot, some douche nozzle comes screaming in, lays on his horn and gives me the finger. I stop right where I am in front of him and stare. I can't tell him what a complete and utter asshole he is, and if he'd like to step out of his POS Jeep Wrangler we could discuss etiquette up close and personal. For starters he'd not understand me, and the other thing is I don't have the upper body mobility to drag his horse's ass out of the Jeep for a talk. So I rely on irritation. It worked I believe. I get in and sit down. Three people in line, some ass is taking coffee orders over the phone, and holding the line up. Because his and his buddy's coffee are more important than stepping out of line until they sort out what they want.
On Facebook we had a little discussion about my religious beliefs. Really, it's no one's business but me and my maker what I believe, and I don't like to discuss it in public. I offered to talk to anyone that wanted to know in a Private Message. That discussion got a little rowdy and there really was no need for that. Granted, I opened it up for questions about anything with the caveat I could say "None of your damn business". Which I used, one time, and then offered a private discussion. It wasn't a mean discussion, just unnecessary. I don't give a rat's shiny ass what a person believes or how they go about showing it. That's their personal choice and I respect that, I'll DEFEND that, so why argue it? Got me.
I've kept Mr Temper tied down for a while now. And maybe it's time it got turned loose for just a bit. I got some things off my chest that had been there for a long time. And while I was chapped at myself for the way I did it, I feel better for having said what I did. Was it kind? Oh God no it wasn't. It did need said though after 4 years of pussy footing around with it, it was time. I'm not trying to make an excuse for anything because it's my behavior. I see and hear enough excuse making to run me the rest of my life, plus some. It seems like it's always someone else to blame for things that are going on in a person's life. I can honestly say, the reason I never made field foreman was because of my mouth. No one's fault but my own. I had a foreman that just honestly didn't like me, he told people he didn't, but he was an ass. I told him so, knowing full well that even if a promotion rolled along I was going to get looked over just so he could keep me under his thumb. I never laid blame to him for that, it was my own doing.
So, Mr Temper got to spend some time out playing yesterday. What was the total gain in that? No a damn thing. Zero. Zip. Nada. It wasn't a good solid reason to be angry, not like seeing someone abuse my or someone else's kid, or touch me in a threatening manner, or try to harm my wife or friends. Nope, none of that, it was silly shit that should have been let go and blown off. I try to pride myself in not dwelling on stuff, or letting it build up into blown over the top proportions. I missed doing that yesterday. If anyone is looking for an apology, that isn't happening either, but it was silly for me to twist off like that. It's a short coming on my part. Mr Temper is the reason I never liked to fight. I didn't know when to stop. Mr Temper has cost me a couple of friends down the line. My loss, for foolish behavior. My lovely wife Liz is about the only person that can scare Mr Temper back into his box, bless her heart. She's tougher than I am. She hates Mr Temper more than I do. Mr Temper is an ass, he helps me do stupid shit.
On the other hand, Mr Temper helps me deal with some of the stuff I'm going through right now. He's mad as hell at Baxter, so he fights Baxter for me. He won't let Hospice tell me what's best for me, when they've done nothing but read files....maybe. He's with me when the Dr's act a bit indignant that I won't do a Clinical Trial. He asks them "Would you?", but gets no answer, other than a walk around the bushes. He does give me an edge at times, when I let just parts of him come slinking out when I need that boost.
So, today's lesson? Damned if I know. I would guess it's not to let the little things drive you to losing your temper. If it's going to be lost, do it for the right reasons, not over little stuff. Does this let the person I was most angry at off the hook? No it does not. I just should have been more diplomatic. Short coming on my part. One should try and temper honesty with compassion. It's good to be honest with yourself and everyone else, but there should be a bit of compassion in there as well. You draw more flies with honey, as the old saying goes. To add to the rest of that timeless saw: Use vinegar and generally all you attract are the douche bags
On Facebook we had a little discussion about my religious beliefs. Really, it's no one's business but me and my maker what I believe, and I don't like to discuss it in public. I offered to talk to anyone that wanted to know in a Private Message. That discussion got a little rowdy and there really was no need for that. Granted, I opened it up for questions about anything with the caveat I could say "None of your damn business". Which I used, one time, and then offered a private discussion. It wasn't a mean discussion, just unnecessary. I don't give a rat's shiny ass what a person believes or how they go about showing it. That's their personal choice and I respect that, I'll DEFEND that, so why argue it? Got me.
I've kept Mr Temper tied down for a while now. And maybe it's time it got turned loose for just a bit. I got some things off my chest that had been there for a long time. And while I was chapped at myself for the way I did it, I feel better for having said what I did. Was it kind? Oh God no it wasn't. It did need said though after 4 years of pussy footing around with it, it was time. I'm not trying to make an excuse for anything because it's my behavior. I see and hear enough excuse making to run me the rest of my life, plus some. It seems like it's always someone else to blame for things that are going on in a person's life. I can honestly say, the reason I never made field foreman was because of my mouth. No one's fault but my own. I had a foreman that just honestly didn't like me, he told people he didn't, but he was an ass. I told him so, knowing full well that even if a promotion rolled along I was going to get looked over just so he could keep me under his thumb. I never laid blame to him for that, it was my own doing.
So, Mr Temper got to spend some time out playing yesterday. What was the total gain in that? No a damn thing. Zero. Zip. Nada. It wasn't a good solid reason to be angry, not like seeing someone abuse my or someone else's kid, or touch me in a threatening manner, or try to harm my wife or friends. Nope, none of that, it was silly shit that should have been let go and blown off. I try to pride myself in not dwelling on stuff, or letting it build up into blown over the top proportions. I missed doing that yesterday. If anyone is looking for an apology, that isn't happening either, but it was silly for me to twist off like that. It's a short coming on my part. Mr Temper is the reason I never liked to fight. I didn't know when to stop. Mr Temper has cost me a couple of friends down the line. My loss, for foolish behavior. My lovely wife Liz is about the only person that can scare Mr Temper back into his box, bless her heart. She's tougher than I am. She hates Mr Temper more than I do. Mr Temper is an ass, he helps me do stupid shit.
On the other hand, Mr Temper helps me deal with some of the stuff I'm going through right now. He's mad as hell at Baxter, so he fights Baxter for me. He won't let Hospice tell me what's best for me, when they've done nothing but read files....maybe. He's with me when the Dr's act a bit indignant that I won't do a Clinical Trial. He asks them "Would you?", but gets no answer, other than a walk around the bushes. He does give me an edge at times, when I let just parts of him come slinking out when I need that boost.
So, today's lesson? Damned if I know. I would guess it's not to let the little things drive you to losing your temper. If it's going to be lost, do it for the right reasons, not over little stuff. Does this let the person I was most angry at off the hook? No it does not. I just should have been more diplomatic. Short coming on my part. One should try and temper honesty with compassion. It's good to be honest with yourself and everyone else, but there should be a bit of compassion in there as well. You draw more flies with honey, as the old saying goes. To add to the rest of that timeless saw: Use vinegar and generally all you attract are the douche bags
Wednesday, August 21, 2013
Questions? Anyone? Anyone?
So, what do people want to know about me or my situation? What questions are off limits?
Well, let's start with that. Nothing is off limits unless I say something like, "Yeah, like that's any of your damn business". My terms, my limits. If anyone gets put off by a question, I'd say grow some thicker skin. The only way to understand what I'm going through, and what each of us may go through, is to ask. Knowledge is power, and that's no bullshit. For years we heard teachers tell us that there is no stupid question, no matter how trivial a person may think the question sounds in their own head. Ask, be bold. As I say, the worst you'll get is a none of your business answer. I'll answer all of them as honestly as I can. My terms, I get to decide how much detail I go into with each answer. Some will be short because I just don't understand the science. I'm oil field trash, not a doctor. Others will be short because it's something I want to keep for myself. I have to have something that's mine. I dedicated the blog to being open, as open as I can anyway, so people get the chance to learn something. Whether it's how not to be afraid of the future (frankly, none of us get out alive) or just to put a new eye on what's going on around us. I always felt like I was a keen observer of my surroundings. I didn't miss much of the pretty stuff, or the ugly either. But I've also slowed down my looking a bit now, so everything takes on a different tone. I live in some butt ugly country. Not much more than mesquite, caliche, and some scrub grass, but even here has it's moments. Always has had, I just see more of them now. That was my whole point here. To give folk a chance to see what I am, and maybe see it when they aren't so pressed for time. Dying is a piss poor way to discover the nice stuff along the road, believe me. I've also said I'd be open about how I feel as this goes along. I intend to keep that promise, until I just can't any longer. That may be ugly as sin as we steam along here. I intend to put in everything I can, no matter how crappy and bad it gets. That's the point of being honest, sometimes it hurts a little.
Okay, onto a question that popped up yesterday on the Facebook Group site. "You're not doing the Clinical Study even if it might help others?"
That's right, I'm not. I sort of short sheeted that answer yesterday, so I'll try and elaborate on why I came to that conclusion a couple of weeks ago, and how I'd already made up my mind not to do Chemo, before seeing the Oncologist in Midland.
So here goes nothing. Back when I got the biopsy in late October, I'd told my boss that if the cancer came back it was going to be mad and worse than the first time. Being right isn't all it's cracked up to be. I knew then it was going to be a difficult row to hoe, but I was willing to take the risk and see what was going to happen and how we were going to fight it. Lots of surgery, cutting out big chunks of me. That left me, after some of the muscle flap died and required another two surgeries to fix, unable to swallow or speak. Without a pectoral muscle and missing a goodly chunk of one quadricep. I didn't get PT orders in what I consider a timely fashion, so a lot of my upper body weakened out and atrophied. No fun. They collected samples of all the cancerous tissue, plus the dead quad muscle, as well as having every page of doctor files from the previous bout. A lot of information for a research hospital to use. Including growth rate in me, which was awfully fast. Both times it was very fast, and I see no reason this one won't be the same. I have hell with chemo. Bad side effect? Hell yes, dish that shit up because I'll have some, no doubt about it. Any more radiation and that will kill me faster than the cancer. In short, misery and death, right? My surgeon, at our first meeting, told me this was the shot. If it came back after that, there wasn't anything left to do. I figured that, just taking a wild guess at the mechanics of it all, and decided to give it a shot. We kill the cancer this time, it won't have a place to hide. Or so I thought. Cut away, surgeon, let us be done with the foul disease, repair me, and let's all have a big hug to a successful treatment. Almost worked too. Clear for 5 months
So, they find it again on my first reconstructive surgery. I knew by the look on the Doc and his assistants face something was up and it wasn't good. Fine. We'll see. A week later I see my new surgeon, he mentions Palliative care, throws my loving wife into tears. Bad. He and I discuss probable time. He says about a year, goes into a bit of what to look forward to (that's a taboo question, I will not answer that at all) and hooks me up with the MDA folks for the next week, along with a chemo consult. We'd already discussed that it wasn't a cure, just an extension, so I was leaning toward no chemo then. After another 2 weeks, and the palliative care consult (the doctor was very cute, and tiny) we had a chemo consult. You notice I keep saying "we". That's the wife and I, she's in this with me.
MDA chemo Doc tells me the protocol they want to use is going to be very strong, but I'm strong enough to stand it. I ask cure, she says no...Strike on. She brings up Clinical Study, a bit shy on details other than it's going to be way stronger and more harsh than the chemo treatment. Cure? Nope, just to see how my cancer reacts to the treatment. Sooooooo, really, really sick and miserable for zero gain on the whip end. I told her "NO" right away. I say I'll think about on cycle of chemo, if I can do it at home where I can be comfortable.
Fast forward to Midland one week. I'm in wanting to see if MDA has set up the protocol with my doctor. The orders came in while I was waiting. They take some blood, go over the CT report that came with the orders and ask if I can wait to see the doc. Thirty minutes or so later he's telling me about the treatment, it sounds bad to me already. I ask if my wife can come in and hear what he has to say the next day. I've already made my mind up, but Liz deserves to hear what I heard, so she can understand why I said no to the Chemo. She listens, cries a bit, and agrees with me. No chemo. I know this makes her weepy and stuff all day, and I hate that. For me, it's like lifting a bus off my shoulders. Hearing there wasn't a cure was like having a tank taken off, this was the last big weight and I was glad to be free of it.
So, here's why no clinical study and no chemo. They've got chunks of me that I signed off for them to have and study. They have dozens of blood tests, CT's and PET scans to go over. They have growth rate. The only thing they don't have is me as a guinea pig.
My life on my terms, my death on my terms. I've chosen quality over quantity. Without being able to speak will or swallow, or train to throw, or really ride the bike, my quality of life isn't what it once was. Fine, I accept that as part of the war I am continuing to put up against that which will kill my body. And I figure faster than within a year. MD Anderson is a great hospital, and they do wonderful work in curing cancer. If surgery hadn't been part of the equation, I'd jumped on a Clinical Trial so fast it'd make your head spin. As things stand now, no way, no how. I'm still doing speech swallow therapy, so hopefully I'll be more readily understood when the time comes I can't speak at all. I do lymphedema therapy, because that helps everything else as well as my comfort level.
So now there's a bit better explanation, I needed the extra room Facebook can give, but not as well as this forum. So, ask away. I'm open. And as I've said, if the questions make you woozy or upset, put that extra layer of skin on. Hell, I'm the one being asked, no one else is
Well, let's start with that. Nothing is off limits unless I say something like, "Yeah, like that's any of your damn business". My terms, my limits. If anyone gets put off by a question, I'd say grow some thicker skin. The only way to understand what I'm going through, and what each of us may go through, is to ask. Knowledge is power, and that's no bullshit. For years we heard teachers tell us that there is no stupid question, no matter how trivial a person may think the question sounds in their own head. Ask, be bold. As I say, the worst you'll get is a none of your business answer. I'll answer all of them as honestly as I can. My terms, I get to decide how much detail I go into with each answer. Some will be short because I just don't understand the science. I'm oil field trash, not a doctor. Others will be short because it's something I want to keep for myself. I have to have something that's mine. I dedicated the blog to being open, as open as I can anyway, so people get the chance to learn something. Whether it's how not to be afraid of the future (frankly, none of us get out alive) or just to put a new eye on what's going on around us. I always felt like I was a keen observer of my surroundings. I didn't miss much of the pretty stuff, or the ugly either. But I've also slowed down my looking a bit now, so everything takes on a different tone. I live in some butt ugly country. Not much more than mesquite, caliche, and some scrub grass, but even here has it's moments. Always has had, I just see more of them now. That was my whole point here. To give folk a chance to see what I am, and maybe see it when they aren't so pressed for time. Dying is a piss poor way to discover the nice stuff along the road, believe me. I've also said I'd be open about how I feel as this goes along. I intend to keep that promise, until I just can't any longer. That may be ugly as sin as we steam along here. I intend to put in everything I can, no matter how crappy and bad it gets. That's the point of being honest, sometimes it hurts a little.
Okay, onto a question that popped up yesterday on the Facebook Group site. "You're not doing the Clinical Study even if it might help others?"
That's right, I'm not. I sort of short sheeted that answer yesterday, so I'll try and elaborate on why I came to that conclusion a couple of weeks ago, and how I'd already made up my mind not to do Chemo, before seeing the Oncologist in Midland.
So here goes nothing. Back when I got the biopsy in late October, I'd told my boss that if the cancer came back it was going to be mad and worse than the first time. Being right isn't all it's cracked up to be. I knew then it was going to be a difficult row to hoe, but I was willing to take the risk and see what was going to happen and how we were going to fight it. Lots of surgery, cutting out big chunks of me. That left me, after some of the muscle flap died and required another two surgeries to fix, unable to swallow or speak. Without a pectoral muscle and missing a goodly chunk of one quadricep. I didn't get PT orders in what I consider a timely fashion, so a lot of my upper body weakened out and atrophied. No fun. They collected samples of all the cancerous tissue, plus the dead quad muscle, as well as having every page of doctor files from the previous bout. A lot of information for a research hospital to use. Including growth rate in me, which was awfully fast. Both times it was very fast, and I see no reason this one won't be the same. I have hell with chemo. Bad side effect? Hell yes, dish that shit up because I'll have some, no doubt about it. Any more radiation and that will kill me faster than the cancer. In short, misery and death, right? My surgeon, at our first meeting, told me this was the shot. If it came back after that, there wasn't anything left to do. I figured that, just taking a wild guess at the mechanics of it all, and decided to give it a shot. We kill the cancer this time, it won't have a place to hide. Or so I thought. Cut away, surgeon, let us be done with the foul disease, repair me, and let's all have a big hug to a successful treatment. Almost worked too. Clear for 5 months
So, they find it again on my first reconstructive surgery. I knew by the look on the Doc and his assistants face something was up and it wasn't good. Fine. We'll see. A week later I see my new surgeon, he mentions Palliative care, throws my loving wife into tears. Bad. He and I discuss probable time. He says about a year, goes into a bit of what to look forward to (that's a taboo question, I will not answer that at all) and hooks me up with the MDA folks for the next week, along with a chemo consult. We'd already discussed that it wasn't a cure, just an extension, so I was leaning toward no chemo then. After another 2 weeks, and the palliative care consult (the doctor was very cute, and tiny) we had a chemo consult. You notice I keep saying "we". That's the wife and I, she's in this with me.
MDA chemo Doc tells me the protocol they want to use is going to be very strong, but I'm strong enough to stand it. I ask cure, she says no...Strike on. She brings up Clinical Study, a bit shy on details other than it's going to be way stronger and more harsh than the chemo treatment. Cure? Nope, just to see how my cancer reacts to the treatment. Sooooooo, really, really sick and miserable for zero gain on the whip end. I told her "NO" right away. I say I'll think about on cycle of chemo, if I can do it at home where I can be comfortable.
Fast forward to Midland one week. I'm in wanting to see if MDA has set up the protocol with my doctor. The orders came in while I was waiting. They take some blood, go over the CT report that came with the orders and ask if I can wait to see the doc. Thirty minutes or so later he's telling me about the treatment, it sounds bad to me already. I ask if my wife can come in and hear what he has to say the next day. I've already made my mind up, but Liz deserves to hear what I heard, so she can understand why I said no to the Chemo. She listens, cries a bit, and agrees with me. No chemo. I know this makes her weepy and stuff all day, and I hate that. For me, it's like lifting a bus off my shoulders. Hearing there wasn't a cure was like having a tank taken off, this was the last big weight and I was glad to be free of it.
So, here's why no clinical study and no chemo. They've got chunks of me that I signed off for them to have and study. They have dozens of blood tests, CT's and PET scans to go over. They have growth rate. The only thing they don't have is me as a guinea pig.
My life on my terms, my death on my terms. I've chosen quality over quantity. Without being able to speak will or swallow, or train to throw, or really ride the bike, my quality of life isn't what it once was. Fine, I accept that as part of the war I am continuing to put up against that which will kill my body. And I figure faster than within a year. MD Anderson is a great hospital, and they do wonderful work in curing cancer. If surgery hadn't been part of the equation, I'd jumped on a Clinical Trial so fast it'd make your head spin. As things stand now, no way, no how. I'm still doing speech swallow therapy, so hopefully I'll be more readily understood when the time comes I can't speak at all. I do lymphedema therapy, because that helps everything else as well as my comfort level.
So now there's a bit better explanation, I needed the extra room Facebook can give, but not as well as this forum. So, ask away. I'm open. And as I've said, if the questions make you woozy or upset, put that extra layer of skin on. Hell, I'm the one being asked, no one else is
Tuesday, August 20, 2013
Why?
A lot of people are asking "Why? Why do good people have to die?". It's part of life is why. Are some folks taken way to early? Absolutely, and not including myself in that lot. As humans we are a frail lot. No other baby requires the time a human baby does to be able to care for itself. In fact, some never learn how to take care of themselves. We are susceptible to a plethora of illness that 100 years ago would have killed most of us. We aren't as strong as most of the big mammals in the animal kingdom. Our advantage lies in our larger brain pan and it's ability to reason and think in abstract terms. It's what brings us to "Why?". Sometimes there just isn't an answer other than "Well, shit happens don't it?". Because it does. Shit just happens. No matter how we try to rationalize it, or explain it, it just happens. Is it part of a big master plan for each of us individually? It very well could be. I'm a believer in nothing happening without a reason. Does that mean there is a higher power? It certainly does in my mind. If that's God that's fine. If it's just a creator of action that must play itself out, that's fine as well. None of what we do is without reason, nor does it never have no effect. Our hope is that we do a bit better and leave the place better than when we got here. Our little mud ball out here in the universe is different. Any one of a million things just doesn't fall into place exactly right, life doesn't exist here. A bit closer to the sun, it's too hot, a bit farther out, it's too cold. Every meteor strike, every ice age, every warm period, happened for the betterment of the planet and the life that occupies it. That's not random. Random leaves too many variables that can go wrong.
"Why" can also lead to "What if?". What if deals in hypotheticals that can't be proven. "What if I'd been able to be a Marine?" Well, I might not have done the work I do, met the people I have, had the kids I do, or have this blog. Or not. It's the same as asking yourself "What if I'd done X instead of Y?". You'd not be who you are now. Something would have changed and in turn, that would change your outlook on life and work. There are folks thinking "Oh, no, I'd still be the same.". No, no you wouldn't. You'd have altered something basic in your life. Something so tiny you may not know it at first, but it will have an overall impact on who you are right now. It can't be helped. Our experiences make us who we are. I could have changed majors when I was drinking my way out of college (or just stayed at the dorm and studied, but that was no fun) and gone onto being a history instructor. I might have even been good at it, but I'd not be who I am sitting here typing. My entire outlook on life and work would be altered. I know a lot of petroleum engineers. We talk field work, wells and fun stuff like that. I've mentioned before that I could go back to school and learn exactly what they know right out the box. But I've done work and seen things they'll never see, just because I was where I was at the right time. I also listened and learned things from them. Not being so dead set in exactly what I had done over riding new information let me learn a lot. As well as being able to show the engineers an easy, safer way to work. It was a win/win. I'd never gotten there if I'd lived by "What If?". Do I do that? Hell yes I wonder "What if", I'm human. We all wonder about changing things. I don't dwell on it. I think it's a losing proposition. An unprovable scenario. I think "What if" can paralyze your ability to move forward nearly as badly as, and in some cases worse, fearing the unknown
The worse thing about "Why" and "What if" is they can keep you from trying. "What if I fail?". Yeah, what if? Big deal, is it worse to fail or not to try at all? Not to try is far worse. "What if I he/she doesn't feel the same way about me I do them?". Don't ask, or lay your heart out there, you'll never be hurt. You'll also never find the miracle of a solid love. "Why did that happen?". Who knows? Did you learn something from it? If you did it wasn't a total wash out then, was it?
There are so many things that can hold us back from being happy or ourselves. I tried to avoid those, and for the most part I've lived my life on my terms. I spent a lot of time raging against the darkness in spite of not lighting the candle. I learned from those years. You really can draw more with honey than vinegar, it just took me a while to figure that out. I can look back and honestly say I wouldn't change a thing. All the stuff I've done in the past have gone toward my here and now and my future. Everyone can do that. Don't dwell on the what if or why end. Look at it as the lesson you didn't know you were learning. Our ability to look back and say "This is where I made a mistake, I don't have to do that again" is what separates us from the animal kingdom.
I just looked at the biggest "What if" of my life. What if I do the chemo and the clinical study? Well, for certain I was going to be incredibly sick and miserable, and the gain in life would be zero to a little. I decided to say no to those, knowing full well I'm going to die a bit sooner. Yesterday a guy asked me
"What if it would have worked?". I suppose I might have lived a long life. Or been clear 4.5 years, or 5 months and it might come back. I don't dwell on that because my decision was made. I feel it was the correct decision for me. Do you all see how defeatist "Why?" and "What if?" are now? "Why" because in a lot of cases there just isn't an answer. At least not one we can see right away. There's a lot of reasons we can't see right away, and may never see. But somewhere a difference was made in something. "What If?", because it causes us to question things we can't correct. What if deals in the past. It's okay to think "What if", then play out the different scenarios, but in the long run what has that done? Made some great personal fiction for us is what. You can't move yourself forward if you're so worried about things you can't control that they affect your everyday thought process. It's okay to think "what if I do this, what are the consequences?", that's making a plan. It' not okay to constantly go back and worry about "what if I'd done this instead?". That's a loser, you probably already know that answer. The fact that you made a decision and went through with it, right, wrong or indifferent is a major point in your life. It's teaching you how to deal with the things you do. Don't ruin the good lessons by worrying about "What If".
Long and rambling. It's becoming a trade mark.
Carpe Omnia. Might as well, as long as Why and What If stay out of your way
"Why" can also lead to "What if?". What if deals in hypotheticals that can't be proven. "What if I'd been able to be a Marine?" Well, I might not have done the work I do, met the people I have, had the kids I do, or have this blog. Or not. It's the same as asking yourself "What if I'd done X instead of Y?". You'd not be who you are now. Something would have changed and in turn, that would change your outlook on life and work. There are folks thinking "Oh, no, I'd still be the same.". No, no you wouldn't. You'd have altered something basic in your life. Something so tiny you may not know it at first, but it will have an overall impact on who you are right now. It can't be helped. Our experiences make us who we are. I could have changed majors when I was drinking my way out of college (or just stayed at the dorm and studied, but that was no fun) and gone onto being a history instructor. I might have even been good at it, but I'd not be who I am sitting here typing. My entire outlook on life and work would be altered. I know a lot of petroleum engineers. We talk field work, wells and fun stuff like that. I've mentioned before that I could go back to school and learn exactly what they know right out the box. But I've done work and seen things they'll never see, just because I was where I was at the right time. I also listened and learned things from them. Not being so dead set in exactly what I had done over riding new information let me learn a lot. As well as being able to show the engineers an easy, safer way to work. It was a win/win. I'd never gotten there if I'd lived by "What If?". Do I do that? Hell yes I wonder "What if", I'm human. We all wonder about changing things. I don't dwell on it. I think it's a losing proposition. An unprovable scenario. I think "What if" can paralyze your ability to move forward nearly as badly as, and in some cases worse, fearing the unknown
The worse thing about "Why" and "What if" is they can keep you from trying. "What if I fail?". Yeah, what if? Big deal, is it worse to fail or not to try at all? Not to try is far worse. "What if I he/she doesn't feel the same way about me I do them?". Don't ask, or lay your heart out there, you'll never be hurt. You'll also never find the miracle of a solid love. "Why did that happen?". Who knows? Did you learn something from it? If you did it wasn't a total wash out then, was it?
There are so many things that can hold us back from being happy or ourselves. I tried to avoid those, and for the most part I've lived my life on my terms. I spent a lot of time raging against the darkness in spite of not lighting the candle. I learned from those years. You really can draw more with honey than vinegar, it just took me a while to figure that out. I can look back and honestly say I wouldn't change a thing. All the stuff I've done in the past have gone toward my here and now and my future. Everyone can do that. Don't dwell on the what if or why end. Look at it as the lesson you didn't know you were learning. Our ability to look back and say "This is where I made a mistake, I don't have to do that again" is what separates us from the animal kingdom.
I just looked at the biggest "What if" of my life. What if I do the chemo and the clinical study? Well, for certain I was going to be incredibly sick and miserable, and the gain in life would be zero to a little. I decided to say no to those, knowing full well I'm going to die a bit sooner. Yesterday a guy asked me
"What if it would have worked?". I suppose I might have lived a long life. Or been clear 4.5 years, or 5 months and it might come back. I don't dwell on that because my decision was made. I feel it was the correct decision for me. Do you all see how defeatist "Why?" and "What if?" are now? "Why" because in a lot of cases there just isn't an answer. At least not one we can see right away. There's a lot of reasons we can't see right away, and may never see. But somewhere a difference was made in something. "What If?", because it causes us to question things we can't correct. What if deals in the past. It's okay to think "What if", then play out the different scenarios, but in the long run what has that done? Made some great personal fiction for us is what. You can't move yourself forward if you're so worried about things you can't control that they affect your everyday thought process. It's okay to think "what if I do this, what are the consequences?", that's making a plan. It' not okay to constantly go back and worry about "what if I'd done this instead?". That's a loser, you probably already know that answer. The fact that you made a decision and went through with it, right, wrong or indifferent is a major point in your life. It's teaching you how to deal with the things you do. Don't ruin the good lessons by worrying about "What If".
Long and rambling. It's becoming a trade mark.
Carpe Omnia. Might as well, as long as Why and What If stay out of your way
Monday, August 19, 2013
Acceptance
This weekend I was asked if I'd accepted the diagnosis. I replied, yes I have.
Accepting the diagnosis by no means saying I like it, or won't fight it with what I have. What it means is I've come to terms with the oncoming end of my life. Do I like that? Well hell no, I don't like that, but that doesn't mean I'm not at peace with this part of my life. My cancer is rapid growth stuff. When even the Oncologist looks at CT's taken before, after, and immediately before surgery and says "Wow, that grows really fast", maybe it's time to say, "Wow, my cancer grows really fast". I know it does. I can sort of tell why it's having a growth spurt. I get tired, cranky, and achy. Like this morning. Well, this morning could be lag from the fun I had at Kerrville. That being the case, it's no big deal, because that's an ache I'd put up with every day if it meant I'd had fun the weekend before.
Acceptance means that I'm not willing to spend what time I have left, hooked up to a PICC line having poison pumped into me once a week for God knows how long. It means that I do not want to spend my time trying to keep from vomiting. That creates an entirely different set of problems than simple Chemo yakking does. It means that I'd rather be as lucid as possible. It means that what time I have left, be it a years, way less or maybe more, isn't going to be spent wondering if it slowed down the cancer enough to squeeze in an extra 2-3 weeks. No, that's not doing it on my terms. That's letting someone who doesn't have a personal interest vested in me decide how my life is going to proceed. The clinical trial was going to be more harsh than the standard Chemo. Bless their hearts at MD Anderson, because I know they are looking down range and trying to help other people after I'm gone. I'm thrilled they do that, by the way. They have samples of my cancer tumors and tissue. They have a sample of the muscle that died in my mouth. That's enough of Rock Guinea Pig, they don't need me to be sick for them at all, not if it's not going to cure me, and I as told it would not.
Acceptance means that I see things a bit differently. There are places I probably won't see now. Somewhere down the line there are people I'm going to see for the last time. I can taste a bit of the foods I like, but I won't be eating them again. People's smiles, voices, how they smell, the feel or their hands when we greet each other. Those are things that, one day, will be the last time I experience that particular person. Jesus, sounds like I'm being a drag, right? I'm not. These are the things I took for granted when I thought I was immortal after beating Baxter down the first time. Not that I didn't cherish my friendship with everyone, that goes without saying. But I took a lot of things for granted. I don't do that now. How often do we really just look and soak in what we are seeing? How the flats turn into the hills? How the hills are wooded differently in different areas? I can tell you when we are getting close to West Texas just by the difference in the Mesquite and pasture land, even if I've been asleep and wake up not knowing where we are exactly. Everyone's hands feel different when you shake them, because it's a person, not just their hand. Pay attention next time you grab mitts with more than a couple of people, it's amazing what you can tell from just grabbing a hand and shaking it. I started noticing that more lately. I think I'm making an image of that person that won't be lost...ever. I'll take some of everyone with me, where ever it is I'm going on the next leg of the journey. I'll have dozens of people with me, how can that be a bad thing?
Acceptance makes it easier to get everything Immortal Rock should have gotten done, finished in a timely manner. Put this off, put that off, the next thing you know none of the stuff you wanted done is even close to finished and you're out of time. Me? Hell, I'm getting that done. When the time comes to shake these mortal coils, the only thing the family will have to do is be with each other. No mad running around getting stuff finished for my depot stop. Except maybe the party stuff. That'll have to be set up later. Although we are having a BBQ sometime in November, hopefully while I'm still able and feel up to it. I find myself not planning too far out right now. More my style actually, to begin with. It's giving me a chance to reconnect with some folks I hadn't seen or talked to in years. Not to lay a guilt trip on them or myself, but to let them know that in some way they made a difference in my life. That's a good thing for me to do right now, and I hope it's a good thing for those people to know as well. Acceptance also means it's okay to admit I'm tired and I hurt a lot of the time. Before either round with cancer I had a lot of aches from things I did when I between 4 and 47. I had aches and minor arthritis from broken bones. Pulled muscles and over exerted everything. It was something I had and learned to live with. Lately I get asked a lot "What's your pain level?". It constantly ran a 2-3. So compared to what? A good day? Then a 5 or 6 is tolerable. And I hate to admit it when I'm really hurting. Shit, I limp a bit because I'm missing part of a quad, so what's a little pain? The Palliative Care Dr at MDA said, "It matters because you deserve to be as comfortable as you can". That struck home for some reason. Okay, that works for me, I accept that. And anyone at Kerrville can attest that I got as comfortable as I could be on that day.
Acceptance also means that I'm not going to keep telling everyone to suck it up. It gives me the peace of mind to let everyone that wants to be upset with my current run from Terminal Velocity to Critical Mass, be upset. Do I like to see my loved ones cry? I can be a mean old Son of a Bitch at times, but I'm not heartless. It really upsets me. But, acceptable for me now because the folks I love need to have a time to be upset, leak a bit, be mad, all of that. They can even be mad at me for behaving like I was Immortal Rock and doing as I damn well pleased because I wasn't ever gonna die. Surprise surprise surprise Sgt. Carter, looks like I might after all. I didn't used to like the fuss. My wife thinks she can't cry in front of me, I think, so she can look strong for me. WRONG Lizzy, you can. You've always been my strength and my rock, nothing is gonna change that. It also means I've given up a chunk of myself. I was always loathe to accept help, let alone ask for it. Stubborn Rock never liked having to have help. Stubborn Rock often took longer to do some things because he wouldn't ask for help. At work, my mantra was "If you need it, ask for help, there's no shame in asking.". Ahhhh to have taken my own advise. I can suck it up because I own this, it's not the same for me as it is others. Let me suck it up, and who ever needs to have that time to be upset, cry, break a dish, vent it out. In the long run it'll help both of us. A bit of something: "Surprise surprise surprise" was what Gomer Pyle USMC used to tell his drill Sgt back in the 60s early 70s, for those of you too young to remember the TV show
Acceptance means that I have to accept the fact my thought bucket has run dry.
Today's blog was brought to you by the word "dammit" and the number 3.
All y'all take care now, hear?
Accepting the diagnosis by no means saying I like it, or won't fight it with what I have. What it means is I've come to terms with the oncoming end of my life. Do I like that? Well hell no, I don't like that, but that doesn't mean I'm not at peace with this part of my life. My cancer is rapid growth stuff. When even the Oncologist looks at CT's taken before, after, and immediately before surgery and says "Wow, that grows really fast", maybe it's time to say, "Wow, my cancer grows really fast". I know it does. I can sort of tell why it's having a growth spurt. I get tired, cranky, and achy. Like this morning. Well, this morning could be lag from the fun I had at Kerrville. That being the case, it's no big deal, because that's an ache I'd put up with every day if it meant I'd had fun the weekend before.
Acceptance means that I'm not willing to spend what time I have left, hooked up to a PICC line having poison pumped into me once a week for God knows how long. It means that I do not want to spend my time trying to keep from vomiting. That creates an entirely different set of problems than simple Chemo yakking does. It means that I'd rather be as lucid as possible. It means that what time I have left, be it a years, way less or maybe more, isn't going to be spent wondering if it slowed down the cancer enough to squeeze in an extra 2-3 weeks. No, that's not doing it on my terms. That's letting someone who doesn't have a personal interest vested in me decide how my life is going to proceed. The clinical trial was going to be more harsh than the standard Chemo. Bless their hearts at MD Anderson, because I know they are looking down range and trying to help other people after I'm gone. I'm thrilled they do that, by the way. They have samples of my cancer tumors and tissue. They have a sample of the muscle that died in my mouth. That's enough of Rock Guinea Pig, they don't need me to be sick for them at all, not if it's not going to cure me, and I as told it would not.
Acceptance means that I see things a bit differently. There are places I probably won't see now. Somewhere down the line there are people I'm going to see for the last time. I can taste a bit of the foods I like, but I won't be eating them again. People's smiles, voices, how they smell, the feel or their hands when we greet each other. Those are things that, one day, will be the last time I experience that particular person. Jesus, sounds like I'm being a drag, right? I'm not. These are the things I took for granted when I thought I was immortal after beating Baxter down the first time. Not that I didn't cherish my friendship with everyone, that goes without saying. But I took a lot of things for granted. I don't do that now. How often do we really just look and soak in what we are seeing? How the flats turn into the hills? How the hills are wooded differently in different areas? I can tell you when we are getting close to West Texas just by the difference in the Mesquite and pasture land, even if I've been asleep and wake up not knowing where we are exactly. Everyone's hands feel different when you shake them, because it's a person, not just their hand. Pay attention next time you grab mitts with more than a couple of people, it's amazing what you can tell from just grabbing a hand and shaking it. I started noticing that more lately. I think I'm making an image of that person that won't be lost...ever. I'll take some of everyone with me, where ever it is I'm going on the next leg of the journey. I'll have dozens of people with me, how can that be a bad thing?
Acceptance makes it easier to get everything Immortal Rock should have gotten done, finished in a timely manner. Put this off, put that off, the next thing you know none of the stuff you wanted done is even close to finished and you're out of time. Me? Hell, I'm getting that done. When the time comes to shake these mortal coils, the only thing the family will have to do is be with each other. No mad running around getting stuff finished for my depot stop. Except maybe the party stuff. That'll have to be set up later. Although we are having a BBQ sometime in November, hopefully while I'm still able and feel up to it. I find myself not planning too far out right now. More my style actually, to begin with. It's giving me a chance to reconnect with some folks I hadn't seen or talked to in years. Not to lay a guilt trip on them or myself, but to let them know that in some way they made a difference in my life. That's a good thing for me to do right now, and I hope it's a good thing for those people to know as well. Acceptance also means it's okay to admit I'm tired and I hurt a lot of the time. Before either round with cancer I had a lot of aches from things I did when I between 4 and 47. I had aches and minor arthritis from broken bones. Pulled muscles and over exerted everything. It was something I had and learned to live with. Lately I get asked a lot "What's your pain level?". It constantly ran a 2-3. So compared to what? A good day? Then a 5 or 6 is tolerable. And I hate to admit it when I'm really hurting. Shit, I limp a bit because I'm missing part of a quad, so what's a little pain? The Palliative Care Dr at MDA said, "It matters because you deserve to be as comfortable as you can". That struck home for some reason. Okay, that works for me, I accept that. And anyone at Kerrville can attest that I got as comfortable as I could be on that day.
Acceptance also means that I'm not going to keep telling everyone to suck it up. It gives me the peace of mind to let everyone that wants to be upset with my current run from Terminal Velocity to Critical Mass, be upset. Do I like to see my loved ones cry? I can be a mean old Son of a Bitch at times, but I'm not heartless. It really upsets me. But, acceptable for me now because the folks I love need to have a time to be upset, leak a bit, be mad, all of that. They can even be mad at me for behaving like I was Immortal Rock and doing as I damn well pleased because I wasn't ever gonna die. Surprise surprise surprise Sgt. Carter, looks like I might after all. I didn't used to like the fuss. My wife thinks she can't cry in front of me, I think, so she can look strong for me. WRONG Lizzy, you can. You've always been my strength and my rock, nothing is gonna change that. It also means I've given up a chunk of myself. I was always loathe to accept help, let alone ask for it. Stubborn Rock never liked having to have help. Stubborn Rock often took longer to do some things because he wouldn't ask for help. At work, my mantra was "If you need it, ask for help, there's no shame in asking.". Ahhhh to have taken my own advise. I can suck it up because I own this, it's not the same for me as it is others. Let me suck it up, and who ever needs to have that time to be upset, cry, break a dish, vent it out. In the long run it'll help both of us. A bit of something: "Surprise surprise surprise" was what Gomer Pyle USMC used to tell his drill Sgt back in the 60s early 70s, for those of you too young to remember the TV show
Acceptance means that I have to accept the fact my thought bucket has run dry.
Today's blog was brought to you by the word "dammit" and the number 3.
All y'all take care now, hear?
Sunday, August 18, 2013
IT'S SO FLUFFY!!!
We went to a Highland Games in Kerrville TX yesterday. It was held to coincide with the River Parade. It's also the first time that Kerrville has had a Highland games. The venue was in a nice park right along the river (duh, Rock. River Parade) and though the day was hot, there was a decent breeze and most importantly there were several of my friends.
It's tough to go to the games, for me, and not be able to throw. But I do like the athletes. So when the Masters and Women divisions are put together to throw at the same time, I went down to shoot the breeze and talk myself into trying the event. Talking myself into trying wasn't so hard. I've got a pain patch on, right? How bad could it be?, I said. Give it a shot!, I said. So I did. Borrowed a hay fork and thought I'd try at 18'. Generally that's a cake walk for me, so sure, why not. I grab Brittney Boswell's fork because it's like mine, and she's let me use it before. I get all set. Feels pretty decent. Do my wind up and let it loose. Oh yeah! High enough, but not over the bar....then OWWWWW. Oh Geez Louise did that hurt. Not just the "wow, I've not done that in a long, long time" kind of hurt. But the kind of hurt that says "No, really, that hurt bad, it's okay to either pee pee a little or cry" kind of hurt. I put B's fork on the ground properly, calmly walk by and say "Ow" and then lament how I've got to sit down for a minute. Suuuuure, because honestly it's sit down or roll up into a ball for the afternoon. Meandering back to the car I slip out the liquid pain medicine that's for back up to the patch. I fix myself a dose and shove that right into the tube. It helps a little. So now I figure most of my time is going to be spent relaxing in a chair and being stoned. I was right, too. One of the guys had some stuff called "Pain a Trater" from Melaluca. Wicked shit that. It's like ICY HOT on steroids, with a touch of aspirin. That really killed the pain off as long as I didn't over do it. Thanks Aaron and Tamyna Woods.
I talked a little with a lot of the guys there. It's tough since I can't speak well and have to use the board. There were a lot of "I didn't get a damn bit of that" or "what?" going on. That's cool, I understand that. I can hear myself too, and once in a while even I think WTF? There were a lot of kids out there too, which is typical for a Highland Games. Families get together and come to the games. One of the guys grandparents came to see him throw. That's pretty cool if you ask me. Anyway, back to the kids. They had all kinds of questions, which I don't mind. It beats having people look and get that "oh you poor man" expression. Kids are pretty blunt. If you're scary, they won't come around. If they are curious and one brave comes up to talk and ask questions. They all gather around to hear and ask too. So I don't mind. They watched me put water in my feeding tube. "Does that hurt?", "Where does it go?", and "Can you taste it?" were the most common questions. I had to write down the answers and either a grown up or one of the kids that could read would tell the others what I wrote down. One of the little girls is whispering to her mother. She came over, put her little head down and asked me if she could use my board to draw me a picture. Of course I told no. Wrong, I let her draw me a nice picture, then I took her picture and showed her it was on my phone. I didn't see my board much the rest of the afternoon. I have now found a way to keep kids busy at the games. Dry erase board and neon colored markers. One of the kids was older, probably 12 or so. She asked the really difficult questions. Not difficult for me to talk about, but difficult to hit that middle ground between answering a 4-8 year olds questions, and answering an older kids. I hope I got that figured out to her satisfaction.
Liz may have been bored to death, but I love her for coming with me. I'd have had hell driving myself home, and it wouldn't have been safe on the amount of pain killer I ingested. She's looking out for me and I love her to death for doing that. It was hot, and a bit uncomfortable, and she is a trooper and my rock. We laughed a lot over my goofy stoned ass milling around the grounds. Geez, there for a while I couldn't hit my ass with both hands if I'd had a map, compass, and someone aiming them for me.. The river looked some cool and inviting I was thinking about just jumping in. Until I remembered I've got this huge hole in my neck. Can you say "Titanic"? I knew you could. We both laughed about that.
And that's where we get IT'S SO FLUFFY!!!! Because after the sheaf toss shot of pain, that's how I felt on the pain killer. Fluffy.
At the end of the day, we saw some pretty country. Visited with good friends. And I found a limit as to what I can do........for now.
Some of the country was like seeing it with a different set of eyes as well. How fast it changes from the Llano Estacado of the Permian Basin, to heading south toward I-10 where the country is more hilly, and into the Guadalupe River basin. So much change in only 260 miles. And it changes fast. In Kansas it was close to 300 miles to Liz's folks in SE Kansas, the change from western plains to south central plains to rolling Flint Hills to more sharply hilled and forested lands is a lot more gradual. Both are very pretty, and I'm glad I get to see the country I live in now. I always knew each area had it's own type of pretty, but I see it a little different now. That's a cool thing
Keep it fluffy, all y'all
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