It is the last day of July and I do not have a CT scan appointment.  I am not very happy about this at all.  I don't know what I will do tomorrow, but losing my cool is not on the menu.  Causing a ruckus and getting on with stuff is.  I have been sitting patiently since mid March with cancer in my lung.  Nothing has happened cancer therapy wise.  This is still semi ok.  The Dr. wanted to have a pic via CT of how the cancer is doing for end July.  That time frame suited his and my purposes vis a vis getting appropriate therapy going for the cancer and proceeding, finally, with the transplant application.  We are not really late, yet. Tomorrow we will be late.

I try to imagine explaining this blog to my father.  I often do that with questions that come up in my life.  This blog would have horrified him, at least initially.  Where we came from you did not discuss your personal issues with others, especially strangers.  You did not burden anyone other than your most immediate surrounding family with any of your health issues, and you tried to avoid discussion with them if you could.   That is the world I come from, a tough culture of strong people, old school, working people.  

I wonder, entirely too much I am sure, about what my friends and family make of this blog so far.  Throwing out my innermost thoughts for consideration, making obvious my many mortal character flaws and shabbily built intellectual foundations to strangers is one thing.  Doing it for people who know me now, or knew me then is far more scary.  That takes a big leap of faith.  Most people have an image of a person in their minds.  A snapshot.  Fixed.  Even if they know you now, they have this image in their minds.  It's natural.  You stay in each others lives, but you don't really follow all the details.  The image you have is the image you have.  

I have not done any of the things I should have done to plan for my death.  I should.  I will.  All the little things I should not leave to Nicole.

My breathing is bad now no matter how you want to look at it.  I am short of breath at rest all the time.  I keep moving all day.  Slow, slow laboured movement.  Everything controlled.  I stay as fit as I can.  It takes hours to do things that used to take me minutes.  I walk up and down those 12 stairs 20 times a day.  I laugh with Nicole and with the cats.  I Google + a lot on and off throughout the day and evening and that keeps my brain active.  I eat cannabis cookies all day long.  I struggle to breathe too much if I do not.  Cookies ease the tension, the stress of suffocating.  Suffocating sucks.