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.