This Cowboy's Naked Truth

Been a rough couple of days since I was released from the hospital.  Having dealt with this cancer bug for two and half years now I know how my body feels when my white blood cell count is back on the rise, and on the rise it is.  Monday, I will call my oncologist and get in to see her next week if possible.  Today, I was in another world.  Drove to my mother in laws place to take a load of plants to their new place, stopped to get my mail, put some fuel in the rig, went to the bank, came home and collapsed for a four hour nap.  This is after having a twelve hour sleep the night before.  Every time my white blood cell count goes on the warpath, the tiredness sets in and so does the pain.  I pray every night that my screams don't wake up others.  It feels like someone is taking a red hot branding iron to my bones.  I can't take enough pain medication and so I don't.  Just have to cowboy up.
I missed riding Cody today, just didn't have it in me, but tomorrow we shall ride.  Afterwards, I hope to grab some cheap grub, go see some friends in Norco, head over to the horse auction in Mira Loma at five and then go bull riding up the street at 7.
There are a couple of things on my mind tonight that I just need to get off.  Hopefully, I won't upset anyone, but if I do, well it was just meant to be.
I was invited to a writers club meeting the other night by a wonderful woman by the name of Christine.  She was the one who originally put the group together years ago and was kind enough to invite me.  I am not sure how she came to know me or why she thought I was a writer but regardless I accepted her invitation and we headed over to old town Pomona to an art gallery where this meeting was to take place.  Now, most of you know me well enough that I don't go anywhere without my hat, buckle, Wrangler's and boots.  I don't clean my hat and I don't clean my boots.  When we parked and got out of her car I felt I was in another country.  Nothing to do with other ethnic groups, but the way people dressed.  No one dresses like me, not even in Chino Hills!  I have to go to Norco to fit in around here and even there I get people that stare.  The meeting was interesting to say the least.  I was asked to read one of my stories that most of you have read in the past.  I chose to read the story of when I was in law enforcement and found the baby boy stabbed in his crib.  As I was reading my story I started to get a bit choked up at times because it is a memory that I wish I could forget, but I can't.  After I read my story the group, one at a time, nine people in all, began to offer their critiques.  Keep in mind that these people are on a whole different level of writing than I am.  I am not a writer.  I am terrible at English, the use of punctuation, grammar, pronouns, verbs, etc, etc.  I don't even know what a pronoun is.  One gentleman shared a play that he wrote.  A play!  Another shared a Sci-Fi story he wrote that was so over my head and ability to comprehend, I just pretended to know what the hell he was talking about.  One gentleman study writing at Harvard while another was an ex-college professor.  Talk about a fish being out of water.  They opened up my story like a can of tuna and scrapped out every last piece of fish and then rinsed the can in hot water before throwing it away.  I will admit, it is hard for me to take criticisms, especially by strangers, but I sat there and listened.  Didn't pull my knife or throw my fists but for a few moments I thought it would be best if I just got up and walked out.  However, I stuck it out and soon it was time to move on to the next story from someone else.  Then I was asked to critique and I just had to pass.  Who the hell am I to critique anything, especially some writing by folks that do this for a living.  I am just a simple Joe trying to put down on paper some life experiences so that my children may want to read them one day.  It's been a long time since I felt like a small fish in a big pond.  Now not get me wrong, these folks were good people.  I thoroughly enjoyed their company and their critiques were well received in the end.  They opened my eyes to just how terrible a writer I am and how much more I need to improve if I ever want to think about publishing my memoirs.  When I got home that night, I felt like I had just been on Bushwacker or Bodacious.  I now need to go back through my stories and dissect them, beef them up, and then one day maybe I will share them again.  I would like to thank Christine for allowing me into the group and hope to go back for another butt whooping.
For years I stayed away from going to church.  I was raised in the Mormon religion from the age of 5 to 16 when I left home.  It was all I knew and to this day, it is what I believe.  Now, I may not practice it well, for I fall on my face all the time, but it is my belief.  I don't go around putting other people down for what they believe in and I sure don't appreciate people doing it to me.  I have had folks say some mighty bad things, promoting their beliefs or church saying that I am wrong and they are right.  Why can't people just be happy that you believe in Jesus?  Why can't that just be enough?  I don't need any crusaders trying to get me to change.  I am 62 years of age and I am not going to change.  I like the way I am.  If you really knew me, really knew my life, you would be happy for me to be where I am today.
I haven't been to church in a while, mostly due to lack of attire and not feeling well, along with being in and out of the hospital.  One thing I have noticed, when you don't go, people tend to forget about you.  They don't talk to you anymore, send you Facebook messages or even give to cents on how your doing.  I guess it's out of sight, out of mind mentality.  Same goes for some of my "friends" that I have.  Honestly, I am moving on in my life and most likely will be moving on one day to where I belong.
Last but not least.  If you have something to say about me and aren't a big enough person to say it to me, then don't say anything at all.  This is a very small town and I know a tremendous amount of people, so when something is said, I hear eventually hear it and at times, it's just plain disappointing.  I am an open book.  You all have read it or heard it.  There is nothing that I hide from.  Doesn't matter what the past held.  I have put my life out there so maybe, just maybe, someone who is going through a rough stretch in their road might know the choices I made and repercussions that followed and help them make a better choice.  I am not looking for glorification, sympathy, pity or anything else, just like helping people, especially young people.  I didn't have anyone to direct me when I was young.  There was no one to help me out of trouble or counsel me.  I learned it the hard way and though I am damn proud of making it this far in life, there is a whole world of young people who need help.
Well, enough of my two cents.  Going to take my medications and try to feel better.  To those of you that contributed to my cause, I will not let you down.  I will win!  I always do, always have and always will.
May the good Lord shine his light on you.