Yes it is late in the day. I was too tired to get my crap together early this morning, although I was awake at the proper time at least twice, I fell back to sleep. I'd had some terrible swelling in my face, to the point that it hurt. In fact I was afraid I was going to have to have someone take me to lymphedema therapy this morning. But, that's getting a little ahead of the game, so I'll push on from the point of swelling.
I swell in my face and neck because my lymphatic system in my neck and head has been compromised with cancer. It attacks and hangs out in my lymph glands. They are essential for moving fluids away from various and sundry parts of the body. We are, as most of us know, comprised of mostly water. So having a system to move excess fluids out helps maintain a nice balance in many parts of the body. If they don't work properly, as mine don't, then the area that is affected will swell up like a tic. Saturday, I'd had some swelling, nothing major, but I'd missed one Lymphedema Therapy session on Thursday, so I wasn't sweating that so much. About 3 weeks ago my portable suction machine died, and we've been trying to find one ever sense. The Medical Supply people we had been renting that machine from couldn't find their ass with both hands if they had a map and compass. Liz found one, purchased it, and we are patiently awaiting it's arrival, supposed to be last Friday, here it is Monday, and not here yet. Bad luck ordering something around Christmas time, and expecting it to be here on time is near insanity. At any rate, it will certainly be nice to have one that I can take anywhere and suction instead of trying to hack the mucus into a rag. Which, by the way, generally makes me gag. With no soft palate every time I try to work up pressure to spit, it blows the crap right back up into the base of my sinuses. That, girls and boys, sucks dick for skittles. I had to do some of that at the midnight show for "The Hobbit: The Defecation of Smaug". Good movie, I recommend it. I've been having some "above and beyond" regular pain in what's left of my jaw. Since the cancer was found to be hanging out in a goodly chunk of the left side of my lower jaw, why would't it want to find a home in the right side of my jaw? At first I thought it was just from the pec muscle cramping and pulling my right jaw out of place. It has in the past, almost to the point of dislocating my right jaw from it's hinge. I've felt it pop (and having broken enough bones), heard it pop as well. So, when it started aching I paid it little mind, until it just started randomly giving me shooting pain that would drop a normal human being. Okay, yes, it nearly dropped me a couple of times.
Then I began thinking, "Damn, it could be cancer, you dip shit". After speaking with my Hospice nurse and going over some possibilities as to what it is or what it might be, and finally settling on cancer we got me a little bit of Morphine. It's wonderful, especially if I'm looking to take a loooong nap. But yes, it does take care of the continual pain and when I've taken it I'm no longer subject to that shooting pain that will make me wanna pee pee my pants. So yes, I use it like I should and I don't have that kind of silly aching pain any more, I like that. Although I sleep a lot more.
So Sunday was a day of ick, I couldn't do Jack Shit because the swelling in my face and neck was making it hard to breath. I lost nearly all my left to right rotation because of it, and I was having all the fun of running a cheese grater up and down the back of my legs. Yeah, loads of fun. I did have Liz rub me down a bit, and I think that got some of the fluid moving as best as we can. Turns out it worked a bit and I was a lot more comfortable and was able to sleep. Sleep for me is different from a lot of people. I sleep 2-4 hours, then wake up to get my tracy cleared and to suction out my throat a bit. Then it's right back to sleep, because lately I can't seem to get enough sleep, even if I get six hours straight like I get once in a while. Though it's not very often I do relish it when I can grab that. So, that's leading us right up to what happened this morning.
I fell asleep about 2030 last evening (Sunday) and woke up about 0030, coughed to clear the trach. There was a little blood, nothing to worry about, because I've bled off and on it's not big deal. I wait half an hour or so and when nothing else shows up, I'm back in drooler land. Same things at 0300, and 0600 and 0700. I get clear away by taking the Boy to school and heading into Lymphedema Therapy. I'm all shit's and a giggles on the way there. When I get up to the room, I suddenly get that stopped up and can't get it cleared out feeling. That sucks. So, I excuse myself and go to the can to see if I can get this snot wad to move ahead so I can fish it out. What I succeed in doing is getting it out, but it's a wad of bright red bloody snot. While I'm cleaning myself out, I get that nasty blood taste in my mouth again. Just for shits and grins I let this just run out of my mouth and into the sink. Ewwwww!!! It's a string of bright red and really thick blood. Not so much snot I don't think, but heavy duty blood. The good point? It's bright red, I'm not anemia. Bad point, I am not going to put my therapist thru that ordeal. She worries, which is nice in one sense, and worrisome to me in another sense. I don't want her to feel like it's something the therapy caused, which it didn't.
So, now I'm basically bleeding buckets, or it seems that way. I have to keep trying to swallow, so that it will aspirate and I can cough it up. That's a pain in the ass, and not all together kosher, I wouldn't think, on the medical side. But it's how it's got to happen for now. That way I can get home, settle myself in, suction my mouth as it needs it and hopefully cut down on the aspirated material that I've been hacking up for the last 20 or so minutes.
Here's the weird thing. It says something for how the mind, even when you know what it happening, tries to make sense out of something it can't quite grasp. I'm hacking away, and it's heavy with blood, I let it run out of my mouth, and it's heavy with blood. And what is one of the thoughts that's flipping through there? "Damn, that looks a lot like Campbell's Tomato Soup". No shit? Really? Soup is supposed to be fun and nourishing. This is neither, and yet my brain can't come up with anything better than, "Damn, that looks a lot like Campbell's Tomato Soup". MMMMM MMMMM Good bullshit!!
Okay, so now I'm tickled. Soup and suction Mr Smith? Why yes, Jeeves, and thank you. For God sake boy, group your shit would ya? Anyway, I mention I'm bleeding like a stuck hog on FaceBook, that I've text two people with Hospice and no one has answered back. My oldest daughter called for me, after reading the post on FaceBook, and asked them "WTF?". About an hour after it started, it's nearly stopped and the Hospice nurse shows up. I've bled before, it was no big deal, this was though, because of the amount and length of time it ran. The Nurse asked, "You do know that you may start bleeding and it won't stop, don't you? And it might be in everyone's best interest if it starts that way that you go to Hospice House, instead of staying home.". Yep, I understand that. It was one of the things the doctor told me about my last visit to MD Anderson. I did not tell the family. Foolishly thinking that I would have plenty of time to go over that if it came to it. Well fuck, it's come to it and I don't feel like I have enough time to even go take a leak now, let alone go over options with the family. I don't believe they want to watch Dad bleed to death sitting in his recliner, but I'm going to find out this evening for certain.
To summarize: I'll be fucked, this seems to be getting closer to Critical Mass than I would have liked. But that time may indeed be coming around the corner. I promised to keep up the blog as long as I'm able. And I will honor that, for as long as I can.
"Aye God, Woodrow. It's been a hell of a party. ain't it"
It has, and with any luck we can party along a bit longer.
Love all y'all
Monday, December 16, 2013
Sunday, December 15, 2013
Let's Talk Pain
Anyone that's spent a little time around me knows I'll say "ouch" at a lot of things, then go on with my rat killin. One year at a Highland Games I lost the Trig and slammed my right foot into it during an open stone throw. It was my last throw, and if I hadn't broken two toes and fouled it would have been my longest throw. My parents and my sister were there, so I hopped back to where my old man was sitting and yanked off my shoe and sock. The toe next to my big toe was tucked under my 3rd toe, and the third toe was trying to touch my big toe, like you'd crossed them and just kept going until they broke. I was still a little shock and they were still mostly numb, so I straightened them out as best I could without passing out and went back to the games. My old man looked at my foot and said "Jesus, that looks bad". He was right, it wasn't good. Even getting a response out of my dad was unusual, so I knew it was screwed up pretty badly. I braemar like threw the heavy weight for distance, got a measurement on, then told them that was my only throw, and I went to the first aid tent. They taped my two broken toes the each other. I asked how that was going to help and shouldn't they tape them to two unbroken toes. The lady grumbled, dropped ashes off her Virginia Slim Ultra Light onto my foot and retyped it. Long story short, I finished the day. Did awful because the damn foot hurt so bad I could barely walk let alone throw stuff.
I guess what I'm saying is I can stand a fair amount of pain, overall, and still do my thing. I've had pain levels right before lymphedema therapy of 8 on the 1-10 scale, and left with a 4. Eight is pretty high, but I can bury that for a while and still get along doing my regular day stuff. Generally pain is something I just put up with, since I've had pain of some kind for over 30 years. Lots of joint pain. I'v'e broken all but one of my fingers, and the only ones I lost time at work over were the shattered ring finger, the index finger I almost cut the tip off of and the thumb. I found I couldn't do squat without the thumb. The doc said four to six weeks. I was at work after seven days at home. The three times I broke my ankles, I was off work 6 weeks each for those. I usually cut the casts off after 6 weeks because the beer and donut diet just made me fatter. So yeah, I can stand a pretty decent amount of pain before it really starts to bother me. I hit that spot yesterday evening. I wasn't even expecting it. But there it was, big as brass tacks.
They cut out about a 1/3 or more of my jaw on the left side. I believe the only part left is my entire chin and just a small amount of jaw on the left side, all of my jaw on the right side. The cancer in the left side of my jaw were several small spots, not enough to cause pain. I now wonder, seriously, if the cancer hasn't moved into my right jaw. I've got a solid place underneath the jaw line that is rock hard and not tender to the touch. Generally, that's the way my cancer has behaved. It makes these lovely hard spots in my tissue, like swollen glands, then isn't tender to the touch. For me it makes it easier to find. And yes, this spot is getting bigger. Right now, as I blog away, I'm riding the five dot on the scale of pain. That's typical for me, as of late, but I don't feel as perky as I have in the past, and it's bothering me something fierce. I will work on wiping it out an d I may be successful. It's part bio feedback part self hypnosis, and I have a pretty decent rate of return with doing that. Generally I can get the pain down to ZERO or 2. Generally. But today feels differ, like nothing I try is going to work. I changed pain patches, so that help, and went to two scopolamine to control my mucus. Those may really help me kill off this 5 pain.With any luck, and I've had a dab of luck, it will be gone prio. Do not underestimate the ability of pain to suck the very life out of you. It'll get there, I think, because that's what it does best.
Last night I noticed my jaw starting to ache. Generally it doesn't do that, it's normal pattern is to be sore, then hit me with a sudden, very strong pain. Hard enough that I've had it make me sit down. But it never lasts. Both the ache and the sudden pain have been going away pretty well, so I haven't paid much attention to it. I did mention to my Hospice nurse on Tuesday that it was happening a bit more frequently and he set me up with some Morphine. My thought at the time was "yeah, I'll use it once in a while and not sweat it any more". Turns out by Thursday, I was pumping that stuff into me two or three times a day. The kid and I went to see the newest Hobbit movie at 0001 Friday morning. I was having hell with a lot of mucus, but didn't have any pain. I slept a lot Friday during the day time, but come 1800 or so, man, my jaw was really starting to thump. The kicker with me getting the Morphine was one of those sharp, sudden pains became a sharp hang on pain. And growing in intensity. So yeah, morphine. I slept, it was nice. Pain free and snoozing. I only woke up twice to clear my trach, that's pretty good, actually.
Saturday it wasn't so bad, I did have to run home to suction myself after Liz and I went running around doing "research". That's what we call going to estate sales, since I'm croaking one of these days, I told her she needed to go to a lot of estate sales to find out how to price things. We joke about that. Anyway, I was worn down a little anyway, so sitting around wasn't so bad. But I felt weird on top of that. I'm swollen as well. That is steadily getting worse, I can hardly wait for my lyphedema therapy Monday, I should get relief then. I'm sitting around and my jaw starts to ache. Normally I can rub it a little and stop it for several hours. No such luck, it just kept building up. So I took some Morphine. "Down Goes Frazier!", I was out. Woke up four hours later at 1830, feed myself, and settled down to watch the boob tube and relax. It started in at 2100, took morphine, that slowed it down to manageable. It's once every hour dosage. 2200, I took another dose, still just slowed it down to manageable. It's not working very well. I told my bud Brittany that if I had the chance I'd run Fat Girl under a truck. She said "not you". She's right. That's the cowards way out besides, I've got too many friends I think of as family to do that kind of thing. That affects everyone, and not in a positive way. So yeah, I'll tough this out.
The pain by 2130 was becoming unbearable. I was tempted to text Liz and have her call Hospice to see it there was something they could do. Liz worked last night, and I hate to bother her at work. I had thirty minutes to wait. I gotta tell ya, that was the longest thirty minutes of my short life. I've never in my life had something hurt so bad it made tears come to my eyes. This did. It was that sudden "knock your dick into the dirt" pain that left all at once, only it didn't leave all at once. It stuck around. It got worse. I think that jaw, be it cancer, or a nerve thing, hates me. At last 0000! the box says ".05-1.0 dose, once an hour as needed". Cool, I load up the 1.0 and sit back. It worked. I don't remember falling asleep, but I did. Woke up at 0200 to clear the trach, then at 0530 to clear the trach. I slept until 0730 this morning. I would like to be up before that, but I'll take those 7 or so hours of sleep anywhere I can get them.
Today I'm sore, running about 6 on the scale. I can deal all day with a 6. I figure, sometime later, that I'll be back on the Morphine, and hopefully I won't be waiting 3 hours to take care of the problem. I believe I'll go with the full dose. That should do two things: (1) Knock my ass clear out and (2) Take the pain clear away for 6 or seven hours. My biggest problem today is the swelling. It's really bad today, and is causing me loss of motion and the ability to breath as well as I'd like. I have to literally pull my head back so the airway at the trach, is open. Other wise I'm trying to breath out of my nose and mouth, and I don't get enough air through those two places to help much. I'll figure something out.
Back in the day. Before I met even my first wife, I had a couple of years where I was a little rowdy. I wasn't afraid of any damn thing, and I did pretty much what I pleased. Not much changed as I got older, I just hang out in better places. So this peckerwood from Beaver OK comes into Yosemite Sam's and the first thing out of the saddle walks up to me, taps my shoulder and says "I hear you wanna kick my ass?" Nope, not me. I don't fight. I tell him. "I think you're a pussy, say you're a pussy!" Okay, YOU'RE a pussy, and turned back around to drink my beer, which I grab by the neck in case this goes sideways. Then I hear his buddies laughing, I turn around and he's pissed. I'm thinking he's either gonna walk off or throw down. I was right, he walked off. An hour or so later, his little buddy is out turning back flips on the dance floor. A biker I knew told him to stop, he bumped into him twice. My biker buddy was being pretty decent, thought. Normally once telling someone was enough for him. The guy says okay okay, I'll quit. Then turns around and starts another one. My biker buddy grabs at one of his legs as he goes over. The result is the little dude from Beaver lands smooth on his head. It took him a bit to get off the dance floor, and he didn't go up there again that night.
Well, now the first Peckerwood from Beaver OK is in where the bikers sat. He walks up to Tiny. Tiny is 6'6" or so, probably close to 400#. The Peckerwood asks Tiny the same thing he asked me, about hearing he wanted to kick his ass. Tiny said "Sure". Then hit the guy square in the forehead. It sounded like a ball bat on a watermelon. To his credit, Peckerwood's body didn't know he was out before his brains knew. He straightened up, put his hands up like he was a boxer, then kinda melted into the floor like a limp candle. His buddies carried him out. The next time I say him in Sam's, he didn't fuck with anyone about fighting. I guess he found out that not everyone is Liberal was as afraid of him as some folks in Beaver.
Give someone a neck rub today. They are nice, and it's a good way to relax.
Hugs and love and shit
I guess what I'm saying is I can stand a fair amount of pain, overall, and still do my thing. I've had pain levels right before lymphedema therapy of 8 on the 1-10 scale, and left with a 4. Eight is pretty high, but I can bury that for a while and still get along doing my regular day stuff. Generally pain is something I just put up with, since I've had pain of some kind for over 30 years. Lots of joint pain. I'v'e broken all but one of my fingers, and the only ones I lost time at work over were the shattered ring finger, the index finger I almost cut the tip off of and the thumb. I found I couldn't do squat without the thumb. The doc said four to six weeks. I was at work after seven days at home. The three times I broke my ankles, I was off work 6 weeks each for those. I usually cut the casts off after 6 weeks because the beer and donut diet just made me fatter. So yeah, I can stand a pretty decent amount of pain before it really starts to bother me. I hit that spot yesterday evening. I wasn't even expecting it. But there it was, big as brass tacks.
They cut out about a 1/3 or more of my jaw on the left side. I believe the only part left is my entire chin and just a small amount of jaw on the left side, all of my jaw on the right side. The cancer in the left side of my jaw were several small spots, not enough to cause pain. I now wonder, seriously, if the cancer hasn't moved into my right jaw. I've got a solid place underneath the jaw line that is rock hard and not tender to the touch. Generally, that's the way my cancer has behaved. It makes these lovely hard spots in my tissue, like swollen glands, then isn't tender to the touch. For me it makes it easier to find. And yes, this spot is getting bigger. Right now, as I blog away, I'm riding the five dot on the scale of pain. That's typical for me, as of late, but I don't feel as perky as I have in the past, and it's bothering me something fierce. I will work on wiping it out an d I may be successful. It's part bio feedback part self hypnosis, and I have a pretty decent rate of return with doing that. Generally I can get the pain down to ZERO or 2. Generally. But today feels differ, like nothing I try is going to work. I changed pain patches, so that help, and went to two scopolamine to control my mucus. Those may really help me kill off this 5 pain.With any luck, and I've had a dab of luck, it will be gone prio. Do not underestimate the ability of pain to suck the very life out of you. It'll get there, I think, because that's what it does best.
Last night I noticed my jaw starting to ache. Generally it doesn't do that, it's normal pattern is to be sore, then hit me with a sudden, very strong pain. Hard enough that I've had it make me sit down. But it never lasts. Both the ache and the sudden pain have been going away pretty well, so I haven't paid much attention to it. I did mention to my Hospice nurse on Tuesday that it was happening a bit more frequently and he set me up with some Morphine. My thought at the time was "yeah, I'll use it once in a while and not sweat it any more". Turns out by Thursday, I was pumping that stuff into me two or three times a day. The kid and I went to see the newest Hobbit movie at 0001 Friday morning. I was having hell with a lot of mucus, but didn't have any pain. I slept a lot Friday during the day time, but come 1800 or so, man, my jaw was really starting to thump. The kicker with me getting the Morphine was one of those sharp, sudden pains became a sharp hang on pain. And growing in intensity. So yeah, morphine. I slept, it was nice. Pain free and snoozing. I only woke up twice to clear my trach, that's pretty good, actually.
Saturday it wasn't so bad, I did have to run home to suction myself after Liz and I went running around doing "research". That's what we call going to estate sales, since I'm croaking one of these days, I told her she needed to go to a lot of estate sales to find out how to price things. We joke about that. Anyway, I was worn down a little anyway, so sitting around wasn't so bad. But I felt weird on top of that. I'm swollen as well. That is steadily getting worse, I can hardly wait for my lyphedema therapy Monday, I should get relief then. I'm sitting around and my jaw starts to ache. Normally I can rub it a little and stop it for several hours. No such luck, it just kept building up. So I took some Morphine. "Down Goes Frazier!", I was out. Woke up four hours later at 1830, feed myself, and settled down to watch the boob tube and relax. It started in at 2100, took morphine, that slowed it down to manageable. It's once every hour dosage. 2200, I took another dose, still just slowed it down to manageable. It's not working very well. I told my bud Brittany that if I had the chance I'd run Fat Girl under a truck. She said "not you". She's right. That's the cowards way out besides, I've got too many friends I think of as family to do that kind of thing. That affects everyone, and not in a positive way. So yeah, I'll tough this out.
The pain by 2130 was becoming unbearable. I was tempted to text Liz and have her call Hospice to see it there was something they could do. Liz worked last night, and I hate to bother her at work. I had thirty minutes to wait. I gotta tell ya, that was the longest thirty minutes of my short life. I've never in my life had something hurt so bad it made tears come to my eyes. This did. It was that sudden "knock your dick into the dirt" pain that left all at once, only it didn't leave all at once. It stuck around. It got worse. I think that jaw, be it cancer, or a nerve thing, hates me. At last 0000! the box says ".05-1.0 dose, once an hour as needed". Cool, I load up the 1.0 and sit back. It worked. I don't remember falling asleep, but I did. Woke up at 0200 to clear the trach, then at 0530 to clear the trach. I slept until 0730 this morning. I would like to be up before that, but I'll take those 7 or so hours of sleep anywhere I can get them.
Today I'm sore, running about 6 on the scale. I can deal all day with a 6. I figure, sometime later, that I'll be back on the Morphine, and hopefully I won't be waiting 3 hours to take care of the problem. I believe I'll go with the full dose. That should do two things: (1) Knock my ass clear out and (2) Take the pain clear away for 6 or seven hours. My biggest problem today is the swelling. It's really bad today, and is causing me loss of motion and the ability to breath as well as I'd like. I have to literally pull my head back so the airway at the trach, is open. Other wise I'm trying to breath out of my nose and mouth, and I don't get enough air through those two places to help much. I'll figure something out.
Back in the day. Before I met even my first wife, I had a couple of years where I was a little rowdy. I wasn't afraid of any damn thing, and I did pretty much what I pleased. Not much changed as I got older, I just hang out in better places. So this peckerwood from Beaver OK comes into Yosemite Sam's and the first thing out of the saddle walks up to me, taps my shoulder and says "I hear you wanna kick my ass?" Nope, not me. I don't fight. I tell him. "I think you're a pussy, say you're a pussy!" Okay, YOU'RE a pussy, and turned back around to drink my beer, which I grab by the neck in case this goes sideways. Then I hear his buddies laughing, I turn around and he's pissed. I'm thinking he's either gonna walk off or throw down. I was right, he walked off. An hour or so later, his little buddy is out turning back flips on the dance floor. A biker I knew told him to stop, he bumped into him twice. My biker buddy was being pretty decent, thought. Normally once telling someone was enough for him. The guy says okay okay, I'll quit. Then turns around and starts another one. My biker buddy grabs at one of his legs as he goes over. The result is the little dude from Beaver lands smooth on his head. It took him a bit to get off the dance floor, and he didn't go up there again that night.
Well, now the first Peckerwood from Beaver OK is in where the bikers sat. He walks up to Tiny. Tiny is 6'6" or so, probably close to 400#. The Peckerwood asks Tiny the same thing he asked me, about hearing he wanted to kick his ass. Tiny said "Sure". Then hit the guy square in the forehead. It sounded like a ball bat on a watermelon. To his credit, Peckerwood's body didn't know he was out before his brains knew. He straightened up, put his hands up like he was a boxer, then kinda melted into the floor like a limp candle. His buddies carried him out. The next time I say him in Sam's, he didn't fuck with anyone about fighting. I guess he found out that not everyone is Liberal was as afraid of him as some folks in Beaver.
Give someone a neck rub today. They are nice, and it's a good way to relax.
Hugs and love and shit
Saturday, December 14, 2013
Yeah, I Know, I'm Skipping Days
Yes, I'm skipping days, so there. Phhhtttttbbbb! I can if I wanna. There is more than one reason, but I'm gonna go with "THE" reason, or at least the biggest reason. I'm having pain in my right jaw. Bad enough it turns muscular and even makes my ear ache. I had Hospice check my ear, nothing wrong with it, and when I could make my jaw relax, the ear pain went away as well. The big deal is, I didn't used to notice it unless my pectoral muscle that's in the left side of my mouth was cramping and made the right side pop like it was being dislocated, then screaming MiMi pain for a split second in my right jaw. After that, everything was pretty cool. Not so much the last couple of weeks. I noticed that the jaw was aching more often, and in different places than before. It's also swollen along the bottom jawline from just behind my chin to where it turns up to make the joint connection. Then it didn't need my pec to cramp to cause that blinding, extra ouch, sudden burst of pain. I yawned on Monday morning, sent that sudden pain up so fast I didn't have time to relax, and it was strong enough it nearly dropped me to my knees. That kind of pain that makes you see colors, close your eyes, and nearly drop you where you're standing pain. Okay, now it's time to have it checked out. I don't blog or tell people about stuff that's going on with me unless I've tried several different directions of controlling or at least working around the pain, or what ever else might be mixed up in there. So, this time I couldn't fix or change anything.
My Hospice nurse shows up and we go over what meds I need, how I'm feeling, and all the things we normally go over on Tuesdays. This time, though, I have him check my jaw and ear. Ear is clear, and the jaw isn't trying to dislocate when I yawn. I didn't, however, have him check the jawline on the right side this time, but I did tell him about the dreams, and pain when I yawn and the left side tightens up. Just my luck I have to yawn, and "Man oh Man oh Manischewitz!" did that hurt! And he could see what it was doing. My left side got hard as a rock, pulled my head down and to the left, the right side of my jaw stayed relatively straight and only pulled down and left just a shade. Not enough to make it look like it was trying to dislocate. But man, the pain lingered a long time that time. Minutes instead of seconds. As I've said, I generally don't sweat neck and face pain, but I had to deal with this stuff like right now. It was getting bad enough that I was sweating, and about ready to boo hoo over the pain. Very unusual for me to let pain drive me to tears, at least since first grade. That included a broken arm, which I did boo hoo over (because I thought I was gonna get in troooouuuble!), I didn't shed a tear one when the set my arm in the Dr's. office without knocking me out. I did, however, throw up on the doctor.
So now for the jaw pain I get Morphine, really small doses, but up to a dose every hour. I don't do it every hour, and no it's not because I'm afraid of getting addicted. I hope that it's not cancer in my right jaw. They took out four lymph glands on that side, though, and my left jaw had cancer in it. If it is in my bones, that's gonna really fucking hurt. I am not sure I can handle that, but I'm not going to sweat that little area until it's absolutely needed. What really sucks is, I have enough sense not to drive once the Morphine is kicked in, because it makes me goofier than I already am. Not driving will suck assholes, but I won't put myself and others at risk because I just couldn't stand having to be driven to therapy or anywhere else I'd like to go. So I wait and take my Morphine around 1000 to 1200hrs. I'll suffer that constant throb for a while (turns out it's about 7-8 hrs) so I can have some Joe with my buds, go to therapy, or just dick around for a couple of hours. Sometimes it's a bitch doing shit my way, instead of what I'm asked to do regarding a pain med. The damn morphine makes me extra sleepy. I didn't take any yesterday until 2300, the went and picked Liz up at her department Christmas Party. Told her when we got home how lucky she was she called, since I'd just taken a dab of Morphine. It's taken sublingually, so it hits pretty quickly. Where some drugs take 30 minutes or so to begin to do their dirty work, the sublingual Morphine goes at it in around 10 minutes. Hit the recliner, said "Night honey" and this child was OUT.
I'm beginning to wonder if the being tired all the time doesn't have something to do with the cancer. I'd like to blame the morphine, but that's a stretch, since this is an all day restlessness and equally tired. So I'm voting cancer, that was one of the side effects my Surgeon and MD Anderson told me would happen. The nice thing about "compartmentalizing" my thoughts and memories, I can call the memory up any time I want. And I'm pretty accurate with that as well. So, yeah, it's cancer, I believe. The only thing I'm not certain about is if it's in the bone, or just in the jawline. I may have some lymph glands on that side of my jaw, I'm not certain. I'd have to look at my surgery summary to say positively. I do know they took some out farther back and one tumor that had attached and wrapped itself around my left carotid artery. It's a wonder I didn't have a stroke kill me, since I was hitting the gym regularly and heavily right up until January 11, two days before I went to Houston to start a weeks worth of tests and evaluations to get ready for surgery on January 22. And that, boys and girls, is gonna be another tale to tell later on. Since I've already got my mind set on doing jack shit for the weekend, since I've got no big plans and can get away with being stoned and not having to drive. See? Silver lining in every little cloud.
Back in the day, I think I was maybe 20, the Old Man left me and the other hand on the rig by ourselves while he went to meet up with the tool man and pick up a tool to run in to start testing casing with (turns out the casing was like swiss cheese just above the top perfs on the well. The truck hauling in the work string was there, and the driver was a total douchenozzle, but his swamper was a decent fella. I needed a way to scam some cash off the Driver Douchenozzle, so I come up with this bet. Knowing this guy thinks he's King Shit of Turd Mountain, I said "Bet ya $20 you can't go up the tubing board guy wire, touch the tubing board, then come back down without falling. You fall, I win. If neither one of us can get there, you're swamper and the other hand can tell us who made it farthest." I can see him looking at the tubing board, to the ground, to the guy line, to the board and back to the ground. He took the bet.
Up he goes, facing the rig, which puts you in an awkward position since the guy line is almost 100' long, and runs out to the anchor from the board at about a 45degree angle. I'm thinking to myself "OOOOO, I got this", and I was right. Less than a quarter of the way up he has to come down. Ha Ha Douchenozzle, my turn.
I turned around with my back to the rig, got a good grip on the guy wire and start going up the line backwards (Important part I left out, my bad) with no feet. Backwards gives your shoulders, back and arms a more strength oriented movement. I didn't need to see the board at all, I'll touch it regardless how I'm doing the climb, the guy line is attached to it. I climb away, touch the board and head back down. Being young, dumb and full of (inert proper term here) I didn't think about falling. Fifty five feet would have been a devastating drop. If it didn't kill me, I'd fuck up my legs so badly I'd probably never survive. Now, here comes the fun part. Getting my cash. Yes, Driver Douchenozzle coughed up the $20, but not without cry babying about how I went up the line. I told him that only a dickhead would go up the damn thing facing forward, he took exception to that statement. And once again, tough shit.
We didn't work over a BOP, and seldom off of a trailer. Generally railroad ties we used to rack the pipe up on. There were three joints on the ground that I used to center up and get ready to transfer pipe from the trailer to the pipe racks so we could tally and run the pipe and packer into the well. I just finished chocking the three joints in and flipped another off the trailer and chocked it on the far side from the trailer so when we were rolling pipe it didn't just roll off the far side. Driver Douchenozzle hooks up his "break out" metal so we can just slide the pipe off the truck and onto the rack. I am between the trailer and our three chocked joints on the rack, when that asshole breaks the rack on the trailer and pipe starts pouring off the trailer and threatens to either break my legs, or I could fall and then
pipe break my neck. I took off running so I could get far enough down the rack to jump over and be clear. I jumped over four joints of pipe that was rolling and made it to the end and was clear. I'm also panting my ass off. Driver Douchenozzle is laughing his ass off, his swamper is looking at me like he was about to die of fright and embarrassment. I walked over to the Driver Douchenozzle and told him to give me the other $20 in his wallet for pulling a shit head stunt like that. He told me to kiss his ass. I grabbed a small pipe cheater for an equalizer and start walking toward him, he takes off, the swamper trips him. Now I'm laughing. I've got a knee between his shoulder blades and his wallet in my hand. I got my $20, gave him the wallet. He said he was going to rat me out to the area Superintendent. Fine by me, because his swamper was already telling him he'd vote on my side about how he'd tried to hurt me with a trailer full of tubing. Three or four years later, the same driver, different swamper are out to pick up a junk string of rods. They were covered in paraffin, iron sulfide and oil. Everyone's gloves were just dog shit nasty. Driver Douchenozzle smacks his swamper in the side of his head, not hard, just enough to splatter that nasty shit all over his face and neck. Then digs out running…right toward me, I tripped him. By the time the other rig hand and I pulled the swamper off, Driver Douchenozzle had a mouth full of that nasty stuff, a black eye that was closing, and a really nasty split lip.
Some guys never learn.
Have fun today. Go through your list of folks you like but haven't seen in a long while, call them up just to see how they are doing and to shoot the shit. They'll appreciate it
My Hospice nurse shows up and we go over what meds I need, how I'm feeling, and all the things we normally go over on Tuesdays. This time, though, I have him check my jaw and ear. Ear is clear, and the jaw isn't trying to dislocate when I yawn. I didn't, however, have him check the jawline on the right side this time, but I did tell him about the dreams, and pain when I yawn and the left side tightens up. Just my luck I have to yawn, and "Man oh Man oh Manischewitz!" did that hurt! And he could see what it was doing. My left side got hard as a rock, pulled my head down and to the left, the right side of my jaw stayed relatively straight and only pulled down and left just a shade. Not enough to make it look like it was trying to dislocate. But man, the pain lingered a long time that time. Minutes instead of seconds. As I've said, I generally don't sweat neck and face pain, but I had to deal with this stuff like right now. It was getting bad enough that I was sweating, and about ready to boo hoo over the pain. Very unusual for me to let pain drive me to tears, at least since first grade. That included a broken arm, which I did boo hoo over (because I thought I was gonna get in troooouuuble!), I didn't shed a tear one when the set my arm in the Dr's. office without knocking me out. I did, however, throw up on the doctor.
So now for the jaw pain I get Morphine, really small doses, but up to a dose every hour. I don't do it every hour, and no it's not because I'm afraid of getting addicted. I hope that it's not cancer in my right jaw. They took out four lymph glands on that side, though, and my left jaw had cancer in it. If it is in my bones, that's gonna really fucking hurt. I am not sure I can handle that, but I'm not going to sweat that little area until it's absolutely needed. What really sucks is, I have enough sense not to drive once the Morphine is kicked in, because it makes me goofier than I already am. Not driving will suck assholes, but I won't put myself and others at risk because I just couldn't stand having to be driven to therapy or anywhere else I'd like to go. So I wait and take my Morphine around 1000 to 1200hrs. I'll suffer that constant throb for a while (turns out it's about 7-8 hrs) so I can have some Joe with my buds, go to therapy, or just dick around for a couple of hours. Sometimes it's a bitch doing shit my way, instead of what I'm asked to do regarding a pain med. The damn morphine makes me extra sleepy. I didn't take any yesterday until 2300, the went and picked Liz up at her department Christmas Party. Told her when we got home how lucky she was she called, since I'd just taken a dab of Morphine. It's taken sublingually, so it hits pretty quickly. Where some drugs take 30 minutes or so to begin to do their dirty work, the sublingual Morphine goes at it in around 10 minutes. Hit the recliner, said "Night honey" and this child was OUT.
I'm beginning to wonder if the being tired all the time doesn't have something to do with the cancer. I'd like to blame the morphine, but that's a stretch, since this is an all day restlessness and equally tired. So I'm voting cancer, that was one of the side effects my Surgeon and MD Anderson told me would happen. The nice thing about "compartmentalizing" my thoughts and memories, I can call the memory up any time I want. And I'm pretty accurate with that as well. So, yeah, it's cancer, I believe. The only thing I'm not certain about is if it's in the bone, or just in the jawline. I may have some lymph glands on that side of my jaw, I'm not certain. I'd have to look at my surgery summary to say positively. I do know they took some out farther back and one tumor that had attached and wrapped itself around my left carotid artery. It's a wonder I didn't have a stroke kill me, since I was hitting the gym regularly and heavily right up until January 11, two days before I went to Houston to start a weeks worth of tests and evaluations to get ready for surgery on January 22. And that, boys and girls, is gonna be another tale to tell later on. Since I've already got my mind set on doing jack shit for the weekend, since I've got no big plans and can get away with being stoned and not having to drive. See? Silver lining in every little cloud.
Back in the day, I think I was maybe 20, the Old Man left me and the other hand on the rig by ourselves while he went to meet up with the tool man and pick up a tool to run in to start testing casing with (turns out the casing was like swiss cheese just above the top perfs on the well. The truck hauling in the work string was there, and the driver was a total douchenozzle, but his swamper was a decent fella. I needed a way to scam some cash off the Driver Douchenozzle, so I come up with this bet. Knowing this guy thinks he's King Shit of Turd Mountain, I said "Bet ya $20 you can't go up the tubing board guy wire, touch the tubing board, then come back down without falling. You fall, I win. If neither one of us can get there, you're swamper and the other hand can tell us who made it farthest." I can see him looking at the tubing board, to the ground, to the guy line, to the board and back to the ground. He took the bet.
Up he goes, facing the rig, which puts you in an awkward position since the guy line is almost 100' long, and runs out to the anchor from the board at about a 45degree angle. I'm thinking to myself "OOOOO, I got this", and I was right. Less than a quarter of the way up he has to come down. Ha Ha Douchenozzle, my turn.
I turned around with my back to the rig, got a good grip on the guy wire and start going up the line backwards (Important part I left out, my bad) with no feet. Backwards gives your shoulders, back and arms a more strength oriented movement. I didn't need to see the board at all, I'll touch it regardless how I'm doing the climb, the guy line is attached to it. I climb away, touch the board and head back down. Being young, dumb and full of (inert proper term here) I didn't think about falling. Fifty five feet would have been a devastating drop. If it didn't kill me, I'd fuck up my legs so badly I'd probably never survive. Now, here comes the fun part. Getting my cash. Yes, Driver Douchenozzle coughed up the $20, but not without cry babying about how I went up the line. I told him that only a dickhead would go up the damn thing facing forward, he took exception to that statement. And once again, tough shit.
We didn't work over a BOP, and seldom off of a trailer. Generally railroad ties we used to rack the pipe up on. There were three joints on the ground that I used to center up and get ready to transfer pipe from the trailer to the pipe racks so we could tally and run the pipe and packer into the well. I just finished chocking the three joints in and flipped another off the trailer and chocked it on the far side from the trailer so when we were rolling pipe it didn't just roll off the far side. Driver Douchenozzle hooks up his "break out" metal so we can just slide the pipe off the truck and onto the rack. I am between the trailer and our three chocked joints on the rack, when that asshole breaks the rack on the trailer and pipe starts pouring off the trailer and threatens to either break my legs, or I could fall and then
pipe break my neck. I took off running so I could get far enough down the rack to jump over and be clear. I jumped over four joints of pipe that was rolling and made it to the end and was clear. I'm also panting my ass off. Driver Douchenozzle is laughing his ass off, his swamper is looking at me like he was about to die of fright and embarrassment. I walked over to the Driver Douchenozzle and told him to give me the other $20 in his wallet for pulling a shit head stunt like that. He told me to kiss his ass. I grabbed a small pipe cheater for an equalizer and start walking toward him, he takes off, the swamper trips him. Now I'm laughing. I've got a knee between his shoulder blades and his wallet in my hand. I got my $20, gave him the wallet. He said he was going to rat me out to the area Superintendent. Fine by me, because his swamper was already telling him he'd vote on my side about how he'd tried to hurt me with a trailer full of tubing. Three or four years later, the same driver, different swamper are out to pick up a junk string of rods. They were covered in paraffin, iron sulfide and oil. Everyone's gloves were just dog shit nasty. Driver Douchenozzle smacks his swamper in the side of his head, not hard, just enough to splatter that nasty shit all over his face and neck. Then digs out running…right toward me, I tripped him. By the time the other rig hand and I pulled the swamper off, Driver Douchenozzle had a mouth full of that nasty stuff, a black eye that was closing, and a really nasty split lip.
Some guys never learn.
Have fun today. Go through your list of folks you like but haven't seen in a long while, call them up just to see how they are doing and to shoot the shit. They'll appreciate it
Thursday, December 12, 2013
Dammit! Throw Down or Sit Down
Throw down or sit down. I've said that half a dozen times or so when some peckerwood tried to brace me up in a bar. Most of the time, they were just trying to impress some nice little girl, and didn't really want to brawl, where in my case, I'd rather not as well, but I was always willing. Same thing with the damn cancer. Except this time it chose to throw down. Whipped it twice, but it came back with a roll of nickels in each hand (excellent fist fillers, do not ask how I know that for a fact). The cheating bastard cancer anyway.
Started out a rough morning. I woke up having a hard time breathing. That was around 0100, I got up and huffed and puffed like a worn out steam engine until things kinda ironed out. It wasn't like I was dying or anything from suffocation, it was just hard to pull a good breath. That is fixed now and I'm all aired up like a truck tire. The other thing is my right upper jaw. Like I said earlier, it's either a small fracture, like a crack, been dislocated from the pec in the left side of my face cramping up, pulled muscle from the same reason as the dislocation, or a nerve problem. Either way, it's been a pain in the ass (I know, wrong end) since 0100 this morning. Just to add insult to injury, I forgot to take off my "shuffle shoes" and put on at least my athletic shoes or biker boots. Oh hell yeah!! I want to go out in public like an old man that gives every kid a shiny new penny!….NOT!
Some of the stuff is what I was expecting, maybe a bit faster than I hoped it would, other's are a bit behind where I thought I'd be into the track of Terminal Velocity. It's nice, though, to wake up most mornings with things working in my advantage. You know, hungry, thirsty, full of piss and vinegar. The pisser of that is those type days are coming a bit farther apart, and the days I feel a little less than being able to tear the day down like I used to be able to accomplish. Today is the day, one year ago, I sat down in the chemo infusion room and started the last chemo I'd ever take. If my surgery hadn't been so extensive, and taking away so much of my mouth and throat, I'd more than likely have done the clinical trial chemo regimen. Not now, by God.
So, where does this leave me? Oh you know, about where I was three months ago, only with time and body wearing away. I'm not afraid of the end, but 95% of the time I don't want to rush into getting there. I'll be perfectly honest, there are days when I'm bleeding what seems to be buckets out of my mouth, throat, and trachea, I think "For God's sake, hurry the fuck up will ya? I'm tired, I'm hurting, and I can't even get a damn jalapeño , bacon, and double cheeseburger. That in itself is enough to make me want it to end. No, not really, but I do miss eating. Somehow the PEG line and cans of fucking formula just ain't cuttin it. There's a place on my right side, lower jaw, just a shade back from my chin that doesn't feel like fluid accumulation. It's pretty solid and doesn't hurt to the touch. It is, though, getting slowly larger. I thought they'd taken four lymph glands out of right along that stretch of my right jaw line. I vaguely remember the sutures in that side of my face and neck. I'll have to check with some pictures taken of the right side of my face. In the long run, since I'm already hurtling along at Terminal Velocity, it really makes no difference. It's one of those things that pops up in my head every now and then, but only deserves momentary thought. Not something to dwell upon.
My oldest and I were chatting (okay, she chats, I write it down) about being lost in your own thoughts, and how difficult that is to over come. I was at a loss with her, since I don't do that. It's how I'm wired. Something will pop up there, I'll go over it, and either have a way to fix what ever it's brought to me, so I can fix it, or just let it go into a different spot in my memory so it's waiting on a solution. I'm not sure if the way I'm hard wired is directly from my birth, or something I taught myself. Either way, it's not a bad way to be, at least for myself. I do understand, though, that it can be a crippling problem, and my heart goes out to those that are affected by that kind of thought process. One of my short comings that I am working on is to be more empathetic toward those folks, and others I know as well. It seems like I'm having more fun that one guy with terminal cancer should be allowed to have. But then again, I'm making my own fun now, and that just kind of goes along with how I was when I was healthy and whole. It's nice not to have to change a whole lot to be paraded around with the fun folks, if not in person, then at least online. Technology is amazing, as long as it's used more to augment your free time, not to become the replacement to conversation.
I need to spend some time with everyone in the family, just the two of us. That way, with some one on one face time, maybe I can find their worries and fears. I am not going to say I can fix that, but maybe together we can ease some of that pain off and share that a little. That way, it won't weigh either one of us completely down. I put up the strong face, the stoic, unafraid, father. That, though, isn't far off for myself. I'm not so out of touch that I don't notice that everyone is a bit worried, and afraid, or wondering how I really feel, pain level, mental state and all. If we can put THAT stuff on the table, slap it around a bit, I'm nearly positive we can put most of that to rest. This is something I need to square away ASAP. I will make this happen, for the sake of my family and myself.
Way back in the day, okay not quite 30 years ago, we had a round trip tubing and rod job to work in the EPMG field in the Oklahoma Panhandle. 5100', 5200', not a problem. We were already rigged up on the well, got there around 2030hrs the evening before, and had the horses head already on the ground, all we had to do was start pulling. I crossed my fingers, because they were going to pay us "Stand By" time for when we finished, and 10 hours on Saturday, in case the company had a big producer go down, we would be first out to pull it. So, taking the risk of that, I left my ex a note and see if our friends in OK City, OK wanted to have some company for the the weekend. It was a beautiful late spring day in the Okie Panhandle and SW Kansas, I just knew we'd be finished in nothing flat.
Up in the air I go, (no, I did and if healthy, still wouldn't, ride the blocks up) and out of the hole come the tubing and rods. Seemed like it was pretty quick. About 2 hours and everything was on the bank, awaiting the new insert pump and 2 joints of tubing and some clouds are starting to gather up, really dark clouds, with really tall thunder heads blowing up. We are still on track, only since I can't stop, run in and get my rain suit, I put on the rain suit to start. My old man and little brother are chuckling, little did they know that I was the sharp knife in the drawer that morning.
One sammich, one bottle of Diet Dew, and my ass is back up in the air at the tubing board slinging pipe into the elevators like I had good sense. Got it all in, I climbed down to help get the TAC set and the head back together so when the time comes, all we have to do when we run the rods and pump in, is straighten the pumping tee and turning the damn thing on. Also, bear in mind this is before one too many moron stuck their head with a metal hard hat into a panel box and electrocuted themselves. So yes, I had a turtle top tin hat. In your mind, picture me standing in the rod basket 85' off the ground, with only 15' more derrick above my head. Okay, got that firmly implanted? Cool.
We get the first sinker bar triple and pump going down hole, I hook onto the next sinker bar triple and it starts to rain. The damn thunder heads had scooted past on one side, but had now back tracked and where coming up my back. The wind was getting up, so the Old Man tied the blocks to the ground. (Yes, one day I'll explain how you do that, no companies down here will even try it). Now it's really coming down, Pop hollers up asking if I want to come out of the air. Nay nay say I, lets get this bitch hung on and get the hell out of here. Man, the sky got so dark I could see the light in the main tank battery light itself up. That's dark, baby. Ten or so triples and I can come the hell down, we can hang the well on, put chains on the pick up and rig and head out of this damn slippery loblolly of a field.
BOOOOM!!! Lightning does a ground strike so close to the rig I've got a copper taste in my mouth and the hairs on the back of my neck are standing strait up. About 80 or so feet from the rig, the ground is still smoking where it hit. Okay, I'm not dead. Even if the lightning had hit the rig, as long as no one was one foot on the ground, one on the rig, we'd be okay. Then it struck me funny. I'm 85' up, an open spot between me and the crown of the rig (the rod basket hangs out from the derrick). I'm giggling my ass off now, and it's hard to see with the rain and my own goofy ass laughing at the situation.
Yes, we got the well on in the rain, got the chains on everything and drove out of the field and into Harry's Welding's yard in Elkhart to have some minor stuff fixed. What a hoot baby
Strike while the iron is hot! Opportunity is knocking, answer the door! Damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead!!! Now we're shittin in tall cotton.
Several famous quotes that have nothing to do with the blog what so ever. So there
Hugs and shit
Started out a rough morning. I woke up having a hard time breathing. That was around 0100, I got up and huffed and puffed like a worn out steam engine until things kinda ironed out. It wasn't like I was dying or anything from suffocation, it was just hard to pull a good breath. That is fixed now and I'm all aired up like a truck tire. The other thing is my right upper jaw. Like I said earlier, it's either a small fracture, like a crack, been dislocated from the pec in the left side of my face cramping up, pulled muscle from the same reason as the dislocation, or a nerve problem. Either way, it's been a pain in the ass (I know, wrong end) since 0100 this morning. Just to add insult to injury, I forgot to take off my "shuffle shoes" and put on at least my athletic shoes or biker boots. Oh hell yeah!! I want to go out in public like an old man that gives every kid a shiny new penny!….NOT!
Some of the stuff is what I was expecting, maybe a bit faster than I hoped it would, other's are a bit behind where I thought I'd be into the track of Terminal Velocity. It's nice, though, to wake up most mornings with things working in my advantage. You know, hungry, thirsty, full of piss and vinegar. The pisser of that is those type days are coming a bit farther apart, and the days I feel a little less than being able to tear the day down like I used to be able to accomplish. Today is the day, one year ago, I sat down in the chemo infusion room and started the last chemo I'd ever take. If my surgery hadn't been so extensive, and taking away so much of my mouth and throat, I'd more than likely have done the clinical trial chemo regimen. Not now, by God.
So, where does this leave me? Oh you know, about where I was three months ago, only with time and body wearing away. I'm not afraid of the end, but 95% of the time I don't want to rush into getting there. I'll be perfectly honest, there are days when I'm bleeding what seems to be buckets out of my mouth, throat, and trachea, I think "For God's sake, hurry the fuck up will ya? I'm tired, I'm hurting, and I can't even get a damn jalapeño , bacon, and double cheeseburger. That in itself is enough to make me want it to end. No, not really, but I do miss eating. Somehow the PEG line and cans of fucking formula just ain't cuttin it. There's a place on my right side, lower jaw, just a shade back from my chin that doesn't feel like fluid accumulation. It's pretty solid and doesn't hurt to the touch. It is, though, getting slowly larger. I thought they'd taken four lymph glands out of right along that stretch of my right jaw line. I vaguely remember the sutures in that side of my face and neck. I'll have to check with some pictures taken of the right side of my face. In the long run, since I'm already hurtling along at Terminal Velocity, it really makes no difference. It's one of those things that pops up in my head every now and then, but only deserves momentary thought. Not something to dwell upon.
My oldest and I were chatting (okay, she chats, I write it down) about being lost in your own thoughts, and how difficult that is to over come. I was at a loss with her, since I don't do that. It's how I'm wired. Something will pop up there, I'll go over it, and either have a way to fix what ever it's brought to me, so I can fix it, or just let it go into a different spot in my memory so it's waiting on a solution. I'm not sure if the way I'm hard wired is directly from my birth, or something I taught myself. Either way, it's not a bad way to be, at least for myself. I do understand, though, that it can be a crippling problem, and my heart goes out to those that are affected by that kind of thought process. One of my short comings that I am working on is to be more empathetic toward those folks, and others I know as well. It seems like I'm having more fun that one guy with terminal cancer should be allowed to have. But then again, I'm making my own fun now, and that just kind of goes along with how I was when I was healthy and whole. It's nice not to have to change a whole lot to be paraded around with the fun folks, if not in person, then at least online. Technology is amazing, as long as it's used more to augment your free time, not to become the replacement to conversation.
I need to spend some time with everyone in the family, just the two of us. That way, with some one on one face time, maybe I can find their worries and fears. I am not going to say I can fix that, but maybe together we can ease some of that pain off and share that a little. That way, it won't weigh either one of us completely down. I put up the strong face, the stoic, unafraid, father. That, though, isn't far off for myself. I'm not so out of touch that I don't notice that everyone is a bit worried, and afraid, or wondering how I really feel, pain level, mental state and all. If we can put THAT stuff on the table, slap it around a bit, I'm nearly positive we can put most of that to rest. This is something I need to square away ASAP. I will make this happen, for the sake of my family and myself.
Way back in the day, okay not quite 30 years ago, we had a round trip tubing and rod job to work in the EPMG field in the Oklahoma Panhandle. 5100', 5200', not a problem. We were already rigged up on the well, got there around 2030hrs the evening before, and had the horses head already on the ground, all we had to do was start pulling. I crossed my fingers, because they were going to pay us "Stand By" time for when we finished, and 10 hours on Saturday, in case the company had a big producer go down, we would be first out to pull it. So, taking the risk of that, I left my ex a note and see if our friends in OK City, OK wanted to have some company for the the weekend. It was a beautiful late spring day in the Okie Panhandle and SW Kansas, I just knew we'd be finished in nothing flat.
Up in the air I go, (no, I did and if healthy, still wouldn't, ride the blocks up) and out of the hole come the tubing and rods. Seemed like it was pretty quick. About 2 hours and everything was on the bank, awaiting the new insert pump and 2 joints of tubing and some clouds are starting to gather up, really dark clouds, with really tall thunder heads blowing up. We are still on track, only since I can't stop, run in and get my rain suit, I put on the rain suit to start. My old man and little brother are chuckling, little did they know that I was the sharp knife in the drawer that morning.
One sammich, one bottle of Diet Dew, and my ass is back up in the air at the tubing board slinging pipe into the elevators like I had good sense. Got it all in, I climbed down to help get the TAC set and the head back together so when the time comes, all we have to do when we run the rods and pump in, is straighten the pumping tee and turning the damn thing on. Also, bear in mind this is before one too many moron stuck their head with a metal hard hat into a panel box and electrocuted themselves. So yes, I had a turtle top tin hat. In your mind, picture me standing in the rod basket 85' off the ground, with only 15' more derrick above my head. Okay, got that firmly implanted? Cool.
We get the first sinker bar triple and pump going down hole, I hook onto the next sinker bar triple and it starts to rain. The damn thunder heads had scooted past on one side, but had now back tracked and where coming up my back. The wind was getting up, so the Old Man tied the blocks to the ground. (Yes, one day I'll explain how you do that, no companies down here will even try it). Now it's really coming down, Pop hollers up asking if I want to come out of the air. Nay nay say I, lets get this bitch hung on and get the hell out of here. Man, the sky got so dark I could see the light in the main tank battery light itself up. That's dark, baby. Ten or so triples and I can come the hell down, we can hang the well on, put chains on the pick up and rig and head out of this damn slippery loblolly of a field.
BOOOOM!!! Lightning does a ground strike so close to the rig I've got a copper taste in my mouth and the hairs on the back of my neck are standing strait up. About 80 or so feet from the rig, the ground is still smoking where it hit. Okay, I'm not dead. Even if the lightning had hit the rig, as long as no one was one foot on the ground, one on the rig, we'd be okay. Then it struck me funny. I'm 85' up, an open spot between me and the crown of the rig (the rod basket hangs out from the derrick). I'm giggling my ass off now, and it's hard to see with the rain and my own goofy ass laughing at the situation.
Yes, we got the well on in the rain, got the chains on everything and drove out of the field and into Harry's Welding's yard in Elkhart to have some minor stuff fixed. What a hoot baby
Strike while the iron is hot! Opportunity is knocking, answer the door! Damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead!!! Now we're shittin in tall cotton.
Several famous quotes that have nothing to do with the blog what so ever. So there
Hugs and shit
Wednesday, December 11, 2013
Wednesday, Which May or May Not Cover Two Days
So, I've been sleeping all night, and farting around all day. That's the excuse I'm using for not blogging earlier in the morning. That's my story and I'm stickin to it. There are possibly some extenuating circumstances, but I can't think of any that anyone would believe right off the bat. Actually, I really have been sleeping more at night, and a bit more during the day, which is beginning to not mess up my sleep patterns. That is a bit troubling, but I suppose I'll get used that as well. It is a sign that I'm getting worn out and my body is saying it needs more rest to function properly. My body is doing it's business fighting as hard as it can, which explains why I need more sleep. Weird too, though, but I've not bled any serious amount from my trach, mouth, and throat for a couple of weeks now. Which is fine with me. It's a mess. And since I'm never certain when it's going to come or go, I don't really go many places now. Sadly. The last time I started bleeding really hard, it was trickling down my chin, and enough that a guy in Starbucks's looked at me and asked if I was okay. He wasn't rude, but I couldn't feel the blood trickling down my dang chin. So yeah, it's a little disconcerting when that happens.
The battery on my portable suction went bad, so I traded it with the medical supply company for one that was supposed to work on battery. Strangely, this one won't work on either. I text them, noting. Liz calls yesterday and no one calls back. She called again this morning and was told they probably couldn't find one like the machine I got in Houston. She's about fed up I believe, and I don't blame her. It seems like no one feels like they should go more than the extra bout six inches to help out a client. It's more than just a little frustrating, to say "Screw you" we are are thinking of buying one online and telling the Medical supply company to pick up the one they sent, and stop renting from them. It would be nice if just once someone in the service industry in all walks of life would stop and say, "We don't carry that sir, let me find a way to get it for you." Or if they can't "Sir we don't carry that item, but this is where you can find one" and give you the internet address to the product, or a number of someone that does carry them. I figure I'll have to wait for hell to freeze over before that happens. More of the piss poor service rant that I started
My right jaw is pulling some crazy shit. Way up high, where it attaches to the bone of the skull, I get screaming, blinding pain, that only lasts a second. It hits so hard that I get that white light thing that is there for a second then gone. It's some miserable pain. But, like I say, it only lasts for a second. I'm not certain what it is. Muscular, nerve, fracture. I just don't know. I do know that it's fuckin A painful, and when it hits that "just right" spot, it's almost enough to drive you down to your knees. They've given me some morphine to stick under my tongue when the pain hits. It's pretty stout. I used a little last night and it was "Good night Irene" for me. I'll try it again here shortly, since in the time I started typing this the damn thing has hit me three times and now it's settling in as a dull throb. That's never any fun.
I say possible fracture, because it feels exactly like the last time I set a finger myself after it was broken. That, too, nearly made me pass out, and after a while, settled in on a nice, steady dull throb. Very similar effects and pain levels. Previously, if the left side of my jaw, which is now my left pectoral muscle cramped, it would hurt and if it was strong enough it would feel like it was trying to dislocate my right jaw. It felt like that a couple of days ago, and that was followed by a loud and pretty painful "SNAMP. Makes me wonder if it didn't work on some level. So, anyway, when the Pec cramps now it feels like it did right before the snap, only worse and it lasts longer.
So I'm getting ready to slip some morphine in and probably crash hard for a short bit this morning. I do that with great ease, and not a small amount of excitement.
Book or Rock: If it comes down to you or me surviving, I choose me.
That's not evil or bad or anything like that, it's just how it is. The only person I have to out run is the guy in front of me, and if bad shit was all you have to have rough, life is pretty simple
The battery on my portable suction went bad, so I traded it with the medical supply company for one that was supposed to work on battery. Strangely, this one won't work on either. I text them, noting. Liz calls yesterday and no one calls back. She called again this morning and was told they probably couldn't find one like the machine I got in Houston. She's about fed up I believe, and I don't blame her. It seems like no one feels like they should go more than the extra bout six inches to help out a client. It's more than just a little frustrating, to say "Screw you" we are are thinking of buying one online and telling the Medical supply company to pick up the one they sent, and stop renting from them. It would be nice if just once someone in the service industry in all walks of life would stop and say, "We don't carry that sir, let me find a way to get it for you." Or if they can't "Sir we don't carry that item, but this is where you can find one" and give you the internet address to the product, or a number of someone that does carry them. I figure I'll have to wait for hell to freeze over before that happens. More of the piss poor service rant that I started
My right jaw is pulling some crazy shit. Way up high, where it attaches to the bone of the skull, I get screaming, blinding pain, that only lasts a second. It hits so hard that I get that white light thing that is there for a second then gone. It's some miserable pain. But, like I say, it only lasts for a second. I'm not certain what it is. Muscular, nerve, fracture. I just don't know. I do know that it's fuckin A painful, and when it hits that "just right" spot, it's almost enough to drive you down to your knees. They've given me some morphine to stick under my tongue when the pain hits. It's pretty stout. I used a little last night and it was "Good night Irene" for me. I'll try it again here shortly, since in the time I started typing this the damn thing has hit me three times and now it's settling in as a dull throb. That's never any fun.
I say possible fracture, because it feels exactly like the last time I set a finger myself after it was broken. That, too, nearly made me pass out, and after a while, settled in on a nice, steady dull throb. Very similar effects and pain levels. Previously, if the left side of my jaw, which is now my left pectoral muscle cramped, it would hurt and if it was strong enough it would feel like it was trying to dislocate my right jaw. It felt like that a couple of days ago, and that was followed by a loud and pretty painful "SNAMP. Makes me wonder if it didn't work on some level. So, anyway, when the Pec cramps now it feels like it did right before the snap, only worse and it lasts longer.
So I'm getting ready to slip some morphine in and probably crash hard for a short bit this morning. I do that with great ease, and not a small amount of excitement.
Book or Rock: If it comes down to you or me surviving, I choose me.
That's not evil or bad or anything like that, it's just how it is. The only person I have to out run is the guy in front of me, and if bad shit was all you have to have rough, life is pretty simple
Monday, December 9, 2013
Monday Monday
Yes, it's really Monday. After all the days off around here for the icy conditions, I could have sworn we had two weekends and this should be December, 16. So much for being able to keep track. I fell asleep about 1930 last night, woke up at 2130 and wondered what the hell my oldest daughter was doing up at 0400. Hmmmm, I pestered her for a minute, fell back asleep and only woke up twice, and at 0500, decided a shower, drugs and feed would be a good thing, just not in that order. Feeding always comes last in my routine. There's no real reason why it should, it's just it shakes out. The weekend was uneventful as far as big deals go. Excluding the "discussion" with Massage Envy about them not being able to treat me, getting that fixed after sliding into complete asshole mode, and the actual massage (which is still with me, just not as strongly as it was) the only thing going on was football on Saturday, and one pro game. Yes, I swore off pro football, but that raging snow storm that they had yesterday was great to watch em play in. I can't even recall now who was playing, it was just fun watching them. I spent part of that time thinking "Yeah, I've worked in a blizzard more than once, what's the big deal?" I'm pretty certain a lot of people would say they could be seriously injured. True, but try climbing a ladder on the outside of a rig derrick eighty feet up to the rod basket, and not being able to see the floor. Nothing like something that could get you killed for not paying attention to put pro football in a blizzard in it's proper perspective. Not to disparage the players, but they get pretty well compensated, and the guys in the trenches don't get their fair share compared to the "stars" on the team. I think a lot of the time the QB, receivers, and running backs seem to forget who makes that all possible.
Sidebar: Cudo's to Jon Herod, owner of Schlotzky's Deli in Midland. His employees weren't treating customers to his satisfaction, so he closed the place and has been holding "Attitude Adjustment" meetings to straighten that out. They've been closed for more than just a few days working on it. Finally, the owner of a restaurant does the right thing. Even if it cost him revenue. Thanks, Brother, and even though I can't eat any longer, I've got your back.
Mike, the man who gave me my massage didn't want to take a tip. I kinda laughed it off, and kept after him to take the money. He kept refusing, until I said, "Liz will kill me if I don't", and he took his tip. He was telling me that out of all the employees that place has, that he and two others are the only ones that aren't afraid to touch me and give me a massage. I asked if that was because of the surgery or what, and he said "Yes" to both things, the surgery and "or what". Apparently I make some of the other folks nervous. I could tell when I went in Friday to try and sort out a way to get me a massage. The assistant manager, the young woman that turned me down, looked at me like I was going to attack her and leave her covered in scars and tracheostomy. Well, we all know that's not true, scars maybe. I realize as well that I can seem to be pretty "untouchable" and that not knowing where to start on me could be an issue. It's really very simple. I show them where I've got the most suffering from pain going on, and they massage that area/areas out for an hour. I'm still cruising from that massage. It's truly made a difference. Couple that with the Lymphedema Therapy and I'll be in pretty good shape down the road a bit. Of course, down the road a bit, I may not need either service. But until that time, I'm going to make good use of the services I've got working for me now.
Way way back in 1969 or 1970, some where along those lines, we lived on a section of ranch, wheat, and milo farm. We just lived in the house, we didn't own cattle or plow the rich soil around Russell County Kansas. It's where I learned to saddle a horse and ride. I got $5 a month to move 80 head of registered Black Angus cattle between pastures every month, and for taking care of the horse. He wasn't shod, so I had to learn how to look for splits in his hooves. I'd tell my Ma, she'd call his owner, and he'd sent out a farrier. I also learned not to talk him places he might get a stone bruise in his hoof. He was well trained, you could steer him with your knees. Something he liked better because he had a cavity so big you could park a truck in it.The vet came out to look him over and did something to the tooth, I don't know what he did, pulled it or filled it, I don't know. But I do know that you could ride him with a bridle, without fear of catching that bad tooth on the bit. I didn't like to use the bit, but there were times just using a hackamore wouldn't cut it, he'd ignore the hackamore, and go off on his merry way if you weren't careful and let him have his head.
So, anyway, we had a pretty large pond about 200 yards from the house. Great fishing, pretty free of trees and small shit to cut your feet if you went swimming. Which got a lot better when dad brought home a double deck, pontoon boat (the entire thing was home made, the pontoons were made from old barrels). It was fun to fish and swim off. You did, however, have to put the horse in the paddock with the calving shed. We didn't do that once, and the damn thing tried to get onto it with you. He could be around it all the time and not try to get on the damn thing. He got both front feet on the deck one time, liked to capsized the damn thing, so we locked him up.
We'd had a real turd floater of a rain. Three or four inches in the middle of the night. The anchor on the pontoon boat didn't hold and the water going over the spillway carried the boat about half way over. I was told by both parents to let the boat sit, and dad would be home and fix it for me. WRONG!!! I figured I'd get it off myself. Two car jacks and several creosote fence posts later, it was back floating on the pond. I was quizzed pretty hard about how I did it, and I never changed my story. I kept bouncing the front end and pushed it in. DUH, you can't do both. But I was sharp enough to put everything back where it belonged. I was 21 before I admitted to the parents how I got the damn boat back in the deep water. They weren't pissed, but laughed their asses off. Whew
Sidebar: Cudo's to Jon Herod, owner of Schlotzky's Deli in Midland. His employees weren't treating customers to his satisfaction, so he closed the place and has been holding "Attitude Adjustment" meetings to straighten that out. They've been closed for more than just a few days working on it. Finally, the owner of a restaurant does the right thing. Even if it cost him revenue. Thanks, Brother, and even though I can't eat any longer, I've got your back.
Mike, the man who gave me my massage didn't want to take a tip. I kinda laughed it off, and kept after him to take the money. He kept refusing, until I said, "Liz will kill me if I don't", and he took his tip. He was telling me that out of all the employees that place has, that he and two others are the only ones that aren't afraid to touch me and give me a massage. I asked if that was because of the surgery or what, and he said "Yes" to both things, the surgery and "or what". Apparently I make some of the other folks nervous. I could tell when I went in Friday to try and sort out a way to get me a massage. The assistant manager, the young woman that turned me down, looked at me like I was going to attack her and leave her covered in scars and tracheostomy. Well, we all know that's not true, scars maybe. I realize as well that I can seem to be pretty "untouchable" and that not knowing where to start on me could be an issue. It's really very simple. I show them where I've got the most suffering from pain going on, and they massage that area/areas out for an hour. I'm still cruising from that massage. It's truly made a difference. Couple that with the Lymphedema Therapy and I'll be in pretty good shape down the road a bit. Of course, down the road a bit, I may not need either service. But until that time, I'm going to make good use of the services I've got working for me now.
Way way back in 1969 or 1970, some where along those lines, we lived on a section of ranch, wheat, and milo farm. We just lived in the house, we didn't own cattle or plow the rich soil around Russell County Kansas. It's where I learned to saddle a horse and ride. I got $5 a month to move 80 head of registered Black Angus cattle between pastures every month, and for taking care of the horse. He wasn't shod, so I had to learn how to look for splits in his hooves. I'd tell my Ma, she'd call his owner, and he'd sent out a farrier. I also learned not to talk him places he might get a stone bruise in his hoof. He was well trained, you could steer him with your knees. Something he liked better because he had a cavity so big you could park a truck in it.The vet came out to look him over and did something to the tooth, I don't know what he did, pulled it or filled it, I don't know. But I do know that you could ride him with a bridle, without fear of catching that bad tooth on the bit. I didn't like to use the bit, but there were times just using a hackamore wouldn't cut it, he'd ignore the hackamore, and go off on his merry way if you weren't careful and let him have his head.
So, anyway, we had a pretty large pond about 200 yards from the house. Great fishing, pretty free of trees and small shit to cut your feet if you went swimming. Which got a lot better when dad brought home a double deck, pontoon boat (the entire thing was home made, the pontoons were made from old barrels). It was fun to fish and swim off. You did, however, have to put the horse in the paddock with the calving shed. We didn't do that once, and the damn thing tried to get onto it with you. He could be around it all the time and not try to get on the damn thing. He got both front feet on the deck one time, liked to capsized the damn thing, so we locked him up.
We'd had a real turd floater of a rain. Three or four inches in the middle of the night. The anchor on the pontoon boat didn't hold and the water going over the spillway carried the boat about half way over. I was told by both parents to let the boat sit, and dad would be home and fix it for me. WRONG!!! I figured I'd get it off myself. Two car jacks and several creosote fence posts later, it was back floating on the pond. I was quizzed pretty hard about how I did it, and I never changed my story. I kept bouncing the front end and pushed it in. DUH, you can't do both. But I was sharp enough to put everything back where it belonged. I was 21 before I admitted to the parents how I got the damn boat back in the deep water. They weren't pissed, but laughed their asses off. Whew
Sunday, December 8, 2013
Two Or Three Days Later
Two or three days later, since I last wrote something on the blog. You see, there are days I don't feel particularly witty. Other's I don't feel much like doing anything at all. Still other days are so damn monotonous that there isn't much to blog about. Strangely enough, I sometimes can't think of a damn thing worth writing about. That amazes some folks that I know, that I would be caught at a loss of words. I'm full of surprises.
I was thinking tonight, since I got a night's full of sleep way earlier than I would have normally liked, that I am missing a thing or two. I'm missing, mostly, sleeping with my wife. It's working on eleven months since I had surgery and in that time I believe I've only been able to sleep in my bed for a couple of months. At first, after the surgery, I was of course stuck in a hospital bed. That turned into twenty one days instead of the seven the doctors had first thought would be my full time stay. Liz stayed with me in the hospital the entire time. I can't even begin to find the words to express how humble, loved, and fearless her being with me made me feel. She sacrificed her life, to watch over mine. She became my voice and defender, and I'm still in awe of her, and probably will be for however much longer I have left. Does this mean we've never had words or hurt each others feelings? No, not at all, because we have. The farther along I get, the closer I get to the end of my time, I get a little more picky and grouchy. There are times when decisions are made without asking me what I think. That tends to bother me a lot more now than it used to bother me. It makes for some hard feelings, I dislike that. I'm working on fixing it as well, so I'm less pressured from myself. Now that I've managed to run clear off the rails from that I was missing, I think I can head back to that.
Yeah, I really miss sleeping with my wife. There is something that really comforts me in being able to reach out and touch her in the wee hours, when I'm in that between sleep and waking, and I am relaxed by that fact. I honestly sleep far better. It's nice to be able to touch her hand, rub her side. listen to her breath. Twenty two years of that and I became so accustomed to it, I still have trouble sleeping if she's not near me. It's funny how that works, isn't it? Here I am, this tough individualist, who can take care of so many things on my own now, and I strive to do that, and I feel more than a little lost without being in the same bed as my wife. It's because I have come to rely on her so much. Her help with doctors, her ideas and thoughts on about everything, and how steady she is when I'm on the edge of blowing my cool. Fun stuff like that, and it seems to all come together when I can lie down in a bed, put my hand on her, and fall asleep. She's become my protector, and is a damn good one. Probably better at it than I was being hers.
Short note. Oldest comes home from work. The cheese sticks that she ordered with pizza are gone. She is vexed. Apparently this is not what she said when she left. I am cracking up. Strange how this sounds and seems like an all too familiar occurrence when I had a house full of kids.
Excitement that comes along this week. Huge ice storm and damn chilly temperatures. For this part of the world, flippin crazy cold. Not just that it hasn't made it to 30 in the last several days, but it's because it's not made it to 30 in the last several days. It gets cold here once in a while, but it doesn't hold on this long as a rule. There had been loads of wrecks, schools closed (which didn't happen very often when I lived up in Kansas, but they were prepared for long cold spells and bad roads), as well as a lot of businesses. Probably very wise. Anyway, I thaw out my car daily, and go see what kind of fun the rest of the city is having, and I find that even when the roads are very slick with ice, the folks here still believe a four wheel drive can get around at regular speed. There is the reason for the wrecks. I got a few things done. One is fairly interesting.
I wake up early Thursday morning and my PEG line (feeding tube) has a piece that is for inflating the balloon that holds it in has come apart. Well, that's odd. So I find the pieces in my lap and put them back in the spot they belong, and I notice that I can see the balloon top sticking out of my stomach. Not so hot, because that means it's about to fall out. I put it back in and semi inflate the balloon (I thought I inflated it all the way, and may have), and take about a two hour nap. I feed myself about 0300, get my daily drugs in about 0400, have coffee about 0500, take the boy to school, and go to Lymphedema therapy. Home by 0930. Things cook along like a normal day about 1700 my damn PEG line falls clear out of my stomach. That's a bit of a surprise. I plug the hole, Liz gathers up some slick em, and we put the damn thing back in and re-inflate the balloon. I also text Hospice. They say go the ER and they'll alert them that I am coming. I get the text that the Dr who was to see me will be can at 1800. I get the text at 1805. Anyway, off we go. And I know it's going to be a while because it's nasty weather and the police are working more of the soon to be 90 accidents in town. Long story short, I was curt with Liz and didn't mean to be, and we worked that out. I felt like people were making decisions for me without asking me first. One of the things I'd like to do is make my decisions, with Liz's advise, while I'm mentally able. There may come a time when I can't at all. Until then I'd like to at least have a say in what goes on.
Friday it's miserably slick out in the morning, and at least until after 1200. So I go into Massage Envy to talk to them about getting a relaxation massage. I was told out of hand, before they asked me a question about any of my conditions or what I could stand and how I might be able to get a massage. So, what did I do? I talked to Liz about it, and what was told to her and what was said to myself appeared to be two different things. Hmmmm. I bailed on FaceBook, did a search, found the corporate page and messaged them with my feelings, as well as an alternative, in case this was just a simple misunderstanding. I added that in the past I'd referred people there, but that would stop, and I would be discouraging people from using the services. I posted pretty much the same thing on the local facilities FaceBook page. Low and behold, I get a call and give it to Liz since I don't hear well. They want us to come in and talk about how to get me a massage. Seems I am now set up with massages until I am unable. It's so frustrating that any more you get more done if you're acting like an asshole. Not suck a long stretch for me, actually.
Allrighty then! This ends another blog and it was brought to your by the letter "8" and the number "I couldn't careless".
Behave yourselves, it's Sunday
I was thinking tonight, since I got a night's full of sleep way earlier than I would have normally liked, that I am missing a thing or two. I'm missing, mostly, sleeping with my wife. It's working on eleven months since I had surgery and in that time I believe I've only been able to sleep in my bed for a couple of months. At first, after the surgery, I was of course stuck in a hospital bed. That turned into twenty one days instead of the seven the doctors had first thought would be my full time stay. Liz stayed with me in the hospital the entire time. I can't even begin to find the words to express how humble, loved, and fearless her being with me made me feel. She sacrificed her life, to watch over mine. She became my voice and defender, and I'm still in awe of her, and probably will be for however much longer I have left. Does this mean we've never had words or hurt each others feelings? No, not at all, because we have. The farther along I get, the closer I get to the end of my time, I get a little more picky and grouchy. There are times when decisions are made without asking me what I think. That tends to bother me a lot more now than it used to bother me. It makes for some hard feelings, I dislike that. I'm working on fixing it as well, so I'm less pressured from myself. Now that I've managed to run clear off the rails from that I was missing, I think I can head back to that.
Yeah, I really miss sleeping with my wife. There is something that really comforts me in being able to reach out and touch her in the wee hours, when I'm in that between sleep and waking, and I am relaxed by that fact. I honestly sleep far better. It's nice to be able to touch her hand, rub her side. listen to her breath. Twenty two years of that and I became so accustomed to it, I still have trouble sleeping if she's not near me. It's funny how that works, isn't it? Here I am, this tough individualist, who can take care of so many things on my own now, and I strive to do that, and I feel more than a little lost without being in the same bed as my wife. It's because I have come to rely on her so much. Her help with doctors, her ideas and thoughts on about everything, and how steady she is when I'm on the edge of blowing my cool. Fun stuff like that, and it seems to all come together when I can lie down in a bed, put my hand on her, and fall asleep. She's become my protector, and is a damn good one. Probably better at it than I was being hers.
Short note. Oldest comes home from work. The cheese sticks that she ordered with pizza are gone. She is vexed. Apparently this is not what she said when she left. I am cracking up. Strange how this sounds and seems like an all too familiar occurrence when I had a house full of kids.
Excitement that comes along this week. Huge ice storm and damn chilly temperatures. For this part of the world, flippin crazy cold. Not just that it hasn't made it to 30 in the last several days, but it's because it's not made it to 30 in the last several days. It gets cold here once in a while, but it doesn't hold on this long as a rule. There had been loads of wrecks, schools closed (which didn't happen very often when I lived up in Kansas, but they were prepared for long cold spells and bad roads), as well as a lot of businesses. Probably very wise. Anyway, I thaw out my car daily, and go see what kind of fun the rest of the city is having, and I find that even when the roads are very slick with ice, the folks here still believe a four wheel drive can get around at regular speed. There is the reason for the wrecks. I got a few things done. One is fairly interesting.
I wake up early Thursday morning and my PEG line (feeding tube) has a piece that is for inflating the balloon that holds it in has come apart. Well, that's odd. So I find the pieces in my lap and put them back in the spot they belong, and I notice that I can see the balloon top sticking out of my stomach. Not so hot, because that means it's about to fall out. I put it back in and semi inflate the balloon (I thought I inflated it all the way, and may have), and take about a two hour nap. I feed myself about 0300, get my daily drugs in about 0400, have coffee about 0500, take the boy to school, and go to Lymphedema therapy. Home by 0930. Things cook along like a normal day about 1700 my damn PEG line falls clear out of my stomach. That's a bit of a surprise. I plug the hole, Liz gathers up some slick em, and we put the damn thing back in and re-inflate the balloon. I also text Hospice. They say go the ER and they'll alert them that I am coming. I get the text that the Dr who was to see me will be can at 1800. I get the text at 1805. Anyway, off we go. And I know it's going to be a while because it's nasty weather and the police are working more of the soon to be 90 accidents in town. Long story short, I was curt with Liz and didn't mean to be, and we worked that out. I felt like people were making decisions for me without asking me first. One of the things I'd like to do is make my decisions, with Liz's advise, while I'm mentally able. There may come a time when I can't at all. Until then I'd like to at least have a say in what goes on.
Friday it's miserably slick out in the morning, and at least until after 1200. So I go into Massage Envy to talk to them about getting a relaxation massage. I was told out of hand, before they asked me a question about any of my conditions or what I could stand and how I might be able to get a massage. So, what did I do? I talked to Liz about it, and what was told to her and what was said to myself appeared to be two different things. Hmmmm. I bailed on FaceBook, did a search, found the corporate page and messaged them with my feelings, as well as an alternative, in case this was just a simple misunderstanding. I added that in the past I'd referred people there, but that would stop, and I would be discouraging people from using the services. I posted pretty much the same thing on the local facilities FaceBook page. Low and behold, I get a call and give it to Liz since I don't hear well. They want us to come in and talk about how to get me a massage. Seems I am now set up with massages until I am unable. It's so frustrating that any more you get more done if you're acting like an asshole. Not suck a long stretch for me, actually.
Allrighty then! This ends another blog and it was brought to your by the letter "8" and the number "I couldn't careless".
Behave yourselves, it's Sunday
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