Back on schedule, kinda

Well, I'm back up at the proper time, now getting all the sleep at the same time would be wonderful. I slept a lot yesterday morning, then when  I went to bed at about 2230 or so, I was wide assed awake at 0145. Hmmmm, I'll try and stay awake longer today and maybe get all my sleep in one fell swoop. Part of it maybe from a damn nightmare. Well, it was either a nightmare or something bad came for me and a guardian angel and I kicked it's ass. I'm voting nightmare for now, unless it continues when I've not take ZQuil to help me sleep. Nyquil used to give me some fouled up dreams, no reason ZQuil wouldn't as well. Depending on what one believes, I won my fight against the bad guys last night. I know I sure woke up ready to knock some one on their ass, but felt like I'd already done it as well.

  Back to doing shit my way. I took this mucus thinning crap the PA and Dr with Hospice wanted me to take to make sure my gunk would cough up okay. After my protestations that I wasn't having any trouble keeping my throat and trach clear. I knew better, because I'd had bad experiences with Mucinex in the past. As in, yes, it thinned my mucus, but I can't swallow so what it did was make it hard to hack up to suction out. So I threw it up instead. Oh the joy of a good barf when there's nothing to keep it from going out your nose. Happened this morning at 0315. The best part of waking up is not throwing up, believe me. Soooooo, when the nurse comes to visit today I'm going to ask if she wants the rest of my OTC mucus thinner, because I'm not using it any more. I'll be back on the Sudafed/Benadryl bandwagon. Works best for me, and if I don't barf using it, all is well in my Kingdom. I'm sure there will be protests about that. Then again I'm dying, they aren't. If it becomes their turn to need Hospice, and I hope they don't have to use them ever, then they can decide what's best for them. Until then, if they get too snotty, I've got "Pogue" next to and "X" on my right but cheek. "Pogue" is kiss in Gaelic, "X" of course marks the spot.

  I get asked about how I'm feeling. That's kind of hard to pin down for me, actually. I ache a lot, but that was nothing new before I had cancer. I have broken bone issues, and I abused my body (damn near put abused myself, what a horrid mistake that would of been with this crowd) working like I did in the field. Some days are worse than others, but mostly with the pain patch and a dab here and there of Lortab, it's no big deal. Mentally? That's different as well. Hospice keeps asking me if I sleep at night, or during the day, or at all. Well yes I do. I know they are looking for signs of depression, and I'd bet my last buck that I probably am depressed to some extent, but not to the point that depression is what's keeping me from getting a full night's sleep. That's from waking up to hack my trach clear so I can breathe all that much better. I can breathe through my mouth and nose, but it's getting more difficult. Partly, I think, because of the time of the year. Partly because that's some of where Baxter is building his condo. My voice is getting gravely, so I know he's getting a but bigger. The positive side of that is I'm not sweating swallowing like I did before Chemo last December. That was a bitch to have to fight to get chow down. Now, of course, as long as the tube is clear, I get to eat. So yeah, I probably am depressed on some level. More frustrated that depressed, I believe. I was watching the Texans a bit last night and it dawned on me I've never been to a pro football game. OMG!!! Not that important, but ya know, I was in Houston when they played last fall. Coulda gone to a game. Didn't think I'd half to sweat it, figured "oh shit, next fall I'll arrange a check up and catch a home game the day before". Oops, miscalculation. On the other hand, I save myself a chunk of money not going! So, yeah, coulda been worse.
  The physical thing is what gets me, a lot. I know I can't do as much as I could. I don't have the muscle mechanics to over ride what's been moved around. I find too, if I flex my pecs, the one in my mouth flexes some as well. Funny, that's a pec in my mouth, no wonder it wants to tighten up. Bad thing is, when it does, it pulls on what's left of my jaw. A couple of times it's cramped hard enough to pop my jaw out for a second, then releases and snaps back in. That'll put the curds in your cottage cheese by gosh. What's happened as well is that it's tightened my neck up to the point it pulls my entire head forward. Makes my back and shoulders scream and me after a while and tell me I'm an ass and to get them some support before they make my pee pee in my pants just a little. Definitely not a positive side to that side effect at all. Now, on the plus end just a bit, they did release that some, so my posture improved almost immediately. It also made a series of muscles and tendons that hadn't worked since late January rediscover they have a job to do, and THEY get all angry with me if I'm not careful. Overall, though, that last surgery helped. And it's the last I'll ever have to do. When it came to a list of surgeries, my Dr at MDA said "That's enough, we're not sure you can stand another, because we can't fix the cancer. No use in putting you through more pain for zero gain". I like that attitude. I can continue to do what I can to help all this out, but I don't have to be sawn upon any more. I'm tellin ya that's a huge relief. I had a feeling something wasn't right, and while I like my plastic surgeon and his assistant, I didn't like being operated on, even if it was to help fix my face and neck. I always felt like I lost ground somehow. It just took a huge toll on me that I didn't let on about. Everyone was pleased, myself included, by the results. And when he came in, sat on the edge of my bed and said "Mr Smith, we found a spot and biopsied it. It looks cancerous". And even though I looked at him and said "Well, maybe it's a localized spot and that was all of it", I knew better.  Hearing that, though, a week later was a stunner for certain.

 Today I'm going to take some of the medical supply stuff I don't need anymore. I'm taking it to Gifts of Hope, Hope House. They provide a place for out of town cancer patients to stay free of charge. Eight private rooms, a kitchen, each room with a private shower. Gifts of Hope also helps those without or who are underinsured, monetarily or with direct purchase of some chemo drugs. I'm sure they can use some of the basic essentials for drain care and the like. They are a good bunch. I have been able to do much for them this year, darn it. I like the operation and the people that run it.

 What I've come to the conclusion at the end of this particular edition is this: "It coulda been worse". I say that a lot, whether I'm  healthy, sick, wealthy or broke. Because in all honesty it COULD have been worse. No matter what you're going through, it coulda been worse than it is. Hell's bells, I coulda dropped dead with they said "Palliative Care".  That also means I'd be missing out on some really cool time released addictive drugs.
 SIDETRACK!!!  Why on God's little green earth do they bother to tell a terminal cancer patient they might get addicted to their pain meds? Is it gonna matter? HA!! I think not! My Grandfather Green got entirely pissed off because they DID give my Grandmother Green Laudanum for her pain. "Why that stuff is opium and that's addictive!". Yes, Dell, it is and it is. On the other hand, ole Ruthie had a lot more good days than bad taking the stuff, and she was for certain going to die. Maybe they say that so the family members can blurt that out, then come to the realization that it's not going to matter in the long run. I don't think I'll be Jonesin' for a fix while I'm on the slab. Maybe it is for the family to come to that point where they can't deny what the inevitable is going to be. Which I suppose is better than just blurting out "Well, Rock, your ass is basically done for! Let's get stoned and enjoy it, whadya say?!"
 Wow, I'm harsh LOL!!
 Take care all you fine and amazing people. Watch yourselves, and for each other too, hear?

Up all night, Sleep all day

Damn, I can't sleep. I've fallen asleep for 20 or 30 minutes, but right back awake like I'd been asleep for 8 hours. Weird. I used to get insomnia on a regular basis when I was in my early 20's. Went about 6 weeks on 3 hrs sleep a night. Makes for a weird experiences believe me. Four to six hours used to do me pretty well, but I need more than that now. I think it's because I slept probably 18 total hours the day before when I was sick. Sadly, I don't feel too whippy right now, but that's because I can't sleep. What a vicious circle.

 So, what shall I talk about since I can't sleep? History? Sure, why not.
I was born in Russell Kansas October 26 1960. That was back in the day when they kept mom and baby for 5 days in the hospital. Ma said it snowed that Halloween when they brought me home. My earliest memory, I suppose, is standing in the living room watching the TV and seeing Pres Kennedy get shot. I was just 3, and not much past that. But I remember my mom coming in and not believing what was going on. Strange how you'll remember that kind of stuff. It was a big 2 story house that set in the middle of town. At the time, there was only one other house on that entire city block, and they moved it across town. Basically I had and entire city block for a yard. Pretty cool stuff for a little feller.
I did get in trouble for crawling down into the old foundation of the house they moved and coming out with a flattened kitty as a door prize. I also remember getting scrubbed nearly raw. Mothers are so picky. Notable things that happened. I got shot with a BB gun above my left eye. The kid that shot me squeezed it out like a zit. He was afraid his dad would beat him senseless, and I think he would, so we hitched up a story about me falling out of the tree. Ma and Pa didn't buy it, but squared it so the kid didn't get beaten blind. I broke an arm in first grade. Simple fracture. The Doc set it in his office without anesthetic. It only hurt for a couple of seconds, but I threw up all over him while he was casting me up.
Broke the other arm in second grade. Compound fracture. Did an overnight in the hospital. At the time you could buy school health insurance for a $1 a year. Covered anything that happened on school premises. Pretty nifty. We bought that until you couldn't anymore.
 I went to school in a 3 room school house. Grades 1,2, and 3 in one room. 4 and 5 in another, and 6 graders got their own room. 7 to 12 went to the High School. I think, in some respects that was a good thing. While we were learning one thing, the other kids were on something else, and by osmosis I think you pick that up. I know that when I went to 5th grade at a bigger school, I could read far better than the other kids in my class. Between fourth and fifth grade we moved out to a farm. A full section with a limestone house and barn. One stone had the date 1868 carved into it. The walls were 18 or so inches thick. Cool old house. We had 2 acres of yard and surrounding area that I mowed with a 20" wide mower. Pop taught me how to start it, took me 3 days to mow it all. Wait 3 days, then start over again, because it was wet that summer. I watched a horse and 40 head of registered Angus cattle for $3 a month. Learned to ride. Didn't have to rope, but the horse and I moved cattle from pasture to wheat, to pasture and back to wheat that summer. The summer was wet, but by September it'd stopped raining and the ponds were drying up. It snowed. A lot. The cattle couldn't get water, so I saddled the horse and moved them off the wheat into the pasture, and chopped a hole in the ice. Got extra sick after that, and the rancher still lost 6 calves to the cold.
 Moved to Great Bend Ks in time for 6th grade to start. Right along the Arkansas river. It flowed all the time then. I enjoyed school there. Wrestled, played basketball, ran track. We were on the not so wealthy side of town. Made some good friends there though. A bunch of us ran the heck out of the river, played like mad men for certain. Tough, man a couple of those guys were tough. One of em ran 4 older kids out of seats at a movie my mom paid for us to go see. Cracked on the head told them to move, because he'd told them the seats were saved. They didn't even blink. Just got up and left.
  Got the livin piss beaten out of me there too. A 16 year old 7th grader, with the help of 2 kids my age, just tuned my ass up big time. I ran home bawling. Dad thought it was just one of the little punk assed kids from up the street, and told me to quit cryin or go finish it. I bailed back into the 16 year old. Got some good licks in before the 2 ass weeds with them ganged in. 2 ass whippins in one day, from the same guy. My old man never forgave himself for sending me out there I don't think. At any rate, one of the river buddies older USMC brother tuned that kid and his older brother up a few months later.
 Moved from Great Bend to Liberal in time to miss 8 weeks of school there. I already discussed that in another blog. Liberal was a good place to live at the time. I wrestled one year, tore the piss out of a shoulder and hung up the wrestling shoes for good. I decided to work and play instead of organized sports at school. The work certainly wasn't at school, nooooo. If I cracked open 2 books in 5 years of school I'm sure it was a mistake. I didn't know how to study because I didn't have to study, not to get by in HS. That's both a good and bad thing. I didn't know how to study when I went off to college. And you really need to know how to study if that's what you want to do.
 Nope, I worked. Mowed lawns to start. Worked at the mobile home park we lived in until July 1, 1975. Dad had a hand twist off in the middle of a work over. At 0430 my bed room light comes on and dad threw me a pair of gloves and said "Hang these on your shit hooks, we have work to do". First day in the oil field. Finished that work over. Then the rest of the summer we did a minimum of 2 pump changes a day up to 4 a day, depending on depth and distance between. My ass dragged all summer long. Made enough that summer that I could have cruised through school without a job, but that didn't seem right. Got my learners permit and went to work cleaning the shop and helping with inventory at the International Harvester dealer. Worked at least 2 school vacations for dad, since hands would cut out during holidays. The IH dealer closed and I went to work for Yankee Clipper. Like Long John Silver's only I thought better. It gave me a healthy respect for people in food service. It's also the first job I told a boss and manager that someone needs to decide who makes the rules, because I wasn't going to get my ass chewed out twice trying to please both people, and quit. It's the only job I quit out of anger without anything to go to first.
 Worked at OTASCO changing tires and delivering furniture and appliances. L Frank Osborn and I made a pretty decent team. Wendall Wilke, the manager was somethin else. He and the assistant manager Roy Arnold used to take me with them on repossessions. No fun that, believe me. It only got hairy once. Roy and I went to Hugoton to get a freezer, the guy bowed up, Roy stepped into a stance, I picked up a board. And that's as far as it went, thank gosh. Frank and I delivered stuff in two of the worst pick up trucks you've ever seen. POS has those trucks pictures under it in the Encyclopedia.
 High lights is all this is. And there may be more farther down the road.

 My buds and I did some crazy shit. But that's going to be up to them to tell those tales. I don't wanna come off as big headed! HA!

 Although, even the highlights are part of what makes me who I am, and why I do what I do. It was never so bad that I couldn't find some bright spot somewhere. It's still that way. Funny shit happens everywhere, you just gotta look for it. Otherwise the dark side of things is all you'll find, and that's a piss poor place to put yourself.

I feel better

SORRY THIS IS LATE!! I SLEPT IN!!
The sad thing about having cancer is that it takes longer for me to do everything. Even heal up from a dang 24 or so hour bug. My entire system is a bit compromised and it's something I don't think I'll ever get used to having be so slow. The surgery did a lot of mechanical damage, making is harder for me to get around. It's amazing that cutting on your mouth, neck and taking things out of your chest can screw up your entire mobility. It's true. I can't lie flat, my equilibrium is jacked up and I have limited motion. Although the motion gets better as I stretch. I want to still drive and go places on my own, so I work on range of motion a lot. I don't know how long I'll be able to keep taking myself places, but I am going to do that as long as it's possible. My voice sounds more gravelly to me now too. I don't know if that's from the virus and it being irritated or if it's the cancer slopping around down in there someplace. Either way I'm sure it's moving along at it's own "giddy up go" pace and there's nothing that will stop it.
 Of all the things that's not working right with me, the darn cancer is working just fine. That's the damnable shame of it ain't it? While bits and pieces of me start to fail, ole Baxter Jr just keeps chugging along. While I knew this was going to be the case, it's still a bit to wrap my head around. I get tired faster, which makes it harder to do the exercises that will keep me healthier longer. If that's not the shits, right? My repaired spots start to cramp more frequently, I'm not sure if that's the cancer or something mechanical within the muscles themselves, but it's weird. But, the things that are working fine still are a nice thing to have. I'm getting some strength back and better motion out of both arms, which is a good thing. Unless I'm tired and sick, like yesterday, the old noodle still works fairly well too. I'm hoping that's the one part of me Baxter can't touch. How awful it must be to lose yourself as a cancer chews away your mind. Sad really.
 I get asked some about a bucket list. What's a bucket list? If I've tried  and succeeded in doing most of the things I've really wanted to do, why do I need a bucket list? Seriously, your life should be a bucket list. You see something you want to do, arrange to get it done now, while you're young and healthy enough to get away with doing it. Farting around until your old and facing death is silly as hell. Trust me, you'll be too tired, too sick and could actually care less about jumping out of a plane (I really could care less about jumping out of a plane, but I know people that love it). Let's see, what have I done that could be bucket list material.
I drove a friend in his Dad's Sunbeam Tiger flat on the floor, because he liked it. I've no idea how fast we went. Over 150 I'm sure.
I've ridden motorcycles in 10 states, the other 40 would have been cool, but shipping to Hawaii would have been bat shit. The others...well, it'd been nice, but some never get that feeling at all, right?
I've ridden rollercoasters
Been to Las Vegas and never come back with less that we went with. Not too shabby breaking even
Been in love, had beautiful babies that are growing up into great adults
I got custody of my kids when only 1% of fathers who tried got custody
I've laughed, been mad, then laughed at being mad
Worked at the job I always enjoyed and wanted to work, even if I didn't see it at the time
I've fought and won and fought and lost. Generally lost HUGE!! HA
Played pool for money.
Pushed a guy down a flight of stairs for wanting to fight because I wear a kilt. (He bounced quite well, thank you, and never came back upstairs)
I laid out our back patio stuff.
I've taken some medals in Scottish Heavy Athletics. I'm proud of those, being a mediocre athlete that was some of the best throws I'd done
  In short, I've done just about everything I wanted to and gotten everything I really wanted. The only thing I'm not going to get that I honestly really want is cured of this cancer and go back to my life. That's just not going to happen this time.
Sure, I've done things I'm not proud of, but I'd do them again. If nothing else to prove that I was right in feeling wrong about doing it, and strive to never do that shit again. I've tried to do what the right thing is, and often I've missed the mark. I still try to do what's right ahead of anything else. In some cases that's made me popular with some, unpopular with others. Those are opinions and have little bearing on me personally. If someone tells me I screwed up, and I have, I'll accept that and move on.
 My life has been my bucket list. To try and find anything else that I'd like to do with all my heart is just not going to happen.

  Maybe we should all strive to do that. I've had a lot more fun that some folks, maybe less than others, but I've always done what I damn well pleased. That's the true bucket list, ain't it

A Damned bug, that's what I've got, a bug

Crap, shit, dammit, rats. I'm sick. And yes I already know I've got cancer, and that makes me sick. This is the low back pain, chills, burn up, freeze, more low back pain, chills, burn up, vicious cycle of some kind of damed bug. Normally I wouldn't say anything to the wife other than "I've got a bug, leave me the hell alone". That way I can sleep, let the aspirin do it's thing for he fever, and eat a bite when I'm sweating or freezing to death. The dang cancer even took the fun out of lying around on the couch watching "Match Game" reruns on the Game Show Network. Oh, and Hollywood Squares. Why? you ask, since I can do that anyway. Welly well, let's explore a bit, shall we?
 All that stuff I'd get when I was a kid? Yeah, I can't eat or swallow any of that. The chicken noodle soup (I liked the stuff that came out of the pouches better than the canned), a little grape juice, some 7-UP, I can't get any of that in and swallow it. Depressing. I can get a taste of it and then go to the PEG Line in my stomach. Oh Joy!!!  not so much. I mean damn, right?  I loved to let a saltine cracker just kind of dissolve in my mouth. Until I was in Jr High School, mom was home and would wait on me. Actually, that was only cool for a couple of hours, then I'd rather be left alone to sleep and all. Here we are back to touch again, though. Remember how nice it was for your mom to come in, set on the couch and rub your feet or stroke your hair? Does it get much better than that? That feeling of being loved and secure, knowing full well it's like that every day, but being sick just brought that out for you to see.
   Now I have this "vanity" issue, and it's a shame I can't see to get around that personally. They butchered the hell out of me getting rid of Baxter Jr. Left my face swollen and cut and scarred. I can't control most of my drool issue, and that's only going to get worse. I'm way less self conscious now than I was say 3 months ago. I'm just not as sensitive about going out in public to be stared at by dolts who don't know how fucking lucky they are to have all their parts and pieces. At first I only went out late at night or way early in the morning, just so I wouldn't be seen. I blew that off as just liking to get up really early. And I still do, but that wasn't why. I was ashamed of my looks. Odd, how now that I'm croaking, I am to the point I don't care if they stare or not. I'll write a nasty message on my board hand hold it for them to see. One feller took umbrage to that and called me all kinds of names. Which I thought was funny, since he ended up looking stupid, not I. Which leads me to this: I don't want to be screwed with right now. I know my wife and kids love me, they show me that hundreds of times a day. I also know that I'm being foolish. But I don't want them to feel pity for me. I don't think they do, but I don't want that at all. I'm going to have to look at this silly feeling again, and get rid of it. What a waste of my time, wondering if the fan gets grossed out or not. I'm sure they do sometimes. (I can freak the oldest out just by taking the whole tracy tube out and showing her the hole in my throat). The fact of the matter is, I'm shutting off a part of the fam that I really need and want. Why YES!!! I am a goober.
 I don't like to be a burden on anyone, ever. But the facts are that I'm going to become a burden, and I'd better get to making all I can of this time before I get really bad and I start to wear thin on everyone. See, this is what pisses me off worst about this go around. Last time I still took the kids to school, I drove myself around (which I do now as well) and knew I was going to get back to near top form. I managed to make that. Right now is as good as I'm going to feel over the coming months. Now, that doesn't scare me, but it pisses me off to have to rely on someone else to help take care of me. That's a sad state of affairs for me to be in. I love the family and friends, but I feel like I'm making them go that extra mile that shouldn't have to go. I'm not quite sure how to get rid of that, but it's gotta go.
   So, I've got this damn but, and I'm sitting here bathed in sweat, nodding off at the laptop. Honestly feel really bad. I was hurt, and sore from the 3 surgeries, but that I expected. And it was a different kind of sore.  This is achy feel like poo sore. I'm beginning to turn into a whiny little shit. I hate whiny little shits. So, I'm going to try and make do with this as best I can. As soon as the oldest gets up and gets her kid off to school, I'm going to teach her how to fill the gravity bag so I can take in more water and lemonade. For some reason my body really likes Country Time lemonade. I don't know what it is about it, but it sure makes me feel better all over. I'm going to set with her and go over some of the things that are coming down the road that I'm going to need help with (that just frosts my cupcakes), and maybe while we are at it, I can explain to her why I'm so very proud of her. And the youngest daughter too. I know it's not easy for either one of them. The youngest is getting better at hangin around with me, and I like that. She's sharp and has a wonderful sense of humor. More people need to be like my daughters.
My sons are both creative. Turns out Declan gets bored and writes. He writes well too. I'm pleasantly surprised. I even catch him reading from time to time. That's cool. Chance, he's a creative chef. His plating work is without rival, I think. He combines flavors better than anyone I've ever met, and is driven like I never was. That's pretty cool.
 So, I'm going to let it go at this. I'm sick, I'm whiny, and I really don't care. It could be worse, I could be looking out of a marble box wondering why I'm all powdery.

 Until next time! Major Astro, OUT

Whaaaat?

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?

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?

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