NUMB3RS

There is a number that appears near the title line of this blog. It's over 5,000 now. I don't know what that means. Other than, over 5,000 times someone has accidentally or intentionally clicked and landed on this blog. OR, some computer glitch is running up that number. I still can't fathom that anyone is reading this, other than a handful of loyal friends, and there's a fine line between love and pity.

I have no idea what I'm doing here. I just purge onto a keyboard and I was lucky enough to figure out how to POST, because someone told me I should. Oila I have a blog.

I wish I knew what I'm doing because I think it would be really cool to be able to add music, because there is always an appropriate tune playing in my head, and a slide show, or just some neat sound effects. In honor of Rich there would be a lot of Three Stooges sound effects. He'd like that.

I thought it was a major accomplishment that I could figure out how to look at the stats of this blog. Most hits over periods of time, sources of hits, etc. Then I keyed into which entries got the most hits. Whoa. That was disturbing.

Clearly Scrapper is the far and away favorite. Sex may sell, but spewing anger is the entertainer of choice. I'm not sure how I feel about that. Of all the entries on Rich and how we're dealing and coping, none come close to the entries when Scrapper takes over and fucking unloads. Wow.

The entry titled Con-Fun-Med leaves all other entries combined in the dust. I have to assume that much of that weighted number is the result of Con-Fun-Med itself. Several little birds let me know how staff was going ballistic over that post, clamoring to get the entire blog shut down. I fear thou doth protest too much.

In order after that one is every other blog that Scrapper cut loose on, and thank heaven we don't get charged for punctuation marks!

So why are you all reading this? I'm just curious. People close to us let me know and I treasure that, but the number of people who are close and giving feedback is far below 5,000. Is it the overflow of addiction to “reality TV” ? And how does Scrapper's anger boost interest? Or is it just the drama of “watching” someone die without getting sullied in the struggle?

I don't mean to sound harsh or judgmental. This blog has over 5,000 hits and I don't know what that means. Worse—why do I care?!

Rich is upstairs, curled up in an antique double bed, on a two inch feather mattress cover, sleeping peacefully and undisturbed with nine staples in his belly, between 800 count cotton sheets. Powder blue. Misted with lavender. The sheets still bear the two “X” stains from the marks that bled off his body from the radiation treatments.

And I sit here trying to figure out what the blog means and why I care. I guess I'm just tired. And once again I find myself in the backward flow of forward effort.

For me, this journal is the only thing that keeps me from falling down. So how could I not wonder what it means to complete strangers. Most days, this journal is all I've got. I have to live every day with cancer, but I live on the other side of the door looking in.