What is the Point of Pointless Pain

I've been thinking about pain lately.  Not emotional pain.  Not, damn I stubbed my toe pain.  But the agonizing compound fracture type of pain.  I find that level of pain not only useless overkill but piss poor engineering on someone's part.

Yes yes, I know, pain is an important part of the bodies function to protect itself.  Lay your hand on the stove burner, yep that hurts and if you are smart you jerk your hand away.  Cut your finger with a knife, sure enough that hurts too go get a band aid.  But at some point pain just becomes excessive and a waste of our body's energy.

Seriously, think about it.  Mountain climber guy falls off of a cliff leaving him with one jagged edge of his tibia is sticking out the back of his calf.  Now mountain climber guy can look down and assess the situation visually.  "Holy crap that hurts and that bone shouldn't be doing that."  But you see, he can't assess the situation visually as he is writhing in absolute complete agony.  I ask what is the point in that level of pain.

In my case I know I'm in the battle of a lifetime with the Effing Evil Empire.  Lately the E³ has been on the march and the battle rages in my various bone metastasis.  These battles are painful.  No not painful, at times they are take your breath away, whimper like a babe, mewl like a kitten painful.  Why?  Why not tone it down by at least half.  By half would at least cut out the mewling.  I know I have mets. I would know if they just hurt.  I don't need a direct take your breath away shot of pain to tell me something is amiss in my body when a shot across the bow would work just as well.

I appreciate the need for pain.  I really do.  Obviously the doctors do to or they wouldn't have this cute little chart in every room:

TEN WORST PAIN IMAGINABLE!  Hell we don't need that.  That's just stupid.  I propose that five becomes the new ten and there is no pain over five.  Anything over five is just really useless to mountain climber guy, cancer person, birthing women and anyone else with owies, boo boos, and compound fractures.

Don't even get me started on tooth aches!

Talk to you later.

Cannabis, Medicine and FECO Oh My!

I’m no doctor, expert or stoner.  This post is purely based upon my experiences with Medical Marijuana and offered as a reality reference only.

I can’t help but notice in reading the various FB threads and news feeds devoted to the medical virtues of Cannabis how confusing it all seems to be.  This is because, whether proponents want to admit it or not, modern Cannabis is a pharmacology in its infancy populated by many desperate people seeking miracle answers.

I wouldn’t be totally transparent if I didn’t mention I’m a proponent of Cannabis, especially for medical purposes.  I would also be remiss if I didn’t [as I’ve mentioned in previous posts] say that my goal isn’t to get high…I can’t stand being pot-high.  I would also be remiss in not saying I believe through reading testimonials etc. I’ve come to the conclusion that Cannabis is my W.M.D when it comes to beating the Effing Evil Empire.

Now that my “credentials” and disclaimer are out of the way, I can say that medical marijuana plays an important role in my fight against the Effing Evil Empire with the down side that I hate to be pot-high.  That said, I thought I’d throw out a few of my experiences for those of you newly fighting the Empire and those of you that may have misconceptions about the medical Marijuana market place.

The first thing to realize, a lid is a lid is a lid and it is a measurement that only over-fifties will recognize and it, a lid, no longer exists.  Good thing there are no seeds in a bag anymore because there are no more album covers left to help you with the culling process.   Ironically, the second thing to realize, the current dispensary entrepreneurs are mostly over fifty, so their marketing is stuck in the 60s and 70s.

Thus, the name of the dispensaries and medicine, seem for the most part to carry names that harken back to the mid-sixties and would send any “newbie” back into the arms of Big Pharma.  Don’t let it!  Just because your nearest dispensary is named something like “Holy Crap I’m Really Baked” doesn't mean there aren't caring and informative people tending the store.  Also, get used to the Jamaican flag and Bob Marley. Like I said, many dispensaries are stuck in the past.  Rule of thumb, just like your doctor, if you don’t like your dispensary find a new one.

As for the medicine.  Each and every strain has a medicinal purpose and you get to make an informed choice either through Internet resources or informed “bud tenders.”  What you won’t be able to get away from, for now, are the names of the medicine.  Just smile as you read: Obama, Strawberry Kush, Skunk Wallow, Diesel Spill, Crotch Haze, Ear Wash, Couch Lock, etc.  Okay I made most of those names up, but each strain offers a very specific remedy for very specific side effects if not specific cures.

The big gun in fighting the Effing Evil Empire is Cannabis Oil or FECO [Full Extract Cannabis Oil].  People argue hard and long about how to make it, how much CBN, THC, etc. etc. (bullshit ad nauseam) should be in your oil.  Whether to follow Rich Simpson's plan.  Suffice it to say, a room divided no matter how educated the room thinks it is.

Simply put, Cannabis Oil is made in a few steps.  Place the bud/flower in a solvent, heat the concoction without blowing your house up then evaporate the solvent off and you are left with a potent oil.

Importantly, if you are the FECO consumer [FECO being Full Extraction Cannabis Oil] you need to be concerned about the solvent.  Many of the oils use solvents such as Naptha.  Really?  Do you want that in your body?  Choose oils that use Everclear or food-grade alcohol.  I started with the Naptha version and was poisoned the whole time.

Then there is the alphabet soup….THC, THCA, CBN, Decarboxilation [or some spelling of same].  No one knows what the right combo is.  Get the medicine in you and adjust accordingly.  Simple.  Worst case, won’t cure you, but will make you more comfortable.  No one has ever, ever OD’d from Marijuana!

If you don’t like the side effects of Cannabis there are a couple of things you can do that work famously.  Depending on the strain you choose you may or may not experience a huge case of anxiety.  Simple solution, glass of orange juice…’nuf said.

Or, switch your strain, Indica and Sativa and hybrids there of have distinctly different effect on each distinctive one of us.  Whatever works for you.  Simple!

If you don’t want to get high, two simple solutions.  The first, an easily attainable amino acid from any vitamin aisle, Citacoline.  If that’s not good enough then make your own suppositories with coconut oil.  These are what work for me.

Cannabis oil, or FECO as It’s being called now, benefits many of us - patients and care-givers alike.  Don’t let the infancy, schools of thought and ignorance of the product, steer you away from such an effective tool in the fight against cancer.

Talk to you later.

Faith...no not her.

No, no don't go running for the hills, all of us have faith in something.  Faith isn't reserved for just those of a religious bent.  

Such as, most of us have faith that the sun will come up tomorrow, water will run downhill, bears will do their thing in the woods, the totally despondent have faith they will be totally despondent tomorrow and the really faithful believe that the Seattle Mariners will win the world series this year!

Of late I've been giving faith a lot of thought and though I'm no philosopher, certainly smarter people than I have debated the topic of faith, I do have a couple of thoughts.

Faith is a tricky thing.  You can have faith in your doctor or you can have no faith in your doctor.  In the latter case get a new doctor.  Certainly your faith in someone else can later be misplaced faith but that's life and you have faith it will be different next time.  But what I've really been thinking about is what faith is and the measure of faith.

Measuring faith introduces what particle physics call the Heisenberg's Uncertainty Principal.
Yes I said there would be no particle physics sorry.  The Uncertainty  Principal basically says the measurement of a particle is influenced at some level by the "measurer" thus introducing uncertainty in the measurement.

When you start to measure your faith you start to introduce, just as Mr. Heisenberg theorized, uncertainty and uncertainty certainly is the opposite of faith.  Maybe you knew that but I didn't figure it out until recently.  

Also, I think one shouldn't over think faith.  If you think too hard about faith then you are loosing faith in faith.  Yep, I did promise ice cream headaches.  Faith just is.

So, if you are battling with the Effing Evil Empire, then as a commonly said salutation in the 60s and 70s, "Keep The Faith".  There's a whole list of things in our battle we have to think about.  Isn't it cool that faith isn't one of them.

Talk to you later.  

A Man, His Cancer and His Dog

I have a new buddy in my life.  His name is Connor Macleod.  Named after the original Connor, the Connor that said "I've been alive for four and a half centuries and I cannot die."  That same Connor described Haggis in revolting detail.  Pretty sure my Connor would love Haggis.

Connor's addition was not a spur of the moment irrational knee jerk "oh he's so cute" action.  There hadn't been a dog in the house for eight years and after debating for the last two years all the stars aligned and voila'.   Connor.

Some of you at this very moment are thinking I'm terribly irresponsible.  How can a man who can't move faster than a snail, who is fighting the Effing Evil Empire, a man who the pundits say, and if you believe them [I don't], is not long for this time, bring a poor little puppy into his life?

My answer is I can still take care of a puppy and the things I can't do, well I have an incredible caregiver that picks up my slack.  Really not the point here though.

I have read that pets do wondrous things for the infirm.  I don't need to read to understand that now.  Since Connor showed up I have laughed, smiled, been concerned and just overall entertained.  I even oft times feel better than I should.

Of course I've been pissed off too.  Afterall  he is just a puppy with a "thirty second puppy memory" and "selective hearing."  Of course he doesn't understand when the deaf foul breathed old cat slaps him in the face that it's not an invitation for frivolity.  He's a puppy and he'll grow up to be a better friend than he already is.

The other night I was terribly sick, it happens, and Connor sat and looked on in confusion as I was retching.  In between retches I asked my caregiver to put him out so he didn't have to watch.  Finally, retching stopped Connor came back in.  Normally, as part of his training, if Connor comes in when called, he may or may not get a little dog treat.  So he's gotten to where he comes in and sits patiently at the top of the stairs to see if he's hit the dog treat lottery or not.

Not that trip back in.  He was so worried he came bounding up to me as only a puppy can, truly worried.  A ruffle of his ears by me and lick of my wrists by Connor and he was satisfied that I was once again good to go.  Melted my heart it did.

I'm not advocating that all of you fighting the Effing Evil Empire run out and get a dog.  Dogs aren't for everyone.  I know a person that actually abhors dogs.  What I will say, and you can't stop me, sometimes this disease makes me feel useless.  Not worthless, useless.  It's pretty cool to have someone, in my case Connor, that I can effectively take care of.  

So if you don't like dogs or aren't lucky enough to have someone who can take up your slack maybe a gold fish.  Even a goldfish needs to be fed, change it's water and someone to talk to.

Admittedly, a goldfish won't do stupid ass stuff that makes you laugh your ass off like Connor trying to figure out the hanging birdbath.  But anything that can get ones mind off E³ is better than any prescription drug.

Talk to you later

Betrayal-My Body Didn't

In the days yore when "things" were decided by smelly men carrying sharp edged metal objects and using said sharpness to slash at each other.  "Betrayal" meant something, I think, different then the word does now. 

Then and before, betrayal meant a nice knife between a rib and into the heart.  Perhaps "Betrayal" could mean an entire legion changing allegiance in the middle of the melee.  But you see the trend....in the days of yore "Betrayal" generally ended bloody.

Now we are more civilized.  There are now a plethora of P.C. betrayal terms; betrayal of trust, betrayal of....well I'm sure there is a plethora.  The point is that betrayal isn't as final as it once was.

To be sure there is nothing worse than  betrayal. No matter how each of us defines "Betrayal" , betrayal leaves an anger unique to all other angers.  "Betrayal" produces a "Are you fucking kidding me", to an incredulous "What the hell this isn't funny", and the "I could just puke."  I asked those questions to myself as I tearfully walked out of the diagnosis that day.

So.  I was wondering lately why I've been so extra angry.  I know I need a certain level of anger to fight the Effing Evil Empire.  How can you fight anything without some passion bordering on anger? Eventually a thought started to percolate.  Then, like a foggy epiphany, I recognize a portion of my anger was solely because my body betrayed me.  

Yep.  As insane as it sounds. My anger! It's my bodies fault! My body betrayed me!

Oh I know.  Some of you smile at this but truth, I struggled with this "Betrayal" for quite some time.

Then I realized that my body probably didn't wake up one morning and say "This guy is a jerk.  I'm calling in the Effing Evil Empire to ... Really I thought?  My body wants to kill itself because my body thinks I'm a jerk?  [smarter people than I will have to figure out that last statement]

I'm not nearly as angry now.

Talk to you later

U.K. Pancreas Cancer Ad and The Sad Truth

I thought for a number of days before I decided to respond to this.  

Rest assured I responded when I first found it on Facebook.  I was incensed to unreasonable anger by the posts of, well frankly, the clueless.  The "I have to save the world even though I've no clue what I'm talking about." people.

Truth be told.  I was angry, so beyond belief,  I broke my rule of "think before you post to social."

Here's the ad that started it all:

A shit storm of "how insensitive", "how could anyone wish that on someone else?", "Oh they are trying to take money from breast cancer research.", "It's not a competition.", "If anyone ever experienced a loved one with breast cancer they wouldn't wish this on anyone."

This poor woman is sending only one message, "I wish I was fighting a cancer that is treatable."

That's all!

That's all!

The only reason I'm responding is that I don't want anyone who is just now starting to fight the Effing Evil Empire, and whom might be considered terminal like myself,  to think they are having evil thoughts when they think:

While driving then sitting at a stoplight, watching the world go by screaming to yourself, "Wait, stop world I'm sick" . Not insensitive.

Pulling into the emergency lane of the freeway after an Onc appointment, getting out of the car, and scream as aloud as you can at the sky.  Not insensitive.

Walk out of the Onc's, terminally ill, and wonder what is the point in stopping by every month if they can't make you well this time. Not insensitive.

When you see two dudes half your age skate boarding seemingly without a care in the world and you wish "Oh I so could use that hope."  Not insensitive.

Or this.  My cancer buddy whom I love.  I was jealous of her cancer. She's kicking the Effing Evil Empire's ass.  Not insensitive.

Or the worst.  You look at your caregiver/spouse and get pissed because he/she is well and you are not.  Not insensitive.

So Miz. Sensitive I say this..."Before you pass judgement on a sound ad campaign.  Look at that poor poster child.  Imagine walking out of a doctor's office with "terminal" stamped all over your chart.  Imagine crying because of all the things your body and mind are telling you you are going to miss a whole lot of life.  Imagine Miz Sensitive, your fucking world turned beyond upside down. 

One person posted "if anyone in your family were suffering from breast cancer would you change your tune?"  Seriously?  Really?

None of us with cancer, surviving cancer, or healthy would wish this fight on anyone.  However, the dark spot in me is wondering when someone makes such disgustingly ignorant "sensitive" statements....nope I can't get that angry

Talk to you later

  

What Will They Remember?

As I watched out the window today, my crow friends were happily surfing the strong East wind with reckless abandon. My thoughts were twirling, diving, spinning randomly just like the crows cavorting in the wind until I landed on a singular thought.  Today is my grandson's birthday.

"Wow he's ten today and I've been fighting the Effing Evil Empire for half of his life.  I wondered, if this battle takes a turn for the worse, what he would remember about his grandfather?

As we all know, in the battle against the Empire, there are good days and bad days.  Would he remember playing pirates down by the river on a balmy summer's afternoon.  Or would he remember his grandfather irritably snatching the Nerf gun away after telling him three times not to shoot the gun in the house?  Would he remember, all of us playing "baseball" over at the school, laughing with abandon when I tried to run, cane in hand ,falling down in dramatic fashion.  Or would he remember when I became irritated and snapped at him for a reason that obviously isn't important because today I can't remember what the reason was?

What about the rest of my family?  Would the decades sum of bad days and good days lean toward their good memories or crumble to a pile of bad? The same could be asked about my friends, acquaintances, passers by, other drivers and Sasquatch.  What is the last memory of me those who, for whatever reason, the last time they saw me was the last time they will see me?

If you think your sum of good plus bad falls into the bad column there is good news.  Humans seem to remember their most recent experiences.  So act now and you can get that sum to lean toward the good.

Whether you are fighting the Effing Evil Empire or cruising blissfully through life you never know when you walk out the door if you will see that person again.  What do you want them to remember?

My grandson is coming over tonight for his birthday.  Whether the Empire has me in it's black grip or not I'm going to make sure when he walks out the door to go home with his mom that he walks with a good memory.

Happy Birthday PJ

Talk to you later.