Back to the Junk Yard

Not a very good title for a post, is it?

Anyway I continue to sort through this.  Back in 2011 was when it all became real for me.   I think earlier that year we had what will forever be known as the "Gas Incident"  That would have been on Feb 14 of 2011.  It could have been 2010 but I really think it was 2011. (must investigate)  Most likely 2011.   The kids came down in 2012.

That summer she was working at North Country in Winslow.  On her last day she sneezed real hard and broke one of her ribs.  I think it was around the end of July.  What was going on would become apparent on December 8th of 2011.  Hmmm, gas incident in Feb ending with cancer diagnosis in Dec. - kind of a sucky year.  I caught December 8th closer to the event in this entry.

So I guess it kind of started end of July?

So my brother-in-law just talked about a webcam that he uses to monitor his mom's home because his mom kind of needs to be watched.  I was interested in a webcam to watch the front of the garage because I can't see what is out there from the house.  I have to go to the garage and open up the garage door to see what is out there.  So I just went and looked up webcam. Not good, Not good for someone like me.

Just trying to think back to that time. At that time Wendy was my girlfriend.  I was still basically living at Alyson's. However, after December of 2011, I basically moved into her house.

Digging around in the Wreckage.

Well, I guess that is about all I can do now. I wonder what happened to Myra44.  You out there?  I am back out here.  We walked along on the path for a while then she left.  Don't know what happened.  Think I got too positive.

Anyway, think I'll just keep digging to see if I can find anything.

[Starts to dig; Talks while digging - actually not really digging so much as moving debris out of the way]
Once again, I am surrounded by the wreckage.  This time, I'd like to think I did not cause this. I certainly had a part in it in that I got on the train knowing full well where it might be headed.  But you know what, nothing would have or would keep me off that train.  Knowing how the trip went and the time I had, I'd do it again.

Ya know there still is wreckage from ten years ago out here.  Just remnants though.  See there.  [points to a scrap piece of metal on the floor] that one belonged to Myra.  [Stops, reflects] Yeah, I was still creating some to wreckage back then.

Yeah, she's gone. Just traces that's all.

[Stops, looks at camera.]
Anyway, I am just trying to sort things out. I started by reviewing the time line.  I think when I look at the whole thing in a clinical manner, it just doesn't hurt as much.  So I tried to map a little bit of it out in the previous post.  Just sorting out the pieces, putting similar pieces together in their only little areas kind of like a jigsaw puzzle, ya know?  I don't know why that would help but it seemed to make me feel better.

So I am recording it all here, just like I did before.  That's what made me think of Myra.  She was cute and I was hurt and I fell.  She liked this firefighter dude but was married.  I would obsess about her for a little bit but really not too much.  I mean thinking about her took me out of the pain for a while.  I mean, when I was looking at her, I wasn't looking at the wreckage.  Then she left.  Hmmm, I wonder if there is anything in there about the "Sunday night girl."

Yup! found her but not under "Sunday night girl"  That was what I called her when I was talking with Tara or would go to the SLAA meetings.  "Sunday night girl" was code for Carrie.  Still don't know her last name.  I talked about her in meetings even when Wendy was there.  At the time figured I'd never be in a relationship with her, Wendy that is.

I am going through this blog like a junkyard.  Picking up pieces and looking at them - trying to remember.  The pieces are memories, memories made a bit more clear because the memories are in writing.  So, I hope the metaphor isn't too cryptic.

Back to the Junk Yard.

Just the Facts Mam. . .

The last entry in this blog was April 23 of this year 2015. This is when things started really getting serious regarding Wendy’s illness.   She, I think, had just had her first thoracentesis.  It was before my kids were here.  Looking back at through my pictures it would have had to have been on April 12th.

Let’s see. . .

Her mom’s unveiling was on March 20th

Her mom died April 16th of 2014.

Wendy lived 1 year and 8 months longer than her mother.

Today is December 30, 2015.  Wendy died on December 6th.

I’m just trying to put together a time line here. I am also trying to go through the memories for some reason.  Why am I doing this?  I guess just for something to do?  Don’t know.

The oxygen, came in a couple days later.  It would never leave until December 6th.

I think what I might be trying to do is re-live that time so that I can continue to be with her.  It is a way of not letting go. . . Why the fuck didn’t I take more pictures!?  of her!

On May 7th she had her first Chemo treatment.  Up until this point, she was taking an oral form of Chemo-therapy called Xeloda (Zeloda)  She started this in December of 2014.  By February she was having serious problems with her skin on her hands but primarily on her feet.  She was getting really bad sores on the backs of her ankles (Achilles Tendon)  I am thinking she stopped the Xeloda near the end of February or beginning of March and was off of it for about a month.  She restarted it at a lower dose for two weeks when the oncologist said it was time to start “real” chemo-therapy.  So on May 7th we started abraxane a form of paclitaxel.  Wish I had been taking notes.

On the 10th of May none of the pictures I took indicate oxygen at home.  On the 16th of May, the day of Leo’s and Amanda’s wedding, the oxygen concentrator is shown in the living room.  And I do remember taking the bottles with us to the wedding but we did not take them in.  At least the pictures do not indicate this.

The last entry in this blog was April 23 of this year 2015. This is when things started really getting serious regarding Wendy's illness.   She, I think, had just had her first thoracentesis.  It was before my kids were here.  Looking back at through my pictures it would have had to have been on April 12th.

Let's see. . .

Her mom's unveiling was on March 20th

Her mom died April 16th of 2014.

Wendy lived 1 year and 8 months longer than her mother.

Today is December 30, 2015.  Wendy died on December 6th.

I'm just trying to put together a time line here. I am also trying to go through the memories for some reason.  Why am I doing this?  I guess just for something to do?  Don't know.

The oxygen, came in a couple days later.  It would never leave until December 6th.

I think what I might be trying to do is re-live that time so that I can continue to be with her.  It is a way of not letting go. . . Why the fuck didn't I take more pictures!?  of her!

On May 7th she had her first Chemo treatment.  Up until this point, she was taking an oral form of Chemo-therapy called Xeloda (Zeloda)  She started this in December of 2014.  By February she was having serious problems with her skin on her hands but primarily on her feet.  She was getting really bad sores on the backs of her ankles (Achilles Tendon)  I am thinking she stopped the Xeloda near the end of February or beginning of March and was off of it for about a month.  She restarted it at a lower dose for two weeks when the oncologist said it was time to start "real" chemo-therapy.  So on May 7th we started abraxane a form of paclitaxel.  Wish I had been taking notes.

On the 10th of May none of the pictures I took indicate oxygen at home.  On the 16th of May, the day of Leo's and Amanda's wedding, the oxygen concentrator is shown in the living room.  And I do remember taking the bottles with us to the wedding but we did not take them in.  At least the pictures do not indicate this.

At this point we were still at the local oncology center.

Just Keep Swimming

Pronounced mar-see’-uh.  I seem to be a bit obsessed with her.  She is my acupuncturist.    I have all these fantasies about her – very few of them of a sexual nature.   (This could be love addiction.}   Anyway, the obsession takes away the pain – takes away the void. . .   So I find myself thinking about her.  I think about going to Avila beach with her. This is because she knows that Wendy and I went to Avila beach on our anniversary.

Yes, Wendy I know you know all this already because you are inside my head now.   But you are not here and I really don’t want to deal with that fact.

So anyway, I go to see her and she asks a couple of questions about it like where exactly it is located, how did we like it, and some other questions.  Then she says she looked it up on the internet.  And thought it looked like a really nice place and that she’s like to go there sometime.  This is why Wendy was living.  I immediately think, that’d be great! You and I could go there. Then I think about us on the beach, me just staring out at the ocean, her maybe reading a book.  Idly conversing about the ocean, about life, quiet and gentle – no cares other than what we might have for dinner that evening.

What a distraction. Here is a little victim hood for you, “Why couldn’t I have had this with Wendy?”

I want to have this and I want to have it now!!!  my brain tells me.

“No. no. no. you are not allowed to have this.  This kind of thing is for other people now. Your days of female companionship, idly conversing about this or that, deciding what to have for dinner, and then making love are over.”  What a desolate fucking life. . “Cardboard, extra dry.  is the only thing on the menu.”

I want! I want! I want!. . .

“Well maybe this. . .  How ’bout. we leave out the sex  Okay, how bout we just go to Avila Beach, we get separate rooms, you do your thing, I’ll do mine, we have dinner together maybe lunch, who knows, maybe breakfast as well.   Maybe we go for walks together. . . maybe, maybe, maybe. . .”

Anything just to stay out of the pain a little.

So I’m on the table all loaded up with needles.  She is so wonderfully massaging my back, shoulders, and neck as the electro-stim is going.  And she’s saying:

“Well, I was down at my “friend’s” house in Kachina and we were out on his deck.”

In my head, “his.  his.  his.  Geeze, he has a deck.”

She continues, “Yeah, I like it down there in Kachina,  I just want to be out of the city.  You know all couped up in the neighborhoods and stuff.”

Back in my head, “Yup sounds like this friend has a really nice place. . . .  Hmmm, my place, a couped up neighborhood, no deck, hell, no back yard for that matter. – never-mind.  Hmmm, but she only said “friend” not boy friend, or this guy I’m seeing.  Of course, I am sure next time we talk things will have gotten serious, her “friend” will have asked her to marry him. . . .  Fuck, it’s hopeless.”

Yeah, Wendy,  see this.  What a joke. . . . what a joke. . .

It’s okay, just keep swimming, just keep swimming.

Wendy's Dentist's appt. on Nov 25th 2015

This post is being written 2 years and 1 day after the date shown. (10/31/2017)

We went to CTCA for the last time today.  It was kind of a big day.  She was going to tell the doctor that she was not going to do anymore chem and she felt like she was going to be "going it alone."  She was afraid I wouldn't support her.  I support her.  We had our heart to heart sort of over two weeks ago on our 3rd wedding anniversary.  I told her that I realized that she was not going to get better and that I was accepting the end.  Not only was she surprised to hear this; She was relieved as well.  I was surprised she was relieved.  I was also surprised that she still thought that I thought she would get cured or that I thought she could be treated such that the disease would go back into remission.  I didn't want to give up hope but I had to be realistic.

She explained to the doctor she didn't want to continue with chemo anymore.  The doctor then countered with, "I don't think it is worth it to continue with the chemo. You should work on enjoying life as much as possible."  Something to that effect.  Wendy then asked about a dental appt on the 24th of November.  She asked if it would be safe for the dentist or dental hygienist to work on her gums.  When undergoing chemo therapy the gums become very sensitive to damage and can get infected easily.  The doctor responded by telling her that she really wouldn't need a dental appt on the 24th.  The following are two videos of that day.

The beginning of the day

The end of the day

This was our last trip to CTCA (Cancer Treatment Centers of America)

Chemo

First chemo was last Thursday.  It was a horrible day but not as horrible as Sunday.

Sunday of course was mother’s day.  These days holidays and especially mother’s day highlights the fact that my wife has cancer.  The chemo started taking effect on Saturday as expected but kicked into high gear Sunday morning.

The day started out okay.  I went to meet my wife’s friend. I am sort of sponsoring her.  She is one of my wife’s best friends and we meet on Sunday mornings because I kind of have some experience with what she is going through.  We had a good meeting.  What actually ended up happening was she ended up supporting me.  I went home to get my wife and as I was waiting for her and watching her deal with her exhaustion and fatigue from the Chemo are started to get a little angry.

We were going out to get presents for her oldest son’s wedding which is this coming weekend.  She was extremely lethargic and watching her get ready tired me out.  We got in the car and headed out to the store and on the way there I said that this would have to be the last time we were going to be doing something for somebody else or rather this should be the last time she should be doing this kind of thing for someone else as it is just too taxing for her.  They originally wanted her to make the rehearsal dinner and set up and all that stuff.  They were understanding (son and fiancee) that she couldn’t because of the chemo. Anyway I went on to say that she should tell whomever you are required to give gifts perform certain services “If you can’t accept that I cannot get you x, y, or z or do x, y, or z for you then this is where our “paths” separate.”

She interpreted this as me telling her that if she didn’t do what I was telling her to do then I was going to leaver her.  She interpreted it a threat. . . She was completely devastated.

I had, as I often do, left out the part, “You should tell them. . . ”  and all she heard was, “If you can’t accept this then this is where our “paths” separate.”  She said, Floyd, I can’t believe you just said that to me”.  I didn’t understand.  Finally she went on to say I can’t believe I have been threatened like that.   I had to think, “Threatened, how did she feel threatened?”  Then I realized.

It took me five minutes to tell her that is not what I meant and I kind of left out a very important part of the sentence. . . uhg.

Now, I keep going back over it and every time I think about the whole progression it makes me feel sick.

‘Are We All Bigots?’

http://blogs.wsj.com/speakeasy/2015/04/29/watch-clip-of-are-we-all-bigots-episode-of-morgan-freemans-through-the-wormhole?mod=e2fb

Yeah, pretty much.

Anniversary

Today this blahg was 9 years old.

Starts with “The Casualties“

Wean Yourself by Rumi

Wean Yourself by Rumi

Little by little, wean yourself.


This is the gist of what I have to say.

From an embryo, whose nourishment comes in the blood,


move to an infant drinking milk,


to a child on solid food,


to a searcher after wisdom,


to a hunter of more invisible game.

Think how it is to have a conversation with an embryo.


You might say, "The world outside is vast and intricate.


There are wheatfields and mountain passes,


and orchards in bloom.

At night there are millions of galaxies, 

and in sunlight
the beauty of friends dancing at a wedding."

You ask the embryo why he, or she, 

stays cooped up
 in the dark with eyes closed.

Listen to the answer.



There is no "other world."


I only know what I've experienced.


You must be hallucinating.


The World Outside

The world outside was beautiful
A beautiful morning.
The start of a new day
People on their way to work
A blue sky
and the light pastel greens of spring

All this

While inside my world was collapsing

This is the gist of what I have to say.
From an embryo, whose nourishment comes in the blood,
move to an infant drinking milk,
to a child on solid food,
to a searcher after wisdom,
to a hunter of more invisible game.
Think how it is to have a conversation with an embryo.
You might say, “The world outside is vast and intricate.
There are wheatfields and mountain passes,
and orchards in bloom.
At night there are millions of galaxies,
and in sunlight
the beauty of friends dancing at a wedding.”

You ask the embryo why he, or she,
stays cooped up
 in the dark with eyes closed.
Listen to the answer.
There is no “other world.”
I only know what I’ve experienced.

You must be hallucinating.

Friday – more thoughts

As usual I am feeling a tremendous amount of anxiety and want to act out.  Yeah, remember, we are coming up on 10 years here.  Not much has changed at least with these fucking obsessive compulsive thoughts.  I got plans in my head in place.  Top choices have been made. Oh God help me. . .  but not too much.  Like don’t cause my car to break down have my bank account be robbed or something awful like that.  Please help me see your will for me.

Like I said not much has changed.  If I were to tell Ronda what is going on in my head she would hate me and not allow me to see my kids. I hate what is going on in my head.  To be perfectly clear, “What is going on in my head” is nothing more than what goes on in any male’s head.  I have a track record of just not dealing well with it.  Still this falls in the bounds of normal behavior, not ideal but normal.  Never the less it’s a nightmare in my head.  I hate this.  I do not want that stuff in my head anymore.  Still, after all these years, the only way I know to be free of it is to do it.

I am still no closer to relief from the obsession.  Every once in a while I think I have an idea of what might be the cause and actually I may be right.  The problem is, is I think the cause is so hardwired into my being that having any type of impact on it is like filling up the ocean (any ocean really, say the pacific) on drop at a second.  I ran the math on this and to have any impact on my “hard wiring” would take  5.18102E+17 years  The Universe is 13.8 billion years old.  So I could possibly have an impact on this in about 37 million, 543 thousand, 608.45 Universe ages from now.  Okay, the time is incomprehensible.  The closest I’ve come at the problem is that this obsession and compulsion is a way to deal with my shame and anxiety and trying to rewire myself to get that shame and anxiety into some type of manageable level, a level where by I don’t cope with it by eating, sexing, drinking, or spending seems somewhat daunting.

At this point, I have no choice but to bring in this thing called a higher power or what some people call God.  A God that loves me.   Uh. . . Yeah. . . Okay. . . This might be somewhat more doable than the time necessary to get rid of my shame and anxiety.

I’m still really fucking scared. . .

.

.

.

of everything.

thoughts on a Thursday morning. . . . .

And if I am not worrying, am enjoying life, am content. . .  and forget to worry, the hammer will drop when I least suspect there by inflicting the maximum amount of damage.

Wear your inside out.