Goodbye, September

Hello, fall. Though the season change appeared on the calendar, Mother Nature has other ideas this year. Why not jump from the 90s to 40s overnight? So far, the weather tends toward summer rather than fall.

This health thing offers such diversity when one ages. Especially if the health thing involves the lungs. I am afraid bronchitis wants to join the gang as a semi regular. When the gang starts vying for attention, the symptoms often get jumbled. Then a diagnosis might pose challenges.

Diagnosis depends so much on the way a patient can explain the symptoms. And with the lungs, many of the illness symptoms mimic others.

I can understand why the information on folks with COPD using Tyvaso falls short. Inhaling the medicine could irritate the COPD diseased lungs. You trade one set of problems for another in this case. But since I apparently have no spasms so far, this may work out OK. I am willing to try most anything before doing sub-q. Other problems exist with that.

However, the bottom line means I will endure what I must to stay alive. I realize this might change, but today, yes, life is good.

So today I will check with Doc to see if he wants me to increase Friday. Either way, I am good.

You're on my mind, Dude.

Later.

My bad

Never, never brag about how easy _____ was for you. As sure as you do, you get smacked in the face.

I ate some spaghetti for breakfast, about an hour before my second treatment of the day. I planned a trip to the cat food store pretty soon after the treatment. Did the treatment, got SOB and nauseous. Thought I would lie down for a bit. I was down for about five hours. Just in time for another dose. This time I was determined to go on. I did the treatment, got dressed and got the cat food. I feel pretty good. I have not eaten however, we shall see.

Now I worry about my symptoms. I guess I would worry if I have no worries.

Wonder why my right arm peels with dryness and the left one does not?

Later, Dude.

Much more mundane

The boys follow a pretty strict morning routine. Creatures of habit for sure. The speed with which they added the Tyvaso first thing amazes me. Satchmo knows when I head out of the bathroom, I weigh myself. Usually he stands on the scale waiting for me. The guys at the insurance company would flip out if I gained 15 pounds overnight. Hmmm. Haha.

This morning I was out of Pogo's food. Last night he got ham. This morning I tried salmon. He was not having any of that. When I looked later, Pogo was stooping to dry food and Satchmo was eating the salmon.

***

Relationships take hard work. Seldom, if ever, does the story end with the prince wisking the servant off to Charmingville, or Ms. Hot Lips waiting with little to nothing on for you every day after work. Maybe the best relationships are like a pair of jeans that are almost white. Well-worn, comfortable and familiar.

***

Today marks the fifth full day on the Tyvaso. So far, so good. I had a few side effects: some shortness of breath and anxiousness in my chest. Now that happens only near the end of the day. Yesterday my 1 p.m. treatment fell just after I had eaten my large meal of the day. That treatment sent me to the couch and I ended up taking a five-hour nap. I probably would have slept on if not for the alarm for my 7 p.m. meds.

So I discovered I need to time meals around treatments.

***

Got a nice FB message yesterday. I appreciated hearing from D. The little things, the little things.

***

My thoughts go to K today. Positive vibes.......

***

Miss you Dude.

Later.

One of those days

Wishes

Sometimes ham and Swiss on toasted 100% whole wheat with mayonnaise and tomatoes beats all contenders.

I wish I knew more about you.

*sigh*

Later.

Somewhat later:

Pogo sits atop one of the smaller boxes from the shipment of Tyvaso. He has slept inside the largest box, always with his head to the outside. Cats like standing on objects that raise them any amount of height from the floor. I gave the guys an S-shaped scratching surface they absolutely love. They like sitting on the hump part of the S and lie in the crevice part (see photo).

Their S looks just like this one down to the color and pattern. Neither of them look much like the model cat. The boys also have a cat tree, which needs a new covering. The kitties have not left much recognizable carpeting attached.

Too bad our joys, often just as simple, go unappreciated. Sometimes we forget to be thankful for what we have.

(((hugs)))

Later, again.

A page from Putt

I declare today a no work day.

I can do that 'cause I am the boss. Being boss of one presents challenges. I own a fine resume, but now I do not need most of that experience. So the boss flounders sometimes.

I binged yesterday on sweets. I went to the grocery store and basically bought meat, potatoes and sweets -- ice cream and two kinds of cookies. I gained a pound overnight from that little indulgence. 

The Baggies make a run for this year's dark horse in the EPL. Humm. I guess I should look at the club's players. Without you, the fun, and competition, dulls. I still love footy, as the English say, but the excitement falls short, rather like week-old chess pie.

I am amazed how quickly a clean kitchen becomes the wreck of the Hesperus. A couple of meals and snacks, down she goes. The dredging process begins anew, only not today, the boss says.

Satchmo reminds me of a fat possum waddling down the road, only he out-handsomes the possum by a mile. He eats "light" cat food. He also cleans up after Pogo, who remains his regular slim self. Momo truly has a slow metabolism.

TV is all enamored with football. Hey guys, remember baseball? Another month, then emphasize football.

My tailbone lets me know every now and then the healing process needs a little more time. The boss says get with the program. Enough already.

You still reside in my heart.

Later.

Getting Ty-ed up

I had a slight headache yesterday, so I took a couple of Tylenols along with my night meds. I had a great night's sleep and now I am raring to go. The new med? Too early to tell.

I need to find another place to put all the paraphernalia, lots and lots of it. I am thinking the bathroom. With some juggling/cleaning, I can find space. As for the setting up and tearing down, a routine will come. Right now the process proves awkward.

The drug company wants users fully informed. The starter kit comes with  tons of how-to pamphlets and a DVD.  The company's web site has all this information as well. The company provides a 24-hour hotline directly to a nurse.

Almost time for another treatment. One-quarter of my day used.

Doc teased me about being smart. Probably meant a smart-ass. I stuck my tongue out at him. Not exactly your typical doctor.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1TWd3skb-Rw

The season reaches the slippery slope stage. The darkness stays around longer in the mornings now.

Missing you.

Later.

Fun, fun, fun

I got the new medicine, Tyvaso, today. So far, I have done two treatments of three breaths each. Eventually I will increase the amount of medicine I get by taking more breaths each session.

The starter kit came with two little nebs and all the stuff I need for a month. Various adapters and charger related items also came. Even the cats got something (the boxes).

Nothing unusual to report so far. I have been yawning alot, but lack of sleep could get the blame, not the med. The nurse warned me I might get a sore throat (nothing so far) or a cough (not that either). I have been lucky. I do not remember any side effects with the Tracleer or Revatio. So I hope this one follows suit.

Just like on television, the SWAT team yesterday visited an upstairs apartment in the next building. I had just gone into my apartment and I catch a glimpse of men walking by my window. They all carried rifles and one of them had a ram thing. My neighbor Season was having a fit, wanting to go see what was happening and her friend John was yelling at her to stay in front of her apartment. I suspect a drug bust, but I have no idea and nothing was in the newspaper or online. Did make for interesting conversation.

I have run out of Pogo's cat food, so since he refuses to eat the dry, he has eaten better than I have. I gave him the leftover chicken and tonight I opened a can of salmon. I will have to go to the catfood store tomorrow. Eek.

I am craving something to eat, but have no idea what.

Tell Mason thanks, Dude.

Later.

Life

My part of the hospital bill was $4,000+. That will decimate my checking account, so I consider requesting financial aid. I received the papers a couple of days ago. By the time I finish filling out the application, the hospital will know everything about me except the name of my great-great-grandfather's brother-in-law's sister's husband.

I have the packet of information ready to send, but still have not made up my mind if want to do that. I guess no matter what I decide, I eventually will need help financially because I know this past hospitalization will not be the last.

You are, Dude.

Later.

Hollow men

I feel hollow. Or maybe no longer there. Life goes on around me. I answer questions and talk, but somehow I am not there either. I am just going through the motions.

I am full of questions about you. Some things I may never know. I wonder if I handled the situation in Pitt appropriately. Makes no difference really. I did not have the advantage of experience. I did not have the advantage of knowing anyone who had experience. I handled the crisis the best way I could from more than 1,000 miles away. I tried and that counts when the counting is done.

I would love to have a conversation with the one you were closest to. Maybe the questions never will have answers or maybe I do not want to know them. Maybe if I got answers I would regret I had asked.

I do know that your memory, although there, fades with time. I fear the loss.

Later.

Blase

This tailbone thing begins to be a real nuisance. Lying on my side all the time poses problems for my left lung and I can stand only so much.

Cleaning yesterday zapped me and I fell asleep on the couch about 6. I forced myself to go back to bed when I woke up at 1:30 a.m. When I woke up again about 5:30, I had been dreaming about Afghanistan and war.

I am facing a deadline for the first time in a couple of years. I hope I do not go into procrastination mode. I have most of what I need at hand. I have to make copies and get the envelope in the mail. How hard is that?

Fall nudges its way onto the scene. Nothing tangible yet. Somehow the air hangs differently than it did a month ago. Some of the leaves don a hint of yellow.

Dude.

Later.

What a waste

I slept through most of yesterday. I did not feel particularly bad but I did not want to do anything either. With apologies to Eddie Rabbitt,

Ooh I'm sleeping my life away, looking for a better way, for me

ooh I'm sleeping my life away, looking for a sunny day

OK, so I allowed a couple of pity me days, now I need to cross off at least one item on my to-do list. I will fetch a prescription for sure, but that does not really count as a list item.

Sorry, this apparently is one of those mush brain days.

Dude.

Later.

Worthless

My brain apparently checked out, so my body followed suit. The past few days the pattern has been sleep, eat, FB games.

For those with curious minds, my hiney hurts -- still. The apartment did not clean itself, nor the cat box itself.

I still miss you, Dude.

Later.

Tuneup

Commander Cody and His Lost Planet Airmen. What a great name for a band, huh?

I enjoy music, always have. Noises, on the other hand, bother me. Thus produces a conflict of great magnitude. I love music but I can only take small doses. I am not sure why the auditory sense causes such stress. The hearing part of my brain cannot multitask perhaps.

Music and specific tunes define my life as it does for others I am sure. My generation of music begins sitting on the fence between Elvis and The Beatles. Johnny Cash and Roy Orbison (he was born in Vernon) held down spots, too.

My parents favored show tunes, Henry Mancini, and tunes from World War II.

I grew up on cartoons which featured classical music as background, i.e. the Bugs Bunny cartoon with "the William Tell Overture" and of course Fantasia.

I played the trumpet in junior high (mother wanted me to play the trumpet, she had played it in school). I sang in the choir as well. Our junior high musical production was "Showboat." I buried myself in the drama department my early college years. I helped with productions of college operas, though I did not sing.

The later college years I discovered The Moody Blues, Led Zepplin, Jerry Jeff and Willie.

Flash forward. Sorry, folks, I am not a rap fan. I guess I got stuck in my generation's set of tunes.

Remember hippy dippy weatherman?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4ZBRc0VtRiQ

Well, Dude. My lads tanked this week. Fame is so fleeting.

Later.

So there

OK, folks. Another edition of "It's OK, it's just me" preparing for takeoff. Buckle your seatbelts and make sure your seatbacks are in an upright position. Ready? Here goes...

I loathe hairball season, especially when I am half awake.

You always need a dish when you just finished drying and putting away the dishes. Being dirty is a dish's job.

Cats magically appear the minute the catbox is clean.

Cats time naps according to feed me schedules.

Pogo shows signs of curmudgeonly behavior.

Try to think of me as a person. Connect on an intangible level rather than a physical one.

PH may hold me down but I will not let it define me.

As much as we would like to do so, we cannot change the past. We cannot leave it behind either. But we can put it on a back shelf in our minds. Behind the 1960s and '70s.

I admire those who believe with such intensity.

When grass roots evolves into big business the intent disintegrates.

We all claim ownership of certain events or relationships. In reality, ownership is not one of the options.

I'm hanging, Dude.

Later.

The insider

I stole this blog post idea from JW. (Truth in blogging.)

I am pretty sure this blog would surprise many folks. Most of them see the outward me, but have no idea about the inward me. I am adept at camouflage. So why throw myself out there so publically? For several reasons.

At this time of my life, I would like to be liked for who I am. I may not be around much longer and I do not want to waste time. If people see the real me and still want to be in my life, then I know there lies a good basis for friendship.

I hope I cause people to stop and think. The man sitting confidenty at the bus stop probably owns insecurities himself. Everyone puts on an armor of sorts every time they leave home. For some the armor becomes permanent. The man inside dries up and dies but the outer shell remains to carry on.

Doc told me I needed a purpose. He hits the mark once again. I must have lost mine about the time I lost my job. Ever since, I have meandered along doing nothing. The blog represents a commitment.

Some days the words flow from my fingers. Other days I sit and stare at the screen and drink coffee. Pogo sits beside my chair and offers suggestions.

OK, enough staring. Miss you, Dude.

Later.

Ty one on

I made some calls yesterday about my new PH med, Tyvaso. The people I talked to were outstanding -- polite, helpful. One woman told me I should not expect the med before Sept. 24. A nurse/drug company rep has to come show me how to use it. I understand all this. In the meantime, I am antsy to feel better so I can do more. I am pretty much limited to one chore a day.

Connie locked herself out of her house, so yesterday's use of energy involved a trip to her house with the key. She lives about 6 miles away. My car features a standard transmission and lacks power steering. Oh yes, road crews work at top speed to get work done before winter. Two significant detours. All this means worn out.

You know, whining about PH and its associated woes comes easily for me. Today I am thankful. Like Doc told me at the last appointment, if I had had PH five years earlier, I probably would not be here. On the days when I have no spoons, I should remember this.

Today pretty much offers no spoons.

Miss you, Dude.

Later.

Dishing

My body continues its revolt.

Connie and I went to three stores yesterday looking for a drain board and drainer. I decided mine needed replacing after many, many years. I got a chic black one.

After I got home, I took a four-hour nap. The excursion wiped me out.

I feel like a wrung out dish rag.

On a brighter note, I had a good weekend in the EPL. I managed to beat everyone. I am not sure if they forgot to make moves or what. I can hear you now. "We've got to take ____ (Stoke City last year) seriously." Guys that score for the lesser teams are cheap but do add points.

The thought of you makes me smile, Dude.
Later.

Mom

My mother asked me yesterday how I plan to spend the money she gave me for my birthday. I said probably on bills. She said she hoped I would spend it on something for me. I said I would like to have a glider rocker. She said they are expensive. I said well then I am not sure how I will spend the money.

I told my mother that my brother had called me for my birthday. She said that was awfully nice of him. She said that no less than three times.

Today I am sad again.

Later.

Today I wuz born

Some thoughts on this day, the anniversary of my birth.

As Elton sang, "I don't have much money but boy if I did ..."

The thing with money, I have always had enough. Not excessive. I have food, shelter, medicine. When I was working, I could not afford big screen TVs or trips to Argentina. I could afford to buy anything I saw at the supermarket, including prime rib. I could afford to help my friend and her husband who struggled to raise a soccer-playing brood.

Now I need to learn to live on much, much less. In fact, more than a third of my income is spent on medical costs and insurance. Another third on housing and the third third on bills. Notice anything missing?

My body speaks volumes about age.

I wear my war wounds with pride -- in your face youth. I bet people wonder about the marks on my arms. No one finds the guts to ask. Maybe the o2 tank diverts those thoughts. I remember how I used to think. Now the understanding I have makes me ashamed for the younger me.

http://www.wikihow.com/Be-a-Girly-Girl

"No, not me, no way, Jose." I guess the ugly duckling never underwent her metamorphosis. While my contemporaries rolled their hair on oj cans, I watched Game of the Week. While the Vickies of high school practiced cheerleading moves, I read books. So I missed girly-girl lessons.

The hippie thing came and I found perfection. Jeans, T-shirts and no bra. After the days of girdles and hose, this was heaven.

Now nightshirts and long gowns anchor my wardrobe. I have lost about 65 pounds the last few years. Now I have two pairs of jeans and two shirts that fit. My dress up clothes.

"I've loved, I've laughed and cried ..."

Mostly the latter.

The golden relationship alludes me but I have wonderful friends. My boys offer unconditional love (unless I fail to feed them frequently).

Glad I wuz born

Dude, I miss you especially today.

Later.

Small world

My hiney still hurts, but I believe a bit less. I spent most of yesterday lying on the couch in a Tylenol haze. I caught glimpses of several football games but could not tell you a single play or even who won.

I have been chilly the past day or so, but rather than adjust the thermostat, I got out a warmer blanket for the couch. (Outside temperatures run in the 90s.) Satchmo makes it one of his sleep stops now. His napping places rotate during the day like a sunflower follows the sun.

Many days I just go through the motions of living. I know, I need to get out. But what if I do not want to? I fear the habit that becomes a necessity that becomes a phobia. So far, the little old lady mask works, but what if a time comes when it will not? Then what will be my crutch?

I am not ready to die, but this existence does not work either. The first step of change always is the hardest.

Dude.

Later.

Saturday serenade

My large blue trashcan lies on its side with a black tail slowly sweeping back and forth. Satchmo regularly trolls this trashcan. Momo chews and plastic ranks as a favorite. Right up there also: anything with stick'um on it, like envelopes or prescription labels. Perhaps a vitamin or mineral deficiency? Some cats suck material, so I guess chewing on plastic is not so bad, though ingesting it causes another set of problems.

Then there is the small dish I keep on my recycled footlocker/coffee table. In a former life, this container was an ashtray. Now it holds distilled water. The boys, particularly Momo, like this arrangement. Relatively fresh water all the time. I keep a jug of water by the footlocker.

Somewhere in the room, a cricket sends out his mating call, hoping Ms. Cricket finds his tune irresistible. I am afraid Ms. Cricket lies in the dumpster down the way. Maybe he realizes this because he no longer sings of love.

My tailbone makes life tough right now. Standing or walking poses no problem. Sitting or getting up hurts like heck. Tylenol dulls the pain but does not kill it. I can live with dull, but I need to watch the amount of Tylenol I take because of the interaction with Tracleer. I do not need a liver upset as well.

My health is much like fighting brush fires. You smother one smoldering spot and a second sizzles. We learn to live with the situation because the alternative is not. Our bodies break down no matter what our minds say. PH adds the wheels and pushes the process right along.

Where are you Dude?

Later.

Out of sight...

... out of mind.

Of course if I stay hidden all day, what do I expect? You have to give to get. I fail that requirement. I have fallen into this pattern of self-abuse. Ignoring everyone and then wondering why no one cares. I put myself out there again, then hide some more. Insecurities abound.

Today I am so sore I hardly can move. When I cough my tailbone hurts. I canceled lunch with Boopie and Alex.

The curtains hang again. The kitchen seems more friendly.

Dude.

Later.

Bodies break

Why I thought I could hop up on that chair escapes me. I think my mind says I am 20 and my body says, "Hey stupid."

I hit just to the right of the tailbone and somehow managed to bruise the area just above the cankle on the left.  Getting up and down takes forever right now. I have not gotten used to the location of the most pain. I bet I learn in a hurry.

The plan was to clean the very top of the window in the kitchen. Much of the grime lies on the outside, but I wanted the inside at least clean. I decided on the chair rather than the stool because the stool has a screw missing on one of the steps. Another dumb move.

I feel blessed that I did not break anything. I questioned the advisability even as I was trying to do it. I should have listened.

My body will not take sitting at the computer for long.

Miss you Dude.

Later.

The Cat Who ...

Meet the orphan. She has no momma around, but she knows cat.

Not having a kitten around for nearly nine years, I delighted in the miniature cat. She does all the things big cats do only teeny, tiny. A dynamo for 10 minutes, then, like one of those fainting goats, Morpheus grabs her. She melts into sweetness.

The baby was the victim of a couple of preteen boys who wanted the kitten. After parents of the preteens said absolutely not, the necessity of finding a home for the kitten somehow fell on Connie. She recruited me to hold said kitten while we tried the various shelters in town.

Connie would take the kitten and walk into the facility. A few minutes later, here she came with the kitten in her arms. One shelter killed the animals after three days if not adopted. Another was full. Dozens of calls resulted in no home.

Connie lives in a neighborhood with a continully rotating population of ferral cats. Some well-meaning somebody decided to feed the cats years ago. Feline leukemia runs rampant in the colony and Connie did not want to send the kitten to a life of misery until death took over.

I live in a smallish apartment. I have two cats. I have no doubts my boys would love to have a kitten, especially Satchmo who still has plenty of kitten left in him. I, on the other hand, can barely keep up with the cat food-litterbox cycle. And that issue is but one of many.

***

I cleaned the sliding glass doors in my bedroom and even gave the porch and walls a brushing with the broom. The glass on the doors had not been cleaned for, well, we will not go there. Now if I could find the energy to do that a couple more times, the glass would be sparkling. While I was slaving away, a yellowjacket decided to leave its mark on my index finger.

***

Connie took the kitchen curtains to wash. The window's nakedness emphasizes the emptiness. The kitchen does not look lived in although dishes and appliances take up space on the countertops. Lack of color. Dark wood cabinets, yellow range and vent hood, white dishwasher, small appliances and curtains.

***

Today looks more and more like a rest day. PH sucks.

I miss you, Dude.

Later.

War on buzz

The invasion starts. Yesterday the flies clung to the kitchen window looking for warmth. The air conditioning causes them grief. (I suppose the time of year also has something to do with their numbers.) Pogo and Satchmo displayed their great hunter skills for half a day and then grew weary of the game. So I purchased a fly swatter and joined the fun.

Jimini's relatives decided to take up residence in my apartment as well. The boys found this game more fun, after all these guys can jump. Still, after an hour or so with bodies littering the apartment from one end to the other, the lure of a nap won. I played my role of insect mortician and disposed of the bodies.

* * *

Connie and I used our brains yesterday and went to PetSmart and the grocery. Energy wise, two stops worked out well.

* * *

I emailed a copy of the spoon theory to my brother, who shared with mom. I am hoping the piece will help them understand why some days I cannot do anything. If you are unfamiliar with the spoon theory, below is the link. The story is lengthy, but quite good.

http://www.butyoudontlooksick.com/navigation/BYDLS-TheSpoonTheory.pdf

* * *

The past three months or so I seem to hide more. I realize I am failing my friends. Am I being selfish? Am I scared? How can I help my friends when I cannot help myself? Is this faulty thinking?

* * *

Always, Dude.

Later.

Warning: This message may contain offensive material

Labor Day is more than hot dogs and volleyball in the park. Do not forget the ones who lost their lives to make working conditions better.

http://www.u-s-history.com/pages/h750.html

Blood almost always is shed to affect change. We seemingly never learn from history.

Missing you, Dude.

Later.

Nine months

I ate supper with my mom and brother last night. My mom looks so much like my grandmother did. My brother has a little facial hair going, which looks good. He is gray as gray can be. Me, I am getting grayer, but my hair mostly still is brown. Funny how the gene pool works.

Whatever it takes does not stir today.

Nine months, dude.

Later.

Good medicine

Yesterday's appointment with doc was so necessary.

He added me at the end of the day when he and all of his staff's thoughts focused on the long holiday weekend. To a person, they treated me with love and caring. One of his nurses actually hugged me when Connie and I were leaving.

Doc spent all kinds of time explaining his reasoning and answering the questions I had hastily written earlier.

Everything he told me swirls in my head. I cannot seem to herd the thoughts from the mind to the fingers. Strays keep wandering off.

I should get the Tyvaso next week. Hopefully I will begin to feel better. Doc detected some wheezing, so I guess that problem will continue to plague me. Doc approved the extra lasix when I need it, but said to add potassium on those days. He mentioned fluid consumption, too. I have gained 5 pounds since I left the hospital, but he was not as concerned about my weight as I am.

I slept well last night, but I think I need a nap -- now.

Thinking of you.

Later.

All alone in the moonlight

I cannot remember the exact date my world shifted. I just remember scenes from that day.

My friend from Plano came up and I agreed to go eat with him, his partner, Connie and Danny. You had died not many days before.

I was in a fog at lunch. Everyone there knew I had checked out. After lunch that seemed to go on forever, I hugged the guys and asked to go home.

When I got home, the dam broke. Waves and waves without end. The grief drowned me. Only I found myself facing the tsunami over and over, like that awful movie. Late that night, I finally called Connie and begged her to come over. She came without hesitation. She knew. I rended my being. I was no longer me.

Writing this brings tears anew. The new month serves as a harbinger of fall. Though fall is one of nature's most beautiful seasons, winter's harshness threatens. You surrendered to winter. Now I have yet another reason to hate winter.

I have been sad for months and the darkness of winter days only will bring more pain.

Keeping me honest

To make a long story short, I talked to the doc's nurse today after she called me three times and I failed to call her back. The scale nurse (provided by the insurance co.) called the doc even though I asked him not to. So I just did not answer the calls from my doc's nurse. But Connie, my friend, said I would die if I continued to play doc myself. So I finally called doc's nurse back. I told her my symptoms and she later called back and asked me to come in to the office tomorrow afternoon.

I have asked Connie to go with me for a couple of reasons. I hope doc understands. I need her there to prod me to tell him all the symptoms. I tend to downplay everything, Connie says. I also want her there to listen for me. Maybe I filter out what I do not want to hear.

I almost feel like tomorrow will play out like "Gunfight at the OK Corral," and I am not on Doc Holliday's side. (Great movie, by the way. One of the must-sees.)

Now I worry that I will offend doc if I bring someone with me. Gee, I get so tired of myself sometimes. I am me, but sometimes I do not like me at all.

Connie said I would die. Is that what I want? Or do I want someone to tell me please do not die? Affirm I am worthy of life itself.

Help dude. I need you.

Later.

Do this or that will happen

The local newspaper encourages, or maybe makes mandatory, writing a blog. Everyone in the newsroom. Photographers, copy editors, reporters. Will this blur the line between news and personal opinion?

People tend to believe the written word. Just look at all those rumors floating around FB. The tide of misinformation ebbs for awhile, then washes over the site again. The most popular "truths" include: "Do not friend so-and-so, they will steal your information... crash your computer...eat your firstborn."; and "Get the Farm..... special pig ... cow ... barn ... free. Just click like button and pick up that malware, too."

Also noticed evangelists of every stripe. Then there are the ever present links to the sites of various illnesses. Lots of fund-raisers. I support finding help for all chronic diseases, after all I suffer from one. But, like one of my fellow PHers said, the PH crowd loses its personal touch. Not as much support individually anymore.

My "friends" grew to nearly 420. Now really, how many of them do I communicate with? Some of them I do not have the slightest idea who they are. Yet I hesitate to defriend them because I do not want to hurt anyone's feelings. Sheesh.

I spend lots of time on the site, but I stay "hidden" a majority of the time. Why? Sometimes I want to play FT without interruptions. The game keeps me mindlessly occupied. I hide also because I cannot talk to two or three people at once. I end up hitting the wrong key every time. That sends all conversations into the abyss.

This intangible world sucks you in as effectively as a peepshow poster. The cyber addiction possesses holds you cannot begin to imagine.

 * * *

Yesterday I overdid. Shot my wad of spoons before noon. Called Bubber and canceled the dinner. We will reschedule sometime before he leaves on Tuesday. I did get the bedroom vacuumed and the dishes washed as well as my hair and myself.

Connie wondered if Bubber and my mom know how serious my disease is. Probably not since I tend to underplay PH. I also deny.

* * *

I read quite a few blogs now. If I fail to write a comment on yours, it does not mean I am not reading. It does not mean I do not care. I would imagine (((hugs))) gets old. Just know I have dropped by. Thanks for sharing.

* * *

My feet and legs continue to swell. I am trying to eat better and see if that helps.

* * *

You were the best.

Later.

Lessons in life

Bubber hit town yesterday for a week's visit. My mother already has his days pretty well lined out. Today, for instance, she has an eye appointment. After that, she wants to shop for some pants. And we will celebrate my birthday 12 days early by eating supper out.

I am happy Bubber can help mother out. Between my car and me, I am not worth much to her. But I will save that story for another time.

Remember we talked about gullible? How we both fell for big lines? I believe that was so because we want so very much to trust others. Maybe our bullshit detectors lost a part somewhere. Whatever. We tend to believe the best and then discover we believed wrong.

The really stupid part of the whole situation -- the surprise. What? You are not what you say you are? Gee. We fall for the same tired line over and over. We possess the acuity. So what blocks the critical perception? 

Other issues we figure out keenly. You, with your stats. Stats represent stability. Though they change, they remain the same, too.

With me, hmmm. Not sure. Something I do know, each time I am hoodwinked, I remove myself more from the world. Maybe that move protects me, an instinct thing. Which will dominate? Loneliness or self-preservation? Stay tuned.

You, your transplant forced the isolation. You died alone and you died with company. You had no real choice. I can see how your life became like a prison to the point you gambled  for a few moments of happiness. Then the happiness, like a viper, turned on you. The actress made you bitter. I do not toss blame willy-nilly, just stating fact.

I knew from the time I met you the end approached. That knowledge did not prevent me from wishing you had lingered for my selfish reasons. Such pain, such unhappiness. You told me I was the fixer, but I could not fix this. Nor could anyone else.

But what do I know?

Later.