I Am Able…

Star Date 26092016

I’ve been awake since 0146. Not exactly when I wanted to start my day. However, I got my brisk walk in with the smelly folk of the LAF. I did get work completed that I should have done over the weekend. I did make all my meetings. I did get another angio CT scheduled on my neck, for tomorrow afternoon. Can’t wait for that. Lying. I am hopeful that as we literally enter the home stretch, that Wednesday starts the beginning of better news. T minus 9. I like 9. Great number to start with good news.

I awoke…yes, even at 0146, with the song, I’m Not Able, from Needtobreathe, running through Charlie’s head. If you’ve not heard this or other songs by them, you might find them to sound a little Christian. Perhaps they are, though they are classified as rock. …not Christian rock. I would put them as a cross between Amos Lee (one of my favorites) and Marc Broussard…as it pertains to the overall sound and feel of the music.

“Able” There’s a host of hurts we come across None of which alike From the air inside the birthing room To the darkness where we die Though I feel I’m just as strong as any man I know I’m not able I’m not able I’m not able On my own

Carry around the secrets Only heaven knows Crawl into our darkened rooms where only victims go Though I feel I’m strong enough to carry all this load I’m not able I’m not able I’m not able On my own

I’m not able I’m not able I’m not able On my own

I’m not able I’m not able I’m not able On my own

All my actions, false or true Selfish motives I will use We were born with knives in hand Trained to kill our fellow man If we’re not better than the rest How will children do their best Find your patience, find your truth Love is all we have to lose

Cause I’m not able I’m not able I’m not able On my own

I spent an entire weekend…less a very few moments of laughter, not able. Not able to cope. Not able to see beyond death. Not able to think about not seeing my kids 11 days from now. To even put that in words feels very strange…angering, actually. I am tired of feeling. Pick one or all: feeling feelings. Feeling pain. Feeling numbness and its close friend, tingling. Feeling anger. Feeling tired. Feeling sad. Causing others to feel. Soon, Charlie will…yep…make me bleed my own blood…and no one makes me bleed my own blood (reference Dodgeball):

So, a normal day at work tomorrow, and another IV with dye …that makes you feel like you are going to wet yourself…Some pics of my gourd, then back to work. Good times had by none. It will be nice to be beyond being recognized by the X-ray, CT, and MRI techs. I look forward to those days. Instead I feel like this:

(reference to Cheers and particularly to a Normism…not you, Norm, the Norm above)

Gonna draw a pint of blood Mr. Skeelays…No thank you…I know what one looks like. You’re gonna feel a little prick, Mr. Skeelays. Seriously? I don’t feel a thing…I must be numb there, too. Not good enough? How about this classic:

A young man joined the Army and signed up with the paratroopers. He went though the standard training, completed the practice jumps from higher and higher structures, and finally went to take his first jump from an airplane. The next day, he called home to his father to tell him the news.

“So, did you jump?” the father asked.

“Well, let me tell you what happened. We got up in the plane, and the sergeant opened up the door and asked for volunteers. About a dozen men got up and just walked out of the plane!”

“Is that when you jumped?” asked the father.

“Um, not yet. Then the sergeant started to grab the other men one at a time and throw them out the door.”

“Did you jump then?” asked the father.

“I’m getting to that. Every one else had jumped, and I was the last man left on the plane. I told the sergeant that I was too scared to jump. He told be to get off the plane or he’d kick my butt.”

“So, did you jump?”

“Not then. He tried to push me out of the plane, but I grabbed onto the door and refused to go. Finally he called over the Jump Master. The Jump Master is this great big guy, about six-foot five, and 250 pounds. He said to me, `Boy, are you gonna jump or not?’ I said, `No, sir. I’m too scared.’ So the Jump Master pulled down his zipper and took his penis out. I swear, it was about ten inches long and as big around as a baseball bat! He said, `Boy, either you jump out that door, or I’m sticking this little baby up your ass.'”

“So, did you jump?” asked the father.

“Well, a little, at first.”

This is a Rob H and Skeelays favorite. Any time we had to go in and see the dumbest boss ever. Every single time it makes us laugh.

Mayhaps my outlook is better today because I am looking forward to the weekend, and even in some ways, to next week. My brothers from other mothers will be here. A few key ones will be missing, but we will party on, Wayne (Reference to Wayne’s World).

The theme, as one should expect, is brains…no, not plural. Subject matter is singular, therefore is, not are. Brain shaped …well…pretty much everything. Save one or two items. The bourbon will not be…the cubes for those who take theirs that way…will be. I wish fiercely that my kids could be here. I know they do as well. They are the very life of my lifelong party.

Fast forward. In the last couple of days, I have heard from a couple of very close friends that I had left out of this journey. My excuse or reasons for doing so, were purely due to their lives. I have felt that I did not want to bother them. Paul and Courtney have their son, Sam, jobs, a busy life. Jay and Kathy recently married and entwined their lives with kids. I did not want to be the Billy Bummer on their recent and collective happiness. Alas, I received a call from Jay, over the weekend. Got him caught up, and we hung up. That was that. Today, I heard from Paul. Got him caught up, and we hung up. Life is funny…apparently death is funnier. Apparently both parties are doing what they can to be here. It just so happens they will be here for the party. Timing. I do not make light of this. I do not believe in coincidence. I do believe in connections, bonds. Rivers. Tributaries. I have been, and continue to be amazed at the support (in all forms except money) of our framily. Everyone knows someone that knows someone that has dealt with a similar situation as ours. My framily is my everyone. I did not see myself needing or wanting support, as I am neither teet nor nut. Framily will prove you wrong every single time.

I was outside a bit ago, sacking the trash. Neighbor lady to the man we do not like, that shoots the deer with BB’s, was out. We exchanged pleasantries. She asked about the kitchen renovations. I explained that we stopped due to some unforeseen BS. She inquired as to what that was, but not in a meddling way. I told her. Turns out she will be my nurse next Friday, post-op. She further explained that she would make sure Jess has her mobile number for absolutely anything. Take care of the pet, answer questions, anything. I love our little retirement community. This is Pittsburgh. No coincidences. We are where we are supposed to be, when we are supposed to be. I heard from Steve J this morn, Red this afternoon, Norm this eve, and Karen throughout. Sis is always checking in on me. I am able. I have help. I have people. I have framily. Not to be left out or ignored is my work framily. My employer looks out for me. My co-workers genuinely care and are concerned. We have been asked by many folks as to why we are waiting to yank Charlie….hehe…yank Charlie. Steve S sent this:

I have had many things to consider, and the reality of those things has been driven like a 1973 Cadillac in to a not-so-smart car, right through our lives for the past almost 30 days. Had we scheduled this earlier, I miss tests that show additional areas of concern. No coincidences. Truth be told, we miss opportunity to say thank you and potentially goodbye to framily. I had a date in mind when others were not available. I have a work meeting…an all hands on deck meeting, scheduled for 5 October. My chance to say thank you and goodbye. I do not live with regret. I live for opportunity. No coincidence. I am not a person who leaves things to chance. If I did, I would have limited opportunity. I would not have the people I have in my life that I am blessed to have. 7 October is coming. Quickly. I am not entirely ready…nor do I believe I can be. I am preparing. I am having these conversations because they help me cope. You help me cope. My daughters, though they have put every white hair on my head and face, are my heroes. Completely different personalities and ways of addressing and handling life. Neither is wrong. Casey blows me away with her intelligence and wit. She is beautiful. Don’t mess with her or she can cut you down with words or fists of caucapino fury. She is a struggling first-time mom, and she is figuring it out. Adapting, as she always has. She has a good man for a husband, who dotes on her. Sam is also intelligent and witty and beautiful, and yet in different ways than her sister. I wouldn’t put money on her fists, but I’d put her up against anyone to talk her way through something…not out of…not around…through. Always through. The easy way is never the right way. Both…like everyone…like me…have their and our vulnerabilities. I share this as my final thought for today. It is from a text conversation between Sam and me:

Who does such a thing? I know that I could not have at her age…and likely still could not at mine. What I am amazed by is this: all the ribbing between friends, from this choice of documenting my journey, not once have I been ridiculed…at least not to my face. Opportunities have been in abundance to create just such to occur. My girls are so much farther along on their emotional journeys than I was, at their age. I am thankful for this, as it will bring them people like I have taken a lifetime to find. My framily. Everyone I know has my back, and I, theirs. You can mess with Texas (sorry Les), but don’t mess with my framily.