My buddy Dennis made it home in one piece. That's always nice considering once he clears the Permian Basin the chances of surviving on the highway goes up considerably. Folks out here haven't ever been able to drive worth a damn, and it's worse now. The last time I went to Daytona Beach on the bike, the only cars I had tailgate, cut off, or damn near hit me all had Texas tags. And people here wonder why Texas has such a bad rap. Sheesh.
Again with the bleeding throat. Gee whiz that's fun!! There's nothing quite like aspirating and coughing up a nice, big honkin glob of bright red shit out of your trach tube three or four times during the night. Then suctioning it out in the morning. It's not the bleeding, it's tasting the blood that sucks. Hell, I've been hit in the mouth enough to know that coppery, slick, ick, taste of blood. It's getting a tad worse and the weeks move along. When I first noticed it a little over a month or go, it would be just a touch, and it would stop in an hour or so. And that wasn't very often or with any regularity. Now it's two or three times a week and goes on for that hour, and sometimes up to eight or ten hours. Not that it's like I've blown a vessel in my throat or anything, but it's enough it shows up. It could be several things, and all of those are related in some way to Baxter, that devious shit. Some of the symptoms I'm to expect are, you guessed it, bleeding. I'll get tired faster: Check, My energy level will fall: Check, the pain will increase: Check. Hmmm, Baxter is tripping along just like I figured he would. I can almost tell you when he picks up and scoots around so as to do his work in several places. My normal level of tired ramps up, and I just wanna sleep all the time. Actually to the near point of narcolepsy. Crazy stuff this Baxter is pulling.
I've got some other minor physical issues that I suspect will continue to increase. I believe Baxter is checking into my lymph node hotel. and trying to book every room. I'm starting to get some swelling under my arms and around the side of my neck they didn't cut nodes out. I am retaining fluid from my collar bones up, and some down my left side. I believe all that is Baxter related. After all, he liked my lymph nodes 5 years ago, no reason he shouldn't enjoy staying at them again.
Also, my shoulders and muscle around my shoulder blades just won't quit hurting. Sometimes worse than others, sometimes not bad at all, but alway some pain or another going on there. I don't recall if that's one of the symptoms or not. I do know that some of it is directly related to my surgery and how it's messing with my biomechanics. Where they left my pec tied into my chest is tightening up and puling my shoulder in and my head down. We started with some KTape yesterday, and I think that it's already beginning to help. I know that I can't swallow as well, or as much. I'm beginning to think that it's getting toward the end of my SLP therapy. There's no use taking up my therapists time if it's not helping. I'll know by the end of next week. The lymphedema therapy though, is still helping. Getting rid of some of that built up fluid in my face and neck helps a lot. Right now though, it builds back in almost as fast as they can get it cleared out. I may be winding down on that therapy as well. We'll just have to see how that goes. I'm funny, I guess, in that I'll be ready to quit ahead of my therapists. And these are good people, too. They aren't out to hang it in the insurance company just for a chance to treat, and we are working together to get it done. I like them and their "can do" attitude. I can see in their faces too, that they aren't enjoying this "end of life" stuff any more than I am. They're good folk
So, with all that, what am I gonna do? Just as I please, which is just like always. Granted, just as I please includes a large, everything on it thin crust pizza. I'll have to beg off that, but you get the idea. I've got some errands to run today, and then I should be able to just crash and burn with no big problems for the rest of the day. At least that's my plan. I quit telling my wife "I should be in early" when I was working. That was a sure shot that I was gonna be three or so hours late. It's like this: Should = Ought to, but not necessarily will. So I play each trip by ear. Works out better for me.
There are days when I'm not all good thoughts and jolly dancing Rock. Like everyone else I have good and bad days. I choose not to focus on the bad things that are going on, and that takes the edge off bad days for certain. It could be worse is absolutely true. And even I have trouble now and then thinking that. What is certain is that what you think affects how you feel and your health. If you're a constantly down person, you're gonna feel like shit most of the time. Up beat and optimistic people are generally healthier. It's why I put a name on my cancer. I can fight Baxter. Cancer is a broad term that hope is lost in. So screw cancer, I'm working on holding Baxter at bay. Just not with a clinical trial that's gonna make me more sick than I am now. Just because this MAY be a losing fight, doesn't mean I'm not going down swinging. In real life I lost my share of fights, but the other guy generally didn't want to do it again any time soon. Baxter will be no exception to that rule. I plan on fighting dirty, just like I did 30 some years ago, when I had to fight at all,
So, let's review. New things happen every day. It's not all cheery things either. That doesn't matter. Change is inevitable, no use railing against the candle because someone lost their matches
Monday, September 16, 2013
Sunday, September 15, 2013
Did anyone get the number of that bus?
It's been a couple or more days since I posted up anything. My friend Dennis Folk from Dallas came to visit on Friday, and I think it's a touch rude to post away while company twiddles their thumbs. Once again my lack of rapid communication skills frustrates me, but it wasn't as bad this time. Not because I didn't have anything to say, just that I didn't let it bother like it normally does. We visited about what's going on with each other and our families. Dennis regaled my oldest with stories of our youth (i believe he lied on most of them, or i had an evil twin), and we laughed a lot. I sound like a steam engine with a nasty valve leak when I laugh, but that makes me laugh harder. We went to a couple of estate sales, and a garage sale. Dennis found 4 Body Glove west suits for $20, and they didn't look like they'd been used. A steal I believe. Liz went out with her friend Cheri to supper at Saltgrass, that left Dennis, Sarah, and me to have fun on our own. Of course, watching UT lose again was priceless, same with Texas A&M, but we had to kill some time. So, we played Rummy, had a drink, and watched the tube. I had a blast. Dennis stomped our asses. We laughed. I made a discovery early this morning. The consumption of any alcoholic beverages, even mixed, and on a full stomach, just ain't gonna cut it anymore. I could taste the drink on a sip from a spoon, but had to run it into the feeding tube. I didn't get way lit up, but I sure feel like I've been run over by a bus. Hence today's title. It's always a bit sad for me to see friends leave, a bit more so now even. But I sure do like seeing them. I'll be glad to hit McPherson Ks, and The Celtober Throw Down in Keller Tx the last of this month and the last of October respectively. There are a lot of really good people I need to hug and tell good bye. Those may be the last chances I get to do so for a lot of them. And again, it'll suck to see them as I leave. Then again, I do get to see them, and that's truly what counts.
I find myself getting more easily worn out and tired. This was to be expected, but I was hoping that would take a bit longer to start than what it has. I've given my gym membership to my oldest daughter, I tried going back in to lift and do minor cardio at least, and it just caused me to hurt so bad I deemed the gain was not worth the pain. Not just muscle soreness, that's a given and I've dealt with that for years. No, this was stabbing "WTF Rock? Trying to kill yourself?" pain in my neck, face, shoulders and upper back. And it didn't quit. Couple that with my right leg thinking folding up like a cheap lawn chair was okay and it just wasn't worth it any longer. Okay, that or I've become a fanatical wussy. Either way I begged off training. What I do is use the little stretch strap things they gave me back in April. It's not great, but it's better than nothing I'm sure. Accepting the fact that I can't lift or jog about anymore suck ass for Snickers bars. I don't like it, I don't relish the fact that I've had to stop, and I am loathe to just sit. It's like giving up one more piece of my independence. I need to find some loud mouth that's yelling at some young woman about how his coffee isn't hot enough, then just nut the holy shit out of him. And while that's only a short term fix, it's immediate gratification, and I could use some of that today. No, I've never nutted a guy for yelling at any of the young women in any coffee shop. I have, however, spoken to them about being polite. And when one of them got snotty about it, I slapped his coffee out of his hand. Instant gratification. It's not the right thing, it's the inappropriate thing at the right time that counts. When I used to get those pent up feelings, I would head to the gym, lift until I thought I was gonna puke, come home and shower, and those pent up frustration feelings were gone. I've got to find another channel for those now, or I may get a bit shitty to be around. Mr Temper has been trimming his fuse again. I need to find an outlet for that so he doesn't just sneak around.
Discovery #4,213,112: I'm more patient with my Grandson than I was my own kids, how does that work? Ive spoken about my good friends before, and I don't think I can say enough how lucky I am in that regard. I've done something right, I guess. They are the ones that generally when we were out having fun, managed to keep me pulled in a touch, and I never noticed until long after that they did that. Sneaky bastards
It was time to change the trach tube today. Not just the inner piece that I can take out and clean so I can breath better. The entire thing. The one I had in was in place way too long and needed changed. Discovery #4,213,113: Leave it in until you're finished with your shower before changing everything out. At least in my case. The stoma seemed way tight when I was putting this one back. I don't think it will start permanently close, but I think it relaxes a bit and boy, did I have to shove to get it back in place. I need a quick picture of that one day to show everyone. Gross and gnarly? Hell yes! But kinda cool as well. I've wondered before, who thought this up? "Go ahead, Bob, cut a hole in his throat, he's choking to death anyway, what have we got to lose, right?". Or was it an accident. "Holy shit, Bob! Look at this! He's got a hollow reed sticking out of his throat and he's breathing through it! What? NO!!! You take it out, I ain't touchin it!". The goofy shit that runs through my head. Of course we know that the biggest strides in modern plastic surgery came forward during WW1. It was very crude compared to today, but it was the beginning of what we know as modern reconstructive surgery. Those guys did near miracle work, given what they knew then and the tools they had to work with.
SIDEBAR! Sarah comes in and says "Shit, I've gained a pound!". Let's see, she's done between 80 and 160 deep knee bends a day, and jogs 15-20 minutes a day for the last 2 weeks. She does not believe daddy that she's added muscle weight. I tell her to stay off the scales. But does she listen? Nooooooooo
Today's growth fun is once again bleeding like a stuck hog from my throat. Aspirating that stuff is also a blast. I can't think of anything I'd rather do. Unless it's using a cheese grater on my dick. That's almost as fun I'm sure. It's not that I bleed so much I'm gonna pass out from the loss of blood. It's the damn taste of it in my mouth. And it's so far back that I can't effectively suction it out. Watching it shoot down the suction line is a thrill as well. It's a pain in the ass, more than anything, and it kind of sets the tone for the day. I don't feel like I can go running around with the wife, since using the suction somewhere public would freak out the small minded and small children. In all honesty kids tend to be less annoying than adults. They'll ask at least, adults just stare. My faves are the one that stare and shake their heads. Uninformed, closed minded, foolish assholes that they are, they still piss me off. There are differences in stupid people as well. One set are just unable to learn or think far enough ahead that they never learn to grasp complex ideas. The other set are stupid because they can, and won't make the effort, or can't and get angry and mean because they can't. I'll help a gentle person that's not ever going to grasp the complex all I can, because it's the right thing to do. The other set of stupid people I've got a marker on my ass that says "Pogue" with an arrow and an "X". And they may, as often as they like. Kids on the other hand say "What happened to you?". I got sick. "Oh. Will you get better?" No, I won't get any better. "Oh. That's too bad. What's that thing in your neck for?" So I can breathe better. "Oh. Cool. Okay bye!" How sweet is that, huh? No big long answers. No I'm sorry. Just curious. That's something the "No Dunce Left Behind" tests and things are destroying, and it's why we are becoming a less educated people. We are stifling curiosity. Shame on us.
Some years ago myself, Dennis, our buddy Big Mike from Chicago, friends Jim, Rick and Rick had been out sucking up some suds. It was after closing time and the only place open was a truck stop west of the LK on 54 highway. We bust ass out there, grab a big table ahead of the normal drunk rush and start to order. Mike goes first: "Yes, I'd like the open faced roast beef sammich with mashed potatoes, a double cheese burger with fries, the larger fried steak and eggs, add 3 extra eggs, please, the 2 chicken enchilada meal, and a burrito". Waitress started to walk away. "No wait! That's for me, I don't give a shit what these other assholes are eating". We rolled, the look on her face was priceless. He ate everything, and stole a couple of pieces of my toast from my 6 egg omelet to mop up his plates. No, Big Mike wasn't fat. He weight and conditioning trained, and he lugged beef at National Beef all day. He was also tougher than a boot. One night at the infamous Yosemite Sam's, Mike was talking up some pretty good lookin girl when some guy comes up and starts talking shit to him. I told the guy, "Don't, just don't, you'll regret it. Come on, I'll buy you a pitcher and we can talk about it" He called me a prick. Me? Really? Ooookaaaay Mr Knowitfuckingall, good luck.
So, he braces Mike up. Mike starts to laugh and tell him no, I'm not gonna fight, it'd interrupt me talking my way into this girls pants. The girl looked at him funny, but didn't leave, Mike is still laughing. The dude hits Mike in the chest. Mike never stopped laughing or talking to the girl. He spins the guy around and bear hugs him. Still chuckling and talking to the girl that still hasn't left. Veins start to pop up in Mikes forearms. He's seriously puttin the squeeze on the blabber mouth, tough guy wanna be. I don't know 30 seconds or so the guy kinda stops flopping, his head droops and chin hits his chest. He's out. Mike set him in a chair, tilted his head back so he could have an open airway. And still laughing with the girl who didn't leave, left with her and didn't come back. I think they went to eat and then study the stars. Yeah, that's what they did alright
Have fun, embrace the goofy (the strange stuff, not the cartoon dog) and live your life like you only had a couple of days of good health left. There may come a time that that is the case.
Love y'all
I find myself getting more easily worn out and tired. This was to be expected, but I was hoping that would take a bit longer to start than what it has. I've given my gym membership to my oldest daughter, I tried going back in to lift and do minor cardio at least, and it just caused me to hurt so bad I deemed the gain was not worth the pain. Not just muscle soreness, that's a given and I've dealt with that for years. No, this was stabbing "WTF Rock? Trying to kill yourself?" pain in my neck, face, shoulders and upper back. And it didn't quit. Couple that with my right leg thinking folding up like a cheap lawn chair was okay and it just wasn't worth it any longer. Okay, that or I've become a fanatical wussy. Either way I begged off training. What I do is use the little stretch strap things they gave me back in April. It's not great, but it's better than nothing I'm sure. Accepting the fact that I can't lift or jog about anymore suck ass for Snickers bars. I don't like it, I don't relish the fact that I've had to stop, and I am loathe to just sit. It's like giving up one more piece of my independence. I need to find some loud mouth that's yelling at some young woman about how his coffee isn't hot enough, then just nut the holy shit out of him. And while that's only a short term fix, it's immediate gratification, and I could use some of that today. No, I've never nutted a guy for yelling at any of the young women in any coffee shop. I have, however, spoken to them about being polite. And when one of them got snotty about it, I slapped his coffee out of his hand. Instant gratification. It's not the right thing, it's the inappropriate thing at the right time that counts. When I used to get those pent up feelings, I would head to the gym, lift until I thought I was gonna puke, come home and shower, and those pent up frustration feelings were gone. I've got to find another channel for those now, or I may get a bit shitty to be around. Mr Temper has been trimming his fuse again. I need to find an outlet for that so he doesn't just sneak around.
Discovery #4,213,112: I'm more patient with my Grandson than I was my own kids, how does that work? Ive spoken about my good friends before, and I don't think I can say enough how lucky I am in that regard. I've done something right, I guess. They are the ones that generally when we were out having fun, managed to keep me pulled in a touch, and I never noticed until long after that they did that. Sneaky bastards
It was time to change the trach tube today. Not just the inner piece that I can take out and clean so I can breath better. The entire thing. The one I had in was in place way too long and needed changed. Discovery #4,213,113: Leave it in until you're finished with your shower before changing everything out. At least in my case. The stoma seemed way tight when I was putting this one back. I don't think it will start permanently close, but I think it relaxes a bit and boy, did I have to shove to get it back in place. I need a quick picture of that one day to show everyone. Gross and gnarly? Hell yes! But kinda cool as well. I've wondered before, who thought this up? "Go ahead, Bob, cut a hole in his throat, he's choking to death anyway, what have we got to lose, right?". Or was it an accident. "Holy shit, Bob! Look at this! He's got a hollow reed sticking out of his throat and he's breathing through it! What? NO!!! You take it out, I ain't touchin it!". The goofy shit that runs through my head. Of course we know that the biggest strides in modern plastic surgery came forward during WW1. It was very crude compared to today, but it was the beginning of what we know as modern reconstructive surgery. Those guys did near miracle work, given what they knew then and the tools they had to work with.
SIDEBAR! Sarah comes in and says "Shit, I've gained a pound!". Let's see, she's done between 80 and 160 deep knee bends a day, and jogs 15-20 minutes a day for the last 2 weeks. She does not believe daddy that she's added muscle weight. I tell her to stay off the scales. But does she listen? Nooooooooo
Today's growth fun is once again bleeding like a stuck hog from my throat. Aspirating that stuff is also a blast. I can't think of anything I'd rather do. Unless it's using a cheese grater on my dick. That's almost as fun I'm sure. It's not that I bleed so much I'm gonna pass out from the loss of blood. It's the damn taste of it in my mouth. And it's so far back that I can't effectively suction it out. Watching it shoot down the suction line is a thrill as well. It's a pain in the ass, more than anything, and it kind of sets the tone for the day. I don't feel like I can go running around with the wife, since using the suction somewhere public would freak out the small minded and small children. In all honesty kids tend to be less annoying than adults. They'll ask at least, adults just stare. My faves are the one that stare and shake their heads. Uninformed, closed minded, foolish assholes that they are, they still piss me off. There are differences in stupid people as well. One set are just unable to learn or think far enough ahead that they never learn to grasp complex ideas. The other set are stupid because they can, and won't make the effort, or can't and get angry and mean because they can't. I'll help a gentle person that's not ever going to grasp the complex all I can, because it's the right thing to do. The other set of stupid people I've got a marker on my ass that says "Pogue" with an arrow and an "X". And they may, as often as they like. Kids on the other hand say "What happened to you?". I got sick. "Oh. Will you get better?" No, I won't get any better. "Oh. That's too bad. What's that thing in your neck for?" So I can breathe better. "Oh. Cool. Okay bye!" How sweet is that, huh? No big long answers. No I'm sorry. Just curious. That's something the "No Dunce Left Behind" tests and things are destroying, and it's why we are becoming a less educated people. We are stifling curiosity. Shame on us.
Some years ago myself, Dennis, our buddy Big Mike from Chicago, friends Jim, Rick and Rick had been out sucking up some suds. It was after closing time and the only place open was a truck stop west of the LK on 54 highway. We bust ass out there, grab a big table ahead of the normal drunk rush and start to order. Mike goes first: "Yes, I'd like the open faced roast beef sammich with mashed potatoes, a double cheese burger with fries, the larger fried steak and eggs, add 3 extra eggs, please, the 2 chicken enchilada meal, and a burrito". Waitress started to walk away. "No wait! That's for me, I don't give a shit what these other assholes are eating". We rolled, the look on her face was priceless. He ate everything, and stole a couple of pieces of my toast from my 6 egg omelet to mop up his plates. No, Big Mike wasn't fat. He weight and conditioning trained, and he lugged beef at National Beef all day. He was also tougher than a boot. One night at the infamous Yosemite Sam's, Mike was talking up some pretty good lookin girl when some guy comes up and starts talking shit to him. I told the guy, "Don't, just don't, you'll regret it. Come on, I'll buy you a pitcher and we can talk about it" He called me a prick. Me? Really? Ooookaaaay Mr Knowitfuckingall, good luck.
So, he braces Mike up. Mike starts to laugh and tell him no, I'm not gonna fight, it'd interrupt me talking my way into this girls pants. The girl looked at him funny, but didn't leave, Mike is still laughing. The dude hits Mike in the chest. Mike never stopped laughing or talking to the girl. He spins the guy around and bear hugs him. Still chuckling and talking to the girl that still hasn't left. Veins start to pop up in Mikes forearms. He's seriously puttin the squeeze on the blabber mouth, tough guy wanna be. I don't know 30 seconds or so the guy kinda stops flopping, his head droops and chin hits his chest. He's out. Mike set him in a chair, tilted his head back so he could have an open airway. And still laughing with the girl who didn't leave, left with her and didn't come back. I think they went to eat and then study the stars. Yeah, that's what they did alright
Have fun, embrace the goofy (the strange stuff, not the cartoon dog) and live your life like you only had a couple of days of good health left. There may come a time that that is the case.
Love y'all
Friday, September 13, 2013
Happy Anniversary
Yesterday was my twenty first anniversary. Doesn't seem like it's been that long. I'd like to see at least another twenty-one, but that's not gonna happen, dammit. So, at the beginning of September I asked if it would be alright if I renewed my vows at the hospital where my wife works for her anniversary present. Sure, they said, let us know when it gets closer. Foolish me, I lost track of time until the 10th. But her bosses are great, and got stuff set up for me. I gathered up my stuff, including the two kids that aren't in school and headed down to the hospital. I stopped to get flowers, but my favorite place no longer sells them. Damn, didn't plan for that. Cancer brain fail. So, I go on thinking what a dope I am, and find out when I get there that her friends (which are bosses as well) have a dozen red rose buds, a veil, something borrowed, something new, and have the entire thing set up. We are waiting for my oldest kid to show up. She gets there and they go get Liz. "We have a meeting", they said. "It won't take long", they said.
So, I see my loving wife walk out of the door, into a hall full of people, with a WTF expression on her face, then she sees me with a dozen roses, and I think she sees the chaplain and the veil and breaks down into tears. The shits is, I'm more nervous now than the day we got married. If that's not some shit and all. The Chaplains (there were two) did a nice prayer each, one read a renewal ceremony, and we had a smooch. Well, I got smooched, mine smoocher is fucked up and doesn't work anymore. Much to my chagrin.
This is not the big soiree' I'd been looking into since last March. I had, or so I thought, four years to plan a really cool twenty-fifth anniversary party, complete with a renewing of vows, some grilled foods, maybe some dancing and drinking. Probably copious amounts of drinking. I got kinda cut off at the knees on that one. Such is life though, or the Terminal Velocity portion I'm on right now anyway. I certainly didn't expect to make it this far, given some of the situations I've been in when I was younger, but now that I'm here, I certainly would love to see another 20 years, or more, at least. I hit that point where things were really getting close to "Me n Liz" time. Not that you ever quit thinking about or worrying about your kids. But so far we've done a good job at making independent thinking children who can take care of themselves. I saw no reason that wouldn't continue to be the case. It was time to start thinking about taking another trip to Scotland, and this time traveling on our own, going to see what we wanted to see, and spend a bit more time at fewer places. Or, just take some trips to the high lonesome, go to places here at home we haven't been to yet. There are a lot of those. Or, heaven forbid, learn how to talk to each other again without the conversation being around a kid and what they are doing. The kids are getting old enough to become friends as well as children. That's a pretty neat time in your life. Where you can kick back and say, "Yeah, they're gonna be okay. We can have fun with them now, again.". That was getting to be pretty cool. Yep, "Me n Liz" time got shot in the ass. So, the only thing I could think of to do, was show her I really do love her by renewing our vows on what is more than likely our last anniversary. Liz, love you as much as my life itself. It's been a party, ain't it.
This morning I go to get set with the boys and listen to them prattle on, because normally it's relaxing and it breaks up this dog shit routine I've got at the house of feeding every 4 hours, suctioning pond scum out of my mouth and wondering if it's time to up my pain meds a little (decision on the latter is "not quite yet"). I wrote something down, got a smart assed remark about Kansas State, and it pissed me clear the fuck off. I left. Normally I'd just ignore it and go on. But, for seven years I've listened to these guys crack wise about where I'm from and what I do for a sport and just laughed it off. All the while listening to them prattle on about that boring assed golf game they talk endlessly about, or get bent completely out of shape if you say one sideways remark about UT sports of any kind. So, fuck em with a cactus this morning. I don't need that particular brand of shit right now. I don't feel well enough to put up with it, and quite honestly, I don't have to put up with it. I never really did, so that's on me. Not anymore though. It's tough enough to have to write shit down all the time, I'm not going to defend the state I grew up in to a bunch of self righteous pricks.
So ends the rant. (more than likely i'll go back, just not anytime soon).
I'm beginning to tire more easily. I retain more fluid in and around my face, neck and shoulder. I'm more sore and the pain is a bit stouter than it was a even 2 weeks ago. I do not like this at all. I know Baxter is on the move, and it seems like he's picking up a little steam, the rat bastard. I think the trip up to Kansas, and the one to Fort Worth late next month will probably be it for me. I'm hoping that I'm up to the trip to Fort Worth, even. Considering the difference in how I feel now, compared to how I felt this time last month. I used to hack up a little blood every once in a while. Now it's every three to four days, and for varying lengths of time. It can be a bit disconcerting when that first big slug hits. After that it's just a pain in the ass. Because I feel like that's something I need to keep an eye on, just in case it starts getting worse. And it will. I'm hoping that holds off a bit. Liz has a birthday coming up. She deserves a break for that day, for sure and for certain, and worrying about my ass isn't a break at all.
Some years back, after we moved down here, and I'd been catching grief about working in the Kansas oil field from these Texas boys, I was watching them take water legs down from heater treaters to clean iron sulfide out of them. The guys were filthy, and stank, because that's the nature of that nasty black shit. It even gets into the pores of your skin so it's a terrible thing to get off.
"So, why is it you genius Texas boys work so hard at cleaning a water leg?". Which got started in on what the hell do I know, I'm from Kansas. What I knew was where to find 30' of 5/8" sand line, which I promptly opened the stranded on the wire rope and made a brush looking end. I went to the next treater, undid the victaulic clamp and opened up the bottom of the water leg. I shoved my homemade brush up the thing, with rubber gloves on, and started brushing away. In 10 minutes I had a 5 gallon bucket full of iron sulfide and scale, and the water leg had quit shedding the crap out of it. I buttoned it back up, kicked the water to it, and it ran like a champ. "There, geniuses, that's how we do it in Kansas, smarter, not harder. I guess you puddle jumpers don't know everything GD thing after all, do ya?" I rolled up my wire rope brush, put it in the back of my truck, and while I was getting ready to leave, was practically begged to leave the brush with them. "Nope, you assholes are so bright, go find some of your own and make the brush yourself. I don't know shit, remember? I worked in Kansas". Took them the rest of the day to clean two more water legs. And before I get "that just cost the company money", no, it didn't. Those guys were contracted a minimum 8 hours in my field, every day, regardless of what they did. Now, it wouldn't have only taken them 30-45 minutes, maybe less since it took me 40 minutes doing it by myself, to clean each water leg on the other two vessels. But they also learned a bit of "shut the fuck up" while they were getting absolutely filthy, and black, and covered in salt water on a 105 degree summer afternoon. Six months later, it was pretty chilly and time to clean water legs again. They had a wire rope brush to took them 5 hours to clean 8 water legs. Not 16 hours like it did the last time, and they didn't get wet, or quite so covered in BS. In the long run, they learned something new, and didn't forget it either. And they didn't say much to me about where I worked either. Unless we were kidding around, and that was fine by me
Be nice today, someone you run into may not be feeling well. Some folk aren't as sweet and kind as I am these days. Someone may be me thirty-mumble years ago and kick an ankle out from underneath you, because they hadn't learned how to pull their temper in like they did as they got older. Just sayin.
Love all y'all. Be careful out there, hear?
And my buddy Dennis Folk, watch your ass when you get west of Abilene, the dorks here in the Permian Basin can't drive for shit. See ya this evening.
So, I see my loving wife walk out of the door, into a hall full of people, with a WTF expression on her face, then she sees me with a dozen roses, and I think she sees the chaplain and the veil and breaks down into tears. The shits is, I'm more nervous now than the day we got married. If that's not some shit and all. The Chaplains (there were two) did a nice prayer each, one read a renewal ceremony, and we had a smooch. Well, I got smooched, mine smoocher is fucked up and doesn't work anymore. Much to my chagrin.
This is not the big soiree' I'd been looking into since last March. I had, or so I thought, four years to plan a really cool twenty-fifth anniversary party, complete with a renewing of vows, some grilled foods, maybe some dancing and drinking. Probably copious amounts of drinking. I got kinda cut off at the knees on that one. Such is life though, or the Terminal Velocity portion I'm on right now anyway. I certainly didn't expect to make it this far, given some of the situations I've been in when I was younger, but now that I'm here, I certainly would love to see another 20 years, or more, at least. I hit that point where things were really getting close to "Me n Liz" time. Not that you ever quit thinking about or worrying about your kids. But so far we've done a good job at making independent thinking children who can take care of themselves. I saw no reason that wouldn't continue to be the case. It was time to start thinking about taking another trip to Scotland, and this time traveling on our own, going to see what we wanted to see, and spend a bit more time at fewer places. Or, just take some trips to the high lonesome, go to places here at home we haven't been to yet. There are a lot of those. Or, heaven forbid, learn how to talk to each other again without the conversation being around a kid and what they are doing. The kids are getting old enough to become friends as well as children. That's a pretty neat time in your life. Where you can kick back and say, "Yeah, they're gonna be okay. We can have fun with them now, again.". That was getting to be pretty cool. Yep, "Me n Liz" time got shot in the ass. So, the only thing I could think of to do, was show her I really do love her by renewing our vows on what is more than likely our last anniversary. Liz, love you as much as my life itself. It's been a party, ain't it.
This morning I go to get set with the boys and listen to them prattle on, because normally it's relaxing and it breaks up this dog shit routine I've got at the house of feeding every 4 hours, suctioning pond scum out of my mouth and wondering if it's time to up my pain meds a little (decision on the latter is "not quite yet"). I wrote something down, got a smart assed remark about Kansas State, and it pissed me clear the fuck off. I left. Normally I'd just ignore it and go on. But, for seven years I've listened to these guys crack wise about where I'm from and what I do for a sport and just laughed it off. All the while listening to them prattle on about that boring assed golf game they talk endlessly about, or get bent completely out of shape if you say one sideways remark about UT sports of any kind. So, fuck em with a cactus this morning. I don't need that particular brand of shit right now. I don't feel well enough to put up with it, and quite honestly, I don't have to put up with it. I never really did, so that's on me. Not anymore though. It's tough enough to have to write shit down all the time, I'm not going to defend the state I grew up in to a bunch of self righteous pricks.
So ends the rant. (more than likely i'll go back, just not anytime soon).
I'm beginning to tire more easily. I retain more fluid in and around my face, neck and shoulder. I'm more sore and the pain is a bit stouter than it was a even 2 weeks ago. I do not like this at all. I know Baxter is on the move, and it seems like he's picking up a little steam, the rat bastard. I think the trip up to Kansas, and the one to Fort Worth late next month will probably be it for me. I'm hoping that I'm up to the trip to Fort Worth, even. Considering the difference in how I feel now, compared to how I felt this time last month. I used to hack up a little blood every once in a while. Now it's every three to four days, and for varying lengths of time. It can be a bit disconcerting when that first big slug hits. After that it's just a pain in the ass. Because I feel like that's something I need to keep an eye on, just in case it starts getting worse. And it will. I'm hoping that holds off a bit. Liz has a birthday coming up. She deserves a break for that day, for sure and for certain, and worrying about my ass isn't a break at all.
Some years back, after we moved down here, and I'd been catching grief about working in the Kansas oil field from these Texas boys, I was watching them take water legs down from heater treaters to clean iron sulfide out of them. The guys were filthy, and stank, because that's the nature of that nasty black shit. It even gets into the pores of your skin so it's a terrible thing to get off.
"So, why is it you genius Texas boys work so hard at cleaning a water leg?". Which got started in on what the hell do I know, I'm from Kansas. What I knew was where to find 30' of 5/8" sand line, which I promptly opened the stranded on the wire rope and made a brush looking end. I went to the next treater, undid the victaulic clamp and opened up the bottom of the water leg. I shoved my homemade brush up the thing, with rubber gloves on, and started brushing away. In 10 minutes I had a 5 gallon bucket full of iron sulfide and scale, and the water leg had quit shedding the crap out of it. I buttoned it back up, kicked the water to it, and it ran like a champ. "There, geniuses, that's how we do it in Kansas, smarter, not harder. I guess you puddle jumpers don't know everything GD thing after all, do ya?" I rolled up my wire rope brush, put it in the back of my truck, and while I was getting ready to leave, was practically begged to leave the brush with them. "Nope, you assholes are so bright, go find some of your own and make the brush yourself. I don't know shit, remember? I worked in Kansas". Took them the rest of the day to clean two more water legs. And before I get "that just cost the company money", no, it didn't. Those guys were contracted a minimum 8 hours in my field, every day, regardless of what they did. Now, it wouldn't have only taken them 30-45 minutes, maybe less since it took me 40 minutes doing it by myself, to clean each water leg on the other two vessels. But they also learned a bit of "shut the fuck up" while they were getting absolutely filthy, and black, and covered in salt water on a 105 degree summer afternoon. Six months later, it was pretty chilly and time to clean water legs again. They had a wire rope brush to took them 5 hours to clean 8 water legs. Not 16 hours like it did the last time, and they didn't get wet, or quite so covered in BS. In the long run, they learned something new, and didn't forget it either. And they didn't say much to me about where I worked either. Unless we were kidding around, and that was fine by me
Be nice today, someone you run into may not be feeling well. Some folk aren't as sweet and kind as I am these days. Someone may be me thirty-mumble years ago and kick an ankle out from underneath you, because they hadn't learned how to pull their temper in like they did as they got older. Just sayin.
Love all y'all. Be careful out there, hear?
And my buddy Dennis Folk, watch your ass when you get west of Abilene, the dorks here in the Permian Basin can't drive for shit. See ya this evening.
Thursday, September 12, 2013
Hey Buuuuddy
Yesterday a friend I've had for almost 20 years came to visit. He wrote a nice note to my on FB, too. I get frustrated and pissed at myself that I can't communicate for shit with him, because we have fun talks. We laugh a lot, talk some serious shit, a little work (even if we all swear we won't talk work, we do, admit it), and about life in general. I enjoy those talks. If we talk about work, it's things we learn about our fields, brag a little, but mostly about funny shit that happened when we worked together. There were a lot of those. Jamie just sat, I got frustrated, he sat. I'd write a little on my board, he'd talk about what I'd asked or said, then he sat. He's comfortable just being in my company. That's damned humbling, I tell ya. I feel like we ought to be doing something. Jamie doesn't care if we do or not. He says, "Take a nap, I'm fine". Well, yeah, that's not gonna happen if I can help it. Seems rude to me if someone drives a couple hours or so to see you. I figure they didn't come to watch your mouth drape open and your trach tube whistle while you nap. Jamie doesn't care. It frustrates me that I can't talk, not that I don't enjoy his company. Honestly I'm pretty happy just sitting with friends and not breezing or being on the go all the time myself. But still, geez.
Jamie wrote some nice things in his short note on FaceBook. Like how I mentored him on how to pump and what to look for in the field. How I was there when he was getting divorced and supportive, and gave good advise. I hope that was all true. I took heat from a wacko freakin boss we had, but I considered that my responsibility since I was senior man in the field at the time. He was nuts, that boss, and he'd twist off and jump ass over nothing. Or make shit up, or intentionally screw you over just to eat your ass out. I'd take his shit, and tell Jamie and the other guys "Just wait, the Karma Police will get his ass". In the long run they did. Like Jamie said, Karma Police, regular cops, and folks at the nut house finally brought him down. It was a damn shame, because if he'd not been such a asshole at work, he had potential to be about half way decent. I didn't see myself doing anything out of the ordinary for Jamie, at least in my mind. I'm glad I was able to help him out, though. It's a good thing to hear you've done something for your friends, especially if your don't realize you're doing it at the time. Thanks for coming by, next time we can work on the Fat Girl, and I won't have to feel like I've been such a drag of a host
Friends are damn important. Sometimes more important than family. Good friends you can talk to about things that the family doesn't need to hear, because it would upset them, or make them feel bad. As good as your relationship with your family is, there's always something that needs hashed out without them hearing it. Why yes, even I have to do that once in a while. Still. You worry about your family, so you use your friends as sounding boards. Why? Because you worry about them too, and they worry about you, that's why. Good friends will tell you what a dick head you're being, and mean it as a way to help you out, not just as a way to belittle you. Good friends make you mad as all get out, but you can't stay that way with them. Because you know you've done the same thing with them. You can tell each other you're screwing up and not lose faith in each other. Those are good friends. They are important, make certain you tell them they are. I've been pretty fortunate in my good friends. I've got a lot of friends, don't get me wrong, probably hundreds of friends and acquaintances, but really only 7 truly good friends.
Let me explain that a little bit if I may. This blog, and my Facebook page is the most open I've been about what goes on with me in my entire life. I generally kept things pretty close to the vest, with the exception of Liz. The Lovely knew everything all the time. Because she is my rock and my grounding rod. I figured anything going on with me was really no ones damn business anyway. Yeah, yeah, I know, selfish. Yes it was, because I don't like asking for help, never have. Irks me still to ask for help and I just won't unless I'm out of options. All the folks I've reconnected with, I consider all of you friends. I'll help any of you out in any way I can. I also know that you'll do anything to help me out as well. That's great. It makes me uncomfortable, but it's a wonderful thing to have so many support me as I do. It's a lot humbling, and very encouraging. I thank all of you every day. I started being open with my cancer story really back when I got healed up the first time. I'd go talk to strangers about what they might encounter, who they should talk to, what kind of questions to ask, where to find resources. That kind of stuff. Because I found it lacking when I was being treated. Even a bit of that at MD Anderson, one of the best cancer places in the US has trouble with just speaking plain to patients. That being said, I only have 7 good friends.
They stood by me when I was being less than what I should have been, and told me so. Those are the 7 guys that after years of not seeing each other, we jump back in like it was yesterday. Damn near like watching the Hung and The Breathless soap opera. In 10 minutes we'd caught up all the time we'd missed out on and never missed a beat. Rare, that is, for certain. Those 7 guys know some things about me that Liz may not even know, and that's okay too. Everyone needs something that not everyone knows about. Keeps life interesting. Not that it's been all peaches and cream with these friends, no sir, no how. I've felt like I had to give a couple some time to sort some of their own business out, and I'm sure they felt that way about me as well. That's okay. It doesn't mean I don't care about them any less, it means that there's not much I can do to help sort out their own feelings and problems. Doesn't mean we can't and didn't get past that either, just that we needed time. One of my really good friends died a few years back. Tom Ruch. I mess him a little every day. How much that hurt me, well even my good friends didn't know about that, neither did The Lovely. That was something I kept to myself and had to work through on my own. The sad thing on my part is that I let so many years pass between my good friends and myself. I was hell bent on doing shit on my own, without anyone but Liz and I, that I missed some good years. Fucking mistake that, and I apologize to you guys. I shouldn't have done that. Now that it's heading toward the end of this cycle, I can honestly say it won't happen again! HA!
Back when I was a kid, we lived on a section ranch in Russell county. I know I've mentioned that before. My little brother would run me bat shit with "I wanna go! Let's do this, let's do that", enough to make you open a vein, I swear. I taught him how to ride a bike out there. It was a quarter mile from the county road to the house. We started at one end, which going from the house to the county road was a little up hill, and I got his started. "Pedal!! Pedal you whiny little shit!!" Crash. "Okay, get up on it and go again. I've got shit I want to do and not mess around with your ass trying to ride a bike". Off he'd go. Crash. UP, crash, up, crash. Cry, off to mom, back out, cry. Scratch, cry, crash. At that end of the morning he was riding the bike and I was off on the horse as far away from him as I could get.
Once when he was tagging along while I did my chores, I left him standing. He grabbed a clod off the wheat stubble and drilled the back of my head. Oh yes, ass whippin on the way. He was pretty speedy and had a good jump on me. I rounded the edge of the house just to hear a huge crash. Glass breaking, I look at the front porch storm door, and all I see are ass and feet. He tripped and went through the glass door. "Well, I'm off to jail now, I've killed the stupid little shit. Chased him until he tripped. His throat's cut or he's got glass clean through his middle". Good or bad, I didn't. I got an ass eatin, but I think in the long run the folks were glad he didn't cut his throat. He did, however, steer clear of me for the next couple of weeks. Probably a good idea.
That summer, right before school started, the horse and I got in trouble for swimming across the pond. I had on new jeans, jeans jacket, shirt and boots. All new. I bailed on the horse bareback, with just a hackamore to steer with. Usually not a problem, until today. We were out riding the cattle, looking at calves and trying to avoid the bull, who had a short fuse and didn't like me much. Another story for another blog. Anyway, something distracted the horse on the other side. I didn't have enough head control with the hackamore to turn him, he just starts off across the pond. I pull my feet up. Deeper. I stood on his back. Deeper. I sat back down, with my feet up on his neck and my middle getting soaked. And out the other side we came. Boots were dry. Clothes, not so much. Ma was peeved. Fortunately, laundry day in town was coming up before school started, so I had a jacket to wear.
Fun on the farm
Today's blog was brought to you by the letter 3 and the number Q.
Have fun girls and boys. And hug a buddy. They need it too
Jamie wrote some nice things in his short note on FaceBook. Like how I mentored him on how to pump and what to look for in the field. How I was there when he was getting divorced and supportive, and gave good advise. I hope that was all true. I took heat from a wacko freakin boss we had, but I considered that my responsibility since I was senior man in the field at the time. He was nuts, that boss, and he'd twist off and jump ass over nothing. Or make shit up, or intentionally screw you over just to eat your ass out. I'd take his shit, and tell Jamie and the other guys "Just wait, the Karma Police will get his ass". In the long run they did. Like Jamie said, Karma Police, regular cops, and folks at the nut house finally brought him down. It was a damn shame, because if he'd not been such a asshole at work, he had potential to be about half way decent. I didn't see myself doing anything out of the ordinary for Jamie, at least in my mind. I'm glad I was able to help him out, though. It's a good thing to hear you've done something for your friends, especially if your don't realize you're doing it at the time. Thanks for coming by, next time we can work on the Fat Girl, and I won't have to feel like I've been such a drag of a host
Friends are damn important. Sometimes more important than family. Good friends you can talk to about things that the family doesn't need to hear, because it would upset them, or make them feel bad. As good as your relationship with your family is, there's always something that needs hashed out without them hearing it. Why yes, even I have to do that once in a while. Still. You worry about your family, so you use your friends as sounding boards. Why? Because you worry about them too, and they worry about you, that's why. Good friends will tell you what a dick head you're being, and mean it as a way to help you out, not just as a way to belittle you. Good friends make you mad as all get out, but you can't stay that way with them. Because you know you've done the same thing with them. You can tell each other you're screwing up and not lose faith in each other. Those are good friends. They are important, make certain you tell them they are. I've been pretty fortunate in my good friends. I've got a lot of friends, don't get me wrong, probably hundreds of friends and acquaintances, but really only 7 truly good friends.
Let me explain that a little bit if I may. This blog, and my Facebook page is the most open I've been about what goes on with me in my entire life. I generally kept things pretty close to the vest, with the exception of Liz. The Lovely knew everything all the time. Because she is my rock and my grounding rod. I figured anything going on with me was really no ones damn business anyway. Yeah, yeah, I know, selfish. Yes it was, because I don't like asking for help, never have. Irks me still to ask for help and I just won't unless I'm out of options. All the folks I've reconnected with, I consider all of you friends. I'll help any of you out in any way I can. I also know that you'll do anything to help me out as well. That's great. It makes me uncomfortable, but it's a wonderful thing to have so many support me as I do. It's a lot humbling, and very encouraging. I thank all of you every day. I started being open with my cancer story really back when I got healed up the first time. I'd go talk to strangers about what they might encounter, who they should talk to, what kind of questions to ask, where to find resources. That kind of stuff. Because I found it lacking when I was being treated. Even a bit of that at MD Anderson, one of the best cancer places in the US has trouble with just speaking plain to patients. That being said, I only have 7 good friends.
They stood by me when I was being less than what I should have been, and told me so. Those are the 7 guys that after years of not seeing each other, we jump back in like it was yesterday. Damn near like watching the Hung and The Breathless soap opera. In 10 minutes we'd caught up all the time we'd missed out on and never missed a beat. Rare, that is, for certain. Those 7 guys know some things about me that Liz may not even know, and that's okay too. Everyone needs something that not everyone knows about. Keeps life interesting. Not that it's been all peaches and cream with these friends, no sir, no how. I've felt like I had to give a couple some time to sort some of their own business out, and I'm sure they felt that way about me as well. That's okay. It doesn't mean I don't care about them any less, it means that there's not much I can do to help sort out their own feelings and problems. Doesn't mean we can't and didn't get past that either, just that we needed time. One of my really good friends died a few years back. Tom Ruch. I mess him a little every day. How much that hurt me, well even my good friends didn't know about that, neither did The Lovely. That was something I kept to myself and had to work through on my own. The sad thing on my part is that I let so many years pass between my good friends and myself. I was hell bent on doing shit on my own, without anyone but Liz and I, that I missed some good years. Fucking mistake that, and I apologize to you guys. I shouldn't have done that. Now that it's heading toward the end of this cycle, I can honestly say it won't happen again! HA!
Back when I was a kid, we lived on a section ranch in Russell county. I know I've mentioned that before. My little brother would run me bat shit with "I wanna go! Let's do this, let's do that", enough to make you open a vein, I swear. I taught him how to ride a bike out there. It was a quarter mile from the county road to the house. We started at one end, which going from the house to the county road was a little up hill, and I got his started. "Pedal!! Pedal you whiny little shit!!" Crash. "Okay, get up on it and go again. I've got shit I want to do and not mess around with your ass trying to ride a bike". Off he'd go. Crash. UP, crash, up, crash. Cry, off to mom, back out, cry. Scratch, cry, crash. At that end of the morning he was riding the bike and I was off on the horse as far away from him as I could get.
Once when he was tagging along while I did my chores, I left him standing. He grabbed a clod off the wheat stubble and drilled the back of my head. Oh yes, ass whippin on the way. He was pretty speedy and had a good jump on me. I rounded the edge of the house just to hear a huge crash. Glass breaking, I look at the front porch storm door, and all I see are ass and feet. He tripped and went through the glass door. "Well, I'm off to jail now, I've killed the stupid little shit. Chased him until he tripped. His throat's cut or he's got glass clean through his middle". Good or bad, I didn't. I got an ass eatin, but I think in the long run the folks were glad he didn't cut his throat. He did, however, steer clear of me for the next couple of weeks. Probably a good idea.
That summer, right before school started, the horse and I got in trouble for swimming across the pond. I had on new jeans, jeans jacket, shirt and boots. All new. I bailed on the horse bareback, with just a hackamore to steer with. Usually not a problem, until today. We were out riding the cattle, looking at calves and trying to avoid the bull, who had a short fuse and didn't like me much. Another story for another blog. Anyway, something distracted the horse on the other side. I didn't have enough head control with the hackamore to turn him, he just starts off across the pond. I pull my feet up. Deeper. I stood on his back. Deeper. I sat back down, with my feet up on his neck and my middle getting soaked. And out the other side we came. Boots were dry. Clothes, not so much. Ma was peeved. Fortunately, laundry day in town was coming up before school started, so I had a jacket to wear.
Fun on the farm
Today's blog was brought to you by the letter 3 and the number Q.
Have fun girls and boys. And hug a buddy. They need it too
Wednesday, September 11, 2013
It could be worse
"It could be worse". I've tried to make that my motto. I'd almost bet that some of the guys I worked with over the years got damn tired of hearing that little adage. Although, in most cases it truly could be worse. There's always something that could have gone farther wrong that it did. Even just a tiny bit worse, is truly worse, it doesn't have to be a catastrophic failure for things to be worse than they are right now. That's part of why whining just pisses me clear off. What's the point of pissing and moaning about a situation you're currently in? After all, it's not always going to be like it is right now, nothing is static. Everything constantly changes. I'm gonna die. So are we all, but I'm headed that way just a little faster than some of us. But, it could be worse. I could be doing this all alone, without support of family and friends. That's a ton worse. I could be in screaming mimi pain all the time, I'm not. So yeah, my dying could be a hell of a lot worse than it is right now. Is my condition going to get worse? Oh hell yeah it is, no two ways around it. But it will never be so bad that it probably couldn't be worse.
Most of the stuff people piss and moan about is within their control. Constantly pissed or hacked about your job? Quit, find something different, or someplace different and quit. Nothing drags down people who actually like where they work and what they do faster than someone who's a constant griper. God almighty, if you don't like it get the fuck out and save the rest of us your down trodden frickin attitude. Then there are the folks that bitch about things that are out of their control. There are things that I don't like that I, nor anyone else alone, can fix. I don't bitch about them because for now that's how it is. The one thing I do bitch about is politics, and I can't change the boneheads in the City clear to Washington DC, so my labors there are those of Sisyphus. It's my one bitch I allow myself. The rest is just pissing up a rope and grouching about wet shoes. Does not complaining mean I like what's going on in a given situation? No, that doesn't mean that at all. What it does is free up myself to work on changing that situation into something tolerable for myself. I figure that's what everyone should do first, although that's not usually the case with most people. It's easier to bitch about a problem, than to do the inner searching to figure out first if you're the problem to begin with. I don't like doing it, but it's better than laying the blame off on fifty other things only to find out I was the catalyst to begin with. It takes a certain amount of personal responsibility. Frightening as that is, it's something a lot of people pass off.
Aw, you know, it could be worse. While I'm writing this, I'm reading it and finding that it sounds like I'm bitching!! After all, this could be worse, right? It's human nature, I think, to complain about things. I wonder if we do that as a safety valve, so we don't let ourselves be overwhelmed by that which crowds us mentally. As a machine, the human body is a pretty wonderful thing. Animals are usually more efficient in the use of their energy and strength. The difference is how the computer that drives us works. We take for granted that our noggin is full of the same material that took humans from spears and migration with the herds, to the ability to touch other planets. That's pretty heady (wow, no pun intended) material when you get right down to it. Everyone's brain is about the same, it's how they function that makes us who we are. They all build connections differently, and expand on ideas differently. That's what gives us Einstein and Hawking. Same stuff as everyone else, they make connections differently. I'm no where near as bright as Stephen Hawking, but I can still walk and pretty easily communicate. So, it could be worse for me. I wonder, with all his physical difficulty, if Stephen Hawking doesn't think, "It could be worse, I could have average intelligence"? Crazy, huh.
If complaining is an outlet to keep us from blowing a gasket, why is it some of us don't feel the need to complain much at all? Or all the time for that matter? I don't like to grouch because it's a waste of time. It accomplishes nothing, really, other than maybe getting some stress off our chests. I''ll be the first to admit I've bitched about things, but not for long before I tried to do something about them. That's how it should be, I think.
Anyway, enough of that. Geez, thinking about complaining makes me wanna open a vein. Yeow
Back in the day, there was a little beer joint called Yosemite Sam's, in Liberal Kansas. Thirty three years ago it was the happenin spot. Live bands, a few brawls, two shootings. One of which did some serious injury to the owner. I missed that by a couple of days, I was out of town if memory serves me correctly.
All kinds of folks went there. From bikers and drug dealers to the people that would become known as yuppies and preppies. (shudder) All in all it was a fun place to be, lots of laughs with friends. Except for a couple of times.
One of those times I was out with a bud who was home visiting from school. He called, we went out to Sam's to have a few laughs and copious quantities of beer. He got sloppy drunk. Oh geez, a mistake in that place for some folks. I got slipped something in a beer once in there. Found out who did it ten years later, Karma police got that rat bastard. Wasn't so funny when the shit you pulled on people came home to roost, was it?
I digress. So my bud gets sloppy drunk. Once in a while the mens room was the place folks would go run a line of coke up their nose. Ya kinda had to be careful when you opened the door or you'd hit someone in the ass and make them spill their nose candy. Bad news. Soooo, what's my buddy do? Boots the door. Hit one of the local dealers in the ass, knocked a medicine bottle full of cocaine into the sink that had water running in it. Oh shit. I grabbed him by the shirt collar and tucked him in behind me and started backing out. All three of the bad guys are moving in. I've got my bud in my left hand, shoving him backwards toward the front door, all the while the three dudes are hollerin about kicking his ass to death, and me hollerin back they'd have to come through me first, and my buddy yellin "What? What did I do?!?!". Out the door, backing away still, headed south to the far end of the block and another parking area. Yellin back and forth, I'm getting visions of knives, fists, feet and a whole lot of hurt. No cops, no sheriff, nothing is gonna stop this once we hit the dark. Or so I thought. At the end of the street, they just stopped. I didn't quit moving, just the drug dudes did that. I get the door to the car open, shove my buddy in and haul his ass back home. Alls well that ends well. Two weeks later the three drug dealers sort of brace me up at Sam's, telling me how lucky I was they didn't want to fight. Yeah yeah yeah, blah blah blah. I made a big show of "like I was scared", and that was the end of that. I never did figure out why they didn't just rush me and my buddy. Damn strange.
Don't get me wrong, that's not the usual happening at Yosemite Sam's, but an example of the far end of the spectrum. Like the guy from Beaver OK that was always humping for a fight there. He bulged up on a biker friend of mine named Tiny. Pulled the old "I hear you wanna kick my ass" shit. He got as far as "I hear you.." when Tiny hit him in the forehead. I swear it sounded like a ball bat on a water melon. The dude from Beaver put up both fists, then just kinda melted onto the floor. Tiny said "kick my ass?" finishing his line for him. That was the last time I saw that guy in there. Funny
Have a highly uncommon day, all y'all. And remember, what happened in New York on this date. Make is so no one forgets.
Hugs, kisses and pats on the ass for the ladies. Fellers, you're stuck with a firm handshake
Tuesday, September 10, 2013
Ahhh, the thrill
I've been sleeping way later than I like, and napping some, which throws my sleep patterns way off. Yesterday I skipped the nap thing, even though it was so close to a losing battle, and managed to fall asleep before 2 AM. I woke up at 0530. Still late for me, but better than it has been. I'll try and pass out earlier tonight, and hopefully get back onto my daily schedule that I like to follow. That's part of the reason I've not been blogging daily. If it's too late in the AM I get forty kinds of distracted and just can't seem to get it done. Remember the blog about more "focus"? Well, yeah, but I focus less on this and more on getting my daily routine done. I don't get up early enough, the blog suffers. That may be the reason why I get grumpy on the days I don't get up early, this being some of my personal therapy.
The thrill of suddenly having bad stomach acid problems. After all, why should my stomach be exempt from helping me have a wonderful day? Yesterday, I got to feeling pretty good, and was tuned up for The Boy's HS open house/meet the teacher thing last night. Last year, after the one at the Freshman HS, I was thinking "only three more trips, and I'm finished with this open house crap.". Little did I know that a year later I'd really be wanting to get back to the Open House things, right up through his Senior year and seeing him graduate. Damn. So, anyway, I was feeling pumped up. Suddenly, a vurp. Oh man, it's really acidy. And knowing what's coming next I grab the suction and hit it's go button. Sure enough, full blown, out the nose vomit. Oh joy. I get THAT stopped, and the coughing comes next. At least it follows a routine I can keep up with, so none of it's a surprise. The problem lies in that I can't keep from aspirating what ever it is I vomit. So I cough until it clears out up my trachea. And pretty violently as well. That always makes for at least one "cough until you puke" things. Which now, leads to hacking up a nice shot of blood as well. I believe it's either my throat being raw, or Baxter sliding down my esophagus. Either way it's spooky to those who've not had that happen, or seen it happen. Old hat to me now. If it keeps up, I'll sweat it, if not....meh, big deal.
We went to The Boy's Open House and met his teachers. I like at least half of them already. The World History instructor is pretty cool, so far. His Chemistry instructor is new, but seems to have a grasp as to what she's do, which is nice. And she's pretty cute. German 2, seems like a fun class. The instructor smiles a lot and is encouraging to the students, and I like her approach to teaching a foreign language. German is tough, almost as tough as Gaelic, which I gave up on as a self directed language course. I r not smart enuff to get Gaelic without help. Literature teacher seems pretty hip, and has him writing some pretty good stuff already. A hidden talent in Coronet Boy (who doubles as Tuba Boy for marching band), I'm impressed. The elective he took is Digital Media and Imaging. I like that instructor as well. This is her first full year teaching after being a sub for a few years. And after being in the corporate world as well. I'd say she has her work cut out for her. She says about half her students had no idea what a mouse was, let along a lap top. I was slightly surprised as she was explaining how many of her students had never worked with a computer at all. Although, I believe having a computer is something we all take for granted. Remember 20 years ago owning a home PC wasn't as widely accepted as it is now. Time flies when you're a slow typer!
The thrill is what you make of it in any aspect. It was a thrill, not just a "Do I haft?" thing to go to The Boy's open house. A thrill because I'm able to do it, even with having to suction my mouth every now and then. I'm out amongst the folk. That's kind of a thrill. More so if I'm driving. I think some of the people here are looking to win the next Darwin Award by separating themselves from the gene pool. The sad thing is, they usually take someone with them. So there's a thrill in driving anywhere in Midland "I's from Tekas, I drive's like I see fit" attitude behind the wheel. And before anyone says "Oh, people drive like that everywhere", a reminder that Midland Co. has about 200,000 people tops, and in total has killed 33 people in wrecks this year, so far. Midland itself is about 150K, and 16 deaths within the city limits. They drive for shit here, always have. So, yes, it's a thrill to get out on the streets.
It's a thrill to watch my grandson play. Kids are hip. And yeah, my daughter is doing a good job raising him. He can be a bit lippy, but he's smart, so that's kind of expected. All four of mine could be from time to time. But that wasn't hard to handle. So the big girl is doing what she can, and does it very well I believe. It's a thrill to get up the AM and get ready to do anything. There's going to come a time when I will wake up and wish I just could stay asleep. The thrill then will be finding the motivation to let you all in on the fun and games of the closer to Critical Mass game. Stand assured, when I do hit Critical Mass, there won't be a blog to follow. Not unless The Lovely or one of our Minions writes it. I may have to make sure that happens, just so the blog comes a complete journey, and not just stuck in one place. Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. I'll try and get one of the fan to do one final blog, for Critical Mass.
It's a thrill to go through a day when the neck and back isn't just thumping at me for fun. Most of yesterday was that way, until mid afternoon. I was making plans to go for a very late evening walk. Just to get out after dark and walk a bit so see what's shaking in my hood after dark. Not much, but it's a lot cooler at that time and the heat bothers me now like never before. I wonder if I have some kind of sickness or something that makes me tired a lot and really makes me hate the heat? Probably.
The neck and back pain is getting worse. I'm beginning to wonder, and I need a second opinion since the fam sees me every day, on whether or not my neck is swelling up. I'm thinking it is. It feels like it, and my mouth seems more full. That could be fluid build up since I haven't been to lymphedema therapy as often as I need to. I'm going to check about getting in for the next month. So as to keep ahead of the fluid retention as long as I can. And it helps relax me some, and that's always a plus
It's a thrill that my SLP had her baby yesterday. While I am going to miss having her help, the other lady is going to give me treatments. That will be a thrill in itself. It's be like having to start over and first meeting my therapist. That should be fun. Or at least different. Both, I think, will bring different approaches to all that I've got going on and that can't be anything but a help. I hope. It's a thrill because I'm not certain how much longer I can do this. If it gets to the point that none of the SLP therapy is helping, I'll stop. There's no use continuing a losing game where there are people out there who could use my time for a way to get back to as normal a life as they can muster. That and there's no use having the insurance pay for something with no end result. Right now it's a maintain procedure, I'll settle for that. My SLP is wonderful at what she does. It's gratifying for me to see her work. And watch her get as excited when I make headway as I do. Neither one of us shows that excitement very often, but I think we can see it in how our eyes light up. I know hers do, I hope mine do as well. I hope she's resting well with the new baby, and I hope I can catch up with her soon
Nope, the Thrill Isn't Gone, Baby. It's different than what it was, but not gone. I repeat this a lot, and I figure it is getting old, but tough shit, my blog. It's the little things. The stuff I took for granted that are the most thrilling now. Odd that.
Go forth and bring happiness to yourself! There isn't another damn soul on earth that's here to ensure you're happy. Ya gotta do that on your own. So, get after it, for shit sake. There's a day brewing up out there. Carpe Jugulum!
The thrill of suddenly having bad stomach acid problems. After all, why should my stomach be exempt from helping me have a wonderful day? Yesterday, I got to feeling pretty good, and was tuned up for The Boy's HS open house/meet the teacher thing last night. Last year, after the one at the Freshman HS, I was thinking "only three more trips, and I'm finished with this open house crap.". Little did I know that a year later I'd really be wanting to get back to the Open House things, right up through his Senior year and seeing him graduate. Damn. So, anyway, I was feeling pumped up. Suddenly, a vurp. Oh man, it's really acidy. And knowing what's coming next I grab the suction and hit it's go button. Sure enough, full blown, out the nose vomit. Oh joy. I get THAT stopped, and the coughing comes next. At least it follows a routine I can keep up with, so none of it's a surprise. The problem lies in that I can't keep from aspirating what ever it is I vomit. So I cough until it clears out up my trachea. And pretty violently as well. That always makes for at least one "cough until you puke" things. Which now, leads to hacking up a nice shot of blood as well. I believe it's either my throat being raw, or Baxter sliding down my esophagus. Either way it's spooky to those who've not had that happen, or seen it happen. Old hat to me now. If it keeps up, I'll sweat it, if not....meh, big deal.
We went to The Boy's Open House and met his teachers. I like at least half of them already. The World History instructor is pretty cool, so far. His Chemistry instructor is new, but seems to have a grasp as to what she's do, which is nice. And she's pretty cute. German 2, seems like a fun class. The instructor smiles a lot and is encouraging to the students, and I like her approach to teaching a foreign language. German is tough, almost as tough as Gaelic, which I gave up on as a self directed language course. I r not smart enuff to get Gaelic without help. Literature teacher seems pretty hip, and has him writing some pretty good stuff already. A hidden talent in Coronet Boy (who doubles as Tuba Boy for marching band), I'm impressed. The elective he took is Digital Media and Imaging. I like that instructor as well. This is her first full year teaching after being a sub for a few years. And after being in the corporate world as well. I'd say she has her work cut out for her. She says about half her students had no idea what a mouse was, let along a lap top. I was slightly surprised as she was explaining how many of her students had never worked with a computer at all. Although, I believe having a computer is something we all take for granted. Remember 20 years ago owning a home PC wasn't as widely accepted as it is now. Time flies when you're a slow typer!
The thrill is what you make of it in any aspect. It was a thrill, not just a "Do I haft?" thing to go to The Boy's open house. A thrill because I'm able to do it, even with having to suction my mouth every now and then. I'm out amongst the folk. That's kind of a thrill. More so if I'm driving. I think some of the people here are looking to win the next Darwin Award by separating themselves from the gene pool. The sad thing is, they usually take someone with them. So there's a thrill in driving anywhere in Midland "I's from Tekas, I drive's like I see fit" attitude behind the wheel. And before anyone says "Oh, people drive like that everywhere", a reminder that Midland Co. has about 200,000 people tops, and in total has killed 33 people in wrecks this year, so far. Midland itself is about 150K, and 16 deaths within the city limits. They drive for shit here, always have. So, yes, it's a thrill to get out on the streets.
It's a thrill to watch my grandson play. Kids are hip. And yeah, my daughter is doing a good job raising him. He can be a bit lippy, but he's smart, so that's kind of expected. All four of mine could be from time to time. But that wasn't hard to handle. So the big girl is doing what she can, and does it very well I believe. It's a thrill to get up the AM and get ready to do anything. There's going to come a time when I will wake up and wish I just could stay asleep. The thrill then will be finding the motivation to let you all in on the fun and games of the closer to Critical Mass game. Stand assured, when I do hit Critical Mass, there won't be a blog to follow. Not unless The Lovely or one of our Minions writes it. I may have to make sure that happens, just so the blog comes a complete journey, and not just stuck in one place. Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. I'll try and get one of the fan to do one final blog, for Critical Mass.
It's a thrill to go through a day when the neck and back isn't just thumping at me for fun. Most of yesterday was that way, until mid afternoon. I was making plans to go for a very late evening walk. Just to get out after dark and walk a bit so see what's shaking in my hood after dark. Not much, but it's a lot cooler at that time and the heat bothers me now like never before. I wonder if I have some kind of sickness or something that makes me tired a lot and really makes me hate the heat? Probably.
The neck and back pain is getting worse. I'm beginning to wonder, and I need a second opinion since the fam sees me every day, on whether or not my neck is swelling up. I'm thinking it is. It feels like it, and my mouth seems more full. That could be fluid build up since I haven't been to lymphedema therapy as often as I need to. I'm going to check about getting in for the next month. So as to keep ahead of the fluid retention as long as I can. And it helps relax me some, and that's always a plus
It's a thrill that my SLP had her baby yesterday. While I am going to miss having her help, the other lady is going to give me treatments. That will be a thrill in itself. It's be like having to start over and first meeting my therapist. That should be fun. Or at least different. Both, I think, will bring different approaches to all that I've got going on and that can't be anything but a help. I hope. It's a thrill because I'm not certain how much longer I can do this. If it gets to the point that none of the SLP therapy is helping, I'll stop. There's no use continuing a losing game where there are people out there who could use my time for a way to get back to as normal a life as they can muster. That and there's no use having the insurance pay for something with no end result. Right now it's a maintain procedure, I'll settle for that. My SLP is wonderful at what she does. It's gratifying for me to see her work. And watch her get as excited when I make headway as I do. Neither one of us shows that excitement very often, but I think we can see it in how our eyes light up. I know hers do, I hope mine do as well. I hope she's resting well with the new baby, and I hope I can catch up with her soon
Nope, the Thrill Isn't Gone, Baby. It's different than what it was, but not gone. I repeat this a lot, and I figure it is getting old, but tough shit, my blog. It's the little things. The stuff I took for granted that are the most thrilling now. Odd that.
Go forth and bring happiness to yourself! There isn't another damn soul on earth that's here to ensure you're happy. Ya gotta do that on your own. So, get after it, for shit sake. There's a day brewing up out there. Carpe Jugulum!
Sunday, September 8, 2013
Baxter, dammit all anyway.
Baxter seems to have a timeline that's different than my own. He's scootin along pretty well. The damn thing is making me more tired and in need of more sleep. Even if when I take a nap I can't sleep well the next night. Weird. He's upping the pain a bit too. Now I'm not so certain that the constant ache in my neck and shoulders isn't more Baxter related than mechanics. Mechanics will adjust, if you do it correctly, and get some better. Mine isn't. I'm retaining more fluid in my face and neck than I was at one time as well. I'm wondering if that's not part of what's shaking with Baxter.
Now, there are some upside to go along with the down sides as well. I mean, for one I'm legally stoned. I can't take the add on pain med until I'm done running around for the day, because I can't hit my ass with both hands, a map, and a compass. But I do rest. Some of the effects of that are a reduction in secretion output. That makes me aspirate less, cough less up the tube, and thank God drool less as well. That helps with the self esteem thing. I can't feel my chin or lips very well since all the surgery, so I can't tell if I'm drooling or not. That leads to some, well not embarrassing, but pain in the ass moments when you realize people aren't staring at your overall condition, but rather the pretty rainbow hanging off your chin. Yummy. So, the drugs kinda ease that off a bit, but I can't drive myself anywhere when I'm on the add on. That also means I don't have to drag my suction around with me to keep from flooding the area I'm standing or sitting in. Nice.
The dreams have been neat. Not as cool as the screwed up, overly erotic dreams I had taking Chantix. That's part of the reason I had to stop, that and I felt lost and goofy as hell on the stuff the second time I tried to take it. Wooo!! I had no idea my mind worked like that in my subconscious. I wish I coulda remembered all of them and written them down. What smut books those would have made. Neat stuff for certain. No, these dreams are just vivid and very detailed. With some spooky shit thrown in for good measure, I guess. I dreamed that I was lying in bed, when someone or something came in, jumped on my chest, plugged my trach and covered my mouth and nose. Huge fight ensues, I get whoever is after me on the ground, and am breaking an elbow, when I get help holding him/it still. I told him/it, to get out and never come to try that shit again. Broke it's elbow, let it up and it ran off. I woke up. Weird, right? What the hell is THAT shit about? Most of the dreams are pretty mundane. From talking with the Grandparents, to riding Fat Girl, to just sitting enjoying someone's company. Dull as hell stuff. The really nice reward would be the super erotic dreams of Chantix time. There's a bonus for slowly fading away!!
My focus seems to be a bit better as well. That's a plus. I don't know if it's because there is so little going on that I'm more able to settle on one idea or duty and whip that shit out, or if it's because I'm secretly nesting trying to get things in order so Liz won't have to later on. Either way it's a plus. If I find myself getting a little cluttered or scattered with my thoughts, I can generally scoot those to the sidelines better now. Well, with the exception of rambling on in this blog. I'm even talking with my Hospice nurse about why I'd rather stay ahead of supplies 2-3 weeks, rather than hustling to get them out. The Hospice doesn't like to keep more than a week ahead of anything. Foolish, that's constantly having to order and reorder meds and supplies for the people they care for, rather than spending time finding out what concerns or small things they don't think to mention at a visit. That extra ten minutes per visit may not seem like much, but it can make a difference in easing someone's mind a bit.
Okay, I'm drugging up to go see a movie. Y'all have fun, and go do something I would.
That oughta leave you plenty of leeway for the day
Now, there are some upside to go along with the down sides as well. I mean, for one I'm legally stoned. I can't take the add on pain med until I'm done running around for the day, because I can't hit my ass with both hands, a map, and a compass. But I do rest. Some of the effects of that are a reduction in secretion output. That makes me aspirate less, cough less up the tube, and thank God drool less as well. That helps with the self esteem thing. I can't feel my chin or lips very well since all the surgery, so I can't tell if I'm drooling or not. That leads to some, well not embarrassing, but pain in the ass moments when you realize people aren't staring at your overall condition, but rather the pretty rainbow hanging off your chin. Yummy. So, the drugs kinda ease that off a bit, but I can't drive myself anywhere when I'm on the add on. That also means I don't have to drag my suction around with me to keep from flooding the area I'm standing or sitting in. Nice.
The dreams have been neat. Not as cool as the screwed up, overly erotic dreams I had taking Chantix. That's part of the reason I had to stop, that and I felt lost and goofy as hell on the stuff the second time I tried to take it. Wooo!! I had no idea my mind worked like that in my subconscious. I wish I coulda remembered all of them and written them down. What smut books those would have made. Neat stuff for certain. No, these dreams are just vivid and very detailed. With some spooky shit thrown in for good measure, I guess. I dreamed that I was lying in bed, when someone or something came in, jumped on my chest, plugged my trach and covered my mouth and nose. Huge fight ensues, I get whoever is after me on the ground, and am breaking an elbow, when I get help holding him/it still. I told him/it, to get out and never come to try that shit again. Broke it's elbow, let it up and it ran off. I woke up. Weird, right? What the hell is THAT shit about? Most of the dreams are pretty mundane. From talking with the Grandparents, to riding Fat Girl, to just sitting enjoying someone's company. Dull as hell stuff. The really nice reward would be the super erotic dreams of Chantix time. There's a bonus for slowly fading away!!
My focus seems to be a bit better as well. That's a plus. I don't know if it's because there is so little going on that I'm more able to settle on one idea or duty and whip that shit out, or if it's because I'm secretly nesting trying to get things in order so Liz won't have to later on. Either way it's a plus. If I find myself getting a little cluttered or scattered with my thoughts, I can generally scoot those to the sidelines better now. Well, with the exception of rambling on in this blog. I'm even talking with my Hospice nurse about why I'd rather stay ahead of supplies 2-3 weeks, rather than hustling to get them out. The Hospice doesn't like to keep more than a week ahead of anything. Foolish, that's constantly having to order and reorder meds and supplies for the people they care for, rather than spending time finding out what concerns or small things they don't think to mention at a visit. That extra ten minutes per visit may not seem like much, but it can make a difference in easing someone's mind a bit.
Okay, I'm drugging up to go see a movie. Y'all have fun, and go do something I would.
That oughta leave you plenty of leeway for the day
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