And the Band Played Waltzing Matilda

I've had this song ("And the Band Played Waltzing Matilda") running through my head all day. I'm guessing the first time I ever heard it was in Cambridge, MA, probably in the early 80s. One of the radio stations (WERS) put on a folk festival each year, and the concerts ran to 4 or 5 hours each night -- not a moment of which was dull. I heard a lot of really fine musicians at those concerts (including Nanci Griffith, Pierre Bensusan, and Malcolm Dalglish) -- and I think I must've heard Eric Bogle sing this song one of those times. (It's a gorgeous song, very sad, and is the ultimate anti-war song, in my opinion.) In any case, the line that's been most prominent in my mind today is: "I never knew there was worse things than dyin'."

Bullwinkle was in terrible shape when I got home this evening. We ran out of buprenex -- his pain meds -- yesterday, and he was without any at all for about 24 hours (I got some tramadol for him today). He was in a lot of pain this afternoon and quite miserable -- it was obvious his mouth was really bothering him. I got some of the tramadol into him almost immediately, and it started working within half an hour -- blessedly. Had I needed an illustration of the value of ongoing, consistent pain control, his experience today would've been more than enough to convince me.

The other evening, a neighbor stopped over to meet Bullwinkle (I think she's a regular reader of this blog but hadn't met him personally). She said, "He doesn't have that I-wanna-die look in his eyes." Well ... this evening he did. It's gone now ... but I'm keeping a close eye on him. This cancer has been a terribly long road for him and I think he might be running out of steam.

There are worse things than dying -- and extreme, ongoing pain is one of them.