Taking the day off!  I didn't feel well last evening and slept for almost twelve hours.  Finally got my butt out of bed, went into the washroom, looked in the mirror, and turned around and went back to bed.  Someday's it's just no use to even try and today is one of those days.  Going to take advantage however and finish two on my stories that I am currently writing, get caught up on Internet activities, watch some old westerns, and clean my guns.
Had the privilege of having dinner with a long time old friend of mine last night, Roger McCoy.  We discussed many topics but one was my hesitation to go in for this bone marrow transplant, especially after seeing so many people that have gone through it and the side effects they have when they are done.  His comment was simply to think of my girls.  That generally does it for me.  Sometimes we get side tracked and lose our direction.  It's not coming out of this transplant looking like death warmed over that really has me bothered, but it's more about the quality of life I may or may not have.  I have always stood by my belief that quality of life is better than quantity of life.  Perhaps I have just been reading too much.  Everything that I have been reading from blogs, to articles, to Facebook posts all lead to one common factor and that being they all have health problems, some with serious health issues.  It's seems like jumping from one fire into another.
I was able to spend a little time by myself yesterday.  I went up to Teardrop Rock and looked at the valley below.  Had my pistol on my hip due to the rattlesnake population out and about.  I just sat there like an old cowboy would.  I thought about where my life has taken me, the many roads I have traveled down and what the future might hold.  I thought about what life would be like from here on out if I refused the transplant.  How long would I live?  What kind of death would I suffer?  Could I beat this cancer without a transplant?  Am I really as tough as I think I am?  When I finally came down to my rig and drove off I had made up my mind once and for all.
Tuesday I am going to UCLA for one final blood draw.  Friday I am going in to have my chest catheter put in.  Sunday I am going to go check in for a bone marrow transplant.
After talking to my good friend Roger over dinner and a couple of other close friends throughout the day I have come to the realization that this really isn't about me.  Sure, I am the one who has to go through this, not you, my children, friends or anyone else.  It's me and me alone, but it's about my children and those folks that have bet on me to beat this.  I helped bring my beautiful children into the world and it's my responsibility, regardless of what I have to go through, to ensure that they have my guidance, knowledge and support for as long as they possibly can.  Sometimes we can get caught up in our own problems to the extent that we forget that we affect others in our world by our actions or thoughts.  For this I am sorry and truly feel bad if I have let anyone down.  I couldn't imagine a John Wayne or Clint Eastwood character letting something as minor as a bone marrow transplant getting them down.  Although John Wayne did pass of cancer, I have to believe he was as big a man in the end as he was in all his movies.  So, tonight I am going to start packing my gear and get ready to head out a week from this Sunday.  With the support of my children and many friends, I believe we can get this done.  Having done everything myself most of my life I realize this is one time that I can't.  With that being said, I wish to say thank you from the bottom of my heart to all that have been involved in my journey.  I will not let you down!  Cowboy's promise!

Been a long hard day.  Moved the rest of my ex wife's stuff out of a storage unit into her garage.  Four fully loaded trips but she's done.  Of course, I had help.  Then I parked in my favorite spot up on the country road and took a nap in my truck.  Now, I am laying here and thought I would take some time to get caught up on a few things, one being my blog.

The next ten days are going to be filled with much activity.  This weekend is Mother's Day which is a rough day for me being as my mother has dementia and hasn't known who I am for the past seven years.  I saw her in Denver this past winter, sat right next to her and she just looked at me and smiled wondering who I was.  I bit the bullet, but it was hard.  The place where I am currently staying is having family in from out of town for Mother's Day so I have to find a temporary place to hole up at from Saturday night to Monday afternoon.  I was told of this much earlier and am so appreciative of the room I have been using for the past few months.  Great people I stay with.  They have adopted me so to speak and there is nothing I wouldn't do for them.  With being said, I still need to leave for two days so that they can enjoy time with their family.  If anyone has a horse stall or barn and wouldn't mind me staying in it, I would greatly appreciate it.  I don't need anymore than that.  

Going to dinner with a long time friend tomorrow night which I am looking forward to.  I think we are going to have sushi, my favorite.  I know, cowboys eat beef, but his cowboy could eat raw fish every day of the week for the rest of his life.  Going to spend three or four days riding Cody around town.  He's boarded too far from any hills or riding trails.  Saturday morning is a bull riding school that a good friend is putting on and I will go out to help.  Afterward I think I shall take a long drive into the mountains, take my guns, some good music and sit on top of a huge boulder that overlooks the entire valley.  I used to go there years ago when I was down or needed to think.  I named it Teardrop Rock for it's where I would go to let everything out.  I need to do that again for everything is starting to back up on me and I am just too overwhelmed to sort through things right now.  

Unless you've been on the receiving end of death, and I have been eight prior times in my life, you just don't understand what goes through one's head.  Especially when you thought you were invincible at a point in your life being of what you made it through.  Now, I look at my daughters who don't really time for me being their lives are so busy.  I know they love me and they probably just think that the old man is so tough and resilient that he'll handle this no problem.  Of my five older children who are on their own, I haven't heard from my eldest daughter in two years; saw my youngest son a year ago or so, but we don't talk.  He has a beautiful daughter who I don't even know and probably never will.  My eldest son did send me a text a couple days and told me he would call today but nothing as of yet.  You know, you think you did good job as a parent, being there when your children needed you.  Going to all the games, plays, assemblies, walk-a-thons, open houses, meet the teacher night, dances, etc, etc, etc.  I never missed one.  Not one!  I was there, the old man.  Gave them all a roof, food, clothes, education and then one day, you're just not that important.  

My father was a beast.  He was adored and loved by the folks in his hometown but no one really knew what went on behind closed doors.  I didn't speak to him for twenty-five years until one day I decided to let bygones be bygones.  It took me a little to locate him and when I did I called him up.  I told him that I would never forget, for those memories are etched in my soul, but I did tell him that I forgive him.  For the next years before his passing we talked weekly.  I was not able to attend his funeral due to hospitalization for this damn cancer, but he knew I was there.  I feel bad for some of my children that may not have that opportunity to say whatever is on their minds.  That's a big anchor to have hanging around your neck the rest of your life.  I may rambling tonight, so if so, excuse me.  

If you've never seen the movie, "The Shootist", with John Wayne, do me a favor, watch it.  Watch it for me if you ever do anything for me at all.  You'll understand where I am at right now.  

I came out of UCLA the other day after my bone marrow biopsy and was just dejected looking at all the people in wheel chairs, masks on, grey skin, liaisons all over their bodies, and I just about lost it.  This is not me!  I don't roll like this!  Yes, I have fought this for three years.  I have lost almost everything of any material value.  Can't find a decent job.  Lost my wife.  Lost that "Hi dad" every night when I would come home.  No, I am not feeling sorry for myself, just trying to get you to understand what my mind is going through right now.  For some reason, this fight is unlike any of the other fights I have been through in my life.  Something is definitely different on this ride, but what the hell, let's see where it goes.

Good evening.  Ok, here it is!  Got my butt chewed out by my doctors, yes, doctors.  Had a cork screw drilled into my hip for the sixth time (bone marrow biopsy), but at least it was by my beautiful doctor, Sarah Larson, and was told that I can't partake in any extra curricular activities, such as bull riding and horseback riding after I have my chest catheter put in.  Can any of you that know me tell what word in that long sentence was the wrong word?  Yep!  You're right!
Tonight, I am laying here with an aching hip due to the bone marrow biopsy.  It's all good though.  Have to work it off Wednesday helping my ex empty her storage unit and moving things to her new home.  Just things I have to get done before I am admitted.  Have a lot planned in the next 12 days.  Four more nights of bull riding, a Texas Holdem Tournament, seeing good friends, making video tapes for my children, getting my rig ready for storage, working with Cody as much as I can, two more trips to UCLA next week before admittance, and dinner with my friends.
Oh, why did my doctors chew my butt off?  Well apparently, I am pushing myself too hard.  They want me to eat, try to gain some more weight, don't let my prescriptions run out, be at the hospital on the 17th, (they seem to think I am going to leave the state or something), quit being so independent, and act like I am concerned.  Let me address each of those topics.  I am not pushing myself any harder than I have in quite some time.  This is the my life, I live it to the fullest, and I will do whatever I want to do with it.  I eat when I think about it.  Yes, I could do so much better, but this cancer just takes away any appetite and before I know it, the day is over.  I told them I would be more conscious and eat a bit more often.  I am not going to gain any weight that is going to matter, in twelve days.  It just isn't going to happen.  Ok, I forgot to get my chemo refilled and missed two days.  Seriously, what is two days going to matter twelve days before I am admitted.  Thought that was a bit of stretch, but maybe they just wanted to get my dander up because I am so nonchalant about all of this.  My independence is a problem.  Everyone has problems.  Everyone has jobs.  Everyone had their own lives to attend to.  They want a list of people, preferably as few as possible, that are going to babysit me in the cancer hospital.  I told them I planned on taking care of myself.  I've done for 62 years and I think I can handle this.  This is where they got really upset with me.  One month in a cancer hospital, sixty miles away, and they think I am just going to have someone stay with me, 24/7?  I know that there have been a couple of offers to come for a day or two, but thirty days?  Ain't going to happen.  I worry about that when I get discharged.  They seem to think that I don't think this is a big deal because I don't act worried.  My doctor today said this, "You are the coolest cowboy I have ever seen, doesn't anything bother you?"  I told her that there were many things that bothered me but I just don't need to show that.  I have cancer.  I am going to have a bone marrow transplant.  I may not live?  I could have serious complications?  If I worried about any of those every day I would drive myself crazy and I don't think it would be healthy.  Yes, all those things are going to happen or could happen but that's part of the game.  I can't worry about those things.  It's not my style anyway.
I plan on riding with Luis one more time if possible, go to my final four bull riding sessions, ride Cody, play poker, meet with friends and have my farewell dinner on Sat the 16th.
Bottom line is this.  I am going to play poker with the devil for the ninth time in my life.  I have beat him the previous eight hands and I plan on taking him one more time.
Thanks to y'all for the comments, support, donations, time, prayers and love.  They're all important.  A lot of people I don't hear from as much as I did when this first hit the news wire, but I feel they are still concerned and want the best.
Time to hit the hay.  After shooting guns with my buddies this morning and six hours at the hospital, I am tired.  Goodnight y'all.

Laying here again with thoughts swarming in my head like bees on a hive.  Seventeen more days!  Seventeen more days to cram in some living.  My heart is bit heavy for I did something two days ago that I am not particularly proud of, but it was necessary.  Right now I need to concentrate on me.  I know that sounds awful selfish but I just have to.  I can't have someone in my life, not like this, not right now.  I am half the man I used to be and that just doesn't set well with me right now.  My girls are worried to death although they don't show it to me.  I am a dad and we can sense these things from our children.  I need to get through this ordeal, get healthy again, put on some weight, get back to work, and then I can start to rebuild my life.
I met with an oncologist on Wednesday at UCLA and I cut to the chase.  My questions were direct and I got direct answers in return.  I asked, "How bad is this really going to be?"  He looked me square in the eyes and replied, "Bad!"  He said it wouldn't be as bad if I was younger and had not lost so much weight.  He also said that the risks are higher with me and the reason they are doing this was because of my personality and toughness.  He added that he has never had a patient who doesn't seem remotely afraid.  My reply was simply, "What good does it do to sit and worry about it.  I got it, you fix it, and we'll move on."  He just laughed and shook his head.  Then I asked him about the mouth and throat sores that come when the inject the chemo into me.  He told me that there will be mouth sores, they will be painful, but we'll give you pain medication.  Then my vanity came out and asked him if it was a sure thing that I'd lose my hair?  He said, "Definitely!"  He recommended having my hair cut very short before I check in so I don't have to deal with it.  My last question was my most serious however, "Do I have a decent chance of making it through this?"  Now, when I doctor doesn't say yes or no and instead he replies, "We will do everything in our power to get you though this and make you as comfortable as possible", that isn't what I wanted to hear.  He got up, shut the door, sat down and looked me in the eye and said, "I am not going to bullshit you.  You're in bad shape and this is not guaranteed."  He told me that I had some other underlying issues that are going to make this a little dicey.  Then he had me lay on the table and he poked around a bit.  When I first came in I told him my inability to catch my breath sometimes.  He told me that all the pulmonary and cardiac tests came back negative but had a chest x-ray taken anyway.  After looking at the films he immediately went to my right ribs, pressed gently upon which I abruptly removed his hand with an "ouch!"  Apparently I have two broken ribs!  I had to have broken them two months ago when I went to buckaroo with a horse and fell of off awkwardly.  All I have been doing the past month and half is aggravating them by working with horses and that is why they aren't healing.  Also, having a body that isn't healing correctly isn't helping much either, but I refuse to lay down and told him that I'll fight through the ribs just fine.  As he was standing over me he looked down at the championship belt buckle that I had on and said, "Your a champion bull rider?"  I proudly said, "yes", even if it was 1977.  He helped me up and after I caught my breath he said, "If you can ride bulls, you can do this."  So, I suppose we will see.  My attitude is still above the clouds but there is that little bit of concern, but then I look back when I beat insurmountable odds when they told me I would die from stomach cancer and came out on top, again!  I have to be honest, as the day gets closer my bravery gets tested more.  Too many people have been following this journey of mine, some who have already gone through this procedure or other hard circumstances relating to cancer, to let them down.  Got to be a pillar of strength if nothing else.  I have a boy who fights in the UFC.  Stands 6'8" and weighs about 270.  He has taken over the reins of being the "family tough guy" but I guess I just have to show him and my other children that pops is still tough, don't count him out, not yet.
I have met some very wonderful people on CML site.  It's for me with the cancer, CML, that I have.  We talk to each other and tell our stories in hopes to motivate and inspire one another as we fight this disease.  The woman who started it is in Australia as are a lot of the other guys.  It will be nice to have these brothers in arm at my side, as well as this wonderful woman.  I told her that I would like to shake her hand one day for what she has done and thank her.  Never been to Australia, lol.
This coming Monday I am going shooting with the boys from the Northwest Corner and afterwards I'll leave from the range and drive to UCLA for the first of six tests that I must undergo.  The first test was scheduled for 10:30 in the morning and when the nurse coordinator called to confirm my appointments I stopped her in her tracks and said I will not be there in the morning and you best change that appointment to the afternoon because I have a prior commitment.  She did.  Hoping my daughter Brittany can go shooting with us.  She's met the boys and would love to shoot guns with us and I would love to have her along.
Going to spend tomorrow going to Norco to pick up some leather strips so I can fix the saddle, have lunch at Pat's Kitchen, pick up some new spurs straps and make the rounds.  Saturday will be spent with the horse in the morning and bull riding at night.  Looking forward to seeing my pards Saturday night.  Nothing more that I would rather be doing than bull riding.  Sunday I am going to church and bring the roof down.  Monday, shooting and having tests all afternoon.  Going to have to things to do the rest of the week, but leave it to me I'll come up with plenty of options.
We all make mistakes.  We all fall off sometimes.  Doesn't matter.  Get up, dust off, pull yourself back in the saddle and try again.  Yeh, it's an old worn out saying but it's the best I got.

     Tonight as I lay here it has become a time to reflect.  A photo was posted of me by a friend, and a great photographer, Austin Wallace.  Unfortunately, he is not a magician and you just can't make old, weathered and tired look good, but I really appreciate what he did for me.  My children really don't have any photos of me. I guess I was the one always taking the pictures and I just didn't make it in many of them, so I asked Austin if he would take some photos of me in my element that I may pass down to my children.  He obliged and came out on a Saturday and shot for an hour and a half.
     Earlier this afternoon I stopped by to see my girls.  My baby came out and gave me a big kiss and hug.  We talked about volleyball, school and grades.  She is only fourteen and is growing up fast just like her brothers and sisters did.  After got in my truck and drove around the corner, I pulled over and parked.  A song was playing by George Jones called, "He Stopped Loving Her Today."  The song had nothing to do with Berlyn and I, but if you know the tune it's a real tear jerker.  For whatever reason it made me think about the possibility of not making it through this transplant and never seeing my children again.  Never holding them or hearing their voices say the sweet things they do.  Not seeing my youngest go to her proms or graduate.  Not seeing either one get married or being able to walk them down the aisle.  Never to see my boys whom I never see anyway, but the thought of that possibility being taken away forever.  I thought about what I have done in my life, what I would leave behind for them, and how I wouldn't be there to protect them as I have always done.  What would be on my tombstone?  Would anyone show up to bury me?  Just thoughts that go through my head and they seem to be more frequent as the day approaches for me to be admitted.
     I suppose you have to go through a life and death situation to really know what I am talking about.  Don't misunderstand my words for I am not giving in or giving up, but simply being realistic.  My doctors have given me a lousy deck of cards.  I am not going to get into that or what is wrong, but simply say a few words that hopefully will make a difference is someone's life.
     Whatever your problems.  Whatever is holding you back from finding true happiness, stop what you're doing, take a good look at yourself in the mirror, and if your not totally happy with that person then do something about it before it's too late.  Yes, I have made mistakes by the hay wagon full.  I have made enemies.  There are probably a few people in this town that are hopeful that I die, but there are so many that have gathered around and offered me more support and love than I deserve.  I couldn't help but me moved by all the compliments on the photo that was posted.  I don't know most of them, but just to read some kind words from strangers was quite moving, and for them I thank you.
     In the upcoming weeks there is so much that I wish to accomplish.  I shall continue to do what I love and that is going to the bull pen for bull riding on Wed and Sat nights, being around Cody (a QH that I am working with), being with my girls, being with my girl, being with my adopted family, my friends, playing some Texas Holdem, going to church, shooting my guns with the Northwest Corner gang and having a big rib eye steak dinner with all my friends that afternoon before I go into the hospital.  Speaking of which, we are going to be on the deck at Roscoe's at four o'clock on May 16th and all are welcome.  The next day, May 17th, I go into UCLA for my big rodeo.
     On an upbeat note, I plan on beating this damn cancer.  I beat it once in my life and I'll beat it again.  I no longer promise things to people but I will promise y'all this, I'll be back to ride bulls on my 65th birthday at the San Dimas and Norco rodeos.  I'll be back to take my daughters on that vacation I promised this year; walk my girls down the aisle; tell the boy that wants to take Berlyn to the prom that if he makes her cry that he'll cry too; see my boys and my granddaughter; get to know my girl better; give back to all that gave to me; and hug each and everyone of you that stood by me, through flush or full.
     As I have said before, you can lay around and feel sorry for yourself and let whatever ails you beat you down, but I embrace this cancer.  Bring it on!  Bring it all on!  Let's dance you and I so I can show you just what I am really made of.  For years, many people looked at me as being strong on the outside but they never really knew the inside, so now it's time to show them just what a cowboy is really made of.  I know this hospital stay is going to be hell, I don't pretend it's not, but I just can't quit.  I just don't know how anymore.  There's one of the ten commandments of "The Code of the West" that reads, "Finish What You Start", and I aim to finish to this fight, standing up!

     
   

Laying here tonight and I can't remember the time my body has hurt this bad.  Having a latigo on the saddle break loose resulting in being thrown off, a shoulder that is just plain raw from shooting many 30/30 rounds, and bone pain from this damn cancer, I am finally breaking down and taking some pain medication and muscle relaxants.  Watching a old Randolph Scott western call Comanche Station.  Sure wish I could have lived in those times.  My mother always told me that I was born 120 years too late and she was right.
Tonight I received a call from UCLA and the final date of my freedom is set for May 17.  That's the day I am to check in for my transplant.  Now that I definitely know, I am planning my next three weeks.  Going to gyo shooting one more time, having a great dinner at Roscoe's with my friends, spending times with my girls, going to meet an old friend at Morongo's for breakfast and some Texas Hold Em, spending time with my new girl, riding some horses, dinner at Pat's Kitchen, bull riding on Wed and Sat nights, and pushing it as hard as I can.
I ran out of chemo drugs a few days ago and called my nurse practitioner to let her know.  She got all bent because I have been out of a few days and should have called earlier because this could kill me.  Hell!  Who are they kidding?  I have dealt with this hideous disease for three years now, what it another few weeks going to do with or without medicine?  Tomorrow I will pick up the prescription and make everyone happy.  I am sorry, I just don't take this that serious.  I mean look at it from this perspective, I was told three years ago that I had six to eight months to live and here I am today living life large and full.  I have three weeks before I go in, which at that time they are going to basically kill me and try to bring me back to life.  I really think I can go another three weeks without any problem.
Going to lay here and watch "Broken Trail",  rest this body and hopefully be ready for some bull riding action tomorrow night followed by some dancing with my girl.
Life is good.  It's what you make it.

Going to have an endoscopic routine done tomorrow to determine if stomach cancer is back or not.  It's really an uncomfortable procedure in that they give you a little sedative and tell you to swallow a television cable.  Just counting the days to May 14, trying to live large and bold until then.  Went shooting with the boys yesterday and had a great time.  Fired a few too many rounds from my 30/30 because my titanium shoulder is black and blue from the recoil.  It helps to have a little muscle in front of the bone, or steel in my case.  Nonetheless, it was a great time and I'd do it again tomorrow.
According to some, I am just not compassionate enough for most of the human race.  I am to rough around the edges.  Maybe it has something to do with the way you grew up, although I don't blame my wrong doings in life on my childhood, never have, never will.  My father was a very heavy handed man who many time would beat his children because of the conflicts he had with my mother.  Throw some booze into the mix and you just never knew how you were going to go to bed.  Granted, back in my day the belt was the source of punishment but even then it can get out of hand, and it did.  When I saw my father beat my mother to a pulp I found it so repulsive that I have never hit a woman in my life and I never will.  Any man that hits a woman is not a man.  He's a coward!  When I finally left home and moved to Grantsville, Utah where my cousins and Uncle Pudge took over, things began to change for the better in my life, at least for a little while.  I grew up with tough men, hard workers, drinkers, smokers, fighters and just plain tough men.  It became my way of life and it chiseled me into the person I am today.  Don't get me wrong, I am no longer a physically tough man.  Sure, I might ride bulls and break horses but the days of physically strength are behind me.  I am however mentally tough.  I have sympathy and empathy towards others when I feel it is called for.  When it's not, I don't.  I never had anyone feel sorry for me, pat me on the bottom and say, "It's going to be all right."  I was around people that never showed pain or let you know that something was wrong.  Times have changed and so have people, but some of us are just too set in our ways.
I would never wish anyone to have what I have or any other illness.  I will help anyone I can, just as long as they will try to help themselves.  If you knew the story of me and one of my sons, you would know what I am talking about.  There comes a time when no one can pick you up but yourself.  I am not sure I want to write on this blog page anymore.  I just feel out of place with so many people anymore in that this world has just gone far too soft.  Perhaps I just need to write my book, shut up, and deal with what lays ahead.  My way of inspiring is not for the weak of heart.