Well, yeah, but actually it was because I woke up bone dry of anything to write about. "Shut your mouth!" is what I hear people saying. I never had a problem coming up with something to say, right? Ta Da!! The other times I didn't blog, I was either out of town, or sick. Or I just was bored with it. Hard to believe, right? Getting bored with talking about all the changes your body is going through while it decides to kill itself. What could be boring in that? Lots, trust me. It's not enough that the damn thing is wasting itself away on Cancer's behalf, but it lets me know it all the time. And it's a lot of the same stuff over and over. So yeah, I get bored with talking about it. And that, I hope, isn't something you all get from reading the blog. I know it's about education, and trying to die with my boots on and all that, so I hope I don't bore any of you. And honestly, it I don't, then why the hell do I bore myself? Hmmmm, good question. I'll have to think about that.
I also didn't bog yesterday, because I didn't sleep at all the night before. Not a wink. I did take two 15 minute naps yesterday, and slept a good long time overnight. A bit into my normal "drugs, wait two hours, feed" routine. So THAT got shifted a little. Not a bad thing, I don't think. I'm thinking, even thought I've got a lot of housework to do today, that after I drop The Boy off at school, of going and trying to put a little dab of coffee into the Feeding Tube. I generally like the flavor, today I'm going more for the company and the caffeine rush. That should be interesting to say the least. I may come home and have the house looking like Martha Stewart threw up in it......Naw, I don't like all that added stuff. Just cleaned and mopped sounds good. I've met a couple of people that read the blog there, they are interesting to visit with. I didn't know them from sic em, but they asked to be on the FB group, had a couple of mutual friends so I thought "Sure, come play". Nice folk, all in all.
Something that's not out of the ordinary, that I wish was out of the ordinary. The skin around my trach, because it's not a permanent trach, stays damp. From secretions I aspirate, to just plain old sweat. That means it's also gotten paper thin. I have to be careful with what I put on. Generally I put a couple of Band Aids over the area that the trach cover or collar rub the front of my neck. Last night I was too tired, or just plain too lazy to put the fresh band aids on, and this morning when I took it out to clean the trach and put on the clean gauze I saw why I can't do that again. Raw, bloody, sore spot where the outter edge of the trach cover rubbed. Two spots, in fact. So now, after a bit of bacitracin and band aids, all is almost well. Lesson: Don't be too Lazy to do what is needed for the trach area. Interesting side note. My neck is way out of proportion from surgery. Where you all would normally have a trach right out in front, mine sets in about 1/2 an inch. That makes it a bitch to do anything with. It's okay, though, it's not something I can't work around, just a pain in the ass is all. So, with in that area it's a pain in the neck, literally, to take care of the trach and skin around it. Also, something out of the ordinary today. I take off the collar and all to shower. I tried it without taking it off, dumb thing to do, so it goes off now. (side bar, my hole in my throat sets so far back, that without the tube in, if I lean my head too far forward, it shuts off the hole. startling the first time that happened) I did my shower, realized I left the gauze for the tube in the kitchen (no hole cut in it either), and I'm building an inordinate amount of icky shit in my mouth. So, I suction, got back to the bathroom, put the band aids where they need to go, and damn....My trach tube doesn't want to slide right in. WTF? I had to find some slick em to put on it, and it was still a struggle to get it in the hole. (Wise ass remarks are appreciated, but are often best left quiet LOL). First time that's happened. I wonder what the hell? My face and neck are sort of swollen, not like Wednesday when I went in for therapy, but a big swollen. That's what I'm going to blame the trouble on, swollen neck. And yes, it hurt a bit. A feller'd think that after 9.5 months it would be easy to do that daily routine. No, it wasn't. I fear now I'm going to have to change the gauze more than once a day. Looks like starting soon, it's gonna be at least twice a day. Dammit
Liz got me two "Handicapped Parking" placards. At first I looked at them as a sign of defeat. "Damn Cancer has gotten me so weak, that I have to use a walker to go any distance, but now "Handicapped Parking" placards as well? What the fuck?" I don't look at it like that anymore. I can park any damn place I choose. Touche' bitches. I didn't park in the Handicapped spots when I wasn't needing the parking, and generally would call people out on it. Including that great big dude in Starbuck's one morning when I was having coffee on the patio. Perhaps "Jesus Christ, you're so unhealthy you take a handicapped place to go get coffee? I guess the extra 20' walk would have killed your lazy ass", wan't as diplomatic as it could have been. He was miffed and vexed by my statement. To the point of "I'll whip your ass". On the other hand, he moved and cussed my ass with things I didn't think were cuss words until I had time to think about it. I did mention that yes, he could probably whip my ass, but he wasn't going to enjoy it after it was over. It does make people angry when you point out that only an ass hole parks in the handicapped spot when they don't need it. It seems so difficult for some people to do what's right in the first place. Something I don't understand. I don't always get there, but I certainly TRY to do what's right the first time out. So, yes, I use them. I also look around before I park in a spot. If I see an older person looking for a spot to park, I wait to see where they park before I use the Handicapped spot. I don't walk fast anymore, and sometimes it's not easy getting there, but they may be in worse shape than I am. Liz also can use them after I'm gone, if she wants. Not that that would be right, but they don't expire until 2017. Way later than my own expiration date!!
There was a change of plans. I started the blog before I took The Boy to school. He's off to San Angelo today to march at a football game there tonight. So, instead of coffee right after, it is home, blog, coffee. This should be fun. Watching the people have spastic fit over me setting in the Starbucks shoving coffee into my feeding tube. I have had one asshole there, when I was visiting with friends, (okay, they visit, I nod) tell me that was gross and maybe I should do that outside. I wrote, "You're an asshole, maybe you should stop breathing my air" and gave the note to him. He got huffy, said he was going to the manager. Whoooooo, buddy, I was terrified! Of course not. The ladies I was setting with cracked up. One of them knew I ran two guys off from behind the store one morning at 0415, about ten minutes before the girls showed up to get ready to open the store. I might have let it go, since they were behind a fence. You know, out of the breeze and just waiting. But when they saw my headlights, they leaned out, then snapped their heads back really quickly. Something didn't feel right, and being a believer in gut instincts, I hopped out of my truck and headed over to them. Yes, with a weapon, no not a handgun. They split. Suited me, and I waited for the cops to show up, in case they were innocent of thinking about pulling shenanigans. No cops came, I guess maybe they weren't so innocent.
Some of the girls there told me a few weeks ago they never felt unsafe when they saw my truck in the parking lot. They said they knew I'd look after them. Well, yeah, of course I would, but it was really nice they noticed, and more so that they said something about it. The stalker guy doesn't like me, the last thing I heard him say before he left town (no, I did NOT tell him to move out of town) was, "Cancer huh? I guess that cock sucker got what he deserved". Maybe, but I didn't tail two under twenty one year old women around, and take pictures of them going into their home. Or driving to work, or of them coming out of the store after 2300 hrs either. We had a discussion about that one morning when I wasn't working. Out on the patio. No, I never laid a hand upon his person. No, I didn't yell. No, I didn't make idle threats. What I did tell him was, if it didn't stop, there would be no police, just me. The problem he would have was that he'd never know when, how or where. All very calm, and more of a promise than a threat. I have a 27 and a 19 year old daughter. I would hope someone would step up and defend them if I wasn't there, or wasn't able. Right now, I may not be able to beat your ass for screwing with my baby girls, but I can still shoot. Let your imagination run wild with that.
Okay, let's give the wandering blog a shut down for the day. I do have to go try the coffee, and I'd like to nod while some folks and I have conversing. I've got a friend coming to town to help me with the "Good Bye Rock" hamburger and hot dog grill and get together tomorrow. BYOB, of course. Known him for forty years. When I was 13, forty years seemed like an eternity. Now, looking back, it was only a week or so ago. Hmmmmm, topic for tomorrow? Perhaps, and with an update on new and exciting symptoms.
Book Of Rock: Not happy with yourself? Tough shit, quit whining and fix it.
If you're willing to try, I'll help you as much as I can. Otherwise, stop your bitching, it's your life and only you can make it worth living.
Hugs and all that shit. Now go make your day worthy of you.
Friday, November 8, 2013
Wednesday, November 6, 2013
Sleep, it's pretty decent.
Before I get started, Pet Peeve. I'm a customer, you offer a service. Doesn't matter what service, but I'm paying you to do something for me, or supply me with something. If I hear "Look, I'm just doing my job....", you've pissed me off from one short fused end to the other. Saying that implies one of two things. First, you're too stupid to know any other way to tell me what the problem is about. That means you're too stupid to deal with me, go find someone who can explain it without a cop out statement like that. Secondly, and more importantly, you've just shown me you don't give a shit about what I may need to know, besides something isn't right, to rectify the situation. That's worse than being stupid. Stupid is a non repairable function, apathy is absolutely repairable. Given the opportunity to fill out a "Customer Satisfaction" survey, I'll put your dumb assed apathetic name on the the form. You'd better hope they don't have a place for added comments while we're at it. Okay, rant and Pet Peeve over. Thanks for you're continued support.
I've been sleeping again. At least for the last two nights. Eight hours Monday, six hours last night. Kinda nice. I do feel a little more refreshed. I've even taken a twenty minute nap yesterday, I guess because I'm so over active (insert classic eye roll) or because the damn cancer is making me tired. I actually vote cancer on this one. I used to get by one four to six hours. If I slept eight hours I was sick, or had been out for over 18 hours straight. Sometimes, back in the day, it was 36 hours straight or more. Those nights I might sleep nine or ten. Not very often though. I did sleep a bit more when I worked and also weight trained twice a day. That 4 hours a day in the gym seemed to take a lot out of me. In the end I was doing more harm than good and cut it back to 2 hours a day, five days a week. I blew past a couple of flat spots and added a lot of strength and flexibility. Good for me, yay. The extra rest didn't hurt that either. They gave us thirty minutes for lunch. I never took my lunch in the dog house, I kept it with me and ate in the truck as I got hungry. That meant a lot of times I'd have a bit or two or several as I was going between wells. It also meant that I could set my phone alarm and take a fifteen or twenty minute power nap for my lunch break. Talk about being revitalized. Especially if I'd been called out in the middle of the night. Depending on when I got finished, it was easier to just sleep in the truck than drive almost an hour home, sleep for 30 minutes, change clothes, make more lunch, grab a cup of Joe, fill up the truck and drive to work again. If I stayed, and I always took extra food, I could sleep 3 or so hours in the truck, and take that power nap. It was like getting a good night's sleep for me then.
So what's changed? Oh shit, pick a spot. I have to blow clear my trach tube at least once during the night as a rule. Sometimes more often than that. I can't sleep in bed, because I can't lie flat. If I lie on my side for any length of time, I get a hack and choke feeling that's hard to get rid of, even if I get on my back again. Once in a while I'll hit the bed, because by God feeling like a regular human once in a while is a good thing. As I've said, cancer takes a lot of things, but not any I can't work around or suffer through for a time. Sleeping in bed is one of those things I figure out and work around. So, yeah, cancer has interrupted my sleep. You'd think it wouldn't be a big deal after all those years on call. Well, I spent a year NOT on call all the time. A bit over, actually. Being a well tech had it's advantages. I was third on the call out list at the field I worked in. I got called out once. Hit a reset button, then waited for a couple of hours to make sure that was the only problem and went home. I did have a talk with the pumper about taking his phone everywhere, and that a baseball game was not an excuse for skipping a call out. I was going to tell his relief that as well, but he was on vacation. That's about the only excuse I took. You have to let someone know there's plans in play so they can expect a call if you're not taking them. But, again, I digress
Yeah, cancer changed a lot of stuff. This last time with poor sleep I'd been sick. Not wanting to run the risk of being caught in the chair throwing up, I just didn't sleep at night. Then I'd fall asleep for too many hours during the day and I'd be wide awake at night. Terrible cycle to be in, unless you work Morning Tower on any job. Then it's okay. I do this unconsciously. It's not planned, but something in me says "don't sleep, what if something happens?'. I think it started with twenty-one days in the hospital after all three surgeries. The nurses have to check on your regularly. I wanted my wife to get some sleep, so I stayed awake in order for the nurses to not have to talk to me. We just did our thing with simple sign language. I also left notes on my chest, in case I was asleep when they came in. Things that were either okay or not so good. Worked well, but I got a physical habit of a couple hours nap, up five or six, couple hour nap, up four or five. You get the idea. I think at times that takes over. Probably when I've got more pain, or have done something that just wore me out. It sucks, but what the hell, it is what it is. Now the Hospice Dr. wants to come talk to me about my sleep habits. You know, if I'm okay with the amount of sleep I'm getting, leave me the fuck alone. You aren't God, your service is to keep me comfortable, and that means just leaving me alone unless I've got a problem I can't handle. That's only going to be pain.
I'm dying. I'm not going to get better. I feel little bits of me being taken apart slowly. It's coming, it's not as fast as I first thought, and that's both good and bad. It's good because I get to spend more time with my family and friends. That's always good. It's bad because it's a mental battle as well as physical. Mentally I've got to be more on top of myself than ever before. Sliding into depression, or thinking about just giving up, that means the cancer has won. I won't let that happen. A long time ago I wrote a bit about "My life, my rules. My death, my rules". That still holds true. It's a bit tougher now that it has been, but it's still true. I've had to come to the reality of some things. I can't travel like I'd like. Not because riding the bike is out of the question, that's for certain. It's that I don't recover well, or at least as fast as I'd like. That makes it tough on me and everyone in my house. It's not worth the added concern I see in the family's faces to just take off and go. I figured that would happen, and it has. I went on two pretty big trips about a month apart. The difference in the 650 mile trip and the 350 mile trip was scary. I was tired on the 650 mile trip in September, but that cleared up pretty fast. I was tired, coughed up a lot of blood, and took almost most twice as long to heal up after the 350 mile trip. Time to stay home. My decision. Not the Doc, not the family. Mine. My rules.
Sounds kind of narcissistic, doesn't it. That's because it is, dammit. I've been a bit that way my entire life. This is how Rocky does it, because he wants to and can do it his way. Always has been. I got along okay at work. I'd get orders to do something, I'd make it fit Rocky's way, and still look enough like what the boss wanted that they didn't notice. Worked for me. I kept my mouth shut and they got what they wanted. Where that didn't work with me was in the "told ya so" area. Bosses don't like to hear their idea failed. Anymore than I did. Go figure. Took me years to quit saying that and just let shit lie. It worked better. That worked for me because I made it. My life, my rules. Cancer became the same way. I didn't wear the damn mask, I still went for coffee. I ate the first time when they swore I'd not be able to swallow for the pain. I did, I got some morphine spray to help. It did...and if one squirt would work, two or three worked better, right? So it's also how I worked this cancer. My rules. I decided to get all the surgery. I could have said no. I wanted a fighting chance. I got that. It's not my fault, the doctors fault, nothings fault that I can't swallow. Or was just making decent head way when I got diagnosed again. My rules, no chemo. No Clinical Study. No more being sick on drugs to gain a couple of weeks on the whip end. Not happening.
New motto. My death, My rules. Which also is part of the pet peeve. When I tell the nurse something, it's not some idle bullshit, it's real. Pay attention and don't give me the "I'm not sure about that" or the look like "if he only knew what he was talking about" look. I'm too tired now, but a year ago you'd be sneezing to take a piss if you'd acted like that around me. This is something I'm going to address next visit. I know what I need. You aren't in my shoes, don't treat me like you think you know Jack Shit about my situation. I'm grouchy, I ache some, and I don't like not being active. I'm not, however, some toddling old man that's afraid of dying and my own shadow. Time to get in line with Rocky, not try to make him get in line with you. Hospice is fine, but it's a chicken shit bureaucracy. They have to jump fifty kinds of red tape to get anything done. They are, however, a service. It's time they started acting like one. See Pet Peeve above.
Okay, that's my big bitch for the day. Right, wrong, indifferent, it's Rock's Way.
So. What shall the marching orders be? I can't say do what I do, because that wouldn't by Your Way, would it?
Book of Rock: Believe your own hype, then step up and make others believe it as well. You're the only person selling you. Be confident in what you are, how you wear yourself. It's your skin, be proud you're in it. This is you. There is no other one on the planet. You're one in Six billion. That's damn thin when you figure odds. Make the most of You, but be damn sure you can back that up. Otherwise you've made You look badly, and that's not good.
And a bang on the ear
I've been sleeping again. At least for the last two nights. Eight hours Monday, six hours last night. Kinda nice. I do feel a little more refreshed. I've even taken a twenty minute nap yesterday, I guess because I'm so over active (insert classic eye roll) or because the damn cancer is making me tired. I actually vote cancer on this one. I used to get by one four to six hours. If I slept eight hours I was sick, or had been out for over 18 hours straight. Sometimes, back in the day, it was 36 hours straight or more. Those nights I might sleep nine or ten. Not very often though. I did sleep a bit more when I worked and also weight trained twice a day. That 4 hours a day in the gym seemed to take a lot out of me. In the end I was doing more harm than good and cut it back to 2 hours a day, five days a week. I blew past a couple of flat spots and added a lot of strength and flexibility. Good for me, yay. The extra rest didn't hurt that either. They gave us thirty minutes for lunch. I never took my lunch in the dog house, I kept it with me and ate in the truck as I got hungry. That meant a lot of times I'd have a bit or two or several as I was going between wells. It also meant that I could set my phone alarm and take a fifteen or twenty minute power nap for my lunch break. Talk about being revitalized. Especially if I'd been called out in the middle of the night. Depending on when I got finished, it was easier to just sleep in the truck than drive almost an hour home, sleep for 30 minutes, change clothes, make more lunch, grab a cup of Joe, fill up the truck and drive to work again. If I stayed, and I always took extra food, I could sleep 3 or so hours in the truck, and take that power nap. It was like getting a good night's sleep for me then.
So what's changed? Oh shit, pick a spot. I have to blow clear my trach tube at least once during the night as a rule. Sometimes more often than that. I can't sleep in bed, because I can't lie flat. If I lie on my side for any length of time, I get a hack and choke feeling that's hard to get rid of, even if I get on my back again. Once in a while I'll hit the bed, because by God feeling like a regular human once in a while is a good thing. As I've said, cancer takes a lot of things, but not any I can't work around or suffer through for a time. Sleeping in bed is one of those things I figure out and work around. So, yeah, cancer has interrupted my sleep. You'd think it wouldn't be a big deal after all those years on call. Well, I spent a year NOT on call all the time. A bit over, actually. Being a well tech had it's advantages. I was third on the call out list at the field I worked in. I got called out once. Hit a reset button, then waited for a couple of hours to make sure that was the only problem and went home. I did have a talk with the pumper about taking his phone everywhere, and that a baseball game was not an excuse for skipping a call out. I was going to tell his relief that as well, but he was on vacation. That's about the only excuse I took. You have to let someone know there's plans in play so they can expect a call if you're not taking them. But, again, I digress
Yeah, cancer changed a lot of stuff. This last time with poor sleep I'd been sick. Not wanting to run the risk of being caught in the chair throwing up, I just didn't sleep at night. Then I'd fall asleep for too many hours during the day and I'd be wide awake at night. Terrible cycle to be in, unless you work Morning Tower on any job. Then it's okay. I do this unconsciously. It's not planned, but something in me says "don't sleep, what if something happens?'. I think it started with twenty-one days in the hospital after all three surgeries. The nurses have to check on your regularly. I wanted my wife to get some sleep, so I stayed awake in order for the nurses to not have to talk to me. We just did our thing with simple sign language. I also left notes on my chest, in case I was asleep when they came in. Things that were either okay or not so good. Worked well, but I got a physical habit of a couple hours nap, up five or six, couple hour nap, up four or five. You get the idea. I think at times that takes over. Probably when I've got more pain, or have done something that just wore me out. It sucks, but what the hell, it is what it is. Now the Hospice Dr. wants to come talk to me about my sleep habits. You know, if I'm okay with the amount of sleep I'm getting, leave me the fuck alone. You aren't God, your service is to keep me comfortable, and that means just leaving me alone unless I've got a problem I can't handle. That's only going to be pain.
I'm dying. I'm not going to get better. I feel little bits of me being taken apart slowly. It's coming, it's not as fast as I first thought, and that's both good and bad. It's good because I get to spend more time with my family and friends. That's always good. It's bad because it's a mental battle as well as physical. Mentally I've got to be more on top of myself than ever before. Sliding into depression, or thinking about just giving up, that means the cancer has won. I won't let that happen. A long time ago I wrote a bit about "My life, my rules. My death, my rules". That still holds true. It's a bit tougher now that it has been, but it's still true. I've had to come to the reality of some things. I can't travel like I'd like. Not because riding the bike is out of the question, that's for certain. It's that I don't recover well, or at least as fast as I'd like. That makes it tough on me and everyone in my house. It's not worth the added concern I see in the family's faces to just take off and go. I figured that would happen, and it has. I went on two pretty big trips about a month apart. The difference in the 650 mile trip and the 350 mile trip was scary. I was tired on the 650 mile trip in September, but that cleared up pretty fast. I was tired, coughed up a lot of blood, and took almost most twice as long to heal up after the 350 mile trip. Time to stay home. My decision. Not the Doc, not the family. Mine. My rules.
Sounds kind of narcissistic, doesn't it. That's because it is, dammit. I've been a bit that way my entire life. This is how Rocky does it, because he wants to and can do it his way. Always has been. I got along okay at work. I'd get orders to do something, I'd make it fit Rocky's way, and still look enough like what the boss wanted that they didn't notice. Worked for me. I kept my mouth shut and they got what they wanted. Where that didn't work with me was in the "told ya so" area. Bosses don't like to hear their idea failed. Anymore than I did. Go figure. Took me years to quit saying that and just let shit lie. It worked better. That worked for me because I made it. My life, my rules. Cancer became the same way. I didn't wear the damn mask, I still went for coffee. I ate the first time when they swore I'd not be able to swallow for the pain. I did, I got some morphine spray to help. It did...and if one squirt would work, two or three worked better, right? So it's also how I worked this cancer. My rules. I decided to get all the surgery. I could have said no. I wanted a fighting chance. I got that. It's not my fault, the doctors fault, nothings fault that I can't swallow. Or was just making decent head way when I got diagnosed again. My rules, no chemo. No Clinical Study. No more being sick on drugs to gain a couple of weeks on the whip end. Not happening.
New motto. My death, My rules. Which also is part of the pet peeve. When I tell the nurse something, it's not some idle bullshit, it's real. Pay attention and don't give me the "I'm not sure about that" or the look like "if he only knew what he was talking about" look. I'm too tired now, but a year ago you'd be sneezing to take a piss if you'd acted like that around me. This is something I'm going to address next visit. I know what I need. You aren't in my shoes, don't treat me like you think you know Jack Shit about my situation. I'm grouchy, I ache some, and I don't like not being active. I'm not, however, some toddling old man that's afraid of dying and my own shadow. Time to get in line with Rocky, not try to make him get in line with you. Hospice is fine, but it's a chicken shit bureaucracy. They have to jump fifty kinds of red tape to get anything done. They are, however, a service. It's time they started acting like one. See Pet Peeve above.
Okay, that's my big bitch for the day. Right, wrong, indifferent, it's Rock's Way.
So. What shall the marching orders be? I can't say do what I do, because that wouldn't by Your Way, would it?
Book of Rock: Believe your own hype, then step up and make others believe it as well. You're the only person selling you. Be confident in what you are, how you wear yourself. It's your skin, be proud you're in it. This is you. There is no other one on the planet. You're one in Six billion. That's damn thin when you figure odds. Make the most of You, but be damn sure you can back that up. Otherwise you've made You look badly, and that's not good.
And a bang on the ear
Tuesday, November 5, 2013
Ahhh!! Bleeding my Friend! You've Returned!!!
I woke up, yes I slept all night, from about 8 or so on. Maybe earlier, I'm not sure, but I'm still sleepy. Odd. Sorry, I digress. I woke up to two things this morning. One started last night. The water heater died. Seems like nothing lasts more than 10 years anymore. Ten years in Midland water is about double the life expectancy. Water softener, YAY! The other was my old friend bleeding throat and mouth.
It's strange, isn't it, the things we get used to seeing and are concerning to us when they aren't happening. I mean good or bad, humans get used to routine. We relish in the fact that something is a constant. The times I've quit smoking for more than a couple of weeks at a pop. Once for two years. I could show you every location I lit a cigarette at while I was at work. I paid attention. I'd leave Location X, my right hand would hit my left shirt pocket looking for a smoke, two years after I quit. Pavlov, you say you've got a dog? We're all like that. In our daily lives, how screwed up do we get if things are exactly in the order they normally go? Especially first thing in the AM. Talk about a Chinese Fire Drill. Knock one of the first things you do in the morning out of whack and it's the rest of the day trying to make sense out of our own mentally induced chaos. The human race is at the top of the food chain because we have the intelligence to build tools that level the playing field. But for God sake why can't we stand having our routine shaken up a bit? It's almost hilarious. I'd laugh at myself when I caught myself in a small quandary as what to do next if my routine got pestered a little. We are far less adaptable than people in the mid to late 1800's, I'm sure. Daily life then may have had a routine, but failure to adapt to sudden change could be fatal then, not just upsetting. You know, like having to skip your morning Latte because some unexpected traffic problem put you 15 minutes behind.
That's the way I was about my throat and mouth bleeding. It wasn't that I was upset I wasn't bleeding. It was more, "I'll be damned, I've not bled for a couple of days. Now what?". And it's not like I'm the kinda guy that waits for the other shoe to drop, I'm usually ready mentally for that, even if it's something unexpected. I changed little things in my routine once in a while. Time and order, mostly. The one constant, unless I was called out early, was coffee at 5 AM. Had to have my Joe. Almost 11 months later, I still miss my cup of mud in the morning. So, I purposely made myself a little more adaptable. That was a year ago. This week a year ago I went on Short Term Disability to care for the cancer that ultimately is killing me. Damn stuff anyway. A guy I know a bit from the Highland Games thought I may have known in May it was killing me. In fact, in May I had high hopes of throwing in that Game the next May. But again, I digress. So, some things that were once not routine are now routine, a year later. Like not sleeping all night. I slept really well, got plenty of rest on five or six hours of sleep. Not anymore. I can't buy a straight night sleep. I did last night, but I forced myself not to sleep all day. I'd been up almost 24 hours when I finally went out. Got about 8 straight, but my God was I hacking up shit this morning. Including a little blood. Even had it trickle out of my non swallowing mouth and onto my chin. Looked like I'd been in a fist fight, with out the split fat lip. Cool, kinda.
See, finding blood in my lung oysters got to be part of my routine. I knew it was going to be there every few days, and it was getting more frequent, if not increasing in volume as well. So, when in the last few days I'd not seen any, I wondered, WTF now? Where's it going? Or did it quit? Who the fuck knew. I only knew it was out of my routine and that, on some level bothered me. Not enough to sweat it, it was nice not seeing the lovely pink stuff every time I had to cough, or suction out my mouth. It was a nice reprieve, yet not, since it wasn't routine anymore. I have gotten so routine ridden, that I put my feed and drug times on the phone alarm. Heaven Forbid that I don't get my two cans of fucking formula exactly at 6, 10, 2 and 6, or that I get my drugs in at 4 and 4. Oh yeah, and working in Keflex now as well. That tossed me a curve last week. Oh God!!! How am I ever going to get this taken 3 times a day???? No, not quite that bad, but a curve none the less.
Why are we this way? Nearly all of us get hung up in routine. Is it comforting to know that things will be the same way every day? Have we lost the ability to adapt to a rapidly changing paradigm to the point we are lost if something unexpected hits? If that's the case, mores the shame on us. Routine is good, and in some people's cases it's needed. But for the majority of us, don't you think we should be more readily adaptable? I had help in being more able to adapt than some. I was on call from 1990 until until 2011. On any given night, I was liable to be woken up from a dead sleep, and on my way to work in the dark. All so I could figure out what the problem was, find a fix, or shut it down until we could get things fixed. It's the oil field, 99.99% of the time it was fix it. There was no shutting it down. Especially the injection system. That meant shutting down the entire field. That shit wasn't happening. So, I had help learning to adapt. So did some of the folks that played team sports. It's often adapt or lose. Right guys? I wrestled a little, and later in life threw heavy shit in the Highland Games. Both of those are individual sports. More my speed, I lost it was on me, not a team effort, or someone else's fault, all mine. I like that better. All that said, I did learn to adapt a bit better, I had to in order to do my job even halfway correctly. So why is it so hard in our personal life to have a daily routine shaken up even a little. If there's an answer on the other side of the door at the time I reach Critical Mass, I'll text and let someone know. Don't be stingy, share.
Book Of Rock: If you're not willing to work harder than anyone else to prove your own hype wasn't just bullshit, shut up and let someone who's willing to do that take over.
I busted my ass after telling my boss I could do the Tech job. That I'd make him glad he'd put me in that position. That meant being at work an hour before the pumpers got there. I checked the status of the POC's we had on telemetry. I knew before they did if they had problems. That also meant staying late getting reports out to them on fluid levels. Generally on Friday night, but they got them every week, by pumper not just willy nilly.
The young man that took my spot, and later left to go into sales, and I hope he's very successful. If it's better for him, that's great. Well, for months he complained he didn't like relief pumping. I'd make sure I had all my tests finished and nothing in test for him to mess with. I cleaned meters and had as many of the well heads as I could get to cleaned. He really only had to check tanks and keep things running.
So, he gets my route to pump full time. Bitched about that being so much work. Why aren't the tester meters working? Well, bud, because I had to clean them nearly every time I put a well in test. You didn't have to dick with that, remember? Damn, there's a lot of stuffing boxes leaking. Yep, they'll do that, gotta take care of it every day, but I made sure they weren't before I left them for you. You wanted it, welcome to full time pumping. Stop bitching and do your job.
So often these days the squeaky wheel does get the grease. If they can do what they say they can, then fine, that shut up the bitching. If they can't, it means most of us are going to have to step up to cover the short fall of the bitching person. Don't be me, be civil. When you're asked, and inevitably you will be asked about a promoted person's ability. Be nice, be soft in your speech, but mostly be honest. If they suck, find some diplomatic way to say so. Remember the boss that's asking is the same one that promoted, so they won't want to look at themselves as foolish. I, on the other hand, took years to figure out that saying things like "That dense bastard couldn't find his ass with both hands, a map and fucking compass". All that accomplished was make the head honcho look like an idiot for promoting Captain Complainer. Things like "Well, there are places he really needs improvement." Then have those places in a list. And be specific about what changes YOU'D make to do the job better. If that means sending them off to a school or two, so be it. Now, there's a method to that madness. The more you ask the Squeaky Wheel to take on as a responsibility, the less they can generally handle. They'll self implode. Honest ones, and there are a few, will step back on their own. The others will fuck up so badly they'll get demoted. Seen it happen, never had the sense to lay it out in the terms I mentioned earlier. I was too blunt. Turns out blunt works sometimes, not always.
Be good today, and make yourself proud. After all, if you're proud of yourself, chances are you've made someone else proud of you as well.
For fun, torpedo run a crowd of folks at Wal-Mart. If you have to ask what that is, chances are you better not do it! HA!!!
It's strange, isn't it, the things we get used to seeing and are concerning to us when they aren't happening. I mean good or bad, humans get used to routine. We relish in the fact that something is a constant. The times I've quit smoking for more than a couple of weeks at a pop. Once for two years. I could show you every location I lit a cigarette at while I was at work. I paid attention. I'd leave Location X, my right hand would hit my left shirt pocket looking for a smoke, two years after I quit. Pavlov, you say you've got a dog? We're all like that. In our daily lives, how screwed up do we get if things are exactly in the order they normally go? Especially first thing in the AM. Talk about a Chinese Fire Drill. Knock one of the first things you do in the morning out of whack and it's the rest of the day trying to make sense out of our own mentally induced chaos. The human race is at the top of the food chain because we have the intelligence to build tools that level the playing field. But for God sake why can't we stand having our routine shaken up a bit? It's almost hilarious. I'd laugh at myself when I caught myself in a small quandary as what to do next if my routine got pestered a little. We are far less adaptable than people in the mid to late 1800's, I'm sure. Daily life then may have had a routine, but failure to adapt to sudden change could be fatal then, not just upsetting. You know, like having to skip your morning Latte because some unexpected traffic problem put you 15 minutes behind.
That's the way I was about my throat and mouth bleeding. It wasn't that I was upset I wasn't bleeding. It was more, "I'll be damned, I've not bled for a couple of days. Now what?". And it's not like I'm the kinda guy that waits for the other shoe to drop, I'm usually ready mentally for that, even if it's something unexpected. I changed little things in my routine once in a while. Time and order, mostly. The one constant, unless I was called out early, was coffee at 5 AM. Had to have my Joe. Almost 11 months later, I still miss my cup of mud in the morning. So, I purposely made myself a little more adaptable. That was a year ago. This week a year ago I went on Short Term Disability to care for the cancer that ultimately is killing me. Damn stuff anyway. A guy I know a bit from the Highland Games thought I may have known in May it was killing me. In fact, in May I had high hopes of throwing in that Game the next May. But again, I digress. So, some things that were once not routine are now routine, a year later. Like not sleeping all night. I slept really well, got plenty of rest on five or six hours of sleep. Not anymore. I can't buy a straight night sleep. I did last night, but I forced myself not to sleep all day. I'd been up almost 24 hours when I finally went out. Got about 8 straight, but my God was I hacking up shit this morning. Including a little blood. Even had it trickle out of my non swallowing mouth and onto my chin. Looked like I'd been in a fist fight, with out the split fat lip. Cool, kinda.
See, finding blood in my lung oysters got to be part of my routine. I knew it was going to be there every few days, and it was getting more frequent, if not increasing in volume as well. So, when in the last few days I'd not seen any, I wondered, WTF now? Where's it going? Or did it quit? Who the fuck knew. I only knew it was out of my routine and that, on some level bothered me. Not enough to sweat it, it was nice not seeing the lovely pink stuff every time I had to cough, or suction out my mouth. It was a nice reprieve, yet not, since it wasn't routine anymore. I have gotten so routine ridden, that I put my feed and drug times on the phone alarm. Heaven Forbid that I don't get my two cans of fucking formula exactly at 6, 10, 2 and 6, or that I get my drugs in at 4 and 4. Oh yeah, and working in Keflex now as well. That tossed me a curve last week. Oh God!!! How am I ever going to get this taken 3 times a day???? No, not quite that bad, but a curve none the less.
Why are we this way? Nearly all of us get hung up in routine. Is it comforting to know that things will be the same way every day? Have we lost the ability to adapt to a rapidly changing paradigm to the point we are lost if something unexpected hits? If that's the case, mores the shame on us. Routine is good, and in some people's cases it's needed. But for the majority of us, don't you think we should be more readily adaptable? I had help in being more able to adapt than some. I was on call from 1990 until until 2011. On any given night, I was liable to be woken up from a dead sleep, and on my way to work in the dark. All so I could figure out what the problem was, find a fix, or shut it down until we could get things fixed. It's the oil field, 99.99% of the time it was fix it. There was no shutting it down. Especially the injection system. That meant shutting down the entire field. That shit wasn't happening. So, I had help learning to adapt. So did some of the folks that played team sports. It's often adapt or lose. Right guys? I wrestled a little, and later in life threw heavy shit in the Highland Games. Both of those are individual sports. More my speed, I lost it was on me, not a team effort, or someone else's fault, all mine. I like that better. All that said, I did learn to adapt a bit better, I had to in order to do my job even halfway correctly. So why is it so hard in our personal life to have a daily routine shaken up even a little. If there's an answer on the other side of the door at the time I reach Critical Mass, I'll text and let someone know. Don't be stingy, share.
Book Of Rock: If you're not willing to work harder than anyone else to prove your own hype wasn't just bullshit, shut up and let someone who's willing to do that take over.
I busted my ass after telling my boss I could do the Tech job. That I'd make him glad he'd put me in that position. That meant being at work an hour before the pumpers got there. I checked the status of the POC's we had on telemetry. I knew before they did if they had problems. That also meant staying late getting reports out to them on fluid levels. Generally on Friday night, but they got them every week, by pumper not just willy nilly.
The young man that took my spot, and later left to go into sales, and I hope he's very successful. If it's better for him, that's great. Well, for months he complained he didn't like relief pumping. I'd make sure I had all my tests finished and nothing in test for him to mess with. I cleaned meters and had as many of the well heads as I could get to cleaned. He really only had to check tanks and keep things running.
So, he gets my route to pump full time. Bitched about that being so much work. Why aren't the tester meters working? Well, bud, because I had to clean them nearly every time I put a well in test. You didn't have to dick with that, remember? Damn, there's a lot of stuffing boxes leaking. Yep, they'll do that, gotta take care of it every day, but I made sure they weren't before I left them for you. You wanted it, welcome to full time pumping. Stop bitching and do your job.
So often these days the squeaky wheel does get the grease. If they can do what they say they can, then fine, that shut up the bitching. If they can't, it means most of us are going to have to step up to cover the short fall of the bitching person. Don't be me, be civil. When you're asked, and inevitably you will be asked about a promoted person's ability. Be nice, be soft in your speech, but mostly be honest. If they suck, find some diplomatic way to say so. Remember the boss that's asking is the same one that promoted, so they won't want to look at themselves as foolish. I, on the other hand, took years to figure out that saying things like "That dense bastard couldn't find his ass with both hands, a map and fucking compass". All that accomplished was make the head honcho look like an idiot for promoting Captain Complainer. Things like "Well, there are places he really needs improvement." Then have those places in a list. And be specific about what changes YOU'D make to do the job better. If that means sending them off to a school or two, so be it. Now, there's a method to that madness. The more you ask the Squeaky Wheel to take on as a responsibility, the less they can generally handle. They'll self implode. Honest ones, and there are a few, will step back on their own. The others will fuck up so badly they'll get demoted. Seen it happen, never had the sense to lay it out in the terms I mentioned earlier. I was too blunt. Turns out blunt works sometimes, not always.
Be good today, and make yourself proud. After all, if you're proud of yourself, chances are you've made someone else proud of you as well.
For fun, torpedo run a crowd of folks at Wal-Mart. If you have to ask what that is, chances are you better not do it! HA!!!
Monday, November 4, 2013
Damn, I'm Moping and I Hate Moping
It's true, yesterday I was moping. Geez frickin Louise I hate that!!! Walking around like someone kicked the piss out of your best friends dog is just a useless waste of time. Quite frankly, if it's big enough a problem to mope about, it's big enough to either fix because you can, let it go because you can't fix or change it, or learn to deal with it and pull up your big boy britches. So, why was I moping? Chili. The one meal I really look forward to in the fall. The hell with all that turkey and stuffing and fixings, be thankful every day, not just once a year. Besides, all that cooking and sweating and fixing of desserts and things you normally don't eat, and the meal is over in 30 minutes and everyone is crashed out on the couch. Nope, Chili night, that's my favorite fall meal. When we moved here, we had to adjust the temperature it was outside to warrant that first big pot of chili. We had to move the temp up....at lot. Up there in Kansas, we waited until the high was just under 40....Down here if we wait that long it'd be half past February before we got a good bowl of home made chili. So yeah, I look forward to that, and while it was cooking yesterday I got a bit down in the mouth about it. Nothing I can do about it at all, it's something I knew was gonna come up and I didn't prep myself for it. Silly really. It's chili for God sake, not something that would save my life if I could only swallow it like a normal person. Nope, I let it get to me. Dopey man, dopey
It may be too, that I've got my days and nights turned 180. I slept damn near all day yesterday. I couldn't force myself to stay awake. So yeah, I woke up to the aroma of softly simmering chili. Wow.
Something so small really, and it's actually the one thing I am missing most right now. And it's not like I didn't fix chili all the time when I could eat. I love chili dogs, so I'd make a batch for chili dogs. I wanted to fix something like a soup, only better...chili. We had it all year round. But that first batch when the weather cools off is the best of the lot.
So then, to top that I off. I got caught up in, and how this happened I've got no frickin clue, "Used to could" Syndrome. I think everybody does that once in a while. I kept comparing myself to ten or fifteen years ago. I can't do that, for shit sake. I'm not even in as good of shape as I was last weekend. So comparing myself to things I could do ten years ago is just dumb. It made me feel badly, and that's gotta come to an end. It's not that comparing yourself to see if you've become a better person is bad, comparing what you could do physically, when you already know you're incredibly more weak than you were is just setting yourself up to feel bad. And ya know, it DID!! I'm down to having to practice what I preach more.
Okay, the mopery is finished. I still didn't sleep at all last night. I knew at 2100 hrs that I wasn't going to be able to sleep. I could feel myself waking up. Then, like most things in life, I began to fight that with the hope I'd wear myself out. What I did was make my mind so active there was no way it was going to shut down anytime soon. I was right, it didn't. It's starting to now, but I am also starting my day, so I'll be sleeping a lot...again. I don't even mind not sleeping. I didn't when I was healthy, why should I sweat it now? Because I feel like shit now is why! I can't NOT sleep. It makes me worse in ways I didn't think I'd ever notice. My aches and pain that is associated with the cancer and surgeries, it's worse. Mostly because I'm not clear enough headed to teach it how to lay down just a little so my body gets a break. That means I take more of the pain med during the day. Not over dosing on it, but using it more often, following the prescription, of course. I have a pain patch, and normally it takes care of me pretty well. I take a dose of Lortab in the AM, that gets a jump on break out pain. Normally I don't need but one more dose at night, to stay ahead of the night pain I get once in a while. So, two doses instead of four in twenty-four hours. Yesterday I got all four in, in twenty four hours. I couldn't stay ahead of the pain, mostly because I hadn't slept at night. During the day, when I sleep, my head goes 4million directions, I think, because my neck, inside and out, is killing me. Check the time, yep Lortab time. And with the fentanyl patch, Lortab actually works.
What will I do differently today? For starters I have therapy this morning. Then when I get home I'm going to purposely sleep. And I'll keep working on getting my days and nights back in line with the rest of the healthy world. I'm not certain why I want that, really. It's not like I have a job to go to. Therapy twice a week and taking The Boy to school are all I really have to do. Still, to fall in line with what normal people do for working hours (night shift folks, that's not a slam, you know what I'm talking about) just so I can get things done if I want. And then that's when Hospice and everything or one shows up. During the day, not at 0300. Getting my days back in order isn't terribly important, but it's a goal to work toward. Small? Yes. Life or death meeting? Hell no. Just something for me to work on fixing for myself. I feel my ass backward days are doomed. We'll see
Plus side things: While I haven't been sleeping at the appointed hours, I'm not bleeding any so far. That's a big plus. It's a bit disconcerting to see your own blood in your "cough" towel, and in the suction pot. It looks like a lot, but it's not, really. I think I've probably cut myself worse. The difference is that this is coming from inside me, instead of outside some place. A few years ago a caber got squirrelly on me and raked my right ear. I bled like a nut, but no one panicked. I laughed about it. When it's coming from inside you, and a bit quicker than the Doc. guessed it would be. That's probably what bugs me. And there is enough things that bug me about this dying bullshit I don't need to throw that on there as well. Right?
Book Of Rock: Stop over thinking every fucking thing!! Life ain't rocket science, unless that's what you do for a living. But working isn't always life, either.
Man, I mean really. If you are doing something, trust yourself. Your intuition is probably right. Thinking about it over and over and over again doesn't fix the problem, it means you've wasted time living over something you can't always fix.
It's like competing in the Heavy Athletics. You train. Your body knows how to do it right. But if you start worrying about whether you're spin technique is good, and you keep nit picking it, the next thing you know you're throwing for shit. Back me up here, fellow Heavy's.
And for your own sake, relax. Work as hard as you can. With out over thinking what you're doing, and relax while you're doing it, then your distance will improve. And that applies just as well to work.
Have fun today, minions LOL
OH! Side note. I napped and dreamed I was eating a chili dog. It was so realistic that I tried to chew. I can fell that because my jaw woke me up. It didn't like trying to chew and made a good effort of dislocating it self.
Really, Hugs and all that shit
It may be too, that I've got my days and nights turned 180. I slept damn near all day yesterday. I couldn't force myself to stay awake. So yeah, I woke up to the aroma of softly simmering chili. Wow.
Something so small really, and it's actually the one thing I am missing most right now. And it's not like I didn't fix chili all the time when I could eat. I love chili dogs, so I'd make a batch for chili dogs. I wanted to fix something like a soup, only better...chili. We had it all year round. But that first batch when the weather cools off is the best of the lot.
So then, to top that I off. I got caught up in, and how this happened I've got no frickin clue, "Used to could" Syndrome. I think everybody does that once in a while. I kept comparing myself to ten or fifteen years ago. I can't do that, for shit sake. I'm not even in as good of shape as I was last weekend. So comparing myself to things I could do ten years ago is just dumb. It made me feel badly, and that's gotta come to an end. It's not that comparing yourself to see if you've become a better person is bad, comparing what you could do physically, when you already know you're incredibly more weak than you were is just setting yourself up to feel bad. And ya know, it DID!! I'm down to having to practice what I preach more.
Okay, the mopery is finished. I still didn't sleep at all last night. I knew at 2100 hrs that I wasn't going to be able to sleep. I could feel myself waking up. Then, like most things in life, I began to fight that with the hope I'd wear myself out. What I did was make my mind so active there was no way it was going to shut down anytime soon. I was right, it didn't. It's starting to now, but I am also starting my day, so I'll be sleeping a lot...again. I don't even mind not sleeping. I didn't when I was healthy, why should I sweat it now? Because I feel like shit now is why! I can't NOT sleep. It makes me worse in ways I didn't think I'd ever notice. My aches and pain that is associated with the cancer and surgeries, it's worse. Mostly because I'm not clear enough headed to teach it how to lay down just a little so my body gets a break. That means I take more of the pain med during the day. Not over dosing on it, but using it more often, following the prescription, of course. I have a pain patch, and normally it takes care of me pretty well. I take a dose of Lortab in the AM, that gets a jump on break out pain. Normally I don't need but one more dose at night, to stay ahead of the night pain I get once in a while. So, two doses instead of four in twenty-four hours. Yesterday I got all four in, in twenty four hours. I couldn't stay ahead of the pain, mostly because I hadn't slept at night. During the day, when I sleep, my head goes 4million directions, I think, because my neck, inside and out, is killing me. Check the time, yep Lortab time. And with the fentanyl patch, Lortab actually works.
What will I do differently today? For starters I have therapy this morning. Then when I get home I'm going to purposely sleep. And I'll keep working on getting my days and nights back in line with the rest of the healthy world. I'm not certain why I want that, really. It's not like I have a job to go to. Therapy twice a week and taking The Boy to school are all I really have to do. Still, to fall in line with what normal people do for working hours (night shift folks, that's not a slam, you know what I'm talking about) just so I can get things done if I want. And then that's when Hospice and everything or one shows up. During the day, not at 0300. Getting my days back in order isn't terribly important, but it's a goal to work toward. Small? Yes. Life or death meeting? Hell no. Just something for me to work on fixing for myself. I feel my ass backward days are doomed. We'll see
Plus side things: While I haven't been sleeping at the appointed hours, I'm not bleeding any so far. That's a big plus. It's a bit disconcerting to see your own blood in your "cough" towel, and in the suction pot. It looks like a lot, but it's not, really. I think I've probably cut myself worse. The difference is that this is coming from inside me, instead of outside some place. A few years ago a caber got squirrelly on me and raked my right ear. I bled like a nut, but no one panicked. I laughed about it. When it's coming from inside you, and a bit quicker than the Doc. guessed it would be. That's probably what bugs me. And there is enough things that bug me about this dying bullshit I don't need to throw that on there as well. Right?
Book Of Rock: Stop over thinking every fucking thing!! Life ain't rocket science, unless that's what you do for a living. But working isn't always life, either.
Man, I mean really. If you are doing something, trust yourself. Your intuition is probably right. Thinking about it over and over and over again doesn't fix the problem, it means you've wasted time living over something you can't always fix.
It's like competing in the Heavy Athletics. You train. Your body knows how to do it right. But if you start worrying about whether you're spin technique is good, and you keep nit picking it, the next thing you know you're throwing for shit. Back me up here, fellow Heavy's.
And for your own sake, relax. Work as hard as you can. With out over thinking what you're doing, and relax while you're doing it, then your distance will improve. And that applies just as well to work.
Have fun today, minions LOL
OH! Side note. I napped and dreamed I was eating a chili dog. It was so realistic that I tried to chew. I can fell that because my jaw woke me up. It didn't like trying to chew and made a good effort of dislocating it self.
Really, Hugs and all that shit
Sunday, November 3, 2013
I hate being sick.
Sure I hate being sick, who doesn't? But when you're already fighting cancer, it's like a damn slap in the face to get a bug. Boy, did I get a bug. Not only didn't I sleep, I spent that time trying to keep from throwing up. I did manage to sleep Friday, a little. Then I went to see my son march and play the tuba. They were one person short. He gave up his 3rd chair coronet spot, that he earned as a freshman, and volunteered to take on the tuba. He does well with it too. I'm pretty damn proud of him. But, of course there's caveat, I threw up an hour or so before we were gonna leave for the game. It's a mess, it wears me out, it makes me cranky, and it just plain sucks. So, I get calmed down from that, do the evening meds, and head out with my youngest daughter to watch her little brother march. We got there about 15 minutes before the coin toss, the band played the Star Spangled Banner. It still pisses me off when grown men my age can't take their fucking ball cap or cowboy off, and can't seem to find their heart with their right hand, when the National Anthem is played. Midland a patriot town? Not from what I've seen. Only when it makes them feel good about themselves or is convenient. Anyway, good game, I'm starting to hurt all over. Half time and the The Mighty Lee Rebel band is playing. They are good too. Suddenly I see why my kid is pissed off this year with his band. 3 trombone players, who've done the same routine all year, screw the pooch and forget where they are supposed to be. I feel Dec's frustration. I'm glad I got to watch him at least one more time, and the last time I'll see him march for a football game. Sometime tomorrow, if I'm not napping, I'll write him a letter telling him how proud I am of him and his hard work. In case he doesn't know that already.
This will probably be really short, since I've not slept again during the night. I don't know what it is. I got damn near 8 hours Friday into Saturday, the about a 3 hour nap. I suspect the nap is what did it, although I've napped like that before and gone straight to sleep. I didn't sleep Thursday, because I was afraid I'd puke and might aspirate a lot before I could get myself taken care of properly. I'd hate to give myself pneumonia because I aspirated vomit. How fun....not. So, I did sleep a bit on Friday during the day. But I purposely tried not to nap so I could sleep Friday night. And I did. From Midnight until eight Saturday morning. Kinda threw my feed/med times out of whack, but what the hell, I slept. Then I slept from 10-11, then from 1 until 4 PM, now I'm wide awake, a little over twelve hours after that last nap. Holy drool Batman, I need to get my patterns back in order.
There was a block party tonight that I forgot, or didn't know about. Chemo/Cancer brain is piss poor on short term stuff. Well, not all short term. But some. Lots of really good looking food. I kinda shy away from stuff like that, because I have pretty decent neighbors. I say that because I spent a lot of my time way crowded in, because the neighbors want to see how I'm doing. Genuinely, they want to know. But I get sorta claustrophobic in big crowds. Or tightly packed crowded space. I can be in the smallest of places at work I'm fine. Put me in a crowd that just keeps getting more tightly packed, I'll show you near panic. I've got really good neighbors. Probably better toward me that I have been in the past. I like all of them, but I didn't hang around with them much. We talk, we laugh, we've all had big meals at each others houses, generally for the entire block, or my birthday. I really am going to miss them, because they honestly care about each other on the block. That's a bit on the short end now days. This has always been kind of an old school block. We've all known each other, look out for each other and our kids. We've even wanted to throw down on each other once in a while. You know, like the good old days. The damnable shame of right now is this: I'd have loved to sat around and shot the shit with the neighbors, even if it meant writing everything out, skipping eating, or have that really good looking, extra damn cold bottle of beer I saw floating around. I couldn't though. The damn pain decided about 15 minutes after I got there to kick into over drive and knock the starch out of my sails. From my neck down to my waist was either a throbbing ache (muscle) or a stabbing pain (mouth and neck, assume here that it was cancer acting up) and I had to come home to take pain meds and sit. Bless their hearts, I gotta make it longer next weekend for the Goodbye Rocky BBQ. I wanted to call it the "Annual Goodbye Rocky BBQ" but that seemed kinda out of place.
Thanks to all of you friends of mine, old and new, and followers of this blog. You all checked on me a lot, and I appreciate that. I just didn't feel like writing anything, because I couldn't keep a clear thought running long enough for me to type it out. That's sad, because I'm a really slow typist. All of you are part of the reason I do the blog. Family first, then all you guys. I felt, when I started this, that Tom Godfrey should just shush, because I was gonna do a blog after about a month of pestering me to start one. I don't think it's the one he had in mind, but it's a blog. I don't know about all of you readers, but this is a damn good thing for me, on a therapeutic level. I can blow off some steam here. I get to put the thoughts that bother me on here. All the things I used to hash out with someone I could talk too, are on the blog now. It helps keep me a bit more even keeled, and I'm not constantly trying to tell Liz what's going on. She needs a break from all the shit that's going on with this. Everyone in the family does. It's a burden to carry all that they are feeling now, and I am unable to fix that. It bugs me to the Nth degree, because that's what Rocky did, he fixed things. All the time. Right now I'm the one that needs fixing, and that's a new role for me. I do as much for myself as I am able. Later on I'll need more help that I care to admit, so I'm hoping I'm kinda preparing the family for that time. It's gonna suck, and I'll probably be a pain in the ass for a while. No, no probably, I will be a pain in the ass.
So, here I sit Medicated up, dozing off, and snapping back awake. Sometimes when I do that I find several lines of "F" or "D" and many other letters that I've fallen asleep with enough pressure on that finger to let it repeat. Looks funny as hell, I laugh.
So, after being sick, I'm still way tired and my sleep patterns are all dicked up. It'll get better I'm sure.
Sunday's To Do....Live life like a toddler. Everything is new, cool, and in some cases, goes right into your mouth. Kids are smarter than adults, they'll try everything without hesitation. Not always safe, but at least they are learning, right?
Love ya kids.
This will probably be really short, since I've not slept again during the night. I don't know what it is. I got damn near 8 hours Friday into Saturday, the about a 3 hour nap. I suspect the nap is what did it, although I've napped like that before and gone straight to sleep. I didn't sleep Thursday, because I was afraid I'd puke and might aspirate a lot before I could get myself taken care of properly. I'd hate to give myself pneumonia because I aspirated vomit. How fun....not. So, I did sleep a bit on Friday during the day. But I purposely tried not to nap so I could sleep Friday night. And I did. From Midnight until eight Saturday morning. Kinda threw my feed/med times out of whack, but what the hell, I slept. Then I slept from 10-11, then from 1 until 4 PM, now I'm wide awake, a little over twelve hours after that last nap. Holy drool Batman, I need to get my patterns back in order.
There was a block party tonight that I forgot, or didn't know about. Chemo/Cancer brain is piss poor on short term stuff. Well, not all short term. But some. Lots of really good looking food. I kinda shy away from stuff like that, because I have pretty decent neighbors. I say that because I spent a lot of my time way crowded in, because the neighbors want to see how I'm doing. Genuinely, they want to know. But I get sorta claustrophobic in big crowds. Or tightly packed crowded space. I can be in the smallest of places at work I'm fine. Put me in a crowd that just keeps getting more tightly packed, I'll show you near panic. I've got really good neighbors. Probably better toward me that I have been in the past. I like all of them, but I didn't hang around with them much. We talk, we laugh, we've all had big meals at each others houses, generally for the entire block, or my birthday. I really am going to miss them, because they honestly care about each other on the block. That's a bit on the short end now days. This has always been kind of an old school block. We've all known each other, look out for each other and our kids. We've even wanted to throw down on each other once in a while. You know, like the good old days. The damnable shame of right now is this: I'd have loved to sat around and shot the shit with the neighbors, even if it meant writing everything out, skipping eating, or have that really good looking, extra damn cold bottle of beer I saw floating around. I couldn't though. The damn pain decided about 15 minutes after I got there to kick into over drive and knock the starch out of my sails. From my neck down to my waist was either a throbbing ache (muscle) or a stabbing pain (mouth and neck, assume here that it was cancer acting up) and I had to come home to take pain meds and sit. Bless their hearts, I gotta make it longer next weekend for the Goodbye Rocky BBQ. I wanted to call it the "Annual Goodbye Rocky BBQ" but that seemed kinda out of place.
Thanks to all of you friends of mine, old and new, and followers of this blog. You all checked on me a lot, and I appreciate that. I just didn't feel like writing anything, because I couldn't keep a clear thought running long enough for me to type it out. That's sad, because I'm a really slow typist. All of you are part of the reason I do the blog. Family first, then all you guys. I felt, when I started this, that Tom Godfrey should just shush, because I was gonna do a blog after about a month of pestering me to start one. I don't think it's the one he had in mind, but it's a blog. I don't know about all of you readers, but this is a damn good thing for me, on a therapeutic level. I can blow off some steam here. I get to put the thoughts that bother me on here. All the things I used to hash out with someone I could talk too, are on the blog now. It helps keep me a bit more even keeled, and I'm not constantly trying to tell Liz what's going on. She needs a break from all the shit that's going on with this. Everyone in the family does. It's a burden to carry all that they are feeling now, and I am unable to fix that. It bugs me to the Nth degree, because that's what Rocky did, he fixed things. All the time. Right now I'm the one that needs fixing, and that's a new role for me. I do as much for myself as I am able. Later on I'll need more help that I care to admit, so I'm hoping I'm kinda preparing the family for that time. It's gonna suck, and I'll probably be a pain in the ass for a while. No, no probably, I will be a pain in the ass.
So, here I sit Medicated up, dozing off, and snapping back awake. Sometimes when I do that I find several lines of "F" or "D" and many other letters that I've fallen asleep with enough pressure on that finger to let it repeat. Looks funny as hell, I laugh.
So, after being sick, I'm still way tired and my sleep patterns are all dicked up. It'll get better I'm sure.
Sunday's To Do....Live life like a toddler. Everything is new, cool, and in some cases, goes right into your mouth. Kids are smarter than adults, they'll try everything without hesitation. Not always safe, but at least they are learning, right?
Love ya kids.
Wednesday, October 30, 2013
Boy howdy, sometimes....
Boy howdy! Sometimes sleep just ain't gonna be there regardless of how badly I want it to be there. I thought I'd try an sleep in my own bed last night. It's a nice place to sleep, all soft and comfortable. I'm not sure why it wasn't so happy a place last night, and that could have been a coincidence, but I woke up coughing. That went on for sometime, then when I got myself all settled down and ready to go to sleep, I was wide awake. Honestly I think it was 70% bed, 30% me. After all, I end up on my right side when I sleep in the bed. That cuts down on the hacking, or used to, but also makes it a bit uncomfortable in the long run. I end up trying to work out a way that I can sleep in the bed, and bring all the other drugs I'm supposed to take to good use. That gets harder to do. So I end up back in the recliner, where I can drop off and not even notice I've done it. Like this morning. Wide awake at 0330, did my drug business, sat down at 0425 to feed. I didn't make it to feeding time. I fell right to sleep and didn't wake up until 0505. NOW I can feed and sit around awaiting time to take a shower and get ready for my day. I would have rather gone to SBucks to have coffee with my buddies, but that wasn't how it was going to work this morning. Rats.
So, I wrote about how Monday was a really good day until around 1100. Yesterday was weird. Normally my voice is really soft now, and kind of raspy. Yesterday it was like puberty all over again. I'd have flashes of a really strong voice, followed by long moments where I'd just as soon had kept my mouth shut. Weird. In some ways weird. In other ways probably not. I know that it's more difficult for me to speak where people can understand me, including family. So I talk less and write way more. Why? Because it's frustrating for both of us if I'm hard to understand. And I hear "I'm sorry, I didn't get that" an awful lot. It's okay, because it's not your fault if you can't understand me. In my mind I hear it perfectly clearly. Unfortunately it comes out all garbled and shit. It's frustrating for the person I'm talking with, and about half embarrassing for myself. Yeah yeah yeah, I know. I shouldn't be embarrassed by something I can't change readily. But I get that way, so there.
The rest of the day wasn't so weird. It's more like it was last week. I wore out quickly, was short of breath, got cramps (more water, bozo), and hurt just a little more. I was back at an 8 early on in the day, but like usual that backs off and settles in about a 4. Yesterday it settled in around a 6. So yes, I took some extra pain meds and it finally laid down all together, and stayed that way until this morning when I woke up from sleep and coughing, and nap, where it's about a 6 now. I took some pain meds first thing when I did the daily drug regimen, so I got a jump on the pain this morning. Not a bad thing. I will start doing that. I know that this is going to be part of the course the cancer is running, and I'm going to have to cheat my way around just to keep it simmering on the back burner. I feel, though, like it's just waiting to make another big run at growth. I've not felt that in a while, so I'm fairly certain the odds are in the cancer's favor. We'll see, though, maybe I've scared it. HA!
People still tend to look at me funny. I do have that kinda "stare at me" visage. But the adults are the ones that crack me up. Kids, they don't give a shit, and they'll flat out ask what happened to me. I have to be careful with the kids though. I don't want to lie, and I don't want to get too technical either. Riding that thin line is sometimes a challenge. "I got sick, and to help make me get better they had to do a lot of surgery and take out a lot of parts in my mouth." That tends to work pretty well with most kids. I get a lot of follow up like "Will you get better?", No, I won't get any better. "Wow, that's too bad", the it's off to play. Adults would serve themselves better it they acted more like kids around me. Some get very self righteous "I guess that will teach you for not living a Christian lifestyle". Odd, you're being a judgmental prick, I wonder why God hasn't struck you down as well? That tends to slow them up just a bit. Adults tend to think they have all the answers, where as kids are pretty sure they don't have the right answers up in the tree house. Often, though, they do have the right questions. And are pretty damn direct with them. Bless their little hearts, I hope I can answer their questions about what happens to me without scaring them. I know that my own grandson and I get along better every day. Mostly because we are used to one another. I know he can understand a little of what I say, but not everything, and isn't afraid to look me in the eye and say "I can't understand what you're saying". No sweat, I write it out for him.
It's getting close the time of year when I got diagnosed and went on Short Term Disability. Yep, one year ago around November 1. Crazy how time flies. I need to get back out to my field office with cupcakes or something to celebrate. It's hard to believe it's been a year. I was, at the time, figuring that chemotherapy would stop it flat out again. Turns out no, it's used to that stuff, and all the chemo did was make me miserable and shrink the tumor in my throat down enough so I didn't choke to death in the interim. I was still pretty gung ho a few weeks down the road when the explained about the surgery. The doc even explained how if they didn't get it all, that there wasn't much they could do for me this time, since I'd had so much radiation the first time. He explained how all that would be left was palliative care. He also said that had a pretty thin chance of happening. Turned out that the thin chance came back around to visit and set itself in motion. The rat bastard. Oh well, this is what it is, and there's no use in cursing the dark because I forgot my candle. Life goes on. Sometimes it goes on for me pretty damn well, other times it goes on for me like a truck load of bullshit. It just keeps piling up. You'd think it would topple, wouldn't you? Anyway, it's back, it's almost a year later, and my time is slipping away faster than I'd like it to. I'd like to wake up one morning, be able to swallow anything, not bleed for a day or two and be able to move around very freely without help. THAT would be cool. I dream of that once in a while. Not often, but enough to want to keep waking up so I can prove him wrong.
Book of Rock: "This is too hard, I can't do it". There's a load of bullshit for ya. Sure, sometimes there are things that can't be fixed. They are usually things out of our control. Most stuff though, we can fix, or work through, or go around. First you have to use that lump on top of your neck for something other than a hat rack. Think first. Sort out the problem in priorities and got at it a bit at a time. Generally, it can be fixed. But saying it's "Too Hard" kills that chance before you even get started.
Enjoy watching a bit of nature today. Yes, nature includes people. We are the funniest creatures on God's green earth. Need a laugh, watch people]
Yep, hugs and shit, still
So, I wrote about how Monday was a really good day until around 1100. Yesterday was weird. Normally my voice is really soft now, and kind of raspy. Yesterday it was like puberty all over again. I'd have flashes of a really strong voice, followed by long moments where I'd just as soon had kept my mouth shut. Weird. In some ways weird. In other ways probably not. I know that it's more difficult for me to speak where people can understand me, including family. So I talk less and write way more. Why? Because it's frustrating for both of us if I'm hard to understand. And I hear "I'm sorry, I didn't get that" an awful lot. It's okay, because it's not your fault if you can't understand me. In my mind I hear it perfectly clearly. Unfortunately it comes out all garbled and shit. It's frustrating for the person I'm talking with, and about half embarrassing for myself. Yeah yeah yeah, I know. I shouldn't be embarrassed by something I can't change readily. But I get that way, so there.
The rest of the day wasn't so weird. It's more like it was last week. I wore out quickly, was short of breath, got cramps (more water, bozo), and hurt just a little more. I was back at an 8 early on in the day, but like usual that backs off and settles in about a 4. Yesterday it settled in around a 6. So yes, I took some extra pain meds and it finally laid down all together, and stayed that way until this morning when I woke up from sleep and coughing, and nap, where it's about a 6 now. I took some pain meds first thing when I did the daily drug regimen, so I got a jump on the pain this morning. Not a bad thing. I will start doing that. I know that this is going to be part of the course the cancer is running, and I'm going to have to cheat my way around just to keep it simmering on the back burner. I feel, though, like it's just waiting to make another big run at growth. I've not felt that in a while, so I'm fairly certain the odds are in the cancer's favor. We'll see, though, maybe I've scared it. HA!
People still tend to look at me funny. I do have that kinda "stare at me" visage. But the adults are the ones that crack me up. Kids, they don't give a shit, and they'll flat out ask what happened to me. I have to be careful with the kids though. I don't want to lie, and I don't want to get too technical either. Riding that thin line is sometimes a challenge. "I got sick, and to help make me get better they had to do a lot of surgery and take out a lot of parts in my mouth." That tends to work pretty well with most kids. I get a lot of follow up like "Will you get better?", No, I won't get any better. "Wow, that's too bad", the it's off to play. Adults would serve themselves better it they acted more like kids around me. Some get very self righteous "I guess that will teach you for not living a Christian lifestyle". Odd, you're being a judgmental prick, I wonder why God hasn't struck you down as well? That tends to slow them up just a bit. Adults tend to think they have all the answers, where as kids are pretty sure they don't have the right answers up in the tree house. Often, though, they do have the right questions. And are pretty damn direct with them. Bless their little hearts, I hope I can answer their questions about what happens to me without scaring them. I know that my own grandson and I get along better every day. Mostly because we are used to one another. I know he can understand a little of what I say, but not everything, and isn't afraid to look me in the eye and say "I can't understand what you're saying". No sweat, I write it out for him.
It's getting close the time of year when I got diagnosed and went on Short Term Disability. Yep, one year ago around November 1. Crazy how time flies. I need to get back out to my field office with cupcakes or something to celebrate. It's hard to believe it's been a year. I was, at the time, figuring that chemotherapy would stop it flat out again. Turns out no, it's used to that stuff, and all the chemo did was make me miserable and shrink the tumor in my throat down enough so I didn't choke to death in the interim. I was still pretty gung ho a few weeks down the road when the explained about the surgery. The doc even explained how if they didn't get it all, that there wasn't much they could do for me this time, since I'd had so much radiation the first time. He explained how all that would be left was palliative care. He also said that had a pretty thin chance of happening. Turned out that the thin chance came back around to visit and set itself in motion. The rat bastard. Oh well, this is what it is, and there's no use in cursing the dark because I forgot my candle. Life goes on. Sometimes it goes on for me pretty damn well, other times it goes on for me like a truck load of bullshit. It just keeps piling up. You'd think it would topple, wouldn't you? Anyway, it's back, it's almost a year later, and my time is slipping away faster than I'd like it to. I'd like to wake up one morning, be able to swallow anything, not bleed for a day or two and be able to move around very freely without help. THAT would be cool. I dream of that once in a while. Not often, but enough to want to keep waking up so I can prove him wrong.
Book of Rock: "This is too hard, I can't do it". There's a load of bullshit for ya. Sure, sometimes there are things that can't be fixed. They are usually things out of our control. Most stuff though, we can fix, or work through, or go around. First you have to use that lump on top of your neck for something other than a hat rack. Think first. Sort out the problem in priorities and got at it a bit at a time. Generally, it can be fixed. But saying it's "Too Hard" kills that chance before you even get started.
Enjoy watching a bit of nature today. Yes, nature includes people. We are the funniest creatures on God's green earth. Need a laugh, watch people]
Yep, hugs and shit, still
Tuesday, October 29, 2013
Aint this some shit
Monday started off great! I had a little limp, probably because I was up and walking around Sunday carrying a two year old. Not much weight, really, but a proving package of how much I've lost muscle and stamina wise. In and of itself, the limp wasn't jack shit. What was cool, though, was the fact I hadn't felt as good in the morning as I had in the month or so. I was pain free, okay, pain was at a 4, but for lately that's about half what I normally have. Even with the increase in pain med patches. It eases off most days down to a two or three. But Monday, wow, I was feeling great. Went to lymphedema therapy and had less fluid backed up than I'd had in months. After working that out and getting it moving, I had zero pain. Why, I felt right as rain! That was around 0900. I still felt damn good come 1000 hrs. Then at around 1100 hrs I began to feel strange. Not woozy strange, just off a bit.
By 1130, I was getting some pain back. My voice, which had gotten a lot stronger, was back down to a whisper, and hurt to use it. This is bullshit. Sure enough, over the next two hours I felt worse and worse. My pain went up to a seven, so I took a little break out pain med. That trimmed it down to a four, which is more than bearable for me. Voice got weaker, and by the end of the day, I was hacking up a little blood now and then. Nothing like Friday, Saturday or Sunday, but still a bit. Damn, here I thought I was going to get a day where I didn't have any bullshit to deal with. Where Liz and I, since she took the day off, could do something together. Nope, because when I get to feeling badly, I tend to drop off and sleep. Which I did. Liz went out shopping, and I should have gone with her, but to over come the limp I'd have had to taken the damn walker, and that just frosts my cupcakes. So, I can't blame the cancer for not going with Liz, that's all on me and my stubborn vanity. But, it was starting to take it's toll when I made that decision.
By taking it's toll, it had kind of knocked my moral in the nuts by starting back in with the pain after waking up at 0400 without a lot of pain and feeling really great. Naw, Cancer isn't going to give Rock an entire day to feel semi normal, that ain't gonna happen. It takes it's toll by making my right leg ache more than it was, causing me to limp worse around the house, and eventually damn near shuffle. Fortunately it's not affected my equilibrium, so I don't have to sweat falling down, or being dizzy. By taking it's toll, it tossed on enough of everything, just enough, that I kept nodding off. That's no fun when you're out shopping with your wife. I used to hate shopping. Now I kinda look at it like something Liz and I can do together. It takes it's toll because at some point yesterday, I let it get to me. I can't allow that very often, and I missed when it started, or I might have been able to stop it from bugging me. I hate when the damn cancer gets cocky enough it thinks it can get to me and bring me down. Fuck me if it didn't get to me yesterday. That's not something that happens, because I won't let it. Maybe I was feeling a bit too euphoric about having a good day and just let the obvious signs slip past. Either way, I let cancer have it's way with me mentally. That shit ain't happening again.
In my case at least, the cancer can't have me mentally. I won't let it drag my dick into the dirt. Once that starts and if you don't get a grip on it it'll kill ya. The damn stuff is killing off my body a little bit at a time. Silver lining: I'm in a position, given the wide time frame, that I can get all the stuff that needs finished to make life easier for Liz when I do die. Therefore, I can not and will not allow the cancer to get into my head and sow it's seeds of doubt. It's a sneaky bastard, but I'm sneakier. The cancer just doesn't realize what an adversary it has in me. So, when I finally noticed it had gotten to me, I turned that around and in a few hours felt more like myself than Captain Piss n Moan. It lost again. It put up a nice flanking move to get inside my head, and was real close to getting a handhold, but it missed. At the very least, this is how I beat cancer even when it kills my body off. I won't have lost because it never got to me mentally. It never drove me down to the point I don't care anymore. That's how I win.
Being on that damn emotional roller coaster isn't doing you any good either. Feeling too high about the highs, and getting lower than low when those times come will wear your body down just as fast and the cancer. The trick is to allow a bit of the highs, and a bit of the lows, so when averaged out, you keep a pretty flat line as far as your mental state goes. I won't lie to you, I get down just like everyone else, but I don't let it bug me for more than an hour or two. It's inescapable, a person is going to get down in the mouth. It's our nature. It's why we have feelings. Being down in the mouth happens, the trick is to kick it in the nuts and walk off after a couple of hours. That and being able to recognize when that's happening. Sometimes it's real easy to spot. You get that "I don't care" attitude about everything. Which is different than an "I could give a shit" attitude. I'll let you all sort out the difference, but there is one. Then you get the "I don't wanna get up to feed myself". If it's gone that far, your depressed and may have more trouble getting out from under that bus, but it can be done. I won't say it's easy, because it's not, and being able to do that kind of work on your own isn't for everyone. If you need the help, get it. Cancer thrives on misery. Don't let it get another stepping stone by not getting help with depression if you need it.
I'm wired differently, maybe, but I don't ever not see the best in every situation. Like going terminal. I see I have the chance to get done the things I'd put off for almost 5 years. Those are now finished. I see the chance to make amends where I might need to. I hope those are about finished. It's a time to reconnect with old friends and new, and maybe show them there are other ways to see your life. If I can do that with one person, then I've beaten cancer with that one little step.
I see life as an opportunity to learn something new. Every day of every year. There are so many things to see, touch, experience in every day life, I don't know how a person can miss them. I've been within 10' of an elk herd, just sitting quietly in the bushes, watching them bed down the calves, and sentries. It's neat. You have to be damn quiet, not move, and hope the wind stays at your face. I've watched High Horizons for well over 40 years, and still am amazed at the amount of detail you can see in them. I don't see them as much here as I did in SW Kansas, but they still happen. Damn amazing to see cars rolling down the highway when you know for a fact they are 25-30 miles away. Cool shit. I see somethings more clearly, and other things I took for granted forever and a day. It's nice to see things with fresh eyes. It's a damn shame that I had to get terminal cancer to start looking more closely at my surroundings. Not the obvious surroundings, those I always paid attention to. You know, like the guy moping around a parking lot, or the lone wolf at a bar who you can tell thinks he's tougher than he is, especially after 4 or 5 drinks. But the stuff that matters. Such as how quickly the colors of the sky change with the coming sunrise, or sunset for that matter. The little looks that everyone in my family has over things they like or don't like. And each one is a little different. My oldest daughter's booming laugh, the youngest daughter's subdued laugh. My youngest son's way deep giggle, and my oldest son's in between all of those other kids laughs. Lilting conversation. Sometimes even just hearing their breathing. That doesn't happen often, because my tinnitus won't let me hear that anymore. But there are days it lays down enough for me to catch that.
I can't work, but I have the chance now to go back over some of the things I'd been working on and toward before I got sick. I can work out problems with the mechanics of it in my head. That's a cool mental exercise. I went out to the field office once and was talking to my boss about how to improve the pumper to Well Tech relationship. We'd talked about it before, and I'd laid out a rough plan before I got sick. Stuck it in a desk drawer and had planned on fine tuning it when the field slowed down. I missed that chance, but the boss hadn't forgotten. And using his ideas and mine both, they are making that Well Tech job into what should be the company standard for being an "Instrument Tech 1". It's a lot more work than what some see a Well Tech doing. But I see it as finally defining the key roll a Well Tech can play in being an active aid to both the pumpers and the Assistant field foreman. It would make the decision process so much easier, and I think will improve production over time. And that, boys and girls, should be every pumper, well tech, foreman, field foreman, and supervisor goal. To produce more oil with less expense. It's possible and can be done
So that's all my bloviating for one day. Y'all go forth and be happy. Even when it's bad, it's secretly good in there someplace. Go find that and you're moral and the moral of everyone around you will improve
Bones and Nachos
By 1130, I was getting some pain back. My voice, which had gotten a lot stronger, was back down to a whisper, and hurt to use it. This is bullshit. Sure enough, over the next two hours I felt worse and worse. My pain went up to a seven, so I took a little break out pain med. That trimmed it down to a four, which is more than bearable for me. Voice got weaker, and by the end of the day, I was hacking up a little blood now and then. Nothing like Friday, Saturday or Sunday, but still a bit. Damn, here I thought I was going to get a day where I didn't have any bullshit to deal with. Where Liz and I, since she took the day off, could do something together. Nope, because when I get to feeling badly, I tend to drop off and sleep. Which I did. Liz went out shopping, and I should have gone with her, but to over come the limp I'd have had to taken the damn walker, and that just frosts my cupcakes. So, I can't blame the cancer for not going with Liz, that's all on me and my stubborn vanity. But, it was starting to take it's toll when I made that decision.
By taking it's toll, it had kind of knocked my moral in the nuts by starting back in with the pain after waking up at 0400 without a lot of pain and feeling really great. Naw, Cancer isn't going to give Rock an entire day to feel semi normal, that ain't gonna happen. It takes it's toll by making my right leg ache more than it was, causing me to limp worse around the house, and eventually damn near shuffle. Fortunately it's not affected my equilibrium, so I don't have to sweat falling down, or being dizzy. By taking it's toll, it tossed on enough of everything, just enough, that I kept nodding off. That's no fun when you're out shopping with your wife. I used to hate shopping. Now I kinda look at it like something Liz and I can do together. It takes it's toll because at some point yesterday, I let it get to me. I can't allow that very often, and I missed when it started, or I might have been able to stop it from bugging me. I hate when the damn cancer gets cocky enough it thinks it can get to me and bring me down. Fuck me if it didn't get to me yesterday. That's not something that happens, because I won't let it. Maybe I was feeling a bit too euphoric about having a good day and just let the obvious signs slip past. Either way, I let cancer have it's way with me mentally. That shit ain't happening again.
In my case at least, the cancer can't have me mentally. I won't let it drag my dick into the dirt. Once that starts and if you don't get a grip on it it'll kill ya. The damn stuff is killing off my body a little bit at a time. Silver lining: I'm in a position, given the wide time frame, that I can get all the stuff that needs finished to make life easier for Liz when I do die. Therefore, I can not and will not allow the cancer to get into my head and sow it's seeds of doubt. It's a sneaky bastard, but I'm sneakier. The cancer just doesn't realize what an adversary it has in me. So, when I finally noticed it had gotten to me, I turned that around and in a few hours felt more like myself than Captain Piss n Moan. It lost again. It put up a nice flanking move to get inside my head, and was real close to getting a handhold, but it missed. At the very least, this is how I beat cancer even when it kills my body off. I won't have lost because it never got to me mentally. It never drove me down to the point I don't care anymore. That's how I win.
Being on that damn emotional roller coaster isn't doing you any good either. Feeling too high about the highs, and getting lower than low when those times come will wear your body down just as fast and the cancer. The trick is to allow a bit of the highs, and a bit of the lows, so when averaged out, you keep a pretty flat line as far as your mental state goes. I won't lie to you, I get down just like everyone else, but I don't let it bug me for more than an hour or two. It's inescapable, a person is going to get down in the mouth. It's our nature. It's why we have feelings. Being down in the mouth happens, the trick is to kick it in the nuts and walk off after a couple of hours. That and being able to recognize when that's happening. Sometimes it's real easy to spot. You get that "I don't care" attitude about everything. Which is different than an "I could give a shit" attitude. I'll let you all sort out the difference, but there is one. Then you get the "I don't wanna get up to feed myself". If it's gone that far, your depressed and may have more trouble getting out from under that bus, but it can be done. I won't say it's easy, because it's not, and being able to do that kind of work on your own isn't for everyone. If you need the help, get it. Cancer thrives on misery. Don't let it get another stepping stone by not getting help with depression if you need it.
I'm wired differently, maybe, but I don't ever not see the best in every situation. Like going terminal. I see I have the chance to get done the things I'd put off for almost 5 years. Those are now finished. I see the chance to make amends where I might need to. I hope those are about finished. It's a time to reconnect with old friends and new, and maybe show them there are other ways to see your life. If I can do that with one person, then I've beaten cancer with that one little step.
I see life as an opportunity to learn something new. Every day of every year. There are so many things to see, touch, experience in every day life, I don't know how a person can miss them. I've been within 10' of an elk herd, just sitting quietly in the bushes, watching them bed down the calves, and sentries. It's neat. You have to be damn quiet, not move, and hope the wind stays at your face. I've watched High Horizons for well over 40 years, and still am amazed at the amount of detail you can see in them. I don't see them as much here as I did in SW Kansas, but they still happen. Damn amazing to see cars rolling down the highway when you know for a fact they are 25-30 miles away. Cool shit. I see somethings more clearly, and other things I took for granted forever and a day. It's nice to see things with fresh eyes. It's a damn shame that I had to get terminal cancer to start looking more closely at my surroundings. Not the obvious surroundings, those I always paid attention to. You know, like the guy moping around a parking lot, or the lone wolf at a bar who you can tell thinks he's tougher than he is, especially after 4 or 5 drinks. But the stuff that matters. Such as how quickly the colors of the sky change with the coming sunrise, or sunset for that matter. The little looks that everyone in my family has over things they like or don't like. And each one is a little different. My oldest daughter's booming laugh, the youngest daughter's subdued laugh. My youngest son's way deep giggle, and my oldest son's in between all of those other kids laughs. Lilting conversation. Sometimes even just hearing their breathing. That doesn't happen often, because my tinnitus won't let me hear that anymore. But there are days it lays down enough for me to catch that.
I can't work, but I have the chance now to go back over some of the things I'd been working on and toward before I got sick. I can work out problems with the mechanics of it in my head. That's a cool mental exercise. I went out to the field office once and was talking to my boss about how to improve the pumper to Well Tech relationship. We'd talked about it before, and I'd laid out a rough plan before I got sick. Stuck it in a desk drawer and had planned on fine tuning it when the field slowed down. I missed that chance, but the boss hadn't forgotten. And using his ideas and mine both, they are making that Well Tech job into what should be the company standard for being an "Instrument Tech 1". It's a lot more work than what some see a Well Tech doing. But I see it as finally defining the key roll a Well Tech can play in being an active aid to both the pumpers and the Assistant field foreman. It would make the decision process so much easier, and I think will improve production over time. And that, boys and girls, should be every pumper, well tech, foreman, field foreman, and supervisor goal. To produce more oil with less expense. It's possible and can be done
So that's all my bloviating for one day. Y'all go forth and be happy. Even when it's bad, it's secretly good in there someplace. Go find that and you're moral and the moral of everyone around you will improve
Bones and Nachos
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