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Just this week, I’ve been busted on the East, West and Gulf coasts and also locally about not blogging. Sorry.
I have three or four “good” days a week, days when only one Lortab every six hours handles my pain well and I feel like doing something. I have three or four “bad” days a week, days when even two Lortab every six hours don’t seem to keep my pain in tolerable levels and also days when I just can’t do much of anything due to the distraction of the pain and the fogginess of my mind from the drugs.
One of the problems with this is that I never know from day to day which it will be. Just because I feel good today doesn’t mean that tomorrow will be worth a darn. That means it’s very difficult for me to make any plans and sometimes appointments are just a wish list.
For that period of time when it’s been 100+ degrees here in OKC, I was a virtual prisoner in my house. Even a very few minutes — five minutes, say — out in that weather just wilted me. Even brief exposure from the car inside the grocery could almost take me off the boards for the rest of the day. On the other hand, when the cool front brought rain this past week, my bones could feel it and the ache in my side from my ribs was off the charts.
In short, most of the time I’m not doing much. I’ve read some books and watched some movies and I sleep a good bit on the days I take more than 4-5 Lortabs in 24 hours. Opiates are like that.
It’s probably TMI, but I spend a lot of time fretting over money. I have thousands of dollars of medical bills that I simply can’t pay, not even if I liquidate everything I own. I’ll have to admit that I am both hurt and very angry that I’m one of those people who face bankruptcy due to medical bills, but my depression had me headed in that direction in all events and this series of medical bills just accelerated the process. I’m hurt and angry because I feel like I did all the “right” things. I had my first paycheck job at age 14, bagging groceries for LynneX’s father. I worked and got married and raised two kids and put myself and my wife through graduate schools. Both my kids got college educations. I owned a house and paid taxes and voted. Yet, here I am on the verge of retirement and instead of cashing out, visiting Europe and retiring to a beach, I’m a destitute pauper. I faced and stayed alive addiction, depression and cancer and my “reward” is bankruptcy.
You wanna know how I’m doing? Well, I spend some time seeking serenity in the face of the time-honored “life ain’t fair” problem.
Some good and some bad things have come down the pike since I last wrote.
The best was that my daughter brought the grandkids for a lovely visit and that is a full and complete joy all in itself.
This joy was compounded in the event because my old friend from gradeschool (YES! from almost 50 years ago), Rush Riddle visited from California and that brought another close friend, Ultimate Fastpipe, down from Stillwater. We had a grand time, or, at least, I had a grand time. There was some of me kind of drifting off into chasing the dragon stupor that slowed things down at the very last for me, but I must say I enjoyed all of the visits beyond my ability to write about.
My mother’s health has taken a turn for the worst lately and that concerns me. It’s a long story, but she’s being treated for some dangerous blood clots that have moved from her leg into her lungs and she requires daily injections. This seems to be the year God wants me to have an in the face reminder of the mortality of humans.
On another front, I’ve been divorced for 10 years and I’ve had my share of relationships, good and bad, during that time. None of those relationships lasted more than three years. I’m the one common denominator. Between my health and my finances (and my age), I think it likely I will not have romantic relationship that lasts “until death you do part.” I’m sorry about that. Some very good women have tried to put up with me and apparently I was beyond all redemption. Seems to me the best thing I can do is just withdraw from the field and not engage in that behavior again, thus saving some unknown draft choice in the future from having to undergo whatever it is I do to sabotage myself. Between my anti-depressants and the pain meds, it’s going to be awhile before that seems like a problem for me. (Now, we really ARE in the TMI category, so I’ll quit.)
I’ve already written that I’ve given up on politics. About a fifth of the country believes our president is a Muslim (the same people who howled about his Chicago pastor/church) and even more think Obama lacks the citizenship qualifications to be president. This has NOTHING to do with his race, of course. Jobless claims rose to 500,000 this week but we’re focused on the building of a recreation center in lower Manhatten and worried that the Imam praised by George Bush is a secret ally of the 9/11 terrorists. This presumably is because the media has such a liberal bias. Ann Coulter is not conservative enough for the sponsors of CPAC and is banned because she accepted a paid gig speaking to gay Republicans. According to all reports, these are the people who will claim a mandate wave victory this November. God save the Republic.
Sinatra has had a good week. He can jump straight up in the air and take out a cicada and I’ve seen him do it twice. He caught a field mouse somewhere and came hauling ass over the fence with it in his mouth. Thanks for the present, big guy, but no thanks. In this hot weather, he’s practically nocturnal; he sleeps most of the day and won’t come in at night. He’s often cocked off at me for not leaving open windows or doors for his convenience, but he does like to curl up beside my legs when I take afternoon naps. He doesn’t care about you. Sorry, that’s just the way he is.
Moving on and speaking of blog entries, I have very much enjoyed MCARP lately. I don’t get to see him in person all that often, so I like getting to find out what he’s doing and thinking about and I find a good bit of what he writes about is thoughtful and thought provoking. Keep up the good work, Mike.
So, that’s today’s view from St. John’s Infirmary.

Time flies when you’re having fun here at St. John’s Infirmary and I can hardly believe it’s been one week since I looked at you. My sister has been blogging more than me? MCARP blogging more than me? No No No, that’s just not possible. It is? Drat!

So, what up? Well, it ain’t my tale to tell, but both my son and my daughter received some good news lately. I can’t take any credit for it, but I really find it easy to enjoy it. I love my family, so both me and MindOverMary got that going for us.

That image a bunch a y’all got of me in a convertible? Trash it. I am currently driving an old Ford pickemuptruck. Blue with wheezy noises and no air conditioning. Not exactly the rakish figure I once sported, but it gets me to the grocery store to buy Sinatra cat food, which seems at this point to be my sole purpose in life.

I keep following uber-webmaster Fastpipe’s Twitter feed, but I’ll be darned if I can understand what he’s got his panties all twisted up about except that I certainly get the part about being on tech support and not being able to fix the problem. My problem is that if Fastpipe can’t figure it out, what’s the chances for a guy like me? Maybe my friend MichaelH’s idea of just moving out to the lake and being off the grid ain’t such rotten potatoes after all…

Speaking of going to the company store, to which I owe my soul, the other day I was there getting some cat food and coffee when I bumped into a display of cans and some started falling. I instinctively twisted and reached out to stem the damage. Not only didn’t I catch any of the cans, but that twist and reach move with my right arm was not the thing for me to do. It hurt like the dickens and I don’t mean Charles Dickens. Not even my beloved Lortabs makes it go away. Ouch and I do mean ouch.

Also, while I absolutely LOVE Oklahoma thunderstorms and lightening and rain, when it all stops and it’s 90F and that rain starts being humidity, this is not a good formula for my daily walks. Seems I can’t get up early enough or stay up late enough to walk in the cool and/or there just ain’t any cool under these conditions. I’ve been lucky lately to get in 8 blocks before I’m tuckered.

Politics has me bumfuzzled and gobsmacked lately. Are the Republicans not only going to win but also repeal the entire New Deal? In the name of cutting deficits will we really get rid of the Department of Education and Department of Health and Human Services? What do they think will happen if they try to balance the budget during the worst recession since 1937? How is it possible that such nonsense is so popular? I can’t even comment any more. There isn’t anything to say. No one listens to anyone they don’t already agree with. I will certainly be casting a whole bunch of throw-away votes this time, but by gosh and by golly, I will be casting my votes.

One last thing about that rakish, convertible driving image … have you ever seen kids draw stick figures? That’s what I look like in summer shorts. I am literally a lightweight these days, even if you thought I was skinny before.

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Happy BDay Sis

Yesterday was my birthday and I went out to eat twice: to The Metro with Mom and to Zorba’s with Kim. I’m down to 141 llbs and I’m eating my way back to “fighting weight”, so I indulged in all the beurberry sauce and real butter and lamb grease and french fries that I could stand. To all those watching their weight, all I have to say is: I eat and eat and eat and still can’t gain a pound. Nyah Nyah Nyah. I look like the stick figures some children draw. If you thought I was skinny before, you should see me now when my pants are falling down over my non-existent booty.

Received the requisite phone calls from children, sisters and friends and a couple of mailed cards, so it was all good.

Here at St. John’s Infirmary, I’ve finally decided after much deliberation and consultation and intertubes research to decline to take chemotherapy and accept enhanced scanning. I’m comfortable with the decision and if anyone is horrified, let me know and I’ll listen and try to explain my thinking.

I’m actually feeling pretty good and cutting back on my Lortab intake as a result. I’m still walking a good bit, but mostly early in the a.m. and late in the p.m. when it’s cooler and a bit less humid. I’ve loved this rain, although I find it unexpected. I don’t care what Gary England says, it seems to me that we are really and in fact experiencing climate change. I noticed that in today’s news, it seems a British inquiry has cleared the climatologists from all charges of “cooking the books” as the Inhofe people asserted.

Very soon, I think, I’ll be back to the place where I have my life restored, although what life that will be is somewhat a mystery to me. I feel that I have overcome three deadly diseases — alcoholism, depression and cancer — and that there is something more I can do with my life other than merely spill out a few sentences on this blog for less than two dozen people to read. Some parts of my life seem to be falling back into place, but I see no need to speed up matters until after I see my children, grandchildren and youngest sister next month when they all visit. I’m still spending at least part of every day taking naps because I still tire fairly easily and the Lortab keeps me … shall we say? … quite relaxed. I continue to think almost everyone would benefit from a few hundred of these little white pills; they seem to make the day to day world rather pleasant, for a time. I’m told they have a bite if you try and break up with them, but I’m not there yet.

Last year, with my zero birthday, I was committed to changing things to achieve a “bucket list” since I felt quite young for my chronology. This year, I don’t feel that way. I feel every single one of my sixty one years. On the other hand, I’m grateful to have those years and this one day past that. Every single day seems like a gift. It’s not such a bad way to live, to see each day as a chance to live and enjoy. You might try it; I suspect it will turn out better advice than the whole Lortab suggestion.

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