The current situation I find myself in is just all kinds of sideways, and it is depressing the heck out of me. For starters, I had the locks changed on my house today, and would not let any of mum's family gain entrance. I had to call the police twice because the two aunts from Hades, just stood outside beating on the side door. Good luck, it's made of solid steel, with a reinforced frame.

There is that, then I am having to take pain control, which I have never liked. Some people seem to get euphoria from it, I get a stomach ache and can't stay awake. My oncologist is wanting me to transition to 0.75 mcg Fentanyl Patches, instead of the Morphine SR. That stuff is not even a real opioid, it is made synthetically in a lab. You can't turn on the news without seeing how it has wiped out a bunch of people. Plus those patches last for 72 hours and I don't want to sleep all the time. I feel shame that I even have to take any at all, when I take meds, there are so many of them now. It is like, "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest."

I feel useless, the simplest of tasks now just completely tires me out. I am a two shower a day guy, and even with a rail and a stool; help from a nurse if I need it. The heat of the water pulls blood from vital places to the surface of your skin, I have had a heat stroke so I am very sensitive to temperature. I can't stand to be cold, I have to nap everytime after I take a shower. I live out in the country and there is a church, about 750 yards down at the beginning of my road. I was walking there and back several times a day for exercise. Now, I can't even make it down there without feeling dizzy or feeling like I am going to pass out. I got the gumption up earlier to make myself a good dinner, the nurses I have hired cannot cook worth a flip, and. my partner would burn water. So, I fried some catfish, made homemade mashed potatoes, broccoli with cheese and some hush puppies. I had to take a nap after doing all of that and cleaning up, I was so out of breath.

My oncologist, who I will just tell you his first name is MItchell, (He won't call me doctor so I won't call him one either), but I do have other things I call him. He says oxygen would not do me any good as I simply do not have enough alveoli in my lung left to pick it up. I am 53 man, survived years of CSA, three combat tours, mum's family, a botched gallbladder surgery which led to pancreatitis. Got shot twice in the military, and have fought all of these awful conditions that come with it. I am not going to win this time, the moment draws closer for me to step off of the battlefield. It really sux, oh, and I have Afib, the beta blocker that controls that is always making me fall. What's up with this crap? I have tried to be a good person, that has made little difference. Sorry, for the rant I just get so frustrated.