Disclaimer: this is straight-up writing of active lung cancer in me but nothing in the #Blotto set of articles has been written with thoughts of trying to shock or disturb. I am using in-home hospice and that's the best circumstance I could hope relative to being in a hospice clinic or, worst of all, to be admitted into a hospital.
It occurs to me that my emphasis on the search for the goodness in things entirely whitewashes my situation look like a spiritual retreat for philosophical cleansing or some such. The reality is there is violent vomiting two or three times per day. At first it seemed the morphine causes it but that's not it. Right now is the dance to take the morphine in about half an hour. I have to do the dance properly or it will come back up since that vomiting happened just a few minutes ago after doing it about two hours ago before I went to lie down.
My weight is down to 116 pounds and that was a bit of a shock but it's all part of the #Blotto. The answer is the same as for any other aspect of this in requiring the Morphine Dance to deal with it. That loss means the dive is accelerating but that emphasizes all the more the Zen of it in which Now matters but nothing else does.
Right now I take some Omeprazole to reduce the potential for any acid effects which is a big deal since I was diagnosed with Barrett's Esophagus about eight years ago and that means the cells of the esophagus were pre-cancerous. The medication is to work against complications from that to let me eat some really bland food in about half an hour. If that goes ok then about half an hour after that I will take the morphine with some confidence it will stay down.
Zen Yogi: so you don't simply have the cancer but you're riddled with it?
That appears to be the general reality, Yogi. This is hospice care so there are no diagnostics because their objective is palliation to reduce the pain in something which will come anyway. I fully accept that it comes anyway and hospice does its best to reduce the pain but nothing takes out all of it. Even so, I do the Morphine Dance since there's no way to deal with trying to eliminate it. Everything becomes a matter of trying to reduce the pain.
In the same course of things I will smoke some of the ganja and that modulates the somnolent horror of the morphine to a vibe of general goodness. The ganja does little to mitigate overt pain but it works directly against the existential anomie of the circumstance.
Jim Morrison sang, "This is the end
Beautiful friend
This is the end
My only friend, the end."
The end is not my friend. It's more like my only combatant and I refuse to roll over for it. In the end I must roll over for it anyway but not before it is time.
Yevette asked me earlier what do I really want for my birthday other than a new body but I told her I didn't really want anything I don't have already and that translates to an indirect I love you. She saw that and we had a hug. That was when I told her I can be like Miss Congeniality and ask for world peace.
It's about two weeks until that glorious event and two weeks minus one day for Doc's birthday. Barbie's birthday is in about a week but she doesn't count them anymore. There's a real family birthday swarm at this time of year and through our lives that has been a little weird. We're heading into another one and Happy Birthday all 'round.
There's been no diminution in my personal need to look for the goodness any more than that need diminishes in anyone. As the situation worsens, the need to find the goodness increases rather than reduces. As an example of the goodness comes, if you like, from Tom Hanks who has just released a book of poetry which further exemplifies his talents but he wears them with same humility as maybe Garrison Keillor in "A Prairie Home Companion." (The Guardian: Uncommon Type: Some Stories review – Hanks, but no thanks)
While the critic was not much a fan, the work nevertheless reveals Hanks' humility and I admire that in him tremendously.
Much love to you all.
It occurs to me that my emphasis on the search for the goodness in things entirely whitewashes my situation look like a spiritual retreat for philosophical cleansing or some such. The reality is there is violent vomiting two or three times per day. At first it seemed the morphine causes it but that's not it. Right now is the dance to take the morphine in about half an hour. I have to do the dance properly or it will come back up since that vomiting happened just a few minutes ago after doing it about two hours ago before I went to lie down.
My weight is down to 116 pounds and that was a bit of a shock but it's all part of the #Blotto. The answer is the same as for any other aspect of this in requiring the Morphine Dance to deal with it. That loss means the dive is accelerating but that emphasizes all the more the Zen of it in which Now matters but nothing else does.
Right now I take some Omeprazole to reduce the potential for any acid effects which is a big deal since I was diagnosed with Barrett's Esophagus about eight years ago and that means the cells of the esophagus were pre-cancerous. The medication is to work against complications from that to let me eat some really bland food in about half an hour. If that goes ok then about half an hour after that I will take the morphine with some confidence it will stay down.
Zen Yogi: so you don't simply have the cancer but you're riddled with it?
That appears to be the general reality, Yogi. This is hospice care so there are no diagnostics because their objective is palliation to reduce the pain in something which will come anyway. I fully accept that it comes anyway and hospice does its best to reduce the pain but nothing takes out all of it. Even so, I do the Morphine Dance since there's no way to deal with trying to eliminate it. Everything becomes a matter of trying to reduce the pain.
In the same course of things I will smoke some of the ganja and that modulates the somnolent horror of the morphine to a vibe of general goodness. The ganja does little to mitigate overt pain but it works directly against the existential anomie of the circumstance.
Jim Morrison sang, "This is the end
Beautiful friend
This is the end
My only friend, the end."
The end is not my friend. It's more like my only combatant and I refuse to roll over for it. In the end I must roll over for it anyway but not before it is time.
Yevette asked me earlier what do I really want for my birthday other than a new body but I told her I didn't really want anything I don't have already and that translates to an indirect I love you. She saw that and we had a hug. That was when I told her I can be like Miss Congeniality and ask for world peace.
It's about two weeks until that glorious event and two weeks minus one day for Doc's birthday. Barbie's birthday is in about a week but she doesn't count them anymore. There's a real family birthday swarm at this time of year and through our lives that has been a little weird. We're heading into another one and Happy Birthday all 'round.
There's been no diminution in my personal need to look for the goodness any more than that need diminishes in anyone. As the situation worsens, the need to find the goodness increases rather than reduces. As an example of the goodness comes, if you like, from Tom Hanks who has just released a book of poetry which further exemplifies his talents but he wears them with same humility as maybe Garrison Keillor in "A Prairie Home Companion." (The Guardian: Uncommon Type: Some Stories review – Hanks, but no thanks)
While the critic was not much a fan, the work nevertheless reveals Hanks' humility and I admire that in him tremendously.
Much love to you all.
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