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Let me tell you a little about my wife's two nieces
And what they been doing driving me to pieces
like two dogs on the same string of spaghetti
One twirling a cane while the other a machete.

One got a bum knee and gives me a bulldog look
I think she hates me cause I read her like a book
Never considered me family always an outsider
Between me and my family she's just a divider.

The other is also trying to squeeze me out
and is always acting like she got all the clout
Taking a lot of pleasure in my coming loss
And always acting qualified to be the boss.

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Thanks Barb,
Good advice, and I will try my best to overcome the adage, "easier said than done".

One of them nieces is in the condo now helping our son packing boxes for the inevitable having to leave this place ever so soon. What bugs me is that every time one of those nieces does something it seems that there is an ulterior motive behind it other than purely altruistic. I got a feeling if my poor wife goes, that Martha, who's son just moved up to northern California, will ask our son to move in with her and that will leave me with tying a bag to the end of a stick, hitch it over my shoulder and taking off for God knows where, not that where I will go or what I will do is my prime concern now.

I have to call up UCSD cancer center Monday morning to answer some questions to start the ball rolling on enrolling my wife into a clinical trial if she qualifies and with all her previous treatments or ravages, that is a big if. The last year and a half of treatments has just about devastated her to little avail.

I think the oncologist was phoning in instructions and treatments from the golf course. My dear wife also has an ostomy bag thanks to them taking so long to finally do the surgery though it was very apparent what she had and I myself a month and a half before the surgery was getting out library books on ovarian cancer so I think they must have had a good idea if I myself did, but I won't dredge up that sludge now since it has little value except maybe to an attorney, but her oncologist was very thoughtful telling my wife to look on the bright side of having an ostomy bag and that is that she won't have to use her, and I quote, "butthole" anymore. Well, that made my wife feel good, and it makes me want to run out and get an ostomy bag too, doesn't it you?!

I feel so alone in this battle here. Seems like I am the only one around not in a frenzy to bail out of the plane. I don't know how to fly a plane but here I find myself in the cockpit with both wings on fire and as long as there is a chance to save my wife, I am not running for a parachute like everyone else here seems to be doing. I am also praying for angel wings and God's mercy to help me help my wife land the plane, or find a treatment that will do it safely. I would rather error on the side of trying than not trying, but the final decision is up to her.

Well, I think I over responded to your post as I usually do with any writing other than writing poems, so I am sorry. You and everyone else probably have a lot more important things to do than read long winded responses. Thanks for the compliment by the way and for responding.

Now as soon as Martha leaves I can get back into the room with my wife. I do want to give Martha some credit however in that she did give my wife a complete bath that only another female can really do well, so I am grateful for that. I do change her diapers, but I don't lift her up and burp her over my shoulder.

When my dear spouse goes, and I am praying by some miracle that it will be a long way off and not only that but that she will get her health back too which would be a joy to see, a real miracle that would make a believer out of an atheist not that I am one, but if and when she goes, I will be tossed away from this family like a cigarette butt thrown into the gutter. I think they just use men for breeding more off spring and when the task is done you are considered ready for the slaughterhouse.

I am not entirely serious here, but not completely joking either. It's somewhere in between, my wife being the only exception in her family, the cinderella of the bunch which by the way an older brother used to refer to her that way a long long time ago.

I bid you farewell and may the weather be cool where you are and not humid.


[This message has been edited by Butley (edited 07-29-2006).]
Mike ... it has made my day to read your last post. Most of what I have read from you so far has been so sobering. But this "I will be tossed away from this family like a cigarette butt thrown into the gutter. I think they just use men for breeding more off spring and when the task is done you are considered ready for the slaughterhouse." I found hilarious!

Thank you for making me literally laugh out loud!

Not to make light of your situation ... but I just had to smile at your words!

Dear Mike:

So glad you have the support here... and glad you are back... I would say more, but I am ready for beddy (lol)!

Rough day and dad up so briefly. Makes me worry so and expect family myself in August. Oldest sister from out of state (as they all are) who is the one who is in charge (ha, ha). I am thinking of telling her that I will call her on her cell phone when dad is up to company while she is here. Otherwise she can stay away... I do not need to entertain nor satisfy their own need to be at peace.

And then off I go babbling. Take care dear heart and know that we are here for you. God bless and peace be with you...

Love and Hugs from Glenda
Hi Joy,
It's nice to hear from you again! I am so glad to hear that something I wrote made you laugh out loud Hearing that made my day too, so thank you for sharing.

You know, if the clock ran backwards things would only be getting better. I think the happy people are those people for whom things get better when the clock runs forward.

We all know time isn't a two way street. Someone a very long time ago had the great idea to make time a one way street and I think I just turned down a dead end, or rather my wife did. Darn, should never have allowed her to drive. It's going to be a miracle to make a U-turn now.

Death row doesn't just exist in certain prisons. When the hospice nurse arrives she is going to seem like the grim reaper to me. Wouldn't surprise me to see her carrying a scythe over one of her shoulders and dressed in black. What's she going to tell me? Hello, I am here to help your wife die comfortably which just means doping her up, doesn't it?

I wonder if it is too late to become an oncologist for me? I bet I would have better luck carrying in a tray of wheatgrass with a bag of organic carrots along with my juicer.

Next stop, Egor's castle to perhaps enroll in a clinical trial for my wife. Before this is all over my beloved will probably be transformed into Frankenstein, or his bride, but who's complaining? Not me. Then I can send her over to visit her previous onocologist and turn him white with fright as she grips him around his neck and lifts him up off his feet. I somehow will never feel comfortable with accepting death without at least a can of bug spray to try to ward it off. It is just too bizzare for me what's happening here.

They have reduced my spouse to a chronic drunk who keeps mumbling she will fight but never rises off the curb. It's just insidious. It's like my wife, my poor wife has been taken over by some miniature alien creatures who landed in the black lagoon near here, and yes we do have one; It's called the San Diego Bay, and they have taken over her mind. I call this a real nightmare and the only way I will wake up from it will be the moment I die.

I am sorry Joy for rambling like this. I should stick to writing my three short verses. I am drained. It's the end of the day. Martha the niece is still here. I ought to go outside and pick some twigs and vines and make her a nest so she can hatch more invidious schemes against me. I tell you and kid you not that a few members of my wife's family do indeed look like they can lay eggs.

Thank God my dear love is not one of them, but they are like the Borg ship in Star trek. You will be assimilated or destroyed, resistence is futile. That is their mantra.

I'll probably end up looking out some third floor window all my remaining days in some tenement building somewhere with a cheap fan blowing air down my neck while painfully regretting not making the best of what I had so many years ago.

It is just horrible to be dealing with the worse there is to deal with, isn't it? Doesn't get much worse, or any worse than this does it, and whoever said that tragedy brings families together must never have had a family.

I wish I could stop the clock for a few hours just to have those few hours without any pain. I am sure you know exactly the feeling of that.

Looks like Martha is spending the night. I am thinking it might be time to run around the house in my underwear again.

And I also apologize for making light of things if only to make them a bit lighter.

Excuse me now, have to get back to growing more ulcers.

You take the best care of yourself as you are able.

And thanks Joy for your uplifting post.

Thank you for the welcome back Glenda! Nice to be in your company again. I always appreciated your comments to my poems as Mick, but I regret I didn't always acknowledge your kind words and praise, well, now here is my opportunity! Thank you !
I also made a slight misreading of your post in another section here. I thought your dad was making his own breakfast but it was really you making it for him, but I hope it was a nice picture for you of your dad doing it for himself. I don't know how I overlooked your response here yesterday.
And thanks again Joy. You are amazing to have been here so short a time and yet to be reaching out like you have been to me with sharing and supporting and it just warms my heart like putting a cashmere sweater over it. Well, my fingers have gotten over used with all the typing I been doing, and now it is my feet's turn to get out and walk.

In regards to your sisters Glenda, if you see a Trojan Horse outside your house, beware!

God bless both of you.

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