I've been at this a while now, with the trach tube and all the crap that goes with it. It leaks air and other not so nifty things around it because of the way my neck is built right now. I don't have nice flat spots for it to set snugly against my throat. So it leaks air and everything I aspirate since I can't swallow for shit. It's a mess, it's uncomfortable and my skin is super easy to cut and teat because it's damp all the time. Oh, the shit you've got to live with, right? WRONG! The docs all told me they couldn't think of a thing to do to fix it. So, like a good patient I believe them. Silly me. I can't wear a standard trach collar, but we have them so sacrifice parts to me that I can use. Last night, I cut a chunk out of the middle of one, cut a cross in the middle of it, slipped the tube through the cross and VIOLA! a bushing that keeps the damn thing from leaking so badly. I'll be damned. I'd thought about that for the last 7 months, but just now did something about it. Shame on me. Those of you that know me well, know that I live to be proven right, just to prove that I can sort out a problem as well as those fold that are trained for it can. Cie la Vie
Sitting here waiting to go to therapy when what I really want to do is go with my daughter to take the Grandson to his first day at a new school. I loved doing that when the kids were little. I just didn't get to do it often. Liz and I took Sarah to her first day. No hug, no tears, (not from Sarah, a few from Liz) she just marched right in like she owned the place. Same with the other three. Whaaaaaat?? I thought there were to be huge hugs and terrified looks from the kids. I saw more of that from the moms than from the kids. Must be programmed in that the kids generally don't give a shit and have an "Oh look, new people" attitude. We should all be like that. Are they nervous? Hell yes they are! First time in something new, new faces, new rules, and you have to sit for extended periods of time! I'm nervous and I've been out of school longer than a lot of people have been alive.
I've changed jobs in my adult life twice is all. Once when I quit the rig to go to work for Anadarko, the next when they sold my leases to Apache. That's it. If nothing else I'm a stickler for loyalty. But, I was nervous my first day in each place. You have to get to know a new boss, new rules, new people, and I had to sit for extended periods of......Whaaaat?? Like school? Yes, just like school. We should all look at stuff like kids do. Do they like change? No. Will they do it because an adult says to change something big like environment? Yes they will. Why is that? Because they trust us to not let anything bad happen to them is why. We should trust ourselves as well. If we wouldn't let anything bad happen to our kid, why do we believe we might let the same thing happen to ourselves? Yet it's that fear that haunts our minds. Is this the right thing? What if I messed up? What if, what if what if. Trust and buzz kill that damn "what if". What if I get canc...bad choice. What if I step out in front of a bus? What if a meteor falls from the sky and hits me? Or worse, a frozen turd bomb from an air liner. See the problem with "What if?". Hypotheticals are great to work out a scientific experiment. Not so great in real life. Life is what it is, and "What if" is a standard roadblock.
It's gonna be a real short one today. I overslept. Whaaaaat??? Yes, somedays I have hell falling asleep and in return I don't get up at 0330 or 0400. Sometimes it's 0530. It takes me a while to get my crap gathered up in one place and moving. Mostly because I normally don't feel rushed like I am today. It sucks to be rushed. I miss things when I rush. And right now, at home, that's not a big deal. Job wise it was a HUGE deal. Not so much here. Maury will be on tomorrow.
I've found a way to blow off the extra hours now. "Words with Friends". Internet Scrabble. It's worse for me that Candy Crush is for women. Good gravy did I blow some time off yesterday. At least it makes me think
Y'all have a large time today. What if it was your last?
Monday, August 26, 2013
Sunday, August 25, 2013
Did I do that? Really?
My memory is a bit fuzzy on some of the things I hear I've done. Not because I was too loaded to remember, just that at the time they didn't stand out enough to warrant remembering. When I was around 21 or so the Safeway checkers went on strike in Liberal Ks (here in known as LK). Sue Flanigan was working there at the time, was still in school, and really needed to work, not strike. She goes in every day, gets hassled. Then the phone calls start in the middle of the night. I never did get the entire story of what they told and called her, but she was upset. This goes on for a week or so before I find out through the grapevine. See, when you scare the shit out of a High School girl who really needs the job, and you're over 21, that makes you a coward and it needs to stop. I hop the bike and putt down there to see why in the hell they thought it was important to intimidate and little girl and I ask as politely as I can that same question. They got nasty and called me names. To the best of my recollection this is what followed, paraphrased I'm sure: "Okay, the phone calls stop today. No more calling her a bitch, cunt, whore, or slut when she comes to work. No more, are we all clear?"There was one man in the crowd, he said "Are you threatening us?".
"No sir, that's a fucking promise. Any more of the bullshit you cock suckers are pulling and I'll make sure your life isn't the same ever again. Trust me"
The phone calls stopped, she was never pestered again. Looking back all those folks would have had to do was call the police and my tits would have been in a big wringer. I didn't think about that though, my friend was scared and that needed to stop. A Safeway checker did call the police on me once, but that was because I cracked a guy in the back of the head as hard as I could swing for slapping his two or so year old son so hard he fell down. The cops met me out front, asked what happened. I told em, they sent me home. Charmed life I live.
One morning it was cold on the rig. I mean frickin cold cold. Like ten above zero cold. The other hand and I were doing some work up around the floor and Pop says he's gonna have a quick sammich and cup of coffee. I don't know why, but something said turn around. I did and there's Pop, he's turned purple. Looks like he's choking. Shit. I drop my tools and haul ass over, grab him and get him turned around just as he's starting to go down. I ride us both to the ground sitting on our asses and jump in doing the Heimlich Maneuver on him. Four or five good thrusts, nothing pops out but he's breathing okay. Whew. Had to force him to shut the rig down so we could get him to the Doctor. The other hand just walked off, changed clothes and got in the truck or I don't think I'd have gotten him to go. I don't know yet if they ever figured out what happened that day. Flippin spooky though.
One of the guys that worked with me on the rig fainted at the sight of his own blood. My blood, no problem, he'd helped me bandage up a couple of nasty cuts before, no big deal. He also wore his wedding ring and didn't like to wear gloves. Pop and I both told him (I was five or six years younger, he wouldn't listen to me anyway) not to wear the ring, or if he did at least wear gloves. We'd fished a chunk of iron out of a well that another rig company had left in. It was bent and all kinds of sharp edges just looking for something to grab were all over it. It turned in our hands, his end caught his ring and took him to the ground. Didn't cut his finger off, didn't break it, it was worse. It tugged his ring into his finger so deep you could only see half of it. Pop had gone to get parts for the well that weren't delivered and it was just the two of us out there. No radio, phones, or pick up. Yep, he passed out. I picked him up, got him over one shoulder and off to the dog house I go. He's still out. That's a good thing. I worked the ring back, and was in the process of tucking the skin of his finger under the ring so I could get it off without cutting it. He woke up screaming. I held up his hand. Out he goes. Yes, I got the ring off and his hand cleaned and bandaged. We always kept antibiotic cream and decent bandages on the rig, for just such an emergency.
Once, carrying a woman across a muddy parking lot to go dance, I stepped on the edge of a rut and broke my ankle. I didn't drop her, oh no that would have been a terrible thing, but set her down on her feet and hopped into the bar. I knew from experience this was gonna be bad and that I had to get that damn boot off before my ankle got so big I had to cut it off. One of my buds is there, thank gosh. "Cody!! Come pull this effing boot off before we have to cut it off! I broke my M Effing ankle".
He pulls it about half way off and feels my ankle separate, he stops. I wanna pee my pants now. He starts again. I'm not sure I didn't pee my pants a little. I did, however, sooth it with interior alcohol treatment, and went to the ER the next day for a boot, only I had to have a cast instead. I missed 3 weeks work, and cut the cast off. I told Pop I was bored and ready to come back. Broke that same ankle 15 years later. I didn't know you could twist one so far that the eyelets on your lace up boots would show in the soft dirt where you broke it. I shoulda taken pictures of that.
I nearly cut the tip of one finger off. After working all day with every bump, breath, sneeze and cough really causing some nasty pain, Pop made me go to the doctor in Elkhart Ks. They took an x-ray and found the only thing holding it on was a bit of skin. "It will grow a bit crooked, unless we operate and wire it into place" the Dr says. I say "Oh hell Doc, push over into place, and bandage it there, it'll be fine'. "Do you want to sit? This will be very painful", he says. "Nope" says I "I've worked with it all day, how bad can it hurt?". Oh. My. God. Foolish me. First, stars. Big bright flashy ones. Then wobbles start. It's getting dim. A chair hits me behind the knees and I set down. He was right, that plain hurt. The nurse had wisely gone for a chair and had it behind me while he pushed that bone back in place. It's still a bit crooked. LOL
I broke both my arms in grade school. One about a year apart from the other. Both my ankles more than twice. A couple of ribs. My nose twice (I had help with that). Why, you ask, do I tell this. Is it to make myself out to be this tough guy? No, not at all. In fact I'm not sure why I did. I find humor in most of it, because it was funny. Not at the time but in retrospect. Okay, even at the time some of it was funny.
Mostly it's just my example of making a decision and sticking with it. Was I always right? Probably not, but I was right for me at that time, in that situation.
I've always been pretty confident in myself, and even if I screwed the pooch, I figured that was a lesson to be learned and moved on from there
What would be the kicks, to me, is to read what other people remember. Like I say, I tend to be a bit fuzzy on some of the stuff. If we do that, let's keep names out, pretty please? No use possibly embarrassing some one.
I've been hearing, off and on, odds and ends. It'd be neat to kind of relive some of that, I think. You guys game?
"No sir, that's a fucking promise. Any more of the bullshit you cock suckers are pulling and I'll make sure your life isn't the same ever again. Trust me"
The phone calls stopped, she was never pestered again. Looking back all those folks would have had to do was call the police and my tits would have been in a big wringer. I didn't think about that though, my friend was scared and that needed to stop. A Safeway checker did call the police on me once, but that was because I cracked a guy in the back of the head as hard as I could swing for slapping his two or so year old son so hard he fell down. The cops met me out front, asked what happened. I told em, they sent me home. Charmed life I live.
One morning it was cold on the rig. I mean frickin cold cold. Like ten above zero cold. The other hand and I were doing some work up around the floor and Pop says he's gonna have a quick sammich and cup of coffee. I don't know why, but something said turn around. I did and there's Pop, he's turned purple. Looks like he's choking. Shit. I drop my tools and haul ass over, grab him and get him turned around just as he's starting to go down. I ride us both to the ground sitting on our asses and jump in doing the Heimlich Maneuver on him. Four or five good thrusts, nothing pops out but he's breathing okay. Whew. Had to force him to shut the rig down so we could get him to the Doctor. The other hand just walked off, changed clothes and got in the truck or I don't think I'd have gotten him to go. I don't know yet if they ever figured out what happened that day. Flippin spooky though.
One of the guys that worked with me on the rig fainted at the sight of his own blood. My blood, no problem, he'd helped me bandage up a couple of nasty cuts before, no big deal. He also wore his wedding ring and didn't like to wear gloves. Pop and I both told him (I was five or six years younger, he wouldn't listen to me anyway) not to wear the ring, or if he did at least wear gloves. We'd fished a chunk of iron out of a well that another rig company had left in. It was bent and all kinds of sharp edges just looking for something to grab were all over it. It turned in our hands, his end caught his ring and took him to the ground. Didn't cut his finger off, didn't break it, it was worse. It tugged his ring into his finger so deep you could only see half of it. Pop had gone to get parts for the well that weren't delivered and it was just the two of us out there. No radio, phones, or pick up. Yep, he passed out. I picked him up, got him over one shoulder and off to the dog house I go. He's still out. That's a good thing. I worked the ring back, and was in the process of tucking the skin of his finger under the ring so I could get it off without cutting it. He woke up screaming. I held up his hand. Out he goes. Yes, I got the ring off and his hand cleaned and bandaged. We always kept antibiotic cream and decent bandages on the rig, for just such an emergency.
Once, carrying a woman across a muddy parking lot to go dance, I stepped on the edge of a rut and broke my ankle. I didn't drop her, oh no that would have been a terrible thing, but set her down on her feet and hopped into the bar. I knew from experience this was gonna be bad and that I had to get that damn boot off before my ankle got so big I had to cut it off. One of my buds is there, thank gosh. "Cody!! Come pull this effing boot off before we have to cut it off! I broke my M Effing ankle".
He pulls it about half way off and feels my ankle separate, he stops. I wanna pee my pants now. He starts again. I'm not sure I didn't pee my pants a little. I did, however, sooth it with interior alcohol treatment, and went to the ER the next day for a boot, only I had to have a cast instead. I missed 3 weeks work, and cut the cast off. I told Pop I was bored and ready to come back. Broke that same ankle 15 years later. I didn't know you could twist one so far that the eyelets on your lace up boots would show in the soft dirt where you broke it. I shoulda taken pictures of that.
I nearly cut the tip of one finger off. After working all day with every bump, breath, sneeze and cough really causing some nasty pain, Pop made me go to the doctor in Elkhart Ks. They took an x-ray and found the only thing holding it on was a bit of skin. "It will grow a bit crooked, unless we operate and wire it into place" the Dr says. I say "Oh hell Doc, push over into place, and bandage it there, it'll be fine'. "Do you want to sit? This will be very painful", he says. "Nope" says I "I've worked with it all day, how bad can it hurt?". Oh. My. God. Foolish me. First, stars. Big bright flashy ones. Then wobbles start. It's getting dim. A chair hits me behind the knees and I set down. He was right, that plain hurt. The nurse had wisely gone for a chair and had it behind me while he pushed that bone back in place. It's still a bit crooked. LOL
I broke both my arms in grade school. One about a year apart from the other. Both my ankles more than twice. A couple of ribs. My nose twice (I had help with that). Why, you ask, do I tell this. Is it to make myself out to be this tough guy? No, not at all. In fact I'm not sure why I did. I find humor in most of it, because it was funny. Not at the time but in retrospect. Okay, even at the time some of it was funny.
Mostly it's just my example of making a decision and sticking with it. Was I always right? Probably not, but I was right for me at that time, in that situation.
I've always been pretty confident in myself, and even if I screwed the pooch, I figured that was a lesson to be learned and moved on from there
What would be the kicks, to me, is to read what other people remember. Like I say, I tend to be a bit fuzzy on some of the stuff. If we do that, let's keep names out, pretty please? No use possibly embarrassing some one.
I've been hearing, off and on, odds and ends. It'd be neat to kind of relive some of that, I think. You guys game?
Saturday, August 24, 2013
Amour De La Vie
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
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
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
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)