Tag Archives: breath

Maximum Impact

ethyl chloride aerosolMaximum Impact

RECOMMENDED FOR
ADVANCED USERS ONLY

Chemically, Maximum Impact and its sister aerosol cousins bear no resemblance to poppers Opens new window of a page on this blog. Poppers are in the nitrite family and arrive in liquid form. Max Impact is an aerosol and is commonly known as an ethyl chloride, but in today’s chemical terms, a chloroethane Open-New-Window-External. You might recognize this class of products as the duster for your computer or a local anesthesia that a doctor may use before cutting off a skin tag or wart.

The most noticeable part of chloroethanes are the chilling effect when sprayed for a period of time.

Even more chilling: Inhale them too much, and you could die.

I didn’t know this fact when I tried Max Impact, which is sprayed into a rag or wash cloth and then held up to your face or mouth and breathed in deeply. As I took a whiff, taking in the sickly sweet scent against my now cold face, I felt almost nothing.

Well maybe a slight tingle.

Chloroethanes act as a central nervous system system depressant. In other words, it lessens all sensations of your body. While poppers enhance sensations, chloroethanes deaden the sensations.

Not at all what I use poppers to experience.

In the end, I find Maximum Impact actually deadens the impact of any fun and, frankly, makes for a less enhanced experienced.

[alert style=”red”] Should any chlorothane become 15 percent or more of the air you breathe, it could be deadly. As a safety precaution, always use these products with a friend nearby to monitor your use to remove the rag from your face. [/alert]

 

one-out-of-five-stars rating

How do you like Maximum Impact? Rate this product by clicking the stars rating on this page! You can also comment below and post your own review. 

Pros

I can find no quality that makes it qualify as a popper

Cons

Could be deadly, it deadens all sensations.

 

Where to get Maximum Impact

PictureBrite.com Open-New-Window-External

 

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Revised and Updated Guide to Poppers

Maximum Impact Deadens the Sensations of Sex

ethyl chloride aerosol

Welcome to a new review of poppers — well, technically, I don’t consider this a popper. Thanks to a reader who wrote asking about it after reading the updated Guide to Poppers Opens new window of a page on this blog. It’s a good question. So I decided to add it and explain myself.

Maximum Impact

RECOMMENDED FOR
ADVANCED USERS ONLY

Chemically, Maximum Impact and its sister aerosol cousins bear no resemblance to poppers Opens new window of a page on this blog. Poppers are in the nitrite family and arrive in liquid form. Max Impact is an aerosol and is commonly known as an ethyl chloride, but in today’s chemical terms, a chloroethane Open-New-Window-External. You might recognize this class of products as the duster for your computer or a local anesthesia that a doctor may use before cutting off a skin tag or wart.

The most noticeable part of chloroethanes are the chilling effect when sprayed for a period of time.

Even more chilling: Inhale them too much, and you could die.

I didn’t know this fact when I tried Max Impact, which is sprayed into a rag or wash cloth and then held up to your face or mouth and breathed in deeply. As I took a whiff, taking in the sickly sweet scent against my now cold face, I felt almost nothing.

Well maybe a slight tingle.

Chloroethanes act as a central nervous system system depressant. In other words, it lessens all sensations of your body. While poppers enhance sensations, chloroethanes deaden the sensations.

Not at all what I use poppers to experience.

In the end, I find Maximum Impact actually deadens the impact of any fun and, frankly, makes for a less enhanced experienced.

[alert style=”red”] Should any chlorothane become 15 percent or more of the air you breathe, it could be deadly. As a safety precaution, always use these products with a friend nearby to monitor your use to remove the rag from your face. [/alert]

 

one-out-of-five-stars rating

How do you like Maximum Impact? Rate this product by clicking the stars rating on this page! You can also comment below and post your own review. 

Pros

I can find no quality that makes it qualify as a popper

Cons

Could be deadly, it deadens all sensations.

 

Where to get Maximum Impact

PictureBrite.com Open-New-Window-External

 

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Q&A: I want to bottom but it just hurts too much. Is there any way I can make it happen?

Q&A: I want to bottom but it just hurts too much. Is there any way I can make it happen?

QuestionI’m pretty new to getting fucked. I was only fucked once successfully by a guy I was blowing for like a half an hour, slowly edging him. I was really drunk, so I was relaxed I guess. He was like 7 inches and pretty thin cock. When he went behind me i didn’t even really think he was gonna fuck me and it didn’t hurt bad going in. I did feel it when he was pounding me though. He used lube.

Since then I’ve had three guys try it: Two with no lube and today, a guy had lube (but I’m not sure he used enough). They were all smaller than the first guy. All of them it hurt so bad when they were putting it in, I just ended up blowing them.

Hurting-Bottoms-AssSo yes… I’m a bad bottom right now, but I don’t want to be. I loved the feeling of the one man dominating my asshole and kind of feeling like he was up there for a few days after.

I identify as a bottom, because I am a submissive and want to please the man with the cock.

Is there anything i can do to kind of soften the blow of the first thrust in? It seems to be I hear that after I do it a few times that it will be easier. I really don’t want to do poppers or anything. I was thinking maybe if I got a dildo it would stretch out some.

I see a lot of people saying go slow at first, which makes sense. But it seems to me maybe I should have them do the first push in — like a few inches — to get past my sphincters. Then hold it there until I adjusted so it would just be one moment of intense pain. Then i could deal with the fucking pain, which seemed okay.

I know it’s my fault for either being too nervous and not accepting it or not being prepared.

Also, I’m not really sure what a portable douche is. I want to be as clean as possible. Is there some kind of thing you just fill up with water and squirt it up your butt? And how long before you fuck do you do it?

I hope your answer isn’t suck it up and just take it, but that might be the only one. It just really really hurts.

I want to be a good bottom and to please my guys when they want me to turn around.

I figured you had experience with this so i would ask you. I know it’s a lot of questions. Thank you for your time.

A Bottom in Pain

 

AnswerDear Bottom in Pain,

Suck it up.

That is the easy answer, but it’s not the right answer for you — obviously. I don’t like seeing bottoms going unbred, especially when they’re begging for it. Let’s step through a few options.

bullet I’m not sure why you’re refusing the assistance of poppers Opens new window of a page on this blog. I hear this sometimes with people and it baffles me. Poppers can be legally obtained pretty much everywhere and their effects are rather temporary. You will find that the most intense sensations occur within 30 seconds of snorting them and by five minutes later, no residual effects will remain. Perhaps you are one of the small percentage of people with low blood pressure, which makes using poppers dangerous because you might pass out. 

bullet Prior to having sex (by at least 30 minutes), please take pain medication. If it’s ibuprofen or acetaminophen (I believe four of each, which is double the recommended amount, makes for “prescription strength) is a good option. If you happen to have prescription pain medication or muscle relaxers, consider those as well.  You should consider this also if poppers Opens new window of a page on this blog cause you headaches instead of avoiding poppers all together (and better quality poppers won’t cause headaches usually).

bullet Buy a dildo or vibrator of normal size and work your ass every night. I don’t mean every other night or when you’re horny. I mean every, single night. With this exercise, I recommend you do some deep breathing (in through the nose, out through the mouth) and relaxation techniques (just search YouTube for “5-minute relaxation” if you need help). When the speaker talks about relaxing the body, you focus on your asshole and relax it. Accept the dildo. Use the poppers a couple of times. Just close your eyes and make it happen. It won’t be easy at first, but eventually — probably by the third week — you will be able to take the dildo in your ass during the five minute exercise.

bullet Once you can take the dildo in five minutes (all the way in), begin fucking yourself with it. Explore your insides. Find the spots that feel good and the ones that don’t. Yes, at first, you feel like you need to shit. That’s normal. But you will get past that. For the next month, you just need to explore.

anal-bulb-douchebullet Now these two months could be a little messy unless you douche (we’ll talk portable douche in a moment). I recommend the anal bulb douche as your first option (you can see it to the right). The most prevalent thing to notice about this is its very thin spout. You want one like this to clean your ass. In the shower and prior to play, do a few squirts into your ass, hold and then release. If you can get two or three bulbs full into your ass before release, even better. This is also teaching your ass muscle control. By the way, use a sensitive, hypoallergenic liquid soap as lubricant and make sure the water isn’t too hot that you squirt inside.

bullet Throughout this process, you should be paying attention to your body and noticing your body’s schedule. When do you normally take a shit? You need to notice when you eat and how long it takes to process that meal. A good bottom knows his body and its normal rhythms. I know bottoms who will stick to protein shakes or juice a couple of days prior to big gang bangs to avoid passing solids. Learning how your body processes and passes wastes is important to being clean and providing a top the optimum experience. For me, if I get shitdick Open-New-Window-External, the bottom is licking it clean.

bullet When you are with a top, begin with one who will let you sit on his cock first. I personally love this position to begin with anyway. It warms me up after good sucking. Using lube is important but not vital. It’s more about the bottom relaxing and opening up. Sounds like to me you’ve got a case of stage-fright. If you’re in control — which is the top position, where you sit on the cock — you control the pace. And here’s where you have some fun. If it hurts, ease off it. Tell the top he’s got a nice big cock. Let your ass relax a bit. Then ease back onto it. The second time in won’t be as bad. And you might even need to come off again before burying the bone.

bullet Once you adjust to the sensation, switch to a position where the top has more control. If it gets to hurting, start begging the top to cum. Hurting too much, switch off and suck a little. Change position. Don’t say it’s hurting too much. And never let it end in a blowjob. Just give your ass a rest but remember your relaxation techniques to allow you to take his cock.

bullet Eventually, you’re going to want to get a permanent shower shot douche for your home. This is an attachment for your shower. Every good bottom has one and swears by it. Knowing your body’s rhythm and cleaning out daily is not unusual for every bottom. I know bottoms who can be ready is less than five minutes, no matter where they happen to be located.

Squeeze-Bottle-Accordianbullet As for a portable douche, nothing really handy exists, but my favorite improvised device is one I saw a bottom carry with him. Technically, you can find it in the cake decorating section of your grocery store (or you might need to go to a more crafty kind of place). The squeeze bottle accordion can be compressed into a smaller format for carrying so it’s about an inch tall. At your destination, you can use water from the sink to squirt into your ass. As a suggestion, leave the water running when expelling from your ass so your top doesn’t hear that. He doesn’t want to think you were just dirty.

bullet Might I also suggest carrying one of these is good for any bottom who wishes to get the cum out of his ass as soon as possible. Look, I prefer a bottom keep my DNA inside him. But bottoms like to lie. I know that. Using this, one can rinse out an ass if there’s some level of fear of a possible disease transmission. Leaving the cum and other juices inside just causes it to fester. There’s debate whether a spermicide will kill HIV or cause it to thrive. I’d err on the side of killing it since you’re rinsing it out. Again, leave the water running or, better yet, take a shower after the fun.

I hope this answers all your questions.

Yours in DNA,
Mark 
aka iBLASTinside

help         help2        help         help2

Do you have a question you’d like Mark Bentson (aka iBLASTinside) to answer? Send a message to iBLASTinside@gmail.com mailbox_full or hit him up on his contact page Opens new window of a page on this blog.

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Orgy Etiquette

Orgy Etiquette Content

gay bareback orgy etiquetteIntroduction
Prior to Arriving
You Won’t Like Everyone in Attendance
Everyone Gets to Touch You
The Good Touch and The Bad Touch
Showing You’re Interested
Perfection Is Never Around the Corner
Do You Have a Right to Reject Advances?
Politely Rejecting Advances
When Rejected, Stepping Away
Being a Respectable Voyeur
Buck-Up: It Was a Bad Night
Providing Candid Feedback to the Host

return Return to How to Host an Orgy

 

Introduction

Every orgy brings with it some universal guidelines to ways one must conduct oneself. Keep these in mind as you enter into these hallowed halls of sexual decadence.

You will find yourself enjoying yourself much more if you give yourself over to these basic guidelines since it’s what will be happening to everyone there. More fun shall be had by all.

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Prior to Attending

Bathe well, trim, shave, douche and everything.

Even though I never plan to get fucked at an orgy, I always douche because, as much as I don’t want it to happen, someone will attempt to slip a finger inside my ass. The last thing they need to pull that finger out and find it is an opportunity to create a Dirty Sanchez Open-New-Window-External.

If I do happen to find myself in the mood for assplay, my crack is absolutely clean and available for a little probing.

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You Won’t Like Everyone in Attendance

Among the most challenging things for a lot of people to keep in mind is that when there are five or more men gathered in one place, you will be comparing these men and of the four, you’d prefer at least one keep his hands off of you.

It’s just naturally how it will go.

He may be a different race. He might be hairy or smooth. He might be young or old. Whatever it is that just doesn’t turn your crank, you’ve got to swallow the bile that you think is coming up and stomach the moment when his hand brushes against your body.

Here’s why.

You see that hot, hot fucker across the room. The muscle man with the incredible pecs and pepperoni nipples you want to suckle on for days?

I’m reading his mind right now and he thinks you’re Fugly (yes, with a capital “F”).

However, the bile buddy next to you prompting nausea is dazzlingly beautiful to him.

Bile buddy is all about you but could care less about sliced salami nips.

By each of you tolerating the other, you each will “get” what you really want. It’s a triad of desire, only it’s all misdirected. If each of you will just swallow your pride, you will get what you want, though.

An orgy is not a place where people are meant to pair up and wander off. An orgy isn’t an a la carte menu. It’s a potluck dinner. One should expect to sample a bit from almost everyone in the room and, based on what’s there, indulge just a bit more from the more delicacies that seem a bit more appetizing to your palate.

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Everyone Gets to Touch You

For this reason, everyone in attendance gets to touch you. Your body is not off limits.

Unlike sex clubs Opens new window of a page on this blog or adult bookstores Opens new window of a page on this blog, you do not push away participants or close yourself off in a corner during an orgy (unless it’s just massive with hundreds of participants).

Whenever I host less than 10 participants, my goal is to get everyone together in one general space and everyone touching one another in one way.

The most ideal experiences I’ve had is when I’m not sure exactly who’s sucking my cock or sitting on my cock. I can generally see who I am kissing or who’s cock I am sucking. And if I am lucky, some tongue is on my balls or across my ass.

I have yet to have a cock in my ass while I am fucking someone. That fete will be one I will so enjoy when it occurs.

With good orgies, people stop worrying whether the least good looking is touching them and allow themselves to be swallowed by the pleasure of it. It’s a mob mentality. But instead of rioting, sexual energy takes over. Cock, cum, kissing, sucking, spit, sweat, lips, balls… it’s all just men.

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The Good Touch and The Bad Touch

If you are strictly a top or a bottom, or if you are somehow sensitive in some other ways, you may have created areas of your body that you consider “off limits.” This variety creates places that more commonly known as “bad touch” areas.

For me, almost anyone can touch my nipples. They provide almost little pleasure for me. They’re very neutral territory.

Should an African American with a thick 12-inch cock decide that a little spit would be enough to invade my ass, well, that would be a bad touch as a top.

And, since licking my balls lightly causes more juice to be produced for when I finally shoot my load (and with the right technique, can even cause me to loose control and paralyze my body for moments at a time), that’s a good touch.

You, as the participant in an orgy have an obligation to provide feedback — visual and verbal — to the men working on you. It’s very simple.

“Stop, don’t do that,” with a gentle pushing away of the offending appendage means bad touch.

“Yes, please do that more,” while leaning into the action means good touch.

And no movement means everything is a okay, just keep exploring.

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Showing You’re Interested

Unlike a bar, you don’t need to be quite as shy at an orgy. Sometimes you’re even naked. Walk up to someone and start feeling them up. If they move away, head to the next guy. Or lean back, take your cock in hand and motion someone over and start sucking. I mean, make your intentions clean by getting on your knees. Someone will eventually stuff something in your mouth.

Hell, put your ass in the air.

Orgies are about sex and making your intentions clear should be just fine.

Moments of awkward pause do occur. Every party needs an icebreaker. It’s just something to get the “conversation” rolling. But the conversation at an orgy is sex, so people will appreciate it if you’re the one who starts creating the sexual tension in the room.

Gay Bareback Orgy Etiquette GuideNot sure how?

I’ll give you the easiest trick in the book.

Walk up to a guy or a few guys.

If you’re a bottom, ask, “Are you a top?” or “Are you guys tops?”

If anyone answers “yes,” or “versatile,” then, “Feel like a blowjob?”

And don’t wait for an answer. Go for it.

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Perfection Is Never Around the Corner

There inevitably will be this idea to wait for the perfect man with whom to shoot your load or to generally wait to get wild. It’s something all noobs Open-New-Window-External that the proverbial greener grass on the other side never quite appears. When I know there’s an orgy coming up, I save up a nice batch of cum with the knowledge that I hope to deposit a couple of loads.

Bottoms (I hope) go with the intention of getting as many loads as possible. However, it isn’t a competition.

I’ll fuck multiple holes. My first load is the easiest to crank out, of course. But it’s the second or, even more rare, the third. You earn that, you’ve got a blessed ass.

I never wait to see if I find a better ass. If I feel like cumming, I cum.

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Do You Have a Right to Reject Advances?

Some people do and some people do not have the right to reject advances at an orgy.

If you are the sole bottom at a “breed the bottom” party, guess what: You’re it.

No, you don’t get to say, “That’s too big” or “That’s too small” or “I don’t like Asians” or “You’re too old.”

The solitary bottom at such a party is the one who has the literally take it in the ass. You cannot reject someone lining up to take it in the ass. The only exception is if something terribly wrong has happened, meaning you’ve got a physical or medical issue that needs attention.

A good bottom should know how to pace his meals and clean himself for an evening without a shit dick Open-New-Window-External event.

Now, if it’s not a “breed the bottom” party, I like to designate a slut bottom for every party who will take all cummers — literally. That way, no one is left leaving with blue balls. Usually, you’ll have one or two volunteers. And since I am a top, when I host, I usually agree to be the fucker for all bottoms, so each one ends up with a nice hard cock in their ass at some point.

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Politely Rejecting Advances

I do have my dislikes Opens new window of a page on this blog. It’s just one thing I can’t overcome. And when I am a guest at an orgy, I cannot control the guest list and therefore cannot assure that the man touching me is going to be matching my desires.

While there’s some types of guys who just don’t turn my crank, some men will cause me to lose a hardon as fast as a knife popping a balloon. When that happens, one must politely decline the advance. This can occur with several people or just a few in a group. I focus on minimizing the opportunity for the incompatible person.

For example, some smokers just seem to carry a huge cloud of ash around with them — a smell, not just on their breath, but emanating from every pore of their body. These people will prompt me to “take a break” where I can return later or, if I’m fucking someone I like, make a small hint that they might like to follow me to another area.

If you have someone obsessed with you who keeps following you around after the breaks, just pull them aside and say the following:

[alert style=”green”] Thanks so much for your interest in me but I’d like to spend some time with the other men here right now. Maybe I’ll get back around to you a little later. Or maybe we can meet up another day. Okay? I’d really appreciate it. [/alert]

If that doesn’t work, let the host know and perhaps the guest will be invited to leave.

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When Rejected, Stepping Away

I’ve been rejected. Plenty of times, most especially at the gloryholes Opens new window of a page on this blog at an Atlanta adult bookstore Opens new window of a page on this blog.

Number One When I arrive at the gloryhole and unzip my jeans, my cock isn’t instantly hard. One must play a little mouth music on it to bring it up. Some men expect instant hardon. Whatever happened to enjoying the feel of a cock inflating in your mouth?

Number 2 With the work from lips and tongue and even some hand, I get to my normal 7 inches and, with a little more work — especially around the balls — you’ll see it reach a respectable 7½ inches. But for the size queens who think 8 inches in minimum, it’s not enough.

I’ve had my cock pushed away and men simply stepped away or leave the other side of the booth. If I took this personally, I’d be crying still now, if not dead from committing suicide from the immense depression caused by such rejection.

My talented cock is rock hard and it can fuck. Too many tops just do not get that hard and, well, getting inside a tight bottom is a challenge.

Not me.

One had to learn not to take the rejection personally.

We all know how men are built Opens new window of a page on this blog. We separate sex from the emotional ties. This is NSA or “no strings attached” sex. So if it has nothing to do with the emotions and someone rejects us, why would we let ourselves get all carried away with emotions when we’re rejected?

Don’t let it happen to you.

Sex is like a business transaction and you’re just not compatible. It’s as if he’s wanting to use AMEX and you only accept Visa.

Walk away and move on to someone who is compatible.

Believe me, I’m too old, too fat, too small, too hairy, too dorky or too something for someone. But I’m also just right for someone else. If you don’t move on, you might miss out on a really good time. Do not let yourself get obsessed with some idiot who won’t (or can’t) let themselves broaden their horizons to let you in to fuck around.

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Being a Respectable Voyeur

Barebacking breedingOrgies are such that you get a great opportunity to watch some great sex, even if you don’t always get to participate in it. There’s nothing hotter than a group of men jacking their cocks around one incredible fuck scene in the center. I’ve been both places.

When fucking a bottom, I generally like to get the sense whether he’s up for a tag teaming from anyone else there. And I’ll share. But sometimes it’s meant to really be just the two of you until you blow that load.

For me, I personally enjoy if the voyeurs touch me. I especially like the other tops to come up behind me, play with my ass and up along the crack to my taint and balls. This really gets me going. Other men do not like this. A gentle push of the hand away or asking not to touch is just fine. Then step back and let the professional do as he wishes.

I know a lot of bottoms who love to be looking into the eyes of the top as he blows his load into the bottom. I suggest staying away from blocking that line of view. Otherwise, if the bottom invites you to stuff his mouth full, go ahead.

Keep in mind the others around you and let them see the fun as well.

But get involved. Cheer the action on at least. And touch unless told not to touch.

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Buck-Up: It Was a Bad Night

With every orgy, there’s a chance it can go bad. Very bad. You don’t get off. The two hot guys there go off in a corner and ignore everyone else. You get stalked by the troll who happens to be the host’s best friend from out of town. It’s bound to happen.

Buck up. Bad nights happen.

What I’ve done to try and rescue a night: Wait around to the end and as people leave, walk out with your last-chance choices. Make small talk, inviting them to coffee or getting their numbers to text them later. Once, I even fucked one by a neighborhood dumpster (talk about a quick dump and go). He turned into a regular fuck.

By waiting until the end of the night, even if you’re satisfied, you’ll see who the real sluts of the group are and you might start making friends.

I earned regular suck and fuck buds by waiting to see who waits until the end of decent orgies.

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Providing Candid Feedback to the Host

Whenever I’ve hosted a get together, I always ask for candid feedback after the get together to see if there’s ways to improve the next party. I do not take things personally unless someone tries to get personal about a get together.

I like to know the problem people, who just jerked off rather than actually barebacking (they don’t get invited back) and who seemed to be too picky (ditto). I prefer the feedback later, a day or two after the party and sent privately via e-mail or in a phone call.

TOP  Return to Top

return Return to How to Host an Orgy

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The Missing Post: The Death of My Mother

The Missing Post: The Death of My Mother

This entry isn’t sexy at all. You might want to skip it entirely.

I scolded someone today about missing a post regarding the death of my Mother and, when I went back to find it, realized it wasn’t there myself. I apologize to that reader since several places throughout my blog, I do refer to my Mother’s death but the recount of it seems to be missing.

I had debated writing about it when it happened in January of 2010. In fact, the gap of my posts seem almost invisible now looking back, covered up by Q&A posts that seemed popular at the time. Truth is, I probably did post something but along the way to this platform or in some cleaning frenzy, I deleted it as too overly sentimental or not sexy enough.

Yet that incident has significant bearing on two things in my reportour of posts these days: My extraordinary dislike of smoking Opens new window of a page on this blog and my intense disdain of catfish Open-New-Window-External.

By the way, the photo included here is actually a real photo I told of me holding my Mother’s hand one long and painful night and texted it to the catfish.

flower_white          flower_white          flower_white          flower_white

A Second Hospital Visit

My job at the time had me travel throughout December through March. I’d returned home in January after another string of visits and my uncle, who’d just left, suggested I go immediately to see my Mother, as she wasn’t feeling well.

About six years earlier, I’d moved back to Georgia from Washington, D.C., to help care for my elderly parents. My father had passed in 2005, all of us by his side. But he was at home in hospice care. I’d been his primary caretaker during his final two weeks, administering the painkilling medicine that eased his discomfort and helped him ultimately make the transition as easily as possible.

To be honest, his passing was almost one of a miracle, as we’d talked about a month before about his wishes at his funeral. As he breathed his last breath, all of the family around him, hugging him, crying and saying good-bye, the television began playing the one song he’d asked to be played at his funeral.

Compared the the gentle but stoic nature of my Father was the truly steel magnolia Machiavellian matriarch that was my Mother. I loved her dearly. But at 78 years old, she would ignore every doctor’s advice (and my orders) and do as she wished.

From almost 42 years of smoking, her chronic obstructed pulmonary disorder made the most simple tasks brutal. Yet she would insist on housework, fixing dinner, driving herself places, and more, her little portable oxygen tank in tow. And I’d drive her all over the family gatherings, with her often upset when I deviated from the old routes to take quicker, new highways.

I’d been travelling all over the country — three cities this last nine-day tour — and I wanted to sleep and rest because the next week I would be off for two more cities. But instead, I dragged my fat ass over to see Mom.

She’d been sleeping on the sofa across from the hospital bed I’d had in her home for the last six months but she refused to use because there wasn’t a lamp close enough to it.

More petite and frail, her hands and arms dotted with bruising from whenever she’d bump up against anything, she insisted “something was wrong.”

I struck a bargain with her: We’d go to the hospital but when she came home, she’d have to learn to do what I said. After all, I reminded her how she bossed around her Mother (my Grandmother) for 10 years before her passing. I told her she needed me let me get a little bossing in.

Now that I look back, she agreed too quickly.

It was the second time I took her to the hospital but the first time she would be admitted.

Nothing Out of the Ordinary

Mother had bronchitis. When I moved home, I went to the doctors with both of my parents and spent time with their primary care and any specialist, learning as much as I could about their chronic conditions. I also learned what to expect when the time would come.

For Mother, it would be a series of lung infections that would get steadily worse over time until essentially, she could not get enough oxygen and would suffocate.

“The process is beginning,” I told myself.

When I moved home, Mother’s lung capacity was at 23 percent of normal. Even though she’d quit smoking about five years before I came back to Georgia, her lungs would never heal. That’s one of the myths about smokers. If you quit, your lungs don’t get better. Actually, they continue to deteriorate — just at a much slower pace.

Each year, Mother would lose between 1 and 2 percent of capacity. She currently hovered around 17 percent.

She began making a rebound quickly with the antibiotics and everything seemed fine. But one afternoon, she told me something was wrong.

“What is it, Mom?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

My Mother’s eyes contained sheer terror in them. I noticed the her oxygen saturation in her blood on the monitor suddenly dropping. I hit the nurse call button.

In the next 30 minutes, we were in the Intensive Care Unit. The doctors wanted to intubate my Mother — that is, put a tube into her lungs to breathe for her. And in her fear, my Mother consented. But I overruled her, pulling out my power of attorney. One of the healthcare directives she’s insisted upon in it was to never be intubated and the doctors agreed, saying if we did, she’d likely never be able to be taken off since her lungs would never be strong enough.

She was put onto a machine that strapped an oxygen mask onto her face so tight, it made bruises all over her face. It would force her to breath.

She cried through the night, hating that machine. I was there the whole time, holding her hand. She asked constantly for it to be taken off. But I asked her to bear with me just a little longer to see if it would help.

But in 24 hours, her condition didn’t improve.

My only companion other than some family and friends who would stop by was a words at the other end of texting. The person was comforting in so many ways. And I was at my most vulnerable, here, next to my dying Mother, feeling the most alone in the world.

The reassurance of his care and love for me seemingly helped. But later, I would discover it was all a lie. He didn’t exist. And I’ll be honest — what that person did, the betrayal just reaches so deep into places where I’m still scarred and hurting that I can’t even begin to explain or even discuss it. It’s actually easier to talk about my Mother.

Relief at Last

With no improvement and really no hope, I spoke to all the doctors the next day to assure that switching to palliative care would be the right choice. I wasn’t prepared for this decision so early. I’d expected to take Mother home and have a few more hospital visits before this event. But that wasn’t to be.

I then spoke to my sister and my aunt to make sure they agreed. Turns out I was the late one to the decision, but I had to be there. It was time for me to talk to Mother.

We turned that horrible machine off and took it away. My Mother was so relieved it wasn’t working on her now and she could breathe at whatever pace she wanted. I went and sat down, alone, next to her, put my hand in hers, feeling the warmth and the knotted knuckles from the arthritis. Her poor body was just so battered and bruised, but through it all I could see that beautiful woman who cared for me through all my years, kissed my boo-boos. She guided me kindly and occasionally spanked me. I pulled her hand to my lips and kissed it, feeling that rough skin that still contained a softness. I brushed back her gray hair from her bruised forehead and looked into the dimming brown eyes.

“Mother,” I said in a quiet tone, managing to keep it together.

“Yes,” she said.

“We had a choice and I want to know what you think,” I said. “I know you hate that machine but it’s your only hope of getting any better.”

I paused, as I could see the recognition come across her face.

“We can put you back on it and try to make you ask comfortable as possible,” I continued. “Or we can leave you off of it and you can go see Daddy.”

A single tear streamed down my left cheek.

She didn’t answer immediately. But she did finally speak.

“I think I’d rather go see Daddy. I really miss him.”

My Mother and Father were married 53 years before he passed away. Of course she missed him.

I hugged her.

The Rebound

Over the next few hours, Mom seemed to feel better than ever, visited with so many people. It’s one of those miraculous gifts we get before we die and we get to say goodbye. I have a precious video of her time with my nephew that just would tear anyone apart to watch.

She laughed so much. I was so glad to see that. I hadn’t seen her with that much joy in so long.

It was then I began to realize just how sick she’d been.

And if on schedule, as the final people left and the last prayers were uttered, she slipped into a silent, fitful sleep. With all the paperwork signed, I had the nurses begin to add morphine and other calming drugs to make her sleep more restful.

Just after midnight, she stopped breathing in this world. But she got a lung-full of air somewhere else.

I screamed, not in pain, but at the top of my lungs, “She can finally breathe!”

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