While I slept 8 hours yesterday, only two of them were at night, and those two came between 2000 and 2200 hours. I mean, really. I'm kinda trying to get shit straightened back out after the horrible fucking steroid test. Which I knew the outcome and did it anyway kind of stupidity. There isn't much sadder than knowing how something is going to go, and being there when it does go, and not being able to do a damn thing about it because it feels right. And yes, the steroids jacked with me enough being angry seemed like the right thing. That goes into my "Wow, That's Fucked Up" file. So to go along with the let down that comes with being jacked up 24/7 on steroids, my sleep pattern is messed up worse than polio…..again.
I have no place to go, so it shouldn't bother me that my sleep pattern is messed up, but it does. I'm groggy right now and still have a therapy to go to this morning. I can get some rest there. It's no good, since my non working will still leave me awake all night, sleep all day
Chemo brain may have me, but I don't recall if I mentioned I had a cup of joe with an old buddy from LK that lives in New Mexico now. We shot the breeze about all kinds of goofy shit we did when we were in HS. Little stuff like smuggling beer into the brand new theater in Liberal KS. So, Clay H, myself, and Tom R. took a twelve pack of Coors into the theater under our winter coats. That's not the problem. I can't even remember the name of the movie, but that's not the problem either. The problem was what to do with the can's. We decided to set them under our seats and be some of the last ones out. Clay bumped one. It fell. It began to roll. You could hear it over the dialogue and back music. All the long way down, from nearly dead center in the back row, all the way down until it hit the wall under the screen. rowrrowrowr, bonk, rrrrowrrrowr, well, you get the idea. At the time, I was damn near certain that we were gonna get caught and tossed in the jail overnight. Minor in possession, maybe public intoxication. All the worst shit you could think of was running through my head. Until you hear people start to giggle. And the occasional "oops" when it hit a seat leg or something.
Clay H reminded me that I convinced them to make fun of the movie out loud while we watched. Ahead of Mystery Science Theater we were, by God. That was a hoot. People laughed as well. Fun times in the LK. Who'd have thought that in just 4 or 5 short years from then that LK would be racing to grab the top spot as "Murders Per Capita" city. Man, for a while there it was rough. Clay H was home from college, asked me if I wanted to grab a beer on ladies night at Yosemite Sam's. Of course I did, sheesh. I'm not sure exactly what happened later on, but Clay H got hammered and some how pissed off some of the LK's biggest hard asses. Some drug selling brothers. I did manage to get between him and the brothers and start for the door, sideways kind of, and definitely no BBQ. We managed to get away with out a scratch. All I remember is "asshole', "spilled", and "my coke". Rough crowd there some nights, and spilling their nose candy would just about get you shot. I did watch every damn thing for the next few weeks. Just because you get a little paranoid doesn't mean someone isn't watching you. Yep, we had a good time. Now it will be back to normal, when the baby comes home. So no, it's never "normal" again after a baby comes along.
I'm so swollen from God knows what, that it's giving me an ear ache. I don't believe it's in fashion, since they only make 8 per year. So, no. For what that arm candy costs, I could get one Clinical Study session (which I wouldn't do anyway) or pay some more off on baby red. Either way would be acceptable use of my life insurance. HA!! Like I have a say? Nope, I had it basically read "Liz Gets It All). And yes, I believe the kids get a tiny chunk as well. That's up to Liz, she's the one that has to keep up with the house and all. I'm so swollen in my neck and throat that it's difficult to get all the range of motion I had two weeks ago. Thank goodness for therapy. Maybe my PT will have an idea how to help hold the swelling down. Cross my fingers, dot my "i".
Yes, it's frustrating after being on the steroid "why is it wrong to just break one arm?" wagon. It's frustrating to have lost nearly all my ability to talk even a little. That's just like taking the icing off the the cake. Doesn't sound as good, does it. Honestly, it's pretty good. It's really good crumbled up in about a half glass of milk. So yeah, I'm frustrated still. But this time I'm not going to take it out on Liz or anyone else. This time I've got control over myself. Just a little bit, not much, but every little bit counts.
While this is pretty difficult for me to go through when I doesn't bother me as much as it does Liz and the family. It's way easier to fade out, than it is to watch a loved one fade out. At least that's my perception. Someone correct me if I'm wrong
Book Of Rock: Get your ass moving or you'll be late! (literally for me, because I'm running late now)
Be good, get laid
