As we all know, this blog is about how my cancer is moving from Terminal Velocity to Critical Mass, and how that affects me. Yes, it's all about me. Once, and sometimes twice, a day I post up how I'm feeling, how the cancer is fooling with me, and how I have such great support from family and friends. After all, I realize I can't do this alone, (although, this burns my ass) and how important my friends are to me and therefor to my family as well
So, this will be pithy today. Nothing fancy and I'm thrilled I didn't croak off 3 days ago. Talk about throwing a wrench in the Happy Days gearbox. I'm thankful for that, there's no question about that.
What is it that makes me thankful? I don't know where to start, and what I put down isn't in any order what so ever, it is what it is:
Cancer: Why the hell would anyone be thankful for cancer? It's gonna kill me this time, for Pete Sake
I am because it's shown me loyalty and friendship. So much so that I'm humbled by the action
and attitude of my friends. It's making my family stronger for each other, mentally and
physically. As bad as it is, it is a character building event
Family: They are much tougher than I am, and when I got shitty while on the steroids, they put up with
some of that, but not all. Liz taught me a lesson in running off at the head. It nearly killed me
when I couldn't control my anger and it spilled off into them. I am learning to be careful
with my feelings, so I don't hurt others
Friends: Next to family the most important thing I've got going with me on this SNAFU run. They
help keep me honest. They are good folk all the way around. I started the blog for family
and friends. So that if one of them gets to ride this rocket, they are doing it blind. And
to maybe give some insight into what it's doing to one person, not just MD Anderson
or any other cancer centers idea of what's going on with one person, and hopefully
if they are in this position, they won't be so afraid.
Breathing: Yeah, I'm thankful I can still draw a breath. There are some days I feel like I'm ready for it
all to end, later on, I'm glad I was too stubborn to quit
The list can go on and on just like these few I've done here seem to wax and wane like tides. It's been a real party so far. It's a damn shame it's going to end sooner than I want it to end. Another thirty or forty years seems like a number I'd rather have.
Have fun today. Hug the family extra tight, Talk with as many friends as you can, eat a ton of food, then sack out on the couch watching football. But mostly, take time to be thankful for all the little things we sometimes overlook
For those of you traveling this morning, Fair Winds and Following Seas
Thursday, November 28, 2013
Wednesday, November 27, 2013
Holy!! Dammit!! ARRRRRGGG!! Just, Oh Dammit
While I slept 8 hours yesterday, only two of them were at night, and those two came between 2000 and 2200 hours. I mean, really. I'm kinda trying to get shit straightened back out after the horrible fucking steroid test. Which I knew the outcome and did it anyway kind of stupidity. There isn't much sadder than knowing how something is going to go, and being there when it does go, and not being able to do a damn thing about it because it feels right. And yes, the steroids jacked with me enough being angry seemed like the right thing. That goes into my "Wow, That's Fucked Up" file. So to go along with the let down that comes with being jacked up 24/7 on steroids, my sleep pattern is messed up worse than polio…..again.
I have no place to go, so it shouldn't bother me that my sleep pattern is messed up, but it does. I'm groggy right now and still have a therapy to go to this morning. I can get some rest there. It's no good, since my non working will still leave me awake all night, sleep all day
Chemo brain may have me, but I don't recall if I mentioned I had a cup of joe with an old buddy from LK that lives in New Mexico now. We shot the breeze about all kinds of goofy shit we did when we were in HS. Little stuff like smuggling beer into the brand new theater in Liberal KS. So, Clay H, myself, and Tom R. took a twelve pack of Coors into the theater under our winter coats. That's not the problem. I can't even remember the name of the movie, but that's not the problem either. The problem was what to do with the can's. We decided to set them under our seats and be some of the last ones out. Clay bumped one. It fell. It began to roll. You could hear it over the dialogue and back music. All the long way down, from nearly dead center in the back row, all the way down until it hit the wall under the screen. rowrrowrowr, bonk, rrrrowrrrowr, well, you get the idea. At the time, I was damn near certain that we were gonna get caught and tossed in the jail overnight. Minor in possession, maybe public intoxication. All the worst shit you could think of was running through my head. Until you hear people start to giggle. And the occasional "oops" when it hit a seat leg or something.
Clay H reminded me that I convinced them to make fun of the movie out loud while we watched. Ahead of Mystery Science Theater we were, by God. That was a hoot. People laughed as well. Fun times in the LK. Who'd have thought that in just 4 or 5 short years from then that LK would be racing to grab the top spot as "Murders Per Capita" city. Man, for a while there it was rough. Clay H was home from college, asked me if I wanted to grab a beer on ladies night at Yosemite Sam's. Of course I did, sheesh. I'm not sure exactly what happened later on, but Clay H got hammered and some how pissed off some of the LK's biggest hard asses. Some drug selling brothers. I did manage to get between him and the brothers and start for the door, sideways kind of, and definitely no BBQ. We managed to get away with out a scratch. All I remember is "asshole', "spilled", and "my coke". Rough crowd there some nights, and spilling their nose candy would just about get you shot. I did watch every damn thing for the next few weeks. Just because you get a little paranoid doesn't mean someone isn't watching you. Yep, we had a good time. Now it will be back to normal, when the baby comes home. So no, it's never "normal" again after a baby comes along.
I'm so swollen from God knows what, that it's giving me an ear ache. I don't believe it's in fashion, since they only make 8 per year. So, no. For what that arm candy costs, I could get one Clinical Study session (which I wouldn't do anyway) or pay some more off on baby red. Either way would be acceptable use of my life insurance. HA!! Like I have a say? Nope, I had it basically read "Liz Gets It All). And yes, I believe the kids get a tiny chunk as well. That's up to Liz, she's the one that has to keep up with the house and all. I'm so swollen in my neck and throat that it's difficult to get all the range of motion I had two weeks ago. Thank goodness for therapy. Maybe my PT will have an idea how to help hold the swelling down. Cross my fingers, dot my "i".
Yes, it's frustrating after being on the steroid "why is it wrong to just break one arm?" wagon. It's frustrating to have lost nearly all my ability to talk even a little. That's just like taking the icing off the the cake. Doesn't sound as good, does it. Honestly, it's pretty good. It's really good crumbled up in about a half glass of milk. So yeah, I'm frustrated still. But this time I'm not going to take it out on Liz or anyone else. This time I've got control over myself. Just a little bit, not much, but every little bit counts.
While this is pretty difficult for me to go through when I doesn't bother me as much as it does Liz and the family. It's way easier to fade out, than it is to watch a loved one fade out. At least that's my perception. Someone correct me if I'm wrong
Book Of Rock: Get your ass moving or you'll be late! (literally for me, because I'm running late now)
Be good, get laid
I have no place to go, so it shouldn't bother me that my sleep pattern is messed up, but it does. I'm groggy right now and still have a therapy to go to this morning. I can get some rest there. It's no good, since my non working will still leave me awake all night, sleep all day
Chemo brain may have me, but I don't recall if I mentioned I had a cup of joe with an old buddy from LK that lives in New Mexico now. We shot the breeze about all kinds of goofy shit we did when we were in HS. Little stuff like smuggling beer into the brand new theater in Liberal KS. So, Clay H, myself, and Tom R. took a twelve pack of Coors into the theater under our winter coats. That's not the problem. I can't even remember the name of the movie, but that's not the problem either. The problem was what to do with the can's. We decided to set them under our seats and be some of the last ones out. Clay bumped one. It fell. It began to roll. You could hear it over the dialogue and back music. All the long way down, from nearly dead center in the back row, all the way down until it hit the wall under the screen. rowrrowrowr, bonk, rrrrowrrrowr, well, you get the idea. At the time, I was damn near certain that we were gonna get caught and tossed in the jail overnight. Minor in possession, maybe public intoxication. All the worst shit you could think of was running through my head. Until you hear people start to giggle. And the occasional "oops" when it hit a seat leg or something.
Clay H reminded me that I convinced them to make fun of the movie out loud while we watched. Ahead of Mystery Science Theater we were, by God. That was a hoot. People laughed as well. Fun times in the LK. Who'd have thought that in just 4 or 5 short years from then that LK would be racing to grab the top spot as "Murders Per Capita" city. Man, for a while there it was rough. Clay H was home from college, asked me if I wanted to grab a beer on ladies night at Yosemite Sam's. Of course I did, sheesh. I'm not sure exactly what happened later on, but Clay H got hammered and some how pissed off some of the LK's biggest hard asses. Some drug selling brothers. I did manage to get between him and the brothers and start for the door, sideways kind of, and definitely no BBQ. We managed to get away with out a scratch. All I remember is "asshole', "spilled", and "my coke". Rough crowd there some nights, and spilling their nose candy would just about get you shot. I did watch every damn thing for the next few weeks. Just because you get a little paranoid doesn't mean someone isn't watching you. Yep, we had a good time. Now it will be back to normal, when the baby comes home. So no, it's never "normal" again after a baby comes along.
I'm so swollen from God knows what, that it's giving me an ear ache. I don't believe it's in fashion, since they only make 8 per year. So, no. For what that arm candy costs, I could get one Clinical Study session (which I wouldn't do anyway) or pay some more off on baby red. Either way would be acceptable use of my life insurance. HA!! Like I have a say? Nope, I had it basically read "Liz Gets It All). And yes, I believe the kids get a tiny chunk as well. That's up to Liz, she's the one that has to keep up with the house and all. I'm so swollen in my neck and throat that it's difficult to get all the range of motion I had two weeks ago. Thank goodness for therapy. Maybe my PT will have an idea how to help hold the swelling down. Cross my fingers, dot my "i".
Yes, it's frustrating after being on the steroid "why is it wrong to just break one arm?" wagon. It's frustrating to have lost nearly all my ability to talk even a little. That's just like taking the icing off the the cake. Doesn't sound as good, does it. Honestly, it's pretty good. It's really good crumbled up in about a half glass of milk. So yeah, I'm frustrated still. But this time I'm not going to take it out on Liz or anyone else. This time I've got control over myself. Just a little bit, not much, but every little bit counts.
While this is pretty difficult for me to go through when I doesn't bother me as much as it does Liz and the family. It's way easier to fade out, than it is to watch a loved one fade out. At least that's my perception. Someone correct me if I'm wrong
Book Of Rock: Get your ass moving or you'll be late! (literally for me, because I'm running late now)
Be good, get laid
Tuesday, November 26, 2013
My Work Here Is Done. "Thank You Masked Man"
Well, since I finally got all the steroids washed out of my system, and since I am working on being less of a little bitch, I feel much better and way more relaxed. The hardest thing will be not being angry over how the general public behaves. That's the real rough thing for me to correct, and one of the things that really bugs my wife about me. I'm not much for letting people slide on being assholes, and in turn I'm sure that's how I come off. I gotta learn to just ignore the pricks and let bygones be bygones. It'll probably make me feel better as well, I just have to work on that.
Liz said she wanted to learn how to fix some of the stuff around the house. She got the chance. The way they laid out the plumbing for the drains in the house is ridiculous. Not one central line with everything on a 45degree angle to get into the line, but two separate lines dividing the drains in the house by south and north. One half has the kitchen, wet bar, and laundry on one side, the other is both bathrooms. The side with the most trouble is the kitchen side. About once a year, sometimes less sometimes more, that line gets a partial plug. It's done that since we bought the place. Anyway, I go rent us an electric snake with around 80' of line. I have to wait until she gets home in the first place to help unload the darn thing, because with all my surgery, I can't lift Jack Shit any more. Also because she's going to run it instead of myself
So, out the darn thing comes, and into the side yard we go. It's dripping melted ice off the roof, and besides being really damn cold, it's almost like it's raining. We get all set up and I run over some rudimentary safety stuff. Like "don't grab that, and "If this happens, run", kind of stuff. She gets the plug out of the wall access and starts in. I'm running the foot pedal to spin or stop spinning the cable. It's going okay, but, (this is my fault, I didn't think about what might happen) her jacket sleeve gets caught up in the cable. News for all of you, that little 1/2 HP motor can break a limb like they are twigs if you don't stop. Fortunately, I was about to drop off the drive to begin with. We got that fixed and her jacket sleeves tucked into the cuffs of her gloves. There's something about running one of the rota-rooter type snakes. It's feel. Liz said she felt like it was stopped. Cool, that's the end of the line then.
Pulled out the snake and I started water in the kitchen sink. Nope, still plugged. So, it's my turn, not because Liz can't do it, but because I want to see what I missed as we went in the first time. It ran in like a champ. There were two marker flags on the the line, both of them were in, plus about 10' after the second went past. I see now, what we missed. I can feel a solid spot, but it has some give to it. I believe it's what Liz felt, and it's also my mistake that we have to run it twice. A little back and forth with the blade rotating and it slipped through. It went about another 6-8' then really stopped. I'd hit the Ell going into the main line. Liz did everything I told her to do, so the last two things are my fault for not giving her enough info to run the machine like she could have. At any rate (4.75% is a rate), she got the drain line cleaned and ready to rock and roll.
She's concerned about not being able to fix a lot of the stuff around the house. She'll be better at it, because she is patient. I am not, and with some stuff around the house, I get to the point that no one wants to be around me to help. A shame on my part, I should have been showing Liz and Dec how to fix all the simple things around the house that I tinkered with over the years. Not that I'm looking to live long enough for all of them to pop up, I just need to settle in and write down what has somewhat of a schedule, and explain how to fix it so they have a little reference guide to go through. I'm not stupid, and I know there are so many things that can go wrong I can't cover them all, but they deserve a shot at finding and getting them fixed correctly. I'm betting Liz is sore today, especially in the shoulders and upper body.
Yesterday, early in the AM since I'd slept so long the day before, I showered and was getting ready to start my day. Shower, fix the trach with gauze to keep the outside from getting in there. Well, in the course of the shower my sinuses drain. I can feel them backing up in the back of my throat where I can't suction them very well, but they will eventually cover my epiglottis, which means I can't take in air normally. I've got the trach, but I believe I'm breathing about 50/50 normal/trach tube. If I bend over, it really makes it worse. I'll damn near throw up. I tell people this, just so they know in case something happens.
Something did. I put the tube in and cinch up the collar, slip in the inner canula, and can't draw a breath. Zero, zip, nada. Okay, big inhale through my mouth (i exhale right before I put the tube in every time to relax), nothing. I gurgled a little, then nothing. Okay, so the trach should be okay now, right? Wrong, nothing there, either. Wow, I got just a little bit of a breath, not much but it helps. I'm closing in on panic. Can't breathe, that's a fight losing problem. Okay, mild panic starts. Had to shut that down, because I try and practice what I preach and I preach "Panic Kills". Panic is avoided. No breathing from anything. Just as the edges start to get black, and I have to sit or fall, I undo the trach collar and yank out the tube. HUGE breath!! Oh man does that feel good!! I get rid of the "almost passed out" black edges. I try and suction again, still no good. Finally, the mucus causes me to gag and try to vomit. I do not vomit, but I do get rid of the huge plug. I check my trach tube and find a solid blood clot blocking it, about half way up into the tube. That explains why I had a hard time taking out the inner canula, it was wedged in. Spooky stuff. All that cleared up and I'm able to start the day. I wish I'd had time to get one of the kids awake, but it was way too early for that. That was a pretty close call. Nearly passing out. I'm not sure that I'd awoken again. If I'd passed out and relaxed, would the plug in my throat cleared itself? I don't know. I do know, however, that if I'm beginning to struggle with my airways like that again, I'm waking a kid up, if I have to light a bomb to get them up. Back in the day I'd had two episodes of hypoglycemia causing me to pass out on both of them. One at home, one on the rig. On the rig was bad, home wasn't so. I sat on the couch, passed out and woke up about 10 minutes later totally refreshed. I fear that would not be the case with this problem.
All in all, what with the steroids helping me make really stupid decisions and being angry at the people that matter most, nearly passing out with real possible chances of not recovering, and some of the other stuff that happens on my way outta here, this week has probably been the worst of the lot. Finding out I was terminal isn't as bad as the way I treated the family and Liz while I was on the damn steroids. Something I knew better than to take in the first place. You know, because I'm a dick for taking them anyway. How bright is a person that tells the nurse, who tells the PA, who tells the Dr (who hasn't even seen me) how steroids affect them, then goes ahead and takes them anyway. All the bad side effects with none of the positive that's supposed to happen. It's like hitting your forehead with a hammer. How long to you keep that up if it hurts the first time?
The chilly/damp weather is playing hell with my legs and joints. I've got a touch of arthritis in both hands and both knees. I suppose after breaking eight of my ten fingers makes me a bit arthritic there, and I've twisted both knees, plus being on my feet 12-14 hours a day for fourteen years didn't help my knees any. I know I'm not as bad off as some of my football friends. When I do finally slip these mortal coils, I'm hoping I don't have that stuff on the next level. And that once there, I can round up a few folks I know, so we can work some shenanigans. Tom Ruch had better be ready.
Book Of Rock: For God's sake if you know something is going to affect you adversely, don't fucking take it. It's your life, not some Doc with God envy, who knows what it your body will stand.
Today, since we are so close to Thanksgiving, take time to look around at the things that you have. They all have a place, but for giggles take a look at how many you really need or can just be kicked to the curb. You'll be surprised what you don't really need after all.
Just a little something to look at and ponder upon. I know, for myself, that I don't need a whole lot. I have a lot of toys, they are for pleasure, not necessity. But having them makes me happy to an extent, so I'm keeping them all. It's nice to be to the point in my life that I can have those, and still have the open space that I so truly enjoy
They talk about living on "The Rugged Llano Estacado". I have news for ya, folks who reside in the Basin. Living here isn't any more tough than up north in the Big Open. A short 240 miles north at Amarillo it's much tougher to live than here. It's not only colder, but it's every bit as hot in the summer. We folk that grew up in The Big Open are a hearty breed. I think that's why I fight this so well. From growing up in the High Plains of Kansas to the Big Open around Liberal Ks and the panhandles, it's a tough row.
If you're breathing, be thankful. If not, may you speed to your next location, and find it in need of a top hand
Liz said she wanted to learn how to fix some of the stuff around the house. She got the chance. The way they laid out the plumbing for the drains in the house is ridiculous. Not one central line with everything on a 45degree angle to get into the line, but two separate lines dividing the drains in the house by south and north. One half has the kitchen, wet bar, and laundry on one side, the other is both bathrooms. The side with the most trouble is the kitchen side. About once a year, sometimes less sometimes more, that line gets a partial plug. It's done that since we bought the place. Anyway, I go rent us an electric snake with around 80' of line. I have to wait until she gets home in the first place to help unload the darn thing, because with all my surgery, I can't lift Jack Shit any more. Also because she's going to run it instead of myself
So, out the darn thing comes, and into the side yard we go. It's dripping melted ice off the roof, and besides being really damn cold, it's almost like it's raining. We get all set up and I run over some rudimentary safety stuff. Like "don't grab that, and "If this happens, run", kind of stuff. She gets the plug out of the wall access and starts in. I'm running the foot pedal to spin or stop spinning the cable. It's going okay, but, (this is my fault, I didn't think about what might happen) her jacket sleeve gets caught up in the cable. News for all of you, that little 1/2 HP motor can break a limb like they are twigs if you don't stop. Fortunately, I was about to drop off the drive to begin with. We got that fixed and her jacket sleeves tucked into the cuffs of her gloves. There's something about running one of the rota-rooter type snakes. It's feel. Liz said she felt like it was stopped. Cool, that's the end of the line then.
Pulled out the snake and I started water in the kitchen sink. Nope, still plugged. So, it's my turn, not because Liz can't do it, but because I want to see what I missed as we went in the first time. It ran in like a champ. There were two marker flags on the the line, both of them were in, plus about 10' after the second went past. I see now, what we missed. I can feel a solid spot, but it has some give to it. I believe it's what Liz felt, and it's also my mistake that we have to run it twice. A little back and forth with the blade rotating and it slipped through. It went about another 6-8' then really stopped. I'd hit the Ell going into the main line. Liz did everything I told her to do, so the last two things are my fault for not giving her enough info to run the machine like she could have. At any rate (4.75% is a rate), she got the drain line cleaned and ready to rock and roll.
She's concerned about not being able to fix a lot of the stuff around the house. She'll be better at it, because she is patient. I am not, and with some stuff around the house, I get to the point that no one wants to be around me to help. A shame on my part, I should have been showing Liz and Dec how to fix all the simple things around the house that I tinkered with over the years. Not that I'm looking to live long enough for all of them to pop up, I just need to settle in and write down what has somewhat of a schedule, and explain how to fix it so they have a little reference guide to go through. I'm not stupid, and I know there are so many things that can go wrong I can't cover them all, but they deserve a shot at finding and getting them fixed correctly. I'm betting Liz is sore today, especially in the shoulders and upper body.
Yesterday, early in the AM since I'd slept so long the day before, I showered and was getting ready to start my day. Shower, fix the trach with gauze to keep the outside from getting in there. Well, in the course of the shower my sinuses drain. I can feel them backing up in the back of my throat where I can't suction them very well, but they will eventually cover my epiglottis, which means I can't take in air normally. I've got the trach, but I believe I'm breathing about 50/50 normal/trach tube. If I bend over, it really makes it worse. I'll damn near throw up. I tell people this, just so they know in case something happens.
Something did. I put the tube in and cinch up the collar, slip in the inner canula, and can't draw a breath. Zero, zip, nada. Okay, big inhale through my mouth (i exhale right before I put the tube in every time to relax), nothing. I gurgled a little, then nothing. Okay, so the trach should be okay now, right? Wrong, nothing there, either. Wow, I got just a little bit of a breath, not much but it helps. I'm closing in on panic. Can't breathe, that's a fight losing problem. Okay, mild panic starts. Had to shut that down, because I try and practice what I preach and I preach "Panic Kills". Panic is avoided. No breathing from anything. Just as the edges start to get black, and I have to sit or fall, I undo the trach collar and yank out the tube. HUGE breath!! Oh man does that feel good!! I get rid of the "almost passed out" black edges. I try and suction again, still no good. Finally, the mucus causes me to gag and try to vomit. I do not vomit, but I do get rid of the huge plug. I check my trach tube and find a solid blood clot blocking it, about half way up into the tube. That explains why I had a hard time taking out the inner canula, it was wedged in. Spooky stuff. All that cleared up and I'm able to start the day. I wish I'd had time to get one of the kids awake, but it was way too early for that. That was a pretty close call. Nearly passing out. I'm not sure that I'd awoken again. If I'd passed out and relaxed, would the plug in my throat cleared itself? I don't know. I do know, however, that if I'm beginning to struggle with my airways like that again, I'm waking a kid up, if I have to light a bomb to get them up. Back in the day I'd had two episodes of hypoglycemia causing me to pass out on both of them. One at home, one on the rig. On the rig was bad, home wasn't so. I sat on the couch, passed out and woke up about 10 minutes later totally refreshed. I fear that would not be the case with this problem.
All in all, what with the steroids helping me make really stupid decisions and being angry at the people that matter most, nearly passing out with real possible chances of not recovering, and some of the other stuff that happens on my way outta here, this week has probably been the worst of the lot. Finding out I was terminal isn't as bad as the way I treated the family and Liz while I was on the damn steroids. Something I knew better than to take in the first place. You know, because I'm a dick for taking them anyway. How bright is a person that tells the nurse, who tells the PA, who tells the Dr (who hasn't even seen me) how steroids affect them, then goes ahead and takes them anyway. All the bad side effects with none of the positive that's supposed to happen. It's like hitting your forehead with a hammer. How long to you keep that up if it hurts the first time?
The chilly/damp weather is playing hell with my legs and joints. I've got a touch of arthritis in both hands and both knees. I suppose after breaking eight of my ten fingers makes me a bit arthritic there, and I've twisted both knees, plus being on my feet 12-14 hours a day for fourteen years didn't help my knees any. I know I'm not as bad off as some of my football friends. When I do finally slip these mortal coils, I'm hoping I don't have that stuff on the next level. And that once there, I can round up a few folks I know, so we can work some shenanigans. Tom Ruch had better be ready.
Book Of Rock: For God's sake if you know something is going to affect you adversely, don't fucking take it. It's your life, not some Doc with God envy, who knows what it your body will stand.
Today, since we are so close to Thanksgiving, take time to look around at the things that you have. They all have a place, but for giggles take a look at how many you really need or can just be kicked to the curb. You'll be surprised what you don't really need after all.
Just a little something to look at and ponder upon. I know, for myself, that I don't need a whole lot. I have a lot of toys, they are for pleasure, not necessity. But having them makes me happy to an extent, so I'm keeping them all. It's nice to be to the point in my life that I can have those, and still have the open space that I so truly enjoy
They talk about living on "The Rugged Llano Estacado". I have news for ya, folks who reside in the Basin. Living here isn't any more tough than up north in the Big Open. A short 240 miles north at Amarillo it's much tougher to live than here. It's not only colder, but it's every bit as hot in the summer. We folk that grew up in The Big Open are a hearty breed. I think that's why I fight this so well. From growing up in the High Plains of Kansas to the Big Open around Liberal Ks and the panhandles, it's a tough row.
If you're breathing, be thankful. If not, may you speed to your next location, and find it in need of a top hand
Monday, November 25, 2013
Well, I'm Glad That's Over
When I got so angry on the steroids, I had lots of collateral damage as well. It really hurt my wife's feelings. Which, of course, is probably the single most idiotic thing I've done. I wrote I wanted to be alone to stew. Yeah, did that. To the point my wife just shut down herself. Bad thing, that. And while I got lots of support for spouting off, there's a reason why I don't. Because even when I'm not angry any longer, the effects of the things I do still linger. I made my wife upset, the kids upset, and even the damn dog. Was it worth all that? Fuck no, never is worth that. I used to be a pretty scrappy kind of guy, and in all honesty, you never really win a street brawl completely. Something is always hurt. And in this case, someone is hurt. I don't like being angry, never have. Bad shit goes down when I'm angry.
In any event, we text, wrote and talked it out. I hope that it doesn't have a lot of "after side effects" stuff to do. One of the new ones is "Daddy says no, so that's okay". Anyway, I'm going to try and put this behind me. Oft times easier said than done.
So, I've had my "told ya so moment" with Hospice, again. Only this time it wasn't just me that got fucked over. The damn steroids brought all kinds of bad things to the surface that weren't hurting anything where they were lying. I'll be more prudent, in the future over what a surgeon should or shouldn't do. So much so because I hate the way Dr.'s tell me this is gonna be good for you, ignore, at least that's how it seems, anything I tell them about side effects with the drug and myself. The Dex didn't really help the swelling, but what it did accomplish, was to prove to myself again that they make me angry. We'll be fine from here on out, I believe.
Liz said yesterday that she's trying to learn to fix stuff when I'm not around. That she'd like me to help her with that, if I didn't get angry if she messes up. I don't recall, but that's not unusual, getting angry with her when she was working. I also told her that "I got lucky, a LOT"!. It's true, so much of the stuff that comes around with the house I just guessed up on, and it came out fixed properly and not just cobbled together. It's a bold move she's made. Asking me for help with anything has got to be a pain in the ass. She'll be good at fixing the minor stuff. Probably better if I'd stay out of her hair.
I'm having some trouble this morning navigating my way around everything. I'm increasingly sleepy. They upped one of my pain meds a little, and that may have something to do with it. Or it's a fact I stayed up too late with that Bozo, and didn't get more than a three hours of sleep last night after all the ice cream I melted into my tube. At any rate, it's not the recent steroid binge I don't think. Something I thought about last night for the first time. I thought I'd been staying awake all night so that one of the younger kids won't find me dead in the recliner. I rationalized that if I'm awake, they can't find me dead. That's sorta goofy. It won't matter if I'm awake at 3 AM or not, or if I want to croak about 5 AM, it won't matter. I'm going to kick the bucket on my bodies own schedule. Not the one I want.
Almost time to head for therapy. If I need, I'll come back to the blog today and clarify things. Mostly because I'm not going to proof read this, so I'll have a weird idea how the noggin reacts to new drugs and all. So far, outside of Abby. This should proven interesting at the least LOL
In any event, we text, wrote and talked it out. I hope that it doesn't have a lot of "after side effects" stuff to do. One of the new ones is "Daddy says no, so that's okay". Anyway, I'm going to try and put this behind me. Oft times easier said than done.
So, I've had my "told ya so moment" with Hospice, again. Only this time it wasn't just me that got fucked over. The damn steroids brought all kinds of bad things to the surface that weren't hurting anything where they were lying. I'll be more prudent, in the future over what a surgeon should or shouldn't do. So much so because I hate the way Dr.'s tell me this is gonna be good for you, ignore, at least that's how it seems, anything I tell them about side effects with the drug and myself. The Dex didn't really help the swelling, but what it did accomplish, was to prove to myself again that they make me angry. We'll be fine from here on out, I believe.
Liz said yesterday that she's trying to learn to fix stuff when I'm not around. That she'd like me to help her with that, if I didn't get angry if she messes up. I don't recall, but that's not unusual, getting angry with her when she was working. I also told her that "I got lucky, a LOT"!. It's true, so much of the stuff that comes around with the house I just guessed up on, and it came out fixed properly and not just cobbled together. It's a bold move she's made. Asking me for help with anything has got to be a pain in the ass. She'll be good at fixing the minor stuff. Probably better if I'd stay out of her hair.
I'm having some trouble this morning navigating my way around everything. I'm increasingly sleepy. They upped one of my pain meds a little, and that may have something to do with it. Or it's a fact I stayed up too late with that Bozo, and didn't get more than a three hours of sleep last night after all the ice cream I melted into my tube. At any rate, it's not the recent steroid binge I don't think. Something I thought about last night for the first time. I thought I'd been staying awake all night so that one of the younger kids won't find me dead in the recliner. I rationalized that if I'm awake, they can't find me dead. That's sorta goofy. It won't matter if I'm awake at 3 AM or not, or if I want to croak about 5 AM, it won't matter. I'm going to kick the bucket on my bodies own schedule. Not the one I want.
Almost time to head for therapy. If I need, I'll come back to the blog today and clarify things. Mostly because I'm not going to proof read this, so I'll have a weird idea how the noggin reacts to new drugs and all. So far, outside of Abby. This should proven interesting at the least LOL
Saturday, November 23, 2013
Well I'll Be
This is as long a stretch as I've gone being pissed off. I'm kind of liking it. Since I've been such an asshole the last couple of days, I've been left pretty much alone. I can stew in my own juices and enjoy the lovely aroma. It's relieved me of major decisions outside of when to nap and did I forget to eat or take my meds. The answer is yes, I did forget to eat. I had to run to the store and get something for my upset stomach so I didn't hurl the three cans of Osmolite I slammed in. It's a mistake for me to take three cans in at a time, they tend to make me ill. But today, I was ill feeling before I started. I'm having this wonderful screaming pain in my right ear. It's not infection like, more of a muscle thing that's pulling my inner ear around. I can flex my jaw a little and it will go away for a while, but comes back. I suppose I'll talk with my Hospice Nurse Monday morning and see what he thinks. Being that next week is T Day, I've got to have all my stuff filled and in my hands by Wednesday night. I did get some stronger break out pain medication. That will be nice.
I drove over to Odessa today, knowing full well that more dip shit Midland drivers would be out and on the highways. I did try one overpass and decided it was way too slippery to trust. That and a gust of wind came up and pushed the Audi across into the other lane of traffic. Yes, it was slippery, and yes, I got off the over passes and drove the service roads. Not as bad, but still had slick spots. I'm quite partial to the douche bags that think your ABS will stop you the same distance on ice as on snow or dry. Um, no, dick head, they won't. I wished I'd got movies of the asshole that tailgated me, rushed past as I slowed down before I touched my brakes, and with his ABS just clenching up at triple time, slid right through a red light on one of the busiest roads out here. I passed him a few minutes after that. He was driving 20. One extreme to the next. God Almighty.
Went to Odessa to see an old high school buddy who was in town working last night. He gets this bartender gig with some art galleries. Takes care of all the temporary licensing, sets up a door watch, and tends bar. Kind of a cool deal. He's doing what he enjoys, not getting wealthy, but he seems happy, and for the most part, that's more important than being wealthy, I'd think. We had a nice two or so hour talk in the coffee shop, watching people and just kind of breezing. He's not changed a damn bit. Well, a little gray at the edges, maybe a bit more stocky, but over all, not much. I think he's a Jap spy. It's times like that, when I'm with my friends both old and new, that I sometimes wish I'd not done the surgery. I can't speak for shit, and it hurts to do so, and I end up bleeding from the tumors and raw cancer spots. The "I wish" bullshit doesn't last long, because it serves no useful purpose. Actually neither does being angry. I suppose I should find a way to get over being angry. Then again….naw, I need to get over it.
With all my pain patches and meds, all the self hypnosis and bio feedback I can muster, this cold snap is fucking killing me. Not literally, I don't think, but man I'm aching beyond anything I've felt before. That's not helping the anger factor either. Generally, back when I wasn't Cancer Man! when I got sick or was in pain above the average aches, I'd sleep and make it better. Now with all the drugs thrown in, I can't rest. I don't get that at all. Leave me alone, let me sleep, I'll eat and drink when I'm hungry. Now, though, all that is such a pain in the ass, and I have to watch how much I eat so I don't throw up, it's hardly worth the effort. So, yeah, I'm kinda fucking miserable a lot of the time. I'm not writing well, and I think that's part of being distracted by the new found places that weren't hurting at all but are now. It mostly just sucks the ass out of a dead hog. To quote my favorite YouTube video "no no no no. Ha ha! Then fuck it". It's a two year old little boy. He must have paid attention when someone was pissed off. I lost one of my wedding rings. I had one Liz got me 6 years ago. Then after I got Cancer, I never put the weight back on to make it stay, so I put it on my index finger, and got a nice little hammered silver wedding ring for my ring finger. I got home from Odessa, no index finger ring. I knew it was loose, but wasn't aware it would just slide the fuck off. In the morning I'll rifle my portable suction bag.
So, since being angry is a waste of energy and time, I'll have to get over this somehow. No, it's not all steroid driven. And no, I really don't want some psycho babble nonsense help. I'll have to sort this one out on my own. But, until then, I'm not going to be very cordial or nice to much of anyone. It's why I shut down last evening and haven't started that particular business right back up. Somewhere there's a trigger I'm missing. My first answer to what I just typed is "duuuh, dickhead". I've never been certain as to what it is that's going to kick the temper over on it's side and let it run. Can't be much though, because happens over some of the littlest shit on earth. Got me.
I'm sitting here dozing off and right back on, so I'm certain this means it goes to sleep, it's ten, I should be up at 4…Perfect
I drove over to Odessa today, knowing full well that more dip shit Midland drivers would be out and on the highways. I did try one overpass and decided it was way too slippery to trust. That and a gust of wind came up and pushed the Audi across into the other lane of traffic. Yes, it was slippery, and yes, I got off the over passes and drove the service roads. Not as bad, but still had slick spots. I'm quite partial to the douche bags that think your ABS will stop you the same distance on ice as on snow or dry. Um, no, dick head, they won't. I wished I'd got movies of the asshole that tailgated me, rushed past as I slowed down before I touched my brakes, and with his ABS just clenching up at triple time, slid right through a red light on one of the busiest roads out here. I passed him a few minutes after that. He was driving 20. One extreme to the next. God Almighty.
Went to Odessa to see an old high school buddy who was in town working last night. He gets this bartender gig with some art galleries. Takes care of all the temporary licensing, sets up a door watch, and tends bar. Kind of a cool deal. He's doing what he enjoys, not getting wealthy, but he seems happy, and for the most part, that's more important than being wealthy, I'd think. We had a nice two or so hour talk in the coffee shop, watching people and just kind of breezing. He's not changed a damn bit. Well, a little gray at the edges, maybe a bit more stocky, but over all, not much. I think he's a Jap spy. It's times like that, when I'm with my friends both old and new, that I sometimes wish I'd not done the surgery. I can't speak for shit, and it hurts to do so, and I end up bleeding from the tumors and raw cancer spots. The "I wish" bullshit doesn't last long, because it serves no useful purpose. Actually neither does being angry. I suppose I should find a way to get over being angry. Then again….naw, I need to get over it.
With all my pain patches and meds, all the self hypnosis and bio feedback I can muster, this cold snap is fucking killing me. Not literally, I don't think, but man I'm aching beyond anything I've felt before. That's not helping the anger factor either. Generally, back when I wasn't Cancer Man! when I got sick or was in pain above the average aches, I'd sleep and make it better. Now with all the drugs thrown in, I can't rest. I don't get that at all. Leave me alone, let me sleep, I'll eat and drink when I'm hungry. Now, though, all that is such a pain in the ass, and I have to watch how much I eat so I don't throw up, it's hardly worth the effort. So, yeah, I'm kinda fucking miserable a lot of the time. I'm not writing well, and I think that's part of being distracted by the new found places that weren't hurting at all but are now. It mostly just sucks the ass out of a dead hog. To quote my favorite YouTube video "no no no no. Ha ha! Then fuck it". It's a two year old little boy. He must have paid attention when someone was pissed off. I lost one of my wedding rings. I had one Liz got me 6 years ago. Then after I got Cancer, I never put the weight back on to make it stay, so I put it on my index finger, and got a nice little hammered silver wedding ring for my ring finger. I got home from Odessa, no index finger ring. I knew it was loose, but wasn't aware it would just slide the fuck off. In the morning I'll rifle my portable suction bag.
So, since being angry is a waste of energy and time, I'll have to get over this somehow. No, it's not all steroid driven. And no, I really don't want some psycho babble nonsense help. I'll have to sort this one out on my own. But, until then, I'm not going to be very cordial or nice to much of anyone. It's why I shut down last evening and haven't started that particular business right back up. Somewhere there's a trigger I'm missing. My first answer to what I just typed is "duuuh, dickhead". I've never been certain as to what it is that's going to kick the temper over on it's side and let it run. Can't be much though, because happens over some of the littlest shit on earth. Got me.
I'm sitting here dozing off and right back on, so I'm certain this means it goes to sleep, it's ten, I should be up at 4…Perfect
Friday, November 22, 2013
I'm Fucking Tired
There's more shit on the face of the planet that I'm fucking tired of all the way around and in any direction any of you want to look. I'm plain old mother fucking tired.
I'm tired of my temper upsetting people. I don't like it any better than anyone else does. And yes, I will fucking work on getting around that.
I'm tired of having some pain, some place all the fucking time. Way loaded up on meds or not, it makes no difference, I hurt someplace at some level twenty four hours a day.
I'm really fucking tired of feeling like shit is my mother fucking fault. And there's a lot of shit that happens that the look and all is aimed right at my ass.
I'm tired of being talked around and about when I sitting in the fucking room with people. Either include me, shut the fuck up, or ask me to leave, I don't give a flying fuck which, but fucking pick one
I'm God Damned tired of the fucking house.
I'm tired of being made feel like I'm helpless. I'm not, if anyone bothers to fucking ask, I'll tell you if I'm able or not, or I'll try and we'll all find out together.
I'm tired of trying to put a good fucking spin or face on everything so tender feelings aren't hurt, because By God mine sure as fuck are never hurt, fucking ever
I'm tired of accidentally giving a rat's fucking ass
I'm tired of having to suction my fucking mouth all the time. I sleep poorly because I wake up choking in the night four or five fucking times. If I say "I slept through" so people get off my shit about sleep and rest, I'm actually only awoken choking two or three times
I'm tired of poor service, at any level, any fucking place
I'm real close to tired of being asked "How are you?". I'm fucking dying and I'm pissed off about it, that's how I am.
I say real close because people are actually concerned and I truly do appreciate it. Thank you for asking, really
I'm tired of taking care of the gross shit, although I won't ask anyone because it's my gross shit, not theirs
I'm tired of being treated, at times, like I'm fucking six. Even when I act like it, I'm fucking tired of it.
I'm tired of myself
I'm tired of being fucking stoic
I'm damn tired of constantly taking the high road. Right now, at this minute, it's just too fucking hard and I'm too tired
I'm fucking tired of so much shit, that my fucking arm hurts from tapping trying to prioritize the shit I'm fucking tired of having go on
So, what am I gonna do about it? Well, for a fucking while I'm shutting the fuck down. Completely. Anyone want's anything from me, tough shit. I'm not doing a damn thing for a fucking soul. If I hadn't already committed to seeing a friend in Odessa tomorrow morning, I'd skip that shit too, but I do try to keep my word, since that's about all I've got fucking left.
I'm liable to get "you're acting just like your father in law". It's true, I probably am. I don't give a fuck tonight if I am or not. I'm fact, tonight my "Give a Fuck" meter is running in negative numbers. I know this……nope, I don't even give enough of a fuck to put it into thought.
So, while I'm fucking tired, I'm sure everyone close to me physically is probably tired of my fucking ass as well.
Everyone knock yourselves out, I'm too fucking tired to give a shit what anyone does, or what they want to do, or any other fucking thing that may or may not happen
I'm tired of my temper upsetting people. I don't like it any better than anyone else does. And yes, I will fucking work on getting around that.
I'm tired of having some pain, some place all the fucking time. Way loaded up on meds or not, it makes no difference, I hurt someplace at some level twenty four hours a day.
I'm really fucking tired of feeling like shit is my mother fucking fault. And there's a lot of shit that happens that the look and all is aimed right at my ass.
I'm tired of being talked around and about when I sitting in the fucking room with people. Either include me, shut the fuck up, or ask me to leave, I don't give a flying fuck which, but fucking pick one
I'm God Damned tired of the fucking house.
I'm tired of being made feel like I'm helpless. I'm not, if anyone bothers to fucking ask, I'll tell you if I'm able or not, or I'll try and we'll all find out together.
I'm tired of trying to put a good fucking spin or face on everything so tender feelings aren't hurt, because By God mine sure as fuck are never hurt, fucking ever
I'm tired of accidentally giving a rat's fucking ass
I'm tired of having to suction my fucking mouth all the time. I sleep poorly because I wake up choking in the night four or five fucking times. If I say "I slept through" so people get off my shit about sleep and rest, I'm actually only awoken choking two or three times
I'm tired of poor service, at any level, any fucking place
I'm real close to tired of being asked "How are you?". I'm fucking dying and I'm pissed off about it, that's how I am.
I say real close because people are actually concerned and I truly do appreciate it. Thank you for asking, really
I'm tired of taking care of the gross shit, although I won't ask anyone because it's my gross shit, not theirs
I'm tired of being treated, at times, like I'm fucking six. Even when I act like it, I'm fucking tired of it.
I'm tired of myself
I'm tired of being fucking stoic
I'm damn tired of constantly taking the high road. Right now, at this minute, it's just too fucking hard and I'm too tired
I'm fucking tired of so much shit, that my fucking arm hurts from tapping trying to prioritize the shit I'm fucking tired of having go on
So, what am I gonna do about it? Well, for a fucking while I'm shutting the fuck down. Completely. Anyone want's anything from me, tough shit. I'm not doing a damn thing for a fucking soul. If I hadn't already committed to seeing a friend in Odessa tomorrow morning, I'd skip that shit too, but I do try to keep my word, since that's about all I've got fucking left.
I'm liable to get "you're acting just like your father in law". It's true, I probably am. I don't give a fuck tonight if I am or not. I'm fact, tonight my "Give a Fuck" meter is running in negative numbers. I know this……nope, I don't even give enough of a fuck to put it into thought.
So, while I'm fucking tired, I'm sure everyone close to me physically is probably tired of my fucking ass as well.
Everyone knock yourselves out, I'm too fucking tired to give a shit what anyone does, or what they want to do, or any other fucking thing that may or may not happen
Thursday, November 21, 2013
Hmmmmm
Well, we've tried a steroid to help with some swelling. That stops today! I'm having real live, real difficult to control, anger issues. It took about 5 days longer than I thought it would, but boy, are they here today. I'm stiff as an ironing board, and feel like I'm holding back an explosion. That's no good at all. When everything you see starts really making you want to just beat it to death with a dessert spoon, I'd say there is something wrong. When my Hospice nurse and I talked about using the steroid I told him I'd had nothing but bad results, but would give it a shot. It's had that shot, and boy it isn't fun at all. I have sudden flashes of myself jumping some 7' tall monster out there, because I feel 10' tall and bulletproof right now. That's no good. I'm a bit messed up for any kind of shenanigans such as that. Back 5 years ago, about this time actually, they HAD to give me steroids to help with what the 5FU was doing to my system. I was trying to work as well. A gang pusher accused me of stealing his chicken shit aluminum 36" Pipe Wrench. I don't like those, I prefer steel, I've broken aluminum wrenches before. So, instead of saying "No, you left it somewhere, I'll go find it for you", I walked the 40' to my work truck, got my steel wrench out, and threw it at his head. It went the 40' (if I could have done that in the Highland Games with a 28# weight, I'd been excited) and past his head by about a foot. Bad aim on my part. Anyway, I went right to the office and told my boss I couldn't work anymore and went home on Short Term Dis. Later, Liz wanted to shoot me. I don't like steroids and they do not like me either. I will say, though, that did stick with that gang pusher. I came back to work 4 months later, weighing all of 165 down from 225, and that normally lippy ass wipe was very congenial and soft spoken, at least to me.
So, fun and games. The damn steroids make it difficult for me to concentrate on somethings, but bore in like a laser on others. It's weird, because I have no idea what in the hell is going to be that which attracts my attention. I mean, on one level that's kind of interesting, while on another it's damn annoying. Anyway, it makes me edgy and I don't like that. It's not like I'm a little aggressive to begin with, I don't need any help being more so. Especially missing a tit and about 40% of what muscle mass I used to carry around. No, steroids bad. It does, however, lend to some really colorful language which I cannot speak, and it loses something from mouth to print on a notebook paper. It also adds to my lack of patience. I wrote what I wanted on a page of notebook paper for my coffee at StarBucks this morning about 0900. There were a couple of people in front of me, no biggy at first. Then they both got to dicking around with their phones. Looking at the menu that hasn't changed in 4 years, back to the phone. Then "I can't decide". So, being ever so patient, I torn out the page with my coffee order, and on the next sheet wrote, "fuck me senseless, would you please shit or get off the fucking pot?". That was not as cordial as I believe the young man was used to getting when notes are passed. He looked sort of blustery. Then stomped off with nothing. Gosh, if he didn't want anything, why did he come in there in the first place? I did go have my coffee on the patio so I could enjoy the very nice 65 degree weather we are having this morning. It was quiet and peaceful, bless my soul.
I also find that this particular steroid sets me to over salivating, like a Pavlovian dog. That too, is unacceptable. I'm into the suction more now than I was yesterday when I was bleeding enough I had to keep the overflow wiped off my chin. Saliva isn't as noticeable on my chin, but it's just as nasty when it runs out of the corner of my mouth, and into my chin scar, much like a river following a channel. Wipe, suction, wipe, suction,wipe. If that were my ass instead of my mouth, I'd be so chafed I couldn't walk. Then again, why would I suction my ass? There is no telling, since for the next few hours, hopefully not days, I am riding the Steroid Train of Unpredictability. With me, it's almost Heisenbergesque. The honest to goodness Uncertainty Principle. I can't ask anyone to observe me, because even I am uncertain as to what comes next. Drool seems to be the constant. I appear to be one half of some science project where in the drool is the control group. Only because it's the only thing that seems even remotely consistent. That should, I suppose, run me absolutely crazy, and yet it does not. Which also throws off exactly why some things make me angry and others do not. You'd think, wouldn't you, that drool pouring out of the mouth of someone with my sense of vanity and short fuse combo, would set off a tirade of epic proportions. Not so. It's a bit annoying, but not freak outable. Hmmmm
A bit more serious, though. I'm way tired today. Not certain why, but something has worn me smooth out. I slept 5 hours solid. Could maybe have gone a bit more, but had to get up and get around. I napped yesterday as well for a bit. I don't believe it's from overexertion, so I'm going to go with the cancer having a field day today. I say that because I really do feel some out of sorts, and it's not all to be blamed on the steroids. Those kind of fire me up. So I don't know exactly why, just taking a guess. If this sticks around for the weekend and into next week, then I've got something going on internally. Which, of course, is the cancer doing it's thing in fits and starts. I know it constantly is changing and growing, but there are times I swear I can feel it quick, then double, then triple timing it along for a bit before it settles in for a while with steady growth. This may be one of those times. And because it's all so fun to have that going on, I'm ready to go dancing. Not
Overall, I feel pretty decent. Today is the least well I've felt since Sunday. Sunday was such a down day I could be one foot in the grave and one on a banana peel and I'd feel better than I did Sunday. Lesson to Self: When you feel dandy in the AM, get the hell outside and enjoy it, dumb ass. I did that this morning after therapy. My surgical line where my pec tendon or muscle attachment runs up into my neck has been very stiff and hard to move with the last couple of days. Today's therapy loosened that up a lot and I've gotten some better head movement, rotation, and alignment. All that is a good thing. When that happens I have less neck, shoulder and back pain. When that area gets tight, everything else tries to compensate for it, and that tends to make me ache all over from the waist up. Sadly, when it gets like that, there is very little I can do from the house to alleviate the stress and loss of movement. I'm hoping this hangs in there through the weekend. I knew I should have gotten a book on kinesiology, just so when I talk with my therapist, I can write down exactly what's going on. Might make is easier on both of us if we have a good starting point, rather than "around my….". I've got a little time, I may check on that anyway.
Once in a while the cancer shit all feels like it's got me pinned down and won't even let me up for a breath. That doesn't happen often, but since I promised I'd be open and honest with everyone, I have to say that, even though it irks me to no end. I don't let it last long, because that kind of mental debate will wear you so fast that you'll swear it was done by the cancer just to gain an edge. Truthfully the cancer is no where near that smart. It's out of control with it's cellular mitosis, so it will continue on, the opportunistic bastard. Stress I know will speed things up, one more reason to drop the steroids today. And hopefully if I can get enough liquid in, flush my system pretty quickly. It took several days to build up to this point, I would assume it will take that or more to get it completely out. I hope that is not the case. Hmmmm, cancer is truly the "divide and conquer" disease. It's cells divide at an uncontrolled rate, and it eventually conquers the body by doing so.
See how the steroids send me off on the these weird side roads? I don't know that it's wonderful or spooky, but it's something else, that's for certain.
Okay. So I don't set here and start to wind up again like a thirty day clock, I'm gonna shut this down and try a nap.
Book of Rock: Once in a while stomp in the puddle. It ain't gonna hurt anyone, and it's fun to watch the folks try and dodge the flying water
So, fun and games. The damn steroids make it difficult for me to concentrate on somethings, but bore in like a laser on others. It's weird, because I have no idea what in the hell is going to be that which attracts my attention. I mean, on one level that's kind of interesting, while on another it's damn annoying. Anyway, it makes me edgy and I don't like that. It's not like I'm a little aggressive to begin with, I don't need any help being more so. Especially missing a tit and about 40% of what muscle mass I used to carry around. No, steroids bad. It does, however, lend to some really colorful language which I cannot speak, and it loses something from mouth to print on a notebook paper. It also adds to my lack of patience. I wrote what I wanted on a page of notebook paper for my coffee at StarBucks this morning about 0900. There were a couple of people in front of me, no biggy at first. Then they both got to dicking around with their phones. Looking at the menu that hasn't changed in 4 years, back to the phone. Then "I can't decide". So, being ever so patient, I torn out the page with my coffee order, and on the next sheet wrote, "fuck me senseless, would you please shit or get off the fucking pot?". That was not as cordial as I believe the young man was used to getting when notes are passed. He looked sort of blustery. Then stomped off with nothing. Gosh, if he didn't want anything, why did he come in there in the first place? I did go have my coffee on the patio so I could enjoy the very nice 65 degree weather we are having this morning. It was quiet and peaceful, bless my soul.
I also find that this particular steroid sets me to over salivating, like a Pavlovian dog. That too, is unacceptable. I'm into the suction more now than I was yesterday when I was bleeding enough I had to keep the overflow wiped off my chin. Saliva isn't as noticeable on my chin, but it's just as nasty when it runs out of the corner of my mouth, and into my chin scar, much like a river following a channel. Wipe, suction, wipe, suction,wipe. If that were my ass instead of my mouth, I'd be so chafed I couldn't walk. Then again, why would I suction my ass? There is no telling, since for the next few hours, hopefully not days, I am riding the Steroid Train of Unpredictability. With me, it's almost Heisenbergesque. The honest to goodness Uncertainty Principle. I can't ask anyone to observe me, because even I am uncertain as to what comes next. Drool seems to be the constant. I appear to be one half of some science project where in the drool is the control group. Only because it's the only thing that seems even remotely consistent. That should, I suppose, run me absolutely crazy, and yet it does not. Which also throws off exactly why some things make me angry and others do not. You'd think, wouldn't you, that drool pouring out of the mouth of someone with my sense of vanity and short fuse combo, would set off a tirade of epic proportions. Not so. It's a bit annoying, but not freak outable. Hmmmm
A bit more serious, though. I'm way tired today. Not certain why, but something has worn me smooth out. I slept 5 hours solid. Could maybe have gone a bit more, but had to get up and get around. I napped yesterday as well for a bit. I don't believe it's from overexertion, so I'm going to go with the cancer having a field day today. I say that because I really do feel some out of sorts, and it's not all to be blamed on the steroids. Those kind of fire me up. So I don't know exactly why, just taking a guess. If this sticks around for the weekend and into next week, then I've got something going on internally. Which, of course, is the cancer doing it's thing in fits and starts. I know it constantly is changing and growing, but there are times I swear I can feel it quick, then double, then triple timing it along for a bit before it settles in for a while with steady growth. This may be one of those times. And because it's all so fun to have that going on, I'm ready to go dancing. Not
Overall, I feel pretty decent. Today is the least well I've felt since Sunday. Sunday was such a down day I could be one foot in the grave and one on a banana peel and I'd feel better than I did Sunday. Lesson to Self: When you feel dandy in the AM, get the hell outside and enjoy it, dumb ass. I did that this morning after therapy. My surgical line where my pec tendon or muscle attachment runs up into my neck has been very stiff and hard to move with the last couple of days. Today's therapy loosened that up a lot and I've gotten some better head movement, rotation, and alignment. All that is a good thing. When that happens I have less neck, shoulder and back pain. When that area gets tight, everything else tries to compensate for it, and that tends to make me ache all over from the waist up. Sadly, when it gets like that, there is very little I can do from the house to alleviate the stress and loss of movement. I'm hoping this hangs in there through the weekend. I knew I should have gotten a book on kinesiology, just so when I talk with my therapist, I can write down exactly what's going on. Might make is easier on both of us if we have a good starting point, rather than "around my….". I've got a little time, I may check on that anyway.
Once in a while the cancer shit all feels like it's got me pinned down and won't even let me up for a breath. That doesn't happen often, but since I promised I'd be open and honest with everyone, I have to say that, even though it irks me to no end. I don't let it last long, because that kind of mental debate will wear you so fast that you'll swear it was done by the cancer just to gain an edge. Truthfully the cancer is no where near that smart. It's out of control with it's cellular mitosis, so it will continue on, the opportunistic bastard. Stress I know will speed things up, one more reason to drop the steroids today. And hopefully if I can get enough liquid in, flush my system pretty quickly. It took several days to build up to this point, I would assume it will take that or more to get it completely out. I hope that is not the case. Hmmmm, cancer is truly the "divide and conquer" disease. It's cells divide at an uncontrolled rate, and it eventually conquers the body by doing so.
See how the steroids send me off on the these weird side roads? I don't know that it's wonderful or spooky, but it's something else, that's for certain.
Okay. So I don't set here and start to wind up again like a thirty day clock, I'm gonna shut this down and try a nap.
Book of Rock: Once in a while stomp in the puddle. It ain't gonna hurt anyone, and it's fun to watch the folks try and dodge the flying water
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