Barbaric or merciful?

Will you help me....

Die?


What a scary question...
Certainly not something one ever wants to hear.

A very taboo topic in polite company.

What do you do if your best friend poses this question to you?
What if it’s your brother? Your mom? Your son - that poses this question?

What it must take for a person to reach a place where such an idea is even considered
It’s very verbiage indicates some thought had been put to the idea.

Even now, I still have occasion to need advice from a parent when facing life’s hurdles.
How can I possibly consider leaving…mine are still so young.

I certainly don’t want them to have to watch this deterioration.
Locked in the theater, the endless horror splayed on the screen ahead.

I am grateful to my disease for some things…
To see the strength in my daughters… the oldest so patient and understanding with me.. never complaining when I need driven to ER for another pain episode that I can’t get under control despite the barrage of opiods here to throw at it…
I am confident both will handle life’s hurdles well.

My mom’s illness petrified me and I ran.
I avoided contact with her... I think because I didn’t know how to help her… I felt helpless
I didn’t do for her what I should have... I regret that deeply…
How my kids have the strength to do it I dunno… maybe they are trapped here and just do.
I’d like to think its because I have taught them well.. given them the resources they need in life to be strong, healthy…They help each other and work well together.
I feel guilty when I want to give up…


My own battle with mental health issues.
I remember standing in the hallway of our home..13 yrs old…
A closet at the end of the hallway, stores uniforms, a Kevlar vest, a gun cleaning kit and half a dozen handguns or so..
The smell of gun oil and shoe polish waft into your nostrils when the door opens.
A small snub-nosed .38 with the hammer spur filed off has come to fit my young hand well.

Pressed under my chin more times than I can count…throughout my teen years.. begging to stop the nagging endless noise in my head that no one else hears...
Until now, only one other person has ever known that this ever occurred.
I would be well into my 30’s when the noise would be replaced by sheer blank emptiness.

Watching Mariah with similar struggles...frustrated with the world around her.
I know she is experiencing the same challenges...I see it…
I hope to be able to help her manage this so that it doesn’t affect her life as negatively as it has mine.


A new MRI shows tumor growth.
A cm in three months.
That doesn’t sound like the slow growing this thing is supposed to be.
My hands have become more numb, more often.
My right hand is pretty much useless most of the time.
I worry that I will reach a point where I am unable to do what needs to be done.
I don’t trust anyone near me to do it.
I’m afraid I will be stuck somewhere, unable to affect my own treatment.
That scares me the worst.
I have my own hospice thank you.

Eureka ~ !

Wow..

It”s been awhile since I have been up to blogging…

Physically or emotionally…
But I am sitting here now getting some stuff down.. (then I gotta put it up on the blog so in this case, what goes down must go up….)

Odd… anyway..

I’ve decided I’m a complete idiot.
I’ve always likened to think of myself as an intelligent person.
I’ve never really been afraid of tackling some perceived hurdle.. unafraid to push limits, bend or break rules….notorious for resolving bothersome workplace obstacles others could not.

Raising two young daughters on my own as a single father was daunting but easily doable in my mind

Changing careers more than once later in life was also challenging but I kept going…
So I never real thot of myself as the victim sort.. and accepting help from others was something I resisted out of..uhm, pride? (I’m a big boy, I do it myself!) sheeesh.

So lately ..being ill I have really just wanted someone to help. Actually, to take over for awhile so I can freeking rest. Spend my time and energy staying alive. getting well.
Well, being a single dad and no one else really here to do shit, I don’t have that luxury. Either we find a way to get it done or it don’t get done.

So I’ve been feeling sorry for myself ‘cuz of all the shit I cant do no mo…how emasculating and dehumanizing it is to have such simple things taken away from you...
what a wuss.

I was (and have been) thinking about simple things I wanna do but cannot.
We love food and cooking here and I love to surprise the girls with hot breakfast some mornings..french toast ort pancakes bacon easy, yummy and a cozy start to the day especially when the weather gets colder.

But I can’t stand long enough to freekin make damn pancakes at the stove so I gave up on it inna snit. Poor me.
Geez.
Is anybody listening? POOR ME! This isn’t fair damnit! POOR ME!.
Anyway.
I brag about teaching my kids to cook at like 4 yrs old. Counter top electric griddle. Bowl of bisquick mix dripping on the counter.. pancakes that don’t make it or get half flipped into oblivion all in the name of teaching wonderful giggling little girls the wonder of warm buttery pancakes and maple syrup.

The other day it dawned on me. That same griddle..would work on the kitchen table…just as well as it would on the countertop. But,, get this… the kitchen table is at a height I can work at.

I could freekin cook freekin breakfast again… maybe it doesn’t sound like much but it sure would mean a bunch o me to be able to do that. I could do it from my electric scooter chair thing…

What a dumbass. Why didn’t I think of this b4? Intelligent? Me? Apparently not so much if it took this long for me to find a solution for a simple prob.
I still will hafta learn to do some stuff left handed.. but that’s ok…

Maybe I’ve been to overwhelmed by the gravity of the situation as a whole ..to busy complaining..
Anyway..moving on.. gonna acquire a grill and commence to sizzling some bacon n eggs and pancakes.

Is this what is called a break thru?

I cant believe I didn’t find this answer sooner. What a waste of time and suffering…

Spent too much timing splashing around in despair to pull up my socks and solve the prob.
Step over the puddle and keep walking. Geez, cliff…


Cliff, yer a dork sometimes.