Paindemic

It took me awhile, but I figured out the reason I have been sleeping so much is due to pain.
To say I have been in pain constantly for several years now is an understatement. It does nothing to convey how much pain that is, for one thing, let alone how relentless it feels.

I should note that it's not so much pain itself that causes me to wanna sleep more (if possible) but the energy it consumes.
Pain literally sucks your energy away, and that can be very debilitating and depressing.

Even though I am presently relatively healthy, the pain coursing through my veins is relentless.
Like a bad case of tinnitus it NEVER stops.
This ain't just physical, either, for there is no small degree of psychic pain that boils forth as a result.

I do realize, and have written about in the past, the benefits of pain; how it leads to revelations if you let it, and if you choose not to take the wide n' easy path of victimhood n' bitterness steeped in envy.

Indeed, those who choose the path of victimhood n' bitterness wouldn't have any idea what I mean when I say we should be grateful to God no matter how much pain we may endure.
Or how we can use our pain to help us realize, actualize and transcend on our quest for Truth, Beauty n' Goodness.

No, victimhood n' bitterness will allow dissent (or descent) but never ascent. It may garner pity but it will never permit joy. And what in the hell is pity good for? Absolutely nothin'.

And tell me, who looks forward to hangin' out with bitter folks? I avoid them like the plague if at all possible.
I sincerely hope n' pray that if I EVER begin to get bitter that you all slap me upside the head n' knock some sense back into me. I literally and figuratively mean that (so get yer seebats ready).

It's funny but there was a time, back in my prime, where I knew I was virtually invincible.
And a few times I was knock knock knockin' on Heaven's door (or purgatory).
Vibrant, full of life to an almost lifeless shell. And yet, at my most energetic I was often engaged in a war for my very soul in the depths of despair, while at my closest to death I found myself full of the highest Hope, and the gnoledge that my soul is in Good hands.

Aye. It's good to remember that there are far worse things than mere death, and there is nothin' much better than Life properly ealized (in regards to our Destiny), and all that it brings (Hope, Faith, Love, Truth, Nobility, Honor, Goodness, eauty, etc.)

In that light, I'm sorry to say it's still a bit depressing when I try to imagine what it was like to be pain free and have abundant energy. And it's not a little bit selfish, I reckon.
It wears on me to the point where it's very difficult to function. Good thing we have dogs to walk, or most days I would never get outta bed.

I can hear a voice sayin' "quit your bellyachin' and man up, dammit! Be grateful for what you can do, and be thankful in all things. Trust in your Father. He knows precisely what you feel so you are never alone."

And another voice smoothly sayin' "you ARE a victim. Why won't your God take that pain away? Doesn't He love you? Look at how UNFAIR it all is. You deserve better!"

So you see that although I have decided to never accept victimhood n' bitterness, the choice always remains. Of course, I gno I can't live with the choice of bitterness. I'm just sayin' all this so I don't get coicky or nothin'.

Ha! I forgot what my point is now. Perhaps I jest needed to write this to remind myself why I'm fightin' to begin with. Yeah. I need these reminders sometimes.
Thanks guys for all your prayers and...for bein' you. The best friends a guy could possible ever want. :^)

Today On "As The VA Turns"

Saw Doc yesterday and after a blood test he determined I don't have any major problems with my pancreas, and also ruled out ulcers. I was supposed to get an x-ray too but I thought Doc meant later and not yesterday. Turns out I'll most likely not be needing them anyways.
I'll get more tests if it happens again, but it looks like these symptoms were probably some rare side effects of the meds I take.

Although it's nice to know exactly why this happened, I have learned to deal with not knowing a lot of exactly why's irt my life in general and this disease in particular. Needless to say, I got the point and it was a good draw.
I reckon can live with that...ha ha!

Thanks for your prayers, guys! I do know this: they are of more help than I can ever fully realize! God bless you all! :^)

The Lone Voice: Another stealth tax on the pubs: SWP machines & Amusement Machine Licence Duty (AMLD)

The Lone Voice: Another stealth tax on the pubs: SWP machines & Amusement Machine Licence Duty (AMLD)

Anti-Real, Or, Just Plain Idiotic

"The fact is, any variety of philosophical materialism is not just an attack on religion, but on real science as well. And it is anti-science because it simply isn't true. If science is more than just an impersonal method for putting nature on the rack and getting her to talk, then this sort of naive reductionism must be abandoned."



And keeping with that fantastic quote from Gagdad Bob, I would like to redirect your attention to socialized healthcare and the anti-liberty sheeple who are tryin' to make it happen.
I contend that socialized healthcare (or "free" as some would put it, and by "free" they really mean at the price of your liberty and health) IS anti-science and anti-religion, not to mention anti-American, and anti-liberty.

Case in point, and this is butt one among many many:

This excerpt is taken from my last few comments of the previous post:

Hey guys, I was wondering if you could include me in your prayers.
I think I may have ulcers (and hopefully not something worse).

At least it appears that way based on my symptoms the last three days.
Heck, it could be a lot of different things, so I'm just guessin'.
(Skully is layin' out the odds and taking bets if you're so inclined). :^)

Plus, it's kinda painful...okay, it hurts like the dickens, and it's really cramping my style and cuttin' into my slack.

I'll know more after I see Doc.
Thanks! :^)

February 18, 2010 2:20 AM

USS Ben USN (Ret) said...
I got an e-mail from Doc, and he can fit me in at noon tomorrow.
The reason it is so soon? Because, and Doc didn't tell me this, he's seeing me during his lunch time.

THIS is what socialized healthcare FORCES good Doc's to do.
And it pisses me off, because he is forced to give up his lunch hour to help me.

All because Congress won't support the VA with what it needs. Something the private, free enterprise sector can do much more efficiently than govt. could ever do.

I hope someday that happens. In the meantime, I can't thank folks like Doc enough for the sacrifices they make to help our warriors by any means they possibly can.

For the misguided sheeple who want "free" healthcare I can only say they are not only clueless, they are committing cluelesside. (HT: Gagdad Bob for that superbly accurate terminology).

When idiots talk about how great socialized healthcare is, I can only surmise they never talked to a veteran or their family who need to use it.

The ONLY reason it works to any extent is because of patriots like Doc who sacrifice their own time (and meals).
And they shouldn't have to.

But these idiots won't let reality cloud their views."

Indeed, they sure won't. And this is butt one reason among more than I can count of why it's bullsh*t to think that any leftist really supports our troops, because if they believe this BS, and they MUST if they are leftists, then it's impossible to really support our troops, because bein' anti-reality is inherently anti-Hero!!!

And for any leftists who might argue against that reality, don't effin talk to me about nuance or gray area's, because if you doo, yer jest talkin' outta yer ass, which defines you, precisely.

You lefties are free to call me a liar, of course, butt you don't live with this sh*t, so please, next time you feel righteous or like you are some kinda moral authority, please! Stuff it up yer very large a-hole...sideways. With my compliments!

'Cause you know what? Yer credibility, as if you ever had it, is shot to hell, so STFU n' get a clue. It just might save yer miserable life, and thank God for that!
What? Too proud to humble yerself? Butt don't you pride yerself on yer (allegedly) empathy?

I sense a short circuit comin' on among some of the more honest lefties. Embrace it...embrace Reality...then we can talk. 'Cause then I'll gno you really are beginnin' to begin some empathy for our warriors...you gno...those guys n' gals who actually defend our liberties...yer liberties.

Let me tell ya, it ain't free, bub. So wake up n' smell the posers. We are quick to forgive and welcome all true patriots.

Lost In Lust

So love blossomed (or so I thought) between Linda, the barmaid and young Ben the sailor man.
I was happier than I could recall bein'. "Singin' in the rain" kinda happy (or singin' in a torrential downpour kinda delusion, to be more precise).
Truth be told it was a saccharin-like, sickly sweet happiness that's too sweet for it's own good. Hey, I got nothin' against genuine happiness with natural (or supernatural) sweetener, but that artificial stuff just don't cut it, you know?

By the way, have you ever thought you knew what love was only to find out you only knew one more thing love ain't (as in a dagger in the heart kinda ain't)?

But let's not get ahead of the story here, because afterall, getting there (or here) is half the fun. Or whatever percentage it happens to be. Hey, I'm not gonna do the math, okay?

Anyhow, so love was blossoming...yadda, yadda, yadda...and everything appeared to be copasetic, at least to me. To my friends, not so much.

"You're what?" Rick asked, in disbelief.

I could tell everyone else wanted to ask the same thing, but Rick had beat them to it so they simply shook their heads in agreement with Rick's disbelief.

"Gee thanks guys. It's not like I formed a suicide pact with Lucifer. I thought you guys would be, oh, I dunno, maybe just a wee bit happy for me. What was I thinkin'?" I replied, with no small amount of sarcasm.

"Hey Ben, it's not like that. You hardly know her. We just don't wanna see you have any regrets," Rick said, again to a lot of nodding heads.

"What, you think love at fist sight ain't possible? You think I'm an idiot?" I retorted.

"Not in so many words," Eric muttered, but there wasn't unanimous agreement with that. Some of the guys were thinkin' about it.

"No, I ain't saying that," Rick said, shooting a glaring glance at Eric. "Look, all I'm saying is you might wanna slow down. Marriage is a huge step. I mean, what's the rush?"

"Well, we are moving down to San Diego after sea trials," I said, "and it's not like I can jsut take a bus up here everyday after work.. "Besides, I just know she's the one, okay?" I answered, more irritated than angry.

"Can I throw the bachelor party?" Jeff asked. "I throw a killer bachelor party."

"They haven't set a date yet, stupid," Mark said.

"You guys aren't helping," Rick said.

"Well thanks for your concern. I am touched," I said, sarcastically. "now if you'll excuse me, I got work to do," I continued, before making a hasty retreat.

"He's touched alright," I heard someone, probably Eric say as the door swung shut.

I'll prove them wrong, I thought. Sh*t, what's wrong with those guys? It's not like I'm joining a monastary or something.

Later in the day Chief motioned me over to his desk.

"What's this about you getting married?" Chief asked.

Great. I tell all my friends, many having security clearances, but can they keep their mouth's shut? Of course they can't.

"Where did you hear that, Chief?" I asked.

"I hear things. Is it true?" He asked.

"Well, yeah," I replied, preparing for a lecture.

"Okay, make sure you fill out a request chit," Chief said, smiling.

"Request chit?" I asked, dumbfounded. "Are you serious?"

"Yes I am. Personnel needs to know for your records, and when you make OS3 you'll get money to help with housing. Don't worry, I have never seen one disapproved. Congratulations! And good luck," Chief said putting his hand out.

"Um...thanks Chief," I replied, shaking his hand. "So...that's it?" I asked.

"Unless you have any questions," Chief replied.

"No, I'm good to go," I lied.

Actually, I had lots of questions, but I was far to proud to ask them at this point.
I was actually somewhat disappointed that Chief didn't lecture me, though.

Maybe that comes after I fill out the request chit, I thought. At any rate, the "singing in the rain" feelin' I was feelin' was gone by this time.
Later that evening it was back, however and I was once again flyin' first class on "singing in the rain" errlines.

Unfortunately, there was no stewardess to show me where the emergency exits were located in the event of a crash landing...

Bad Love Three

So what is the best way to get out of a bad position? A position where you have very little leverage? A position where you are gettin' yer ass kicked?

Well, let's begin by sayin' you shouldn't allow yerself to get into that type of position.
I was embarassed 'cause that's exactly what I facilitated due to not bein' focused, centered and alert.
Ladies n' gentlemen, distractions can literally kill you, or lead to a lot of unecessary pain.
Distractions are not yer friend.
I was acutely aware of this as biker punk pummeled my mug. I was also acutely aware that he DID have leverage, and he wasn't deterred by any distractions.

See, it don't matter that my distraction was noble or of good intent. Did I really have concern for this scumbag's wellbeing? Nice thoughts perhaps but very bad timing. And as we all know, there's a time and place for everything; balance, moderation, a season tosow n' a season to reap, yadda yadda.

The cold hard reality was that biker bully (like all bullies) didn't give a sh*t about MY wellbeing. In fact, he was intensely focused on makin' sure I was in a world of pain, and he was off to a good start.
If I ended up crippled or dead I'm quite certain that biker bully would have no remorse whatsoever. Not that remorse or empathy really matters at that point.
The point is I got the point the hard way, and I was gonna make it a point not to get distracted ever again...if I survived my current situation that is.

The blows punky was hittin' me with stung, but they didn't really hurt all that bad...yet. I noticed bully boy had huge rings on most his fingers (rings now covered with my blood) and that was doin' most the damage.

So this situation...a situation I should never have gotten into (unintended consequences were now clearly punchuated in my psyche)...required unconventional tactics born of desperation.
Bein' pissed off helped me make this choice without any remorse I might add.

I never once expected Luca to help me, although I knew if I asked he probably would, with a stern lecture to follow.
Hell no! This was my fight and I wasn't about to stoop to beggin' for help.
Was it pride? probably, to some extent. It's also about bein' a man. Standin' on yer own feet and standin' up to bullies. So yeah, pride is part of that, but is that a bad thing?
I don't believe it is. Not where honor is concerned, and by honor I'm talkin' about the literal meanin', not the corrupt meanin' idiots, terrorists n' psychopaths try to attach to it.

With all this streamin' through my mind I did what I hadta do...I grabbed bully boy's family jewels and commenced to apply pressure.
Needless to say this got his attention so much that he stopped pummelin' me and let out a scream....like a little girl.
He screamed like a little girl so much I almost felt embarassed for him. Almost.

Punky made a feeble attempt to hit me again and I squeezed harder. He froze in terror and begged me to let him go, tears gushin' from his eyes.

"C'mon man...ahhh! I'm sorry! Take it easy...ahh! Oh please!"

Pretty pathetic, really. I guided biker bully off of me and sat up on the table, keepin' my grip on his marbles.
Then I landed a haymaker square to his nose as I let go. I was mad but I wasn't gonna rip off his nuts. So I guess I still had a tiny bit of compassion in me even for this idiot.

Blood spurted from bully boy's nose as he fell to the deck. I got to my feet and got a few kicks in as bully boy tried to get up. He got the message and stayed down, assuming the fetal position.

Just like that it was over. I resisted the urge to keep kickin' girly bully. Adrenalyn was still coursin' through my veins, big time.
I walked slowly to my chair and took a long drink from my mug, then I lit a smoke.
My hands were shakin' and I tried to hide it.
Why the hell were they shaking? What was wrong with me?

Bully boy's friends went to help him and they threatened me with a few weak insults.
I was somewhat relieved they weren't lookin' for a fight but I just tried to look cool. Then I smiled, 'cause I realized I was tryin' to be someone else again instead of myself.

F*ck it, I thought. I reckon I'm stuck with me so I better get used to it.

"You got off to a shaky start but your still standin'," Luca said, smiling.

"Yeah. Fightin' is a bad time to think too much," I said, grinnin'.

"Are you okay? Your bleeding," one of the barmaids said.

Her name was Linda, I recalled, and I was smitten with her good looks. I tried to think of what to say and only managed to get out a feeble "yeah. Um...yeah."

Linda brought over a rag and wiped the blood off my face. My face tingled more than it hurt, and the touch of her hands caught my attention, imprisoned it and threw away the key.

"Hey I'll see ya later Ben. Bring him a pitcher of beer...on me," Luca said, placing a five dollar bill on the bar, pattin' me on the back and leavin'.

"Thanks Luca," I said. Luca gave me a thumbs up before he left without turnin' around.

"You might need a few stitches," Linda said, recapturin' my attention as she dabbed my face some more.

"Really?" I replied, wanting to hear her talk some more.

"You should get some peroxide or something to disinfect the wounds," she said.

"Good idea," I replied. "May I have a shot of whiskey?" I asked.

"Wait, you're going to use whiskey to disinfect?" She asked trepidly. "That's going to burn, you know."

"Not if you apply it," I repled. "If you don't mind bein' my nurse," I added, feeling my face turn red.

"Flattery wiill get you everywhere," Linda said coyly, batting her eyelashes at me.

Oh man, I thought. I'm in trouble now.

I forced myself not to wince as she dipped a clean cloth in the whiskey and disinfected my wounds.
She smiled and often looked into my eyes as she gently wiped my face.

"Oh no! You got glass in your arm!" She exclaimed grabbing my right arm and picking out glass shards.

I do? I thought, lookin' at my arm. Damn, I had not noticed. It looked worse than it was.

"I...uh...guess I'll need more um, your nursing," I said, stuttering again.

Damn! I hated when I did that. Some tough guy I am, I thought.

"Yes you do," Linda said, smiling. "I get off in an hour and I got some proper bandages at my apartment so...you better come with me," she whispered.

"A...um...yeah! Sure," I said, tryin' to speak coherently.

Linda kindly ignored my selected speech impediment and smiled again.

"Wow. It was so cool how you handled Dagger!" She said, her eyes lighting up. "He's bad news but you...you took him out fast. I was so worried for you at first."

"Well...I can't stand bullies," I muttered, taking another drink.

"There's a new sheriff in town," Linda said, giggling.

I chuckled at that and shook my head.

"Flattery will get ya everywhere," I said.

She giggled again before reluctantly waiting on other customers.

Yep, I was in trouble alright. And I was drunk with happiness at the thought.

Little did I know how much trouble...

Bad Love Two

Whenever I have entered this attitude, or state of mind I felt liberated from fear, in a sense.
In another sense, I felt a different type of fear. The fear of crippling or killing my opponent, the bully.

Now, don't get me wrong, I wanted to open up a serious can O'whuppass on this punk, 'cause that's usually the only way to deal with them, other than running away, if that's possible.
Of course, in this case running away simply wasn't an option to me. If the bar was full of like minded bikers I probably would've considered running.

I never wanted to fight, but sometimes you just don't have a choice in the matter.
At the time I didn't see the connection that the dive and the clientel that frequented it made the likelyhood of a fight or fights much more probable.
Not as bad as a "pure" biker or redneck bar, but the elements were all there nonetheless.

And nonetheless, it occured to me that there was a possibility for serious injuries to happen or even death.
Problem is, there are times you can't hold back in a fight, or you might be the one seriously injured or killed.

I was thinking of all this at a bad time, and it was affecting my focus causing my reflexes to be a bit off.
My initial plan was to use biker dude's charge against him, executing a nice judo throw, but the guy was faster than I anticipated, and the distraction of thinking about not hurting this punk too bad came with very tangible consequences.

His tackle was successful and I was pushed back away from the bar and driven into a fixed table which had a pitcher of beer on it and a few mugs.
I could hear the two guys sittin' there cuss up a stprm as they jumped outta the way.

I landed on the table hard with bully boy landing on top of me. I heard glass breaking and felt cold beer all over my back. I also felt a flash of pain and bully boy added to that by landing a heavy right hook to my jaw.

Stuff like that has a way of cutting through all your doubts or concern for some punk's well being.

Terrific, I thought. Damnit! Such a rookie mistake. This jerk means to hurt me bad. I kept looking for a dagger or somethin'. This punk wasn't called "dagger" for nothin'. At least I didn't think so. Okay, time to stop thinkin' so much and get down n' gritty, I thought. Along with a bunch of cussin' and some additional anger at the embarassment of getting clobbered from the get go.

I grabbed biker boy by the collar and brought my knees up as hard as I could, pulling on his collar at the same time.
My intent was to throw him off of me and the table head first. The result left much to be desired.
Instead of throwing him head first onto the deck I had only shook him momentarily, 'cause he grabed the table to avoid flying off.

Damn it! Can't I get nothin' right? I thought, frustrated and embarassed.

Bully boy straighted himself up, still on top of me and an evil grin spread across his demented face like a bad case of VD from a hooker that just don't care no more(not that this has ever happened to yers truly).
He let out a hideous laugh and I knew he meant to hurt me as bad as he could and he was gonna enjoy it.
I could hear his pals cheering him on and giving him suggestions as to how he could hurt me real bad.

"Bust him up real good, Dagger!"

"Gouge out his g*ddamn eyes!"

"Rip his f*uckin' ears off!"

"Break all his fingers, too!"

"Make sure to break that f*cking big-ass nose baby!"

That last comment by his ho. Such a sweet lady, I thought.

However, my pathetic attempt to throw bully boy across the room did stop him from hittin' me for a few seconds which bought me some time to try something unconventional. Somethin' I wouldn't normally think of ever doin', but I didn't have time to get too creative. If this didn't work, I was in for a severe beating...or worse.
At least I was in the right frame of mind now. No doubts to fog up my mind. I was good and mad a hell! It was do or die time, and I was outta time to do.