Yesterday, after several years without an incident, I spent all day, from about 9 a.m. to 9 p.m. in such intense pain I lost control of my bowels. (I was in the hills near Baker City, Oregon.) I tried several times to use the Debreather but each time, after a few minutes, I felt as if I couldn't breath and had to stop. (See Richard's, the inventor of the Debreather, reply on the link above)
The headgear is part of the Debreather II. The chin strap keeps the mouth closed after a person loses consciousness. The fabric is velcro and holds the face-mask in place.
Note swollen left eye
That's the problem with technology. There's always an upgraded version with better features and less maintenance. In this case muscling through would get one to the land of luddite's whether than be the highly anticipated (and likely over-rated) heaven...or just nothingness. You do seem committed to regular but brief blogging. What would you do with that time post, you know, if there is something?
ReplyDeleteArt!! You're still out there!!
DeleteIn working on a responce to your lengthier comment about blue tarps, I went looking for Justin's advice about pushing thr envelope of limitations, but couldn't find it.
I'm trying to make my way to Jackpot, NV where I'm having refills for the soda lime cannisters sent.
Tough day, though. Eye paian and syncope making it slow going just coming off the mountain. Not sure if I'll be able to keep up with traffic on pavement. Am out of water though so have to get to Haines. Now 1:37pm 9/7...Weds. Is it the 7th...or the 8th.
This dying is a real booger-bear of an act.
Unfortunately it's a bit like being in a rodent sticky trap. At best there's another day but looking back, some of one's favorite parts are gone, stuck in the goo. Last winter I lost a friend who fought some sort of blood cancer for six or seven years. Near the end he found joy in the few hours a day where he wasn't shitting, barfing or totally exhausted. The lucky ones have an event and then it's over...although the next might be worse...finding yourself back as a skanky young secretary at the RNC with a vague sense of having been somewhere before.
DeleteMy goal is to find something a little satisfying in each day. One, or you, might ask what about today? Well, THU is trash day here in the 'burbs and both my trash and recycling cans are full and at the curb, that's one thing. I had a good conversation with someone of the same name about the inevitability of even more dramatic heat, fire and water disasters as the world's ice melts...and that having a disaster pantry is a good idea; of course starving or dying in two weeks versus two months might be academic...and you'll just need more ammo to survive for two months. Oh, the highlight was finishing "Coal Black Horse" by Robert Olmstead, a big of a historical novel highlighting the carnage of the Civil War as some young kid becomes a bit too attached to a black horse and a young knocked up crazy woman. It would be difficult to read with one eye so I won't recommend it. Cross your fingers, watch for a shooting star...maybe tonight's the night.
From the New York Times. Relevant to 'crossing over.' https://www.nytimes.com/2022/08/19/style/modern-love-cancer-last-act-of-intimate-kindness.html?unlocked_article_code=AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACEIPuomT1JKd6J17Vw1cRCfTTMQmqxCdw_PIxftm3iWka3DFDm8TiP8JEoyNvELKaad5YZ432CqWAdRINrQiXrl2x_RDekVmV0yvrN6FnogEJiwppMewX2U62Z_WRvY47TruJCGfGdtI-Yee7ViAISTiRrqMkjB6dlMyv5JhIVqv0CdZ2v_FELNq3tB53-MrBJB-WT4DMCmB76XoCkp9as6ULU2JsnlAUO1dWDzWmd-c-uhAJF0UUQSaOSs5tWUs69pcO8cVNbL_LHMiesn5h7YQAg94PdvjRs1xF8WPyeIc4fOaogeMycG22_w9CK5X2brFuWq_P1wkI6iEjgplqgU4MhNrrToP5niYPg&smid=em-share
ReplyDeleteDAMN YOU, Art!! You sure know how to slip a guy into a self-pity pot. I supervised Michelle Cook's mom's care for a year and a half before I collapsed. One El took over for me and managed even beyond Susan's death.
DeleteI can never repay the kindness I've been given.
I'm nearing Haines. Started to black out. Managed to get stopped on dirt road. I need food and to do laundry. I wish the Debreather had worked.
How's it go? -- If wishes were horses, pigs would fly?