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Category Archives: Butthead

On borrowed (big dog) time

Hub and I have an evening wedding to go to in a few weeks. It’s a formal occasion, which I talked about briefly before when I bitched about having to find a gown and shoes. Hub had to buy a new suit, too, because the pants on his old suit were messed up…even after taking them to the tailor for the last big event we had. Anyway, I digress (already, jeez, I’m only in the first paragraph), because this isn’t about the wedding.

It’s about the dogs.

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Who, me?

 

Technically, not so much Butthead, but more about Le Moo.

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You can’t see me hiding back here, can you?

 

We’re hiring someone to come dog-sit while we’re at the wedding, mostly because we’re over-protective and we have to be forty minutes away just before dinnertime and who is going to feed our pups? The wedding is a family affair, so anyone who might be able to feed the dogs are all going to be with us at the wedding. So we’re going to hire someone to come to the house, feed the dogs, and hang out for a while to let them out and stuff. This means finding someone to hire, which means telling people about our dogs.

In theory, this is no big deal because we talk about Le Moo and Butthead all the time. You think your friends with new babies are bad? Yeah, they’re amateurs. We love our dogs, we spoil our dogs, we talk about them all the time and will happily explain how cute, adorbs, and completely disobedient they are (which they really aren’t most of the time). So it should have been a cinch to fill out the online profiles for the dogs when searching for a dog-sitter. Until Hub had to fill out their ages. Then he had to try really hard not to cry.

Both our dogs are large. Butthead is a svelte 76lbs…I wish she’d gain weight but she just doesn’t seem to be able to keep it on. I think she’s on the thin side but our vet says she’s a perfect weight. So at least I know she’s not sickly, since he’s happy with her physicality. Le Moo, on the other hand, is always on the…um, chunky side. She vacillates between 84-95lbs. At her highest, it was 95, now on a moderately strict diet she’s probably around 85lbs. She’s a big girl, but her (suggested) breed does indicate a bit of rotundness, so we’re all good with her size (except the vet, of course).

If you know dogs, you know that big dogs don’t live very long, generally speaking. Le Moo supposedly is part Great Pyrenees, and in looking up their life span it says 10-12 years. Le Moo is going to be 10 this fall. Although she’s not really slowing down too much (any slower than her norm and she’d be asleep all the time), we do see a moderate change in her personality. When my Mom’s English Lab got to a certain age, she changed from being completely ball-obsessed and independent to clingy. Le Moo is getting more and more clingy with every passing week. For her, that means she’s seeking our attention much more than she used to, and I find that she’s seeking out Butthead’s companionship more. At night, Le Moo used to sleep far away from Butthead, usually the complete opposite end of the room and sometimes hiding in the closet. Now, she will actively go and sleep right next to Butthead. And when we wake up in the morning, there are more days when she’s still there, rather than on her own bed or in the closet…or somewhere else away from Butthead.

Hub was incredibly upset to realize Le Moo’s age. I guess I’m more obsessive about these things, so I know her age and it’s difficult for me to forget it. I often find myself hugging Le Moo and whispering in her ear that she better not ever leave me. But it’s going to come and I am going to be devastated. I cried for months after we adopted her because I wasn’t over Sweet Pea’s death less than two months prior. As much as I wanted to love Le Moo–I’d picked her out and I’d made the decision with Hub to adopt her–I resented her because she wasn’t Sweet Pea. And she didn’t seem to need or want me in her life. She was so aloof and so independent and I was accustomed to Sweet Pea who was clingy and shadowed me everywhere.

When I realized what was happening and I began working through my grief over Sweet Pea, I came to understand that Le Moo was a different dog. And that she was the dog I needed at that time…and I had to be the owner she needed. Obviously I’ve become incredibly attached to Le Moo, although it is in a different way than SP, and I am terrified of the day she leaves this earth.

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I’ll just sleep here so you can’t put the recliner foot rest up or even put your feet on the floor.

 

I watch her when she’s out in the yard, because despite her weight and size, she can move like nobody’s business. If there’s something to be chased, she’s fast and light on her feet. If there’s something REALLY good to chase and bark at, she’ll actually pogo up in the air like she’s on a pogo stick or a trampoline. It’s outstanding and amazing to watch! People who have met her and know her–she mostly acts like a lump–have actually stared in shock when they’ve seen her run or pogo out in the yard. No one understands how she can do it and most won’t believe it until they see it, but it’s true. And so far, she’s still chasing and pogo’ing, so I am happy about that.

I don’t know how she dares even consider leaving this earth, but inevitably it will happen. Hub and I will be devastated. Until then, we continue to love her (and tolerate Butthead) for every moment we have together. Borrowed time or not, she’s still my Ladybug, and I’m going to celebrate all that she is until and then some.

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Why yes, this is my ball full of Kix cereal, thanks!

 
6 Comments

Posted by on June 29, 2017 in anxiety, Butthead, dogs, fear, future, hub, Le Moo, loss, love, Sweet Pea

 

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Jet plane, night 2, day 3

Recap of night 1, day 2.

I stayed up reading last night until about 1 am, then fell asleep. Then I was up at 5:45 am and that was it, I was up for the day. I tried to fall back asleep, but couldn’t. I finally got out of bed at 7:30 and fed the dogs, then took them out. Then I went back to bed but was too restless to even doze. I had to be out of the house by 9:30 for my massage, so I just gave up and got dressed at 8:30.

I thought the massage would be good and relaxing–since I did ask for a relaxing massage and not trigger point–but I kind of felt icky and my head felt real stuffy and swollen when I was on my stomach. And my face felt swollen in the face rest thingy. Afterward I was so tired that I had trouble driving home. Then I had to feed the dogs their mid-day meal and take them out. I had hoped to rest after that, but it didn’t work out. I tried reading and watching TV, but the dogs kept wanting to go out so I kept having to get up.

On and off I IM’d with Hub as he was running errands and getting things ready for the wedding. He’s getting kind of irritated with his father at this point. They don’t really get along too well on a regular basis, and their politics are polar opposite. So Hub is feeling edgy and unhappy. He still has to get through tomorrow without going crazy, then tomorrow night late he gets on the plane to come home overnight.

Okay, so I did the dinner thing and fed the dogs and retrieved a wedding invitation from my mailbox from my cousin. I went to check in on my father to see if he got his invitation, then to remind him he needed to try on his suit, in case he needed to buy a new one. Then I came home, I took the dogs out, did their after dinner snacky, took them out again, then sat down to read and play some games on my iPad. I was able to stretch out the evening so I only had to take the dogs out again at 10pm before bedtime. So at 10pm I take them downstairs and outside. One goes one way, the other goes the other way, so I stand just off the deck on our small paver patio to wait for them. Then I see Le Moo sniffing at something on the patio about 3 feet away from me…and I step closer to take another look. It’s cicada time here, so I was thinking it was a live cicada and she was going to try to eat it–experience speaking here–and I was prepared to admonish her. And then I realized it wasn’t a cicada.

It was a goddamn fucking snake.

On my patio, right off my deck, right outside my back door. Last Friday I beat a smaller snake to death out in the yard after I nearly walked on it while picking up dog poop. Fortunately, I spotted it while still about six inches away and I hotfooted it back to the house and grabbed the hard metal rake that had been sitting on the deck. I found the snake in the yard again–out toward the back closer to the fence and the “woods” back there–and I beat that fucker to death. It took me like five minutes because the damn thing wouldn’t die…I think because there are ruts in the grass out there so I wasn’t getting good contact with it. When I was sure it was dead I used the rake to pick it up and I threw it out over the fence into the brush. I hurt my arms, my back, and the back of my legs trying to kill it.

Okay, so back to tonight. The damn snake is on the patio, brazen as you please, bigger than the one from Friday–at least 2 feet long–head up, glaring at Le Moo. Le Moo starts backing away and I order her to go up onto the deck. But Butthead is out on the other side of the snake in the yard, peeing, and she finishes and comes running back and she always runs on the patio. And of course she has to run right past the snake, which she does, but then she does a double-take and goes back… and I’m screaming at her to get away from the damn snake and she’s sniffing right at it because she’s STOOPID. So I finally order her away and both dogs into the house, and I rush into the garage to get a shovel…but by the time I get back outside the fucker is GONE. So now it’s either in the bushes right up against the house and next to the patio, or it’s in the grass somewhere.

So now I gotta go back out there tomorrow, wondering where it is. Is it lurking in the bushes? In the grass? Is it gonna jump out and BITE ME or the dogs? I don’t like killing things. Friday was the first time I’d ever killed a snake…or probably anything other than ants and spiders. Before that, Hub had killed two of them since we’ve lived in this house. We’ve never had snake problems before we moved here. I’m not happy about killing anything. But…

I hate snakes.

I have nightmares about snakes attacking me and biting me and all kindsa shit. I’m NOT good with snakes in my yard. Yes, I know they keep rodents away. Yes, I understand that the snakes in my yard are not likely to be venomous. Yes, I even understand they are not likely to actually bite unless threatened… but guys, it’s a goddamn snake and I am afraid of snakes. I’d rather let the owls and the hawks take care of the rodents and let the snakes go somewhere else. ANYWHERE ELSE. AWAY FROM HERE.

I ordered snake repellent from Amazon, to be delivered sometime tomorrow. It’s not likely to help, I’m aware, but I’m desperate to try anything to keep these things away from the house. I mean hey, live your life out there in the woods Snakey-snakey…just not here in my yard or on my patio or in the goddamn bushes next to my house.

So yeah, day 3 is done. I am managing but I’m damn tired. And I’m not looking forward to the snake nightmares tonight, or the anxiety of watching out for snakes tomorrow in real life. Ugh,

Tomorrow’s notes.

 

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Jet plane, day 1

We dropped Hub off this morning at 4:15am for his flight. After I got home and let the dogs out, I instant messaged with Hub until he boarded the plane at 5:45. By then I’d already fed the dogs and gotten back into bed. I dozed for a few hours, then got up and went about my day. For the most part I felt like Hub was at work and I allowed myself to just be that way. I’ve almost read two books and I pretty much had movies on the TV all day, although mostly they were movies I’d already seen. I had Mama Mia! on the TV maybe three times at random points through the movie, because I like singing those songs and they passed the time more easily. Hairspray was on at least once, too.

I’ve done okay for most of the day. Unfortunately, around 9:30pm tonight, Butthead freaked out and had her tail tucked under and was barking hysterically while backing her way into the bedroom where I was reading and watching TV. I went out into the hallway and checked all the rooms up here (she refused to follow me and instead ran down the stairs), but I have no idea what her major malfunction was. I took them out in the darkness, but luckily it was a little rainy, so both dogs ran out and peed and ran right back to the door to go in. So we kind of settled into the bedroom at that point and after some treats and wandering around, they both have settled in. I suspect they are also exhausted from starting their day at 3am.

I’ve talked to Hub twice on the phone and a few more times on instant messenger. He seems to be okay but the last we talked about an hour ago, he was sounding just exhausted. I hope he’s going to sack out soon, even though it’s pretty early in the evening out there. He said he kept moving his legs around on the plane, even though first class wasn’t as roomy as he’d hoped, and that he felt okay when he deboarded. Is that a word? Deboarded? What else do they call it? Anyway, he says he felt okay and when I talked to him later he said he was feeling okay just tired from the long day.

I was happy to hear from my SIL by phone (I couldn’t figure out the damn facetime thing through FB’s messenger) after she opened my gift to her for her wedding. I crocheted her a blanket that turned out to be about queen size (the pic below is spread out on a king size guest bed) in these amazing colors that made me think of her. Hub’s father said she has walls in her house painted in yellow and orange, so I found this awesome yarn and went to town. Took me several months (and a lot of pain) to get the blanket done, but apparently she loved it a lot. Made me feel like the work was worth it.

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I saw my father earlier when I took the dogs out this afternoon and he reminded me that I could stay at his house overnight or whatever. I said I was going to try to stay home, but if I had any issue I would just hike over there with the dogs and stay there. Around 8:30pm tonight he called to see how I was doing and how my day had gone. Then he reminded me that if I had any trouble I should just let myself into his house no matter what time it was. Then he gave me his late-night schedule so I would know how late he would be awake, but then he told me again to just come over whenever I need to.

I’m not sure if I’ll be able to sleep tonight or not. I still have some reading left in my second book of the day and a youtube video to watch for a channel I subscribe to. I dunno…I’m locked in the bedroom with the dogs and I’m sure I’m safe (even though I’m kind of worried that I locked the bedroom door and if someone needs to get in here to rescue me for some reason the locked door will be an issue), but it’s still weird. I kind of hope I’ll be tired enough to fall asleep at some point.

I had my regular soup for lunch and leftover takeout for dinner, so eating wasn’t a major issue today. I have more takeout again for tomorrow night’s dinner if I want it, and I (pressure) cooked up a fresh pot of my lunch-soup this morning so I have enough for the rest of the week. It’s boring, but I eat soup most days of the week for lunch because it means I don’t have to think about it. I dump it in a bowl, add some sauteed mushrooms, and nuke it…easy-peasy no thinking. Also, the soup is bean soup, so it’s pretty healthy…protein and fiber and veggies and carbs, all-in-one.

That’s pretty much it for today. One down, three more to go.

Next installment…

 
8 Comments

Posted by on May 28, 2017 in anxiety, Butthead, control, dad, dogs, fear, food, hub, love, sleep, stress, time, tired

 

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Sleep? Why bother…

Apparently this is what my body and brain has decided. Sleep unnecessary.

I know that for real it has to do with my mental, emotional, and physical pain. All of those wrapped into one, split into pieces, kneaded into each other, and then rolled into a throbbing ball of oneness. I’m so on edge that one small scrape and I’m raw and bleeding profusely, figuratively.

I cried on the way to the grocery store this morning. Not because I had to go to the grocery store, not because I was worried about being able to afford the trip to the grocery store, not because I was afraid I was going to have an anxiety attack in the grocery store… I cried because I couldn’t not cry. I’m tired, I’m not sleeping, I’m worried about Hub and I’m worried about Butthead. I’m worried about myself, too. My grief is overwhelming every part of my life and I can’t seem to dig my way out of it.

Hub is agonizing over a job offer–in part because it might mean less flexibility and he worries that he won’t be able to come home if I need him–that he received on Friday. I’m worried for him because I don’t feel that the company was being up front with him…they kind of bait and switched the job position (which they apparently did to the guy before him, someone Hub knows). I am concerned he won’t have any backup on his work, and I’m worried because if this is how they treat potential employees, how do they treat current employees. But Hub is unhappy in his current job and looking for a way out. Our health insurance changed due to the buy-out, so he’s both unhappy with the new corporate owners and unhappy with their shitty health insurance. Unfortunately, the potentially new company has equally shitty health insurance…so that kind of cancels out the pro/con in that category. Now they’re not budging on a concession he asked about (a minor concession on their part!), so that might be the end of that. I only hope that his current corporate overlords don’t decide that he’s no longer needed before he finds something else.

Butthead is randomly puking again. I mean, it’s good news that she’s not persistently puking like the last episode where we ended up rushing her to the vet hospital and coming home with anti-vomit pills… But this randomly throwing up (twice in the last four days…one of which was this morning which was another reason why I was so upset) is so frustrating. We don’t know if she’s sneaking and eating bad things outside or has gastritis and so her stomach hurts her or what… We’re at the point where we’re acclimating her to a basket muzzle that she’ll have to wear anytime she’s outside so she doesn’t eat crap off the ground and make herself sick. It’s hard and sad to make her wear a muzzle because she’s a good dog, not aggressive, shouldn’t have to wear it. I know it’s uncomfortable and bulky and just plain weird for her, but we don’t know what else to do with her. We can’t figure out what is wrong with her. And if it’s that she’s eating stuff outside that’s making her sick, there’s nothing else we can do other than the muzzle. For the past month or so we’ve been out there with her every minute, following her and standing over her and making sure she’s not eating things. But with the snow and ice, and my physical capabilities being limited at this point…I couldn’t keep up with her and I think she might have eaten something that made her vomit last Thursday when I wasn’t standing over her. We just don’t know what to do with her… So I’m worried that she’s going to vomit again like the last episode. Ugh. So far it’s been these two random episodes and today I spent time on and off modifying the basket muzzle to try to use a quick-snap collar to hold it on her head versus the old-fashioned buckle which is a pain in the ass to get on and off of her, especially with her floppy ears and long hair.

Even though I’ve been feeling ultra shitty and exhausted, we had to do a bunch of things this weekend. Most of which we accomplished. Unfortunately, one of the things was cleaning up the caulk in our master shower which seemed to be growing mold behind the caulk at the joints of the floor and wall. Hub is not flexible, so he had trouble sitting on the floor and scraping at the caulk, so I did 90% of it. Which, of course, hurt my arms, shoulders, and hands more than they were already hurting. The end result, though, is that we need to call in a professional to look at our shower because this is the second time in a year that we’ve ended up with this problem. Last time my brother helped me strip and re-caulk the shower, but now we’re in the same place again… There’s something wrong if there’s mold and mildew growing behind the caulk, especially since we bought mold-resistant caulk. This all means that we don’t have a shower in our bathroom and we have to haul ass to the shower on the opposite end of the house…past all the windows in the front of the house and over the foyer area of the house. It also means we have to haul all our paraphernalia into the other shower, which is smaller than our master shower. It’s not a huge deal, it’s just more stress. And more stress in having to find someone who knows what they are doing to come into the house to fix whatever is happening. The stupid sub-contractor that our builder hired to do our bathrooms did not know what they were doing. They screwed several things up in our master bathroom and ruined a lot of our shower floor tiles by having to go back and chip out all the wrong grout they put in. So we were left with grout over top of grout, and chipped tiles. And the slope of the floor is really bad, which causes water to pool in different spots in the shower and leaves our grout with water stains where the water sits. It’s shitty and depressing and frustrating. That’s all in addition to whatever this caulk situation is.

I have my mammogram on Wednesday. We finally got our health insurance cards from Hub’s new corporate overlords. I opened the mail, found the card, and called for my appointment all within about ten minutes. The first they had was a week away (now this Wednesday) and I took the appointment. I am pretty paranoid about keeping up with my mammos, so I’m glad that it’s only about ten days overdue from the day I had it last year.

I was supposed to have a relaxing massage last week. I had it scheduled in between two trigger point appointments…I normally go to TP massage therapy once a month (ish). So I scheduled the relaxing massage exactly two weeks after one TP appointment and two weeks before the next TP appoint. And then it snowed, and my relaxing massage appointment got canceled. And I really really wanted it. I mean, not enough to endanger my therapist or myself, but I’m so disappointed. I knew this was going to be a difficult month (technically, it’s been a difficult year so far), so I had planned for the relaxing massage–which I never get–and then plans went pfffft. Since my massage therapist only works two days a week, there were no openings for me to do a make-up massage. I don’t know when I’ll be able to fit it in again.

I told T on Friday that I want this grief to have some kind of end date. But with every day, every month, it stays. It’s a solid burden that I carry with me every. This month is especially difficult as it’s the (one year) anniversary of Mom’s death. And with every calendar day I think of what I was doing on “this” day last year. How we had no idea what was coming. How we took her to an arboretum in the city trying to perk up her spirits…not knowing how soon it would get so bad. How it happened so fast. How I was late to Hub’s birthday dinner last year because I was with Mom and Dad helping them with something. How it was only days after his birthday that she was in the hospital and then hours later that she was gone. Grief has no end date. It plays by no rules. It doesn’t give a shit who you are or what you want. It lives and breathes and grows and growls and harps and hammers and changes and does whatever the hell it wants. And it sucks.

 

 

 

 

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On dogs and doctors and days (long)

It’s been a busy month. Today is the 18th, just FYI.

I got my eyes checked–for the first time in at least six years–only to find that my prescription has barely changed. In fact, the doctor wanted to roll back my prescription a smidge but I declined. I just picked up my new glasses about an hour ago and when I put them on, I felt weird. I think we ended up a tiny bit stronger, but the technician said it could also be the upgraded coating on the lenses that made me feel funky. I’ll have to ease into the new glasses, which is fine because I still have an old pair to use in the meantime. The new glasses have half-frames, so they should be lighter on my face. The second pair of “new” glasses I got are actually one of my old frames with new lenses. I would say it was cheaper to do it that way, but honestly by the time I picked the first set of new frames, I was so freaking tired of looking at frames that I just told her to put new lenses in my old frames. They were in fine condition and they were going to be my back-up pair anyway. Everyone I worked with at the optometrist kept repeating that I had single vision lenses (instead of bi-focals) and they all sounded surprised. Kind of annoying, but honestly the major reason I didn’t go back to get my eyes checked in the last six years is because at 39 years old, the optometrist told me at 40 I’d be needing bi-focals (because that’s “the age”) and I didn’t want bi-focals so I didn’t go back. And here I am, six years later, still no bi-focals. So poo on all of you. Meanwhile, I also hate getting my eyes dilated, but this optometrist had some new-fangled technology that let them take pictures of my eyes and I was able to put off dilation again.

Monday we took Le Moo for her annual “senior” check-up at the vet. We took Butthead, too, because we’d noticed her front two bottom teeth were disappearing. The vet assured me that it wasn’t likely to be the case when we talked in email, but we brought her anyway to make sure. Le Moo is healthy and has lost about 10% of her weight. She went from 94 pounds to 86 pounds, which we are doing on purpose because as she ages she seems to be more prone to limping after running or playing. She’s a big girl and we’ve always had trouble getting her to lose weight, so we gave up and she pretty much maintained a steady weight for all the years we had her. Then we saw the limping issue and we started getting really strict and we’ve noticed it paying off. We’ll keep up with it and try to keep her from injury. The vet looked at Butthead’s teeth and said they aren’t disappearing, the gum is growing up over them. Nothing to do unless it bothers her and so far she hasn’t complained. Unfortunately, the vet is 90 minutes away, so it kind of takes up several hours just going, doing the appointment, and coming home. So Hub’s MLK day off was pretty well used it by that. I’m glad Le Moo is doing well…she’s somewhere around eight years old, which is getting up there in big dog years. And ya’ll know I worry. We’re going to have to get her back to the vet to get her teeth cleaned (she’s got bad teeth, yo), so we’ll be making that trip again in the next month or so. Yay.

So Tuesday was my six month check-up with the gyn onc surgeon. Because of Hub’s status with his company (they got bought out and are in transition), I didn’t want him to have to take a day off to accompany me to an appointment that would likely last less than 15 minutes. So I sent him on his way to work and girded myself for the hour ride to the onc’s office. Under normal circumstances, I would have been nervous but okay to make the trip on my own. I made the appointment for after rush hour and I plotted my route to go on the mostly un-used toll road to avoid further traffic. But…it rained. I knew it was predicted to be “light showers” so I told Hub I’d be fine on my own. When I got on the road it was lightly showering. Ten minutes in, before I even reached the toll road, it was pouring. And I was sweating bullets, hands clutched on the steering wheel, talking myself into being OK. I don’t like driving in the rain and I hate driving on wet roads. I have been in a full 360 degree skid behind the wheel before and it’s not fun, so I try to avoid driving in weather. In addition, the toll road is 60mph, and the highway that I was supposed to be getting on at the other end is 60mph, with lots of traffic. So when I rolled onto the toll road, I basically planted myself three or four car lengths behind a dump truck and kept speed as comfortably as I could. Halfway along the toll road, the dump truck changed lanes and sped off. WTF. But I stayed steady and with the few cars on the road flying around me, I made it along the toll road. At the other end, I decided to exit early onto a main road that cuts through the city that I knew would have lots of traffic lights and lots of cars, but also slower moving. And I splashed my way along for half an hour until I got to my destination. It was a good thing I left early, and I made it with ten minutes to spare at the doctor’s office. The doctor was “only” 45 minutes late (we’ve actually waited for 2 hours for prior appointments!), he spent less than 10 minutes with me…several of those minutes were taken up when I told him my mother had passed and we talked about that. He said everything looked good for me and without any concerning symptoms he had no reason to run any tests. In July I’ll repeat a CT scan as part of my follow-up at my two year mark.

Luckily for the trip home it had stopped raining but the roads were all wet. Even so, I made my way along the major highway back to the toll road, and then meandered along the toll road toward my exit. Unfortunately again, the exit ramp I have to take from the toll road to the highway home is a HUGE flyover, which I don’t even like to drive on DRY pavement. Instead I took the exit for the opposite direction which is a normal exit and I turned around at the first traffic light. And I headed home on more regularly traveled roads, which meant I was more comfortable even though the streets were still wet.

In March I will go for my mammogram. It’s still hard for me to go to these appointments and to know when I get home that I don’t have my mother to talk to about what happened. I thought it would get easier, but so far it hasn’t.

Tomorrow I go for a “consultation” to get my hair did. The salon I selected (different from the one I used last year…partly because the stylist never answered my queries and now because I find out this new salon has more “organic” hair dye) wants me to come in to meet the stylist and to let the stylist see my hair and confirm what I want done. If all is well, I go in early on Saturday to get all the colors. ALL THE COLORS. When I was younger I used to box dye my hair all the time, mostly variations on reds because I didn’t like my plain brown hair. At some point I became too ill physically to dye my hair so I stopped. Then I did it a few more times when I was feeling better, but it was a pain in the ass and everything got all stained (including ME) and I didn’t really love the results, so I stopped again. One year I went and got my hair all chopped off and then I had the salon dye my hair but… well, I wasn’t really keen on how it looked and it seemed like the color washed out pretty quickly and I didn’t want to waste my money.

Only last year did I decide to get something done again and I wanted it to be a little funky to make my mother smile. I got a combo of auburn and violet done, but Mom never noticed and the final look wasn’t as pronounced as I had hoped. Over the past year I haven’t bothered to do anything except let my hair grow out. But after my breast MRI and my colonoscopy and my eye exam, and now my onc follow-up, I knew I wanted to do something fun to celebrate the positive news I’ve been getting. I’ve been stalking Instagram (which I don’t use) for different pictures of what I wanted and I am vacillating between something oil-slick color looking and something more jewel-toned, but there’s definitely gonna be blues and purples and maybe some teal and pink. We’ll see what the stylist says tomorrow. If I can get a picture of before and after, I’ll come back and post them.

I’ve also gone past my birthday. My father asked me three or four times if I wanted to go out to dinner for my birthday (he called around lunchtime) but I kept saying no. I felt bad because I know he likes to go out to dinner and I am sure he felt it was what he could do for me, but I didn’t want to go out. I stood my ground and I thanked him, but said I wanted to chill at home. Hub acquiesced and didn’t do anything special for dinner, but we were together so that was fine. The weather outside was crappy and icy so I was just as happy to stay inside and just BE. My aunt–who doesn’t do so good with the whole grief support thing–called and kept me on the phone for 45 minutes talking about stuff. Two of my three brothers emailed me to wish me happy birthday, and my very old dear friend did the same. But no call from my mom, which was the hardest part. Just knowing the whole day that she wouldn’t be calling and we wouldn’t be talking. It sucked. And now it’s over for another year.

Friday I will literally be in therapy while the inauguration is going on. Like I had planned it that way. The rest of the day I will be avoiding all manner of television and radio and social media. Bleh.

I am still in a pretty good amount of physical pain. The nausea is still around but it feels like less often, so that’s good. Sleep is still sucky. The imbalance is so-so. My jaw pain is still bad, though. Headaches are not quite as bad. I broke down and saw my massage therapist last week so she could work on the TMJ pain, which worked pretty well for about a day. Next week I go back to her for my regular body-work session. One day I’m going to schedule a woo-woo relaxing massage with her because she’s damn good at it (I had one shortly after my mother died as a gift to myself) and I really want it. I wish my insurance covered that shit because it is physically helpfully to me just like physical therapy was, but it’s not covered. And it’s pretty expensive for an appointment…not that I think it’s overpriced. My massage therapist is a boss and hella good at her job…and she works fucking hard to help me. I can’t even imagine how hard it is on HER body to do the work she does! I have no idea if she’s in line with other massage therapists, but I know she earns every damn dollar during our appointments.

I just realized how long this was. I’m gonna end it now. I should have broken this up into separate posts, but in my head it all felt related. Thanks for sticking with me.

 

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Some days it feels too hard

Le Moo likes to hang out in our partially unfinished basement. We don’t know why…if it’s the cold concrete floors, the darkness, or the general idea that she gets to sleep uninterrupted down there. We have a baby gate on our steps that we try to keep closed when we’re not down there, otherwise she goes downstairs and refuses to come back up unless there’s food involved. Unfortunately, sometimes Hub goes downstairs for something (it’s sort of his man-cave) and Le Moo follows. Then when we finally get her back upstairs, if Hub forgets to close the baby gate (it’s set up down half a flight of stairs around a corner out of sight) then Le Moo will just kind of disappear and we’ll have to go searching for her.

So she was down in her lair this morning and it was time for their lunch, so I’m yelling and yelling for her–sometimes she’s a hard sleeper–while I’m putting together their food. I turn around and I see her in the hallway at the top of the stairs and I’m like “you lazy cow”… and then I realize she’s limping. And my heart sinks.

We adopted Le Moo in the fall of 2011, and from what I remember, she was about 3  1/2 years old at the time. We’re at about 4 1/2 years from that time, so she’s about eight years old. She’s 95lbs (ish…we’re working on getting some weight off of her, even though we’ve never been able to accomplish that in the last 4+ years), and we think she’s a large breed dog. Large breed dogs have shorter life spans than their smaller counterparts. Le Moo is the twilight of her life. She’s had these limps on and off through her entire time with us, and our vet has never found anything. Despite Le Moo’s stature, she can haul ass when she wants to, and she’s prone to po-go’ing when she sees a bird or some other critter she wants to chase outside the fence. We’ve never gotten the po-go’ing on camera, but it’s pretty amazing the amount of air that she can get when in flight. Most of the time, the limp resolves, probably because she strained something when running or jumping. It’s wholly possible this limp, too, will resolve. I sat on the floor and checked her feet, paws, toes, leg, elbow, etc. She didn’t show any distress and I found nothing.

After the initial alarm, I’ve left her to rest on her own. Now I’ve been interrupted by the request to go outside. I took the opportunity during Le Moo’s snooze on the deck to inspect her paw and I have found a sore. I thought there was something on her pad and I pulled it off but it felt like…a sticker (as in a piece of paper with glue on it). But now there’s a sore left behind, which explains the limping. I’ve contacted the vet to see if we need to do anything other than keep it clean, but there’s not much we can do with a foot,  you know?

Anyway, after the initial alarm and the back and forth with Hub about what was going on, I told him If there was any reason for me not to get another dog in the future, it’s the worry and anxiety I get over them. It’s so hard to be worried all the time. He said he understood, but that they give us so much back, it’s worth it. I said, Some days it feels too hard. Some days it does. Le Moo is in her golden years. I can’t even fathom the idea of losing her, especially after losing SP. Butthead has been throwing up on and off, not to mention her ACL replacement and ensuing second surgery AND ensuing limping issues. I go to sleep every night and wake up every morning wondering if Butthead has gotten sick. We don’t know why she’s throwing up, and it’s sporadic and hard to figure out. We’ve put her on digestive enzymes in case it is acid reflux or tummy issues, and we have pepcid on hand at our vet’s recommendation if the enzymes don’t work. But it’s more worry for me. More anxiety. These I need like a hole in the head.

Don’t get me wrong, I love my dogs. I love my dogs more than I love most of the people in my life. I can’t imagine my life without them. I couldn’t imagine life without SP or life without my parents’ dogs over the years (their current, Cray-cray Lab, is limping and we don’t know why…sigh). But the stress over caring for them and worrying for them is tough. How do I balance it? How do I manage it?

How do I handle the ache that keeps settling into me knowing that Le Moo is aging…and that one day she’ll be gone? How do I not sit in this chair and cry?

 

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Wordless Tuesday (pic heavy)

Wordless Tuesday (pic heavy)

I’m having some anxiety. I’m not sure I’m going to write about it…it might be TMI for some people. So for the moment… (picture heavy, sorry), enjoy Butthead’s delight with her new favorite stick.

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Posted by on June 21, 2016 in anxiety, Butthead, dogs

 

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