Sour moods have dominated the last month or so.  People I care about in our cyber-world are dropping off the grid for one reason or another.  I know that some have had really painful experiences on the net;  some have caused pain, others have received it.  I feel like the little kid hiding in the closet listening to the adults screaming at each other...or more like one of the most famous receivers of real world pain said, "Can't we all just get along?"

I am addicted to blogging;  I have mentioned in many comments that I came to be a blogger because my oldest son was blogging on JoeUser about his experiences in Iraq.  He encouraged me to relate some of my own experiences so they would be written down for his kids and grandkids.  A way of passing more than faded photos of their grandpa, great-grandpa.  So I started by telling my own and my father's stories, primarily aimed at journalizing our lives for our descendants.  I wandered into social issues and politics occasionally but soon found that I didn't really care to try and change the minds of those who are not interested in having their minds changed.  So I mostly steer away from those subjects.  I got some good advice from some experienced bloggers, got some pain from some folks who live for the flame, and generally picked up a small following, mostly other retired military guys or other old gascantations. 

I don't understand all the intricacies of running a website.  So I don't know why the owners at JU changed the format a couple years ago;  they told us it was going to be better.  It may be better for gamers and techies, but the regular bloggers have been bleeding away since the change.   That and some other things caused me to look for a new site.  I posted on LiveJournal and BlogSpot for a bit,  but never got one comment...hmm.  One of my early mentors on JU moved to Blogster and recommended it, said it was a friendly site and felt I would fit in.  So, here I am some three years later, still pounding out my drivel and some few of you are still reading it.  I still post most of my articles on JU as well as here, but in the last few months, out of seven or eight articles, I have had two or three comments total .  I only keep posting there because that is where the majority of my kids read me. 

But all that is not the sole cause of the sour moods.  At the risk of sounding like Limbaugh, "I don't want to make this about me...I just don't like to talk about myself"...I have also avoided a lot of writing about my personal challenges.  I feel ashamed that I let my piddling little problems get in the way of living.  Anyway...the last month has been particularly hard because I have had to go through another round of Mohs Surgeries on my face for skin cancers.  On the day I had my largest skin graft...on my nose...I also caught a horrendous cold.  Nothing like coughing with gusto to stretch the limits of the new stitches...or yawning...or smiling, or grimacing...or almost anything else.  The worst part was changing the dressing every day.  Even successful skin grafts are ugly at first.  The skin is seriously stretched, discolored, and weepy.  The graft I had a couple of years ago was on the right side of my nose and the crater there you could drop a quarter in.  This one was not so deep but it stretched from the left side over the bridge of my nose to the right side.  The donor site was in front of my left ear and was also stretched and painful.  "To cover the hole on your nose, we are gonna cut out a hole in your cheek."  So, every morning I am looking in the mirror at this mess that used to be my nose.  It is crusty, and swollen, and discolored.  And it hurt.  Swabbed it out with peroxide.  Smeared it with Vasoline.  Covered it with non-stick gauze pad and taped in place with stretchy tape. 

When I went in for the follow-up a week or so ago,  the Doc said, "That's beautiful, Mr BFD...your nose is looking really good"...I let him know that I had been looking at it in the mirror every morning since the surgery and it was a lot of interesting things but "beautiful" was definitely NOT on the list.  But he told me I could leave it uncovered.  So I did.  We stopped at Wally-World on the way home and noticed the lack of eye-to-eye contact from folks in the store, and how the girl on the cash register looked down through the whole transaction.  I was pretty sure I wasn't beautiful.  I mean, I am not worried about a date for the prom.  Remember how that zit popped up just before the big day?  My days of searching for a date are over;  I go out on dates on a regualr basis but I already know who I am going with.  I am not going to be on the cover of the Rolling Stone or any other major publication.  But I still have to go out in public.  I considered using a pillow case with eyeholes...strolling through the store shrieking, "I AM NOT AN ANIMAL".  But decided against it...I really don't like to draw attention to myself.  I figured it was enough if I could just not scare the grandkids.

Then we stopped over at MamieLady's for a few minutes.  Hazel was busy with Hazel-stuff and barely paid any attention to us.  But when her Mommy walked by where she was busy, Hazel said in a low voice to her Mommy, "Grandpa's nose is ugly".  That was all the confirmation I needed.  I reconsidered the pillow case but settled on replacing the bandages for a few more days...or weeks...or however long it would take to regain some of my nose pride.

Today I have not had any throbbing, no stinging, and none of the "needles-and-pins" sensations associated with skin healing.  I haven't had to drop a Vicodin for a week or more.  I have started to notice my chronic back pain again.  So I am guessing the worst of it is over...until next time.  The discoloration is fading;  I now look like a heavy drinker instead of Bozo the Clown.  It is just about done. 

I have the kind of skin that doesn't tolerate exposure to the sun.  I grew up in San Diego and other places next to the ocean (the Chief was a sailor!) so I spent an awful lot of my youth half- dressed on a beach somewhere.  I have worked outside most of my adult life as well.  When my dermatologist asked me if I never used sun-block, I laughed and told him we used Wesson Oil when I was a kid;  we wanted to be BROWN...I never heard of sun-block then...except for the nerdy guys with zinc-oxide on their noses.  So the bottom line, I will no doubt be going through this all over again...and again. 

Anyway, I have been sluggish with my writing, short with comments, and generally not as good a cyber-friend as I should have been for a few weeks and I apologize...things are looking up...I am feeling better and am examining more subjects for new articles.  And that is more than you ever wanted to know about BFD's personal life.  Now if I could just find some of those missing bloggers....