Sunday, December 18, 2016

So it turns out we don't get to pick what we'll be feeling during any given day.
I had in mind a butt load of funny because the juxtaposition is too funny...
But it doesn't work that way.
Turns out that if the cat leaaps up in the bed and claws he hell out of your leg in the morning, you will probably be angry for a while.
And the cat will be lucky to be fed.

Sadly, that isn't the worse part.
Seems there are a lot of dumb cancer and death jokes out here, too. Real bombs.

The heck you say...
I did something like his long ago...
It wasn't any funnier then than it is now. AND THERE'S A BUNCH OF'EM!

Thankfully there are some great doctors out here, though that understand the need for a laugh. Well not while they're sliding a tube into your lungs because some idiot patient {that be me, folks} accidentally collapsed a lung. {don't ask}
He was smooth, slow, and careful...minimal pain (the first gal that did it hurt like a long knife being sliced into me...ow.... but you figure they are students, so, I cop her a break on learning curve) and even tell a joke or two between pushes.
Dr. Dimitri gets my vote as #1 Great.
My nurse, Nurse Johnma, was also a star! She threw me down on the bed and pressured the wound (open, bleeding holes are considered wounds) plus stopped the air from releasing. I'm telling you, between those two, I breathe yet today.

(wait a minute! Did I just hear a groan from the crowd? Well, since you asked...Last night I dreamed I was a car muffler, and this morning I woke exhausted)

Actually, I noticed that there was a new shop downstairs at the VA, had a sign and everything.
It said, "Hair Dressing for Men, $1.
I went in and there was a long line of guys...all standing around a rabbit putting her clothes on.



(Well I didn't say I wouldn't try. PS...Scots. A "Muffler" is that bit of near hallow metal tube under the car that makes it quieter. The car...not the driver)
Although it might be better if one could have the driver quieter...)

The other day I woke up to Peter Gabriel,and it was mysterious and ethereal...aother worldly.
I felt elation in that everyone dies.
Sorry, folks. It's true...To get through, I have to kill everyone.
I mean, not really "kill"....more like
Join in the group.

Oh to join in the group...

When a person ages a bit,details come to fore.
The line of the soft, warm by graspt …
A deep wish for another hand to be massaging her derriere in such a manner, and then they kiss…And then once more…….
A long, tender kiss, though an ample amount of a hint of lust,
   And another kiss. And another and several more, (”Oh, that ass!)
That was the clincher. That’s what he paid for. “THIS is Love! My lover,,..
” and then again they kisst…And all the night more…….

Just a perspective....
OK...beautiful is not always "beautiful.
Sometimes it is ugly.
But let's move on...
One day, i got up, fed the dogs, the cats, fed the fire....then I spilled boiling hot tea on myself and the whole day transformed into a place of gods and demons, and I was in charge of destroying all of them.
Which I did, with quick dispatch.
Anger was so easy to reach that it scared the cats to run upstairs away from me.
The dogs just cowered.
I didn't hit any of them, but, I was loud. I was angry. Later I'll ask myself "Why are you yelling?"
After much thought, I realized it was just my perspective. I was angry because I was angry.

I've come to a bad place however... It's just the timing, mind you, but, what terrible timing.
The chemo is happening on the same week as the week we drew straws for going up on the mountain for a month. Not hat I wasn't safe...they sent a sniper as my guard.
Now, you need a guard because if you aren't infantry or a sharpshooter, then you are easy pickins.
Mex was my guard. Marcelino C. (in case he doesn't want to be named out)
Great shot. He showed me two rifles...a magnum M-14 (I think that's what it was...I dunno for sure. I was a helicopter crew chief, and that's the gig) The other was a ...well, join the Army and find out yourself.
But then I was smart enough to set an appointment with a psychologist...maybe he can see where my level is off kilter.
But I know that the emotions are a subjective presence.
But I know I'm in trouble.
My mind is eating information so fast I can't slow it down. Like looking out a window at the passing of scenery out the side window.

All I need is to get through one more day.
Then another.
Then another...
Six to eight sessions.

Then surgery.
And truth be known, I'm scared. Maybe of death, but I doubt it.
I have few who would miss me. four, in fact.
But rather, I'm afraid of losing my mind.

That's all I have.

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