Not so daily, daily May 16

I thought when you face your mortality, you are supposed to acquire a quiet wisdom about life.  I don't know why I thought that or even where I found that idea.  Regardless, it's bullshit.

I have no new quiet wisdom.  I do have more questions, though.

I just read that.  Maybe I don't have more questions.  It could be I just have the same questions.  They may just be louder in my head.

Why don't people just do what I want them to do?  More specifically, why don't the once I really want to be around, come around?

The most heartbreaking is my son.  Those words he threw at me.  The hate and hurt hurled my way, hit me hard.  He vowed that that was it.  I hope those are not his last words to me though it seems that was his intent.

Janet is another.  I know she understands how lonely things can get.  When she lost Marc suddenly, I know that empty feeling she felt.  I also know that she wants to come and see me.  Oh, alright.  I assume she wants to come and see me.  Maybe I just fantasize she wants to come and see me. Would it be so bad?  It's not like I'm asking her to bale hay.  She seemed pretty interested and eager before this whole cancer thing.

Kelly hasn't called, messaged or anything similar in what is approaching six months.  She has had a rough couple of years, I know, losing her mom and her dad.  I helped her through losing her mother.  I spent hours on the phone with her going through that.  I guess she has other interests.

So I sit here at the wonderful Daffodil Lodge, with octogenerians, going through radiation which is no goddamned fun.  For the most part, it's in silence because I sound like a drunk trying to talk with half of a tongue.

Anyway, enough bitching for now.  I'm tired.

Later

Dean

Not So Daily, Daily May 4, Second Edition

Does one correct the grammer of another they are trying to convince to do the naughty?

Asking for a friend......

Not So Daily, Daily May 4

I sit here in the Cancer Center as the American Congress votes on the American Health Care Act.  Perhaps it's my liberal bias, but I am truly baffled.  I could not possibly pay for my health care out of pocket.  I could not have paid for Nancy's MS treatment and custodial care out of pocket.  I certainly could not have paid for Jackson's 9 month hospitalization, 8 surgeries, and subsequent care out of pocket. And yet America is getting ready to make health care unreachable for many middle class and poor people across the nation.  For what?  To give rich people choice? The real beneficiaries are insurance companies.  They will once again be able to deny high cost patients coverage and provide rich packages to the healthy rich.

'Merica!

Later

Dean

Not So Daily Apr. 21

My roomate was up and down all night. He coughing, puking, trying to gargle with analgesic mouthwash to reduce the pain.  He's in week 5.  I am just finishing week one.

I've been down in the common area now for about three hours and the sun is just coming up.  I see the workers file into the hospital from the window. They are coming in to treat people will all manner of illness including those with what I have.

They have to deal in this shit everyday.  But eight hours from now, they will file out in the same line they came in.  They will spread through the city and beyond to go back to their families.  They will go back to their lives.

I know I'm being melodramatic, and a few years ago, I'd call myself a little bitch.  I don't use those terms anymore.  I did at one time.  At one time I used them with impunity.  Today I don't, because I know the hurt they perpetuate.  Raising a daughter will do that to a fella.  Also, marrying a woman like Nancy will help you realize pretty fucking quickly that women are no wilting flowers.

Where the fuck was I going with this?  I think I started out just feeling sorry for myself.  Now I'm talking about my enlightenment.

To think I'm such an enlightened soul and pat myself on the back is really kind of ridiculous.  To be the soft misogynist I was, really had no excuse.  Logic would tell me that using that language holding those views really wasn't sensical.  But everyone else did too?  Sure they did.  But that's just fucking lazy thinking.

Whenever I hear the excuse for biggotry "he was raised in a different era", I wan't to punch that piece of shit in the face.  Once new knowledge is presented, there is no more excuse.  Yes your parents were wrong, your church was wrong, but you don't have to continue the legacy of being wrong.

I am wrong about so many things. I will die being wrong about so many things.  I don't think I am going to be afforded the time to fix those wrongs.  I just want not to continue to do the wrongs I know are wrong.

Except perhaps engaging in self-indulgent, self-pity.  Which I earnestly intended to do this morning.  I wanted to write about Janet.  I wanted to write about how angry I am at her distancing.  I wanted to talk about how isolating it is not to be able to speak normally to another human being after they rip your tongue out of your head.

I think I'll save that for another day.

Later

Deaner

Not So Daily Apr 17

Hi folks, Dean here writing you from the Daffodil Terrace Lodge, otherwise known as cancer place.  OK.  It's not known as that to everyone, I guess, but to me.

My first night was fucking horrible.  Tossed, turned, my roomate was up about 15 times to take a piss.  I look like death warmed over this morning.

On another note, one of my radiation techs is married to a high school buddy.  She certainly has aged well.  Still a cutie.

That's all I got right now.

Miserable,

Deaner

The Not So Daily April 15

I thought this would be a daily thing. Apparently not.  Turns our I'm not as dedicated to documenting this whole ordeal as I thought.  Why should my stick-to-it'ness change just because I have cancer?

Well, yesterday, I had my first radiation treatment.  No ill-effects, though they tell me they may be cumulative.  I have 30 sessions for them to take hold.  I'm patient.

I toked last night, you know, just to be sure that I was staving off any side effects.  Wouldn't you know it?  It worked.

My radiation therapist is Joanne. Joanne is married to Phil.  Me and Phil hung out in high school. I made it my mission to find his lunch and eat his sandwich before actual lunch period came around.  I was a dick.

Anyway, Joanne is a lovely person.  I'm glad for Phil.

This isn't a very introspective entry, I'm realizing. Oh well, I can't impress myself everyday.

Later

The Daily for April 5

Soooo.....

I am back to being that pathetic 17 year old kid who finds himself wounded because a girl doesn't feel as hard for him as he'd like.  I watch for her online and fantasize that she sits at her computer late at night doing the same.  More likely, she's giggling at silly shit and I'm no nearer to her thoughts than I was yesterday.

I'm still waiting for a date for my radiation to start.  I am under the impression that it will start soon.

I am not sure of where my head is at.  Not being able to talk sure leaves you with your own thoughts.  They tend to go all over the place where one minute, I can see some sort of limited future, to being re-diagnosed with some form aggressive cancer in another part of this sorry sack of skin.

George and Leona are squabbling about getting the garbage out on time. Sometimes I don't think there is anything those two can do without squabbling. Oh well.

Out.