Do you see the alligator head?
This is hard to write, embarrassing, and perhaps necessary, because it's a narrative of failure.
There seems to be another metastasis, in my right humerus (already have one in the left, and in the right f inemur). It's extremely painful, limits movement, and limits life even more than it's constrained now. It feels just like a broken bone, only a bit worse.
Added to the other growths, the chest, leg, and abdominal pain, shortness of breath, and frequent vomiting, it seems a bit hard.
And I let it get to me. Got snappish with Barb and hurt her feelings, and was unkind to the dogs.
Round and round, ruined an evening, and when I was done I was in exactly the same place, which I had made through my actions more bleak.
It'll heal. But I don't trust myself, and that may be the most positive outcome, because vigilance is the necessary protector of joy, faith, and good manners.
There is something I have found,
and it left me scarred and sore,
that anger leads you round and round
and leaves you were you were before.
Yes, it might well be a right,
a way to cope with devastation,
but it doesn't lead to light,
and can birth an alienation
from the ones we truly need,
the ones we dare not drive away.
To rant and rage is merely greed,
desire for a former day
far away from fear and pain
that can never come again.
The Five Minute Friday prompt this week is OWE.
My culture says I owe this life
the passing of a simple test,
and that would be to treat my wife
as a greatly honoured guest
whose presence is a privilege,
whose smile is a bright noble gift;
to be casual is sacrilege,
and so each day I'm bound to lift
my efforts to a higher plane,
my courtesy to raise
ever to a better name,
and never to neglect the praise
for all kindnesses shown, for such
is she to whom I owe so much.
Four minutes and a bit.
Music from Daniel Powter, with Bad Day.
Sylvia doesn't like bad days. They make ice cream taste funny.