Dammit

   Well, after taking a day away from the blog, getting a good night's sleep, up and ready to take the boy to school on time, then no good thing seems to go unpunished lately. I get home. Figure I'll load the old computer up, go to Starbucks, work on the blog and watch the yo yo's stand in line for coffee. Generally a pretty fun thing to do on a cool, cloudy morning. With a bit of rain in the forecast, it would be fun. So far, not the damn case. I get home from taking the boy to school, gather up my toys I have to have to go anywhere, and begin to cough. Not a little, "oh, something is in my trach" cough. No, that would be okay. This was a deep in the back of my throat, what the hell is going on, kinda cough. Only I knew damn well what was going on. I'm gonna puke. Great. See, when I get to the point I puke, nothing keeps it from loading up my sinuses. That also means it has now way to stay in there so I can blow my nose to clear it out. No, it runs right back the direction it went in, all full of yuck and really strong acid. So, it makes me gag, which makes me throw up, which starts the entire process over again. In the mean time, having been fooled before, it'll stop for a few minutes. Lulling you into that happy place that is meant to truly be "Oh shit, that's over with, I can relax", only to jump back in with a nice projectile shot. Ahhh, fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me. I didn't fall for that falsehood. I waited. And just as I had an inkling that it was over, it hit again.  I'm fine now, but bear in mind the whole thing took almost 2 hours out of my morning. And is almost as much fun as running a power cheese grater over your private parts. Almost. So, here I sit. Two hours and a half after I dropped The Boy off at school. Two hours plus since I started to gather my stuff. And I think it's finally calmed down. No, I will not be leaving the house today, that bus that hit my a couple days ago came back and hit me again. Somewhere between  the corner of Shit I puked and Shit, I Hate That. 

 So, that fun is out of the way. On the plus side, I didn't bust a vessel or puke up copious amounts of blood. That's a good thing, because people freak out around here if I'm suctioning a little blood. If I puking some, I certainly don't want to do mouth to mouth after one of them passes out. Or runs in circles. Or does the "Stand in Place and Panic Run" which, among women, is accompanied by "Holding my Boobs While I Stand in Place and Panic Run". That's really kinda funny, in a sick way, but it makes me laugh none the same. For good or ill, no one freaks like the first time I got to really tossin my cookies. Mostly that's a good thing. Not as funny, but a lot easier on everyone's blood pressure, for certain.

   Now, what brought that one? Well it's very humid and drizzly. That used to make me more of a runny nose boy any way, so why not now? I also fed with a syringe this morning, and may have put it in too fast, which can make a feller throw up. Or it's the huge bubble of gunk that was plaguing me most of the early morning this morning. Any one of those, or all of them, could start that fun and games. Anyway, that's how it is, infrequently, if one can't swallow any thing at all and relies on suction to help them out. It sucks dick for skittles, but it's how it is and will only get worse. Starbucks tomorrow then!!! 

 See, it's really not all that bad. I mean it hurts, it's a gigantic pain in the ass. But as long as shit like that happens once in a while, I'm reminded that I'm really still alive and kicking. A buddy reminded me of that last night. Pain and adversity can do two things. Drag you down and leave you with nothing. Or reaffirm that you're truly alive, and this is your fight if you're willing. Willing has never been a problem with me. I didn't fight every cause, since some of them weren't mine, but I was, and am, always willing to jump in if someone needs the help, or if I get dragged into it. Adversity is what should drive us toward a different goal. Pain? Sometimes that's a good reminder as to why we need to stay the course. Nothing good has ever come from anything that didn't require some personal sacrifice. It's no fun, but I believe it's a requirement. And that doesn't just mean physical pain, don't limit it there. It's also emotional and mental pain. The old saying "When the going gets tough, the tough get going" is spot on, I believe. Movement is life. Sideways, back a couple of steps, but always with that forwarding looking goal in mind. That's if you have to go over or around the adversity and obstacles that are thrown at you. So, yeah, my forward looking goals are still intact. I just change how I have to get to them

   Someone mentioned Gladys's, right next to Kickshickers. I went in there several times. The last time I'm standing drinkin a cold beer, watching two lovely young women flirt with a couple of guys. Then BOOM!! One of em cold cocks the piss out of the other. To his credit, the guy that got hit didn't go clear down, but staggered a bit, got his footing and took the other guy to the floor. By now there's a circle of people around. Most of the guys are being quiet, making sure the winner didn't put leather to the other guy. We did that in the old days, you know. Fight is over, it's over, no kicking a downed man, it wasn't sporting and no one likes an asshole. So, Gladys walks up to me "Go break that up". No, Gladys, that's your bouncers job. "The guy on the ground IS my bouncer!!!".  I started cracking up. She got really pissed. Mad enough I think there were actually bees coming out of her BeeHive hairdo, supplied with wiglets and wigs. So, another guy and I walked over, each grabbed a leg and dragged the bouncer and the guy who was beating his ass, outside. I turned mine loose, started to walk over to Kickers, and the dip shit throws a rock at me. He's still on the ground. "You douche, don't make me stomp a hole in your ass", and walked over to the next bar. That was the last time I went into Gladys's. It wasn't as rough as the place she had at 4 Corners, but damn near!! That place was like CutThroat Alley. Geez

 Do something that involves a challenge. You know, like watching porn without cheetos, that kinda challenge 

 

Have a wonderful day!! Mine is already getting better.

Hmmmmm

 Well, this is turning out to be "Bad Mood Wednesday". It might be best if I just stayed off here and didn't write anything since I'm hotter than a steamed fucking clam right now. And after an hour and a half I should be calmed down, but that's not happening. Usually I get into a snit I'm over it in a few minutes, but this morning is the exception to the rule, and I'm in a foul mood.

 I didn't start out that way, no siree Bob it didn't. I had my pain patch upped a notch yesterday, and stayed up kind of late to make sure it didn't have some unwanted side effects. You know, like trouble breathing and the like. I slept a damn good 4 hours too. Straight through, no hacking or coughing. No sinus drainage. Just a nice restful sleep. I woke up without the neck and shoulder pain too. That's a plus. So all in all I was in a pretty good mood. Came up with a plan since I've got an extra trach tube now, so that when I shower the collar isn't wet and icky. And, since it no longer bothers me to look into the hole in my throat, I can change one I've already got set up to use, for the one that's wet from the shower. A nice thing overall. It's more comfortable, and even though the package says "breathable foam collar", it smell like it's not breathable at all while it's drying out. So, starting with a fresh, dry, collar as well as the gauze to go between my trach tube and throat, certainly is a nicer thing. I'd thought about doing it before, but always thought I needed help with it. Nope, I don't. I sorted out the minor problems and it's something I can do on my own. So yeah, the morning started off pretty damn good at my house between 0430 and 0515. Got a shower, fixed my trach, took my meds, got a feed in. Not bad for 45 minutes. While some things are slowing down, others are speeding up. Must be nature balancing itself out.
  Oh no, no, the trouble started when I hit Starbucks to hang with my buds. The same old boy started in on my ass this morning. Normally I can blow it off. Not this morning. I tried to tell him to shut the fuck up, but since my voice is going that didn't get understood. And he tried to be funny imitating how I sound and look when I try to speak. I got super pissed off. Couldn't really see anymore than dark outlines of people in a completely red background. That used to spell really bad, bad things were about to happen. Really bad things. So, instead I took a deep breath, gathered up my shit, gave him the finger and walked....lie, stormed the fuck out...of the place. Went for about a 10 minute drive to calm down enough to write legibly and went back. One of the guys that was there tried to smooth it over before I went back in, and the old mother fucker doesn't even realize his friend is that good a buddy. It's a damn shame. So what I wrote was this: "I left for a few minutes so I didn't just slap the fuck clean out of your. Or drill you one in the throat so I could laugh at your inability to breath or speak. But I don't do that anymore. Since all you can do lately is have sport at my expense, something I ignored for a long time before now. And since I'm too sick, sore,tired, and can't talk anymore, I don't have to put up with your shit. I listened to your shit for years, and gave some back, but I don't have to put up with it any more, so kiss my dying ass. This is the last time you'll have me to fuck with ever." Slammed the note down next to his coffee, listened to a worthless fucking apology and left. Last time I'll be in there early in the morning. I'll go in later in the day and visit with the girls. But I certainly don't have to put up with that shit anymore.
 It's not that I'm even so thin skinned. Or don't want to be treated differently than I was before. But fuck me, before I even get set down? Bullshit and kiss my ass. I don't need the aggravation. Let it go for ten minutes and I can tune out the drivel about the never ending golf game, or the whining over the shoulder surgery, or how you HAVE to throw money at your kids because they can't take care of themselves. But right off the bat, before I can set my shit down? No. No way. No fucking way do I have to listen to the bullshit. I kid, tease, screw with and laugh with people a lot. But I try to feel them out before I run off at the head. That's an unwritten rule with me. Someone looks tired, or sore, or otherwise distracted, I leave em the hell alone. It's been my experience that you might get busted in the mouth for the things you say to people, so you damn well better be willing to throw down, or just keep your mouth shut. I've always been willing, that's not a problem. And it's not too hard to keep your mouth shut. And, as a rule, most shit people say to me runs off my back. Even when I kind of liked to get into it a little, just mouthing off wouldn't get it done, you had to be serious enough to touch me. So, for whatever reason this morning really twisted my nuts the wrong direction. It's the first time in probably 10 years, I've seen nothing but red. That time some asshole that had just beaten the piss out of a friend's of mine daughter accidentally put his hand on me and said "I'm gonna drive your dick into the dirt". When I could finally see and hear again, he was underneath me, with my thumb buried up to the joint next to my hand in his throat, and was a nice shade of blue with his eyes rolled up into his head. Yes, he breathed when I got off of him. If I hadn't heard one of my friends say "Rock, that's enough", I might not have turned him loose at all. Huntsville is humid in the summer. I'm glad I let him up.
Then I get, "are you going to travel? It doesn't sound like it." from some people. Ya know, why don't you not bother to assume what I will and won't or can't do. When it gets to that point, you'll know because I'll tell ya.

 So there, I've got an all day, full burn going. I'm not going to be very pleasant with anyone. And the complete shits of that is, I can't really go off and find somewhere to work it off. I'm fucking stuck basically in town, at the fucking house. It's "Wide Berth Day" around me today.

 Have fun, watch out, and don't forget, sometimes even us nice guys lose our tempers

Hugs, and a bang on the hear

Man, I'm tired

 All of a sudden I've been really tired and can't get enough sleep. Well, I mean I get enough that I can function, but I'm taking naps more often and they last longer. Talk about a bummer. Now that I really want to be out doing something other than watching my toe nails grow, I'm getting too tired to even want to do that.

 I get worn out quickly. Probably due to lack of the amount of exercise I need, because a lot of that hurts quite a bit. I'm going to go back to at least walking more than I do. I can feel my legs going. The problem even doing that increases the amount of swelling in my neck and face. I'm gonna have to decide which is more important, exercise or less swelling. I go with exercise. The swelling is coming regardless of what I do, so I might as well help the rest of my body out while I can. I'm hoping that does something for this chronic tired spell as well. Jumping my metabolism up can't be all bad, and it'll do wonders for my heart I'm sure. Somewhere in here lies a medium place where I can reap some benefit and not have all the crap side effects that go with it. Part of the reason I wear out fast is probably a pain issue as well. I get so sore so fast it knocks the wind out of me. It's like working with a perpetually strained or pulled muscle. Just constantly pestering you. It jumps in and says "wake up for 15 minutes, I'm lonely", every night. That is part of the problem as well. Looks like it's time to change the pain patch dosage up a notch. That will help some. I was kinda hoping that would be a hold off moment for another month or so. Although, I got this prescription on July 20. I'm close to 2 months into that. That's two months of the uninvited  house guest growth, and that's a factor as well.

 I have a lack of choice, and that makes me tired as well. I can't just go out and do as I please like I used to go out and do. I have feedings, like some damned baby, that I need to do on at least a partial schedule. I don't just grab a bottle and drink as much liquid as I did either. That has to be planned out so I can fill a feeding bag with whatever I chose to use, be that water or lemonade (no, I can't swallow, but I can get a taste of it), and that takes time. The Hospice brought me by a bunch of gravity feeding bags that have a hose that's at least half the size of my old ones. Instead of 10 or 15 minutes to feed, it takes 40-50 minutes. I've been using a syringe to feed myself. I mean hell, I don't have anywhere to go, but why do I want to be tied down to a damn bag for 3-4 times what I was having to be tied to it in the first place? Even the bags we ordered last have the same damn skinny line. Why is it medical supply places have such a shittin hard time getting what you ordered the first time out the gate? Irritating to say the least. Pisses me plumb the fuck off, to say the average. Physically I'm limited as well. It's safer for me to drive, because I have better mirrors to help me see surrounding traffic, and I'm crazy cautious now. Riding the bike, I can't do that at all. Not and feel as safe as I'd like. I don't have the head and neck rotation I need to ride it into traffic. Although I've got to get it to my son in Grand Prairie, so that's gonna be a big highway ride. And yes, I've tried to wear the helmet. The chin strap cuts into my scar and tissue on my neck and tries to wear a hole in it. Helmet is a no go.
 So you see, my choices of things I'd like to to are so limited that it frustrates the shit out of me, and that in and of itself makes me very tired. It's like a constant fight with me to think, "I should go...nope, can't do that". Frustrating.

 I hear it's up to you to make your quality of life. And I agree with that. I have a lot of fun still. I'm not as loud, but I still have a good time. While it's not the quality of life I'd like to have, there's still quality in there. As tired as I get, I'm not quite ready to shuck it all in yet. There's a couple of things I have to do first, and a few things I should do. Those I'm working on, the need to do things are coming up quickly. After that, I'm not sure how I'll feel. I know I'll be worn out for a time, but it should be pretty well content. For ten minutes or so anyway. While my quality of life isn't up to my standards, I'm gonna have to pull up the big boy pants and make certain that it gets damn close to there. That gets a bit harder to do every week. Some days it's a plain struggle, but without a struggle, life isn't worth living anyway. I believe life is supposed to be a roller coaster, scary in parts, relaxing in others. I've not been afraid of the parts that are supposed to suck your breath out, there's no reason I should change that now. I don't think anyway.

Okay, my eyes burn, my shoulders and neck are asking for some additional pain meds, so I'm gonna wrap this up.

 I'm tired, but that's okay, at least I'm alive enough to realize I'm tired.

 Be careful, and have fun. Sometimes I could actually do both. Not often, but sometimes

Again? Really?

  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

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

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.

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