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Tag Archives: Le Moo

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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Next up in our schedule

The ceremony yesterday went as I expected for the most part. Hub and I–and one of my brothers–stood right with my dad, in case he had an issue during the service. He really shook like a leaf the whole time, so I was grateful that Hub was there right behind me and Dad in case Dad fell or fainted or whatever. Our Rabbi was the only one who spoke, and he said very nice things about Mom…he’s known us for more than 45 years, and he was especially close with my parents for the last twenty or so since my mother served on his temple’s board for many years in several different capacities. In addition to her attending services weekly after my grandfather died. He also read a poem, which I think is kind of a standard poem for funerals, even though this technically wasn’t a funeral.

After the short service was over, I stood at the headstone for a few minutes. While I was there, my brother (the same as above) came back over and sat in one of the chairs that the cemetery provided us. I went over and sat with him (after asking if he wanted to be alone, which he said no), and after a few minutes my father came back, as did my other two brothers and my SIL. We kind of sat there quietly for a few minutes…some of us crying and some of us not.

After about another five minutes, we left Dad at the headstone for a moment and the rest of us moved a distance away. When he joined us, we left and went home to eat lunch with everyone.

The lunch was fine at Dad’s house. We mostly did a buffet style, so it was easy enough to just put stuff out and then congregate at the extended table in the dining room. When everyone but my siblings and SIL left, we hung out for a while until my father ended up falling asleep in his recliner. Then Hub and I went home for the rest of the afternoon. We went back last night to say good-bye to my out-of-town brother and SIL, as they were flying home early this morning.

I don’t feel any differently about my loss. The Rabbi kept telling me that with the passing of this ceremony, maybe my father would find some closure and his depression would lift and he’d be doing better. I don’t think that’s going to be the case for Dad. Mostly because I don’t see Mom’s passing any differently on the other side of the ceremony. It doesn’t change the day-to-day living without her. Not for me, anyway.

Now that we have passed that…milestone?…, I have to move on to things that are waiting for me. One of which is a colonoscopy. Next Monday. I was having some mild stomach issues–that mostly resolved after my PCP appointment–that my primary sent me onward to a gastro doctor. The gastro doctor talked to me about my cancer history, which puts me at higher risk for both breast and colon cancer (which I knew, which was why I went to my PCP right away), and he suggested a colonoscopy. He said it was better safe then sorry, and indicated that if all was well and I didn’t have issues, I could go ten years until my next one. Normally you get a colonoscopy starting at 50, but again because of my history, he wanted to go ahead and do it now. It’s probably nothing major going on, but I don’t want to let anything go, so I’m getting the test.

Sadly, the part that worries me the most is the prep. I hated the surgery prep that I had to do twice in three months for my hysterectomy and then oopharectomy last year. The gastro doctor prescribed a different type of prep–so no gatorade, thankfully–but surgery prep is still really uncomfortable and tiring and anxiety-inducing. The procedure itself will include propofol, so I shouldn’t remember anything. I had that with my other surgeries and they were right, I don’t remember shit after they said “count backwards from 10” and the last number I remember was 9.

I’m also worried about the recovery in the days following. With my physical issues and pain issues, I am sure I’ll be uncomfortable after. I only hope I’ll be recovered in time to go to my in-laws for the holidays.

Coming up after that are appointments for my 18-month follow-up with my oncologist, Le Moo’s yearly “senior” vet visit (and buying lots of dog pills for both dogs), and then my mammo. I also have to get in to get my eyes checked and see the dentist, but I’m saving those for after my mammo.

Life keeps going on…

 

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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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Jonas the snow storm

Warning: picture heavy post. Enjoy!

Yep, we got pummeled by Jonas Friday night and all day Saturday.

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It was nice for a while on Saturday because I had no responsibilities. Mom was safely ensconced in her house with my dad and brother. Hub was here with me. We watched three episodes of House of Cards on Saturday. We’d been wanting to check it out but just hadn’t found the time. We sat around and did nothing while the storm blew and spewed and accumulated. Every couple of hours Hub would go out and shovel a path off the deck and into the yard for the dogs. I tried to go out to help broom off the stairs and like a dumb-butt, I put my foot down where I thought it was ground only it wasn’t ground yet, I twisted my knee, fell sideways and barely caught myself from slamming into the stair post and the house and the ground. My knee was sore and my back was tweaked. Needless to say Hub shuffled me back into the house right away and settled me on the recliner with an ice pack on my knee.

For most of Saturday the dogs did pretty well. They would run off the deck, pee in one of the paths Hub had shoveled, then run back into the house. Butthead even found a spot to poop in all that snow, but Le Moo held out until Sunday morning.

We enjoyed the day of nothing Saturday, without really thinking about much about the front of the house. Friday afternoon before the snow started, we parked my four wheel drive SUV parallel to the garage door, thinking if we got it close enough to the door, it and the roof overhang would protect the garage door from the snow. And also, the truck would be out of the way of the plow guy that comes to take care of our long driveways.

The best laid plans of mice and men.

This morning when I came downstairs, Hub told me that Le Moo pooped after a long, drawn out wander through the 28″ of snow we got. She refused to poop in any of the paths Hub had shoveled, instead she “swam” over the snow to try and get to the back of the yard to poop. At some point she gave up and pooped somewhere, which Hub then shoveled out of the way. Butthead, on the other hand, didn’t poop at her normal time first thing in the morning. So I took her out when I came downstairs and watched as she frantically ran along all the paths–back and forth, back and forth–sometimes jumping up onto the walls of snow around her. She FINALLY climbed up into unshoveled snow, pooped, then couldn’t figure out how to get back to the house without jumping OVER the poop. And not making a clean jump…literally. I had to clean her fur when we got back to the house. YUCK.

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After that, I went to the garage to see how well our ultra-smart SUV/garage setup went. I opened the access door we have in the garage (a standard size door that leads out to the driveway right next to the garage so we don’t always have to open the garage door to get in and out)…and found this.

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and this…

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and this…

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and this…

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That last picture? Can you see the very top edge of my SUV there? And on the right side, my garage door? With the snow piled up in between? Pressing against my garage door so hard it was bowed in on the inside?

Yeah. So pretty much we were actually STUCK IN THE HOUSE. The access door and the garage are the only way out of the house, with the exception of our front door which a) we never use (and it doesn’t even have a walkway to the driveway) and b) it was completely blocked in by 28″ of snow just off the porch. Gah.

I actually started getting a little freaked out. I don’t mind being in the house for days at a time. I was happy to have Hub stuck in the house with me. I don’t get “cabin fever” and don’t really understand people who do. I certainly don’t understand people who get “cabin fever” and MUST leave the house after 24 hours (to the detriment of their own well-being on roads that aren’t drive-able or even walk-able). C’mon, really? So I was all fine and well with being in the house…until I realized we were literally STUCK IN THE HOUSE. Unable to get out if we needed to. And no one could get in to us. Unh.

Saturday late morning (sorry, this is all out of order), our “regular” plow guy–who is actually our mechanic, he happens to moonlight as a plow guy during the short snow season we have–called to say he BROKE the axle on his plow truck very early that morning on a job. I was really concerned because with the huge storm, we were sure that all the plows would be booked with jobs days ahead of time and no one would be able to get to us for days. So after the call from our regular plow guy, I waited a couple of hours in case he could find the parts he needed to fix his truck. When he didn’t call back, I went to Craigslist…which I never do because I’m entirely suspicious of people who post services on Craiglist. Actually, I’m entirely suspicious of anything posted on Craigslist, but that’s another story. I didn’t know where else to look. I emailed four different listings looking for pricing and availability. The first guy who responded to me turned out to be a guy who had driven down from New Hampshire to help a friend pick up plow jobs during the storm. He gave me a price, I asked him for something a little better, and he agreed to come out the next day to plow us (and my parents) out.

When I emailed him Sunday morning to tell him that my parents would pay him because I literally couldn’t get out of my house, he responded saying that he had a co-hort in the truck with him and they’d help shovel to my access door from outside after they plowed out the driveway. Seriously, these guys were a God-send. They showed up, they had an amazing plow (the blades moved in every direction and also changed from pointed plow to scoop blade…), they did MORE than we had arranged for, AND they helped dig out my truck. We gave them extra money for all the work they did, wished them safe work, and continued cleaning up our driveway.

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That’s the mound of snow at the end of our driveway (about seven feet high by twelve feet wide by about 8 feet deep), right up to the fence gate that leads into our back yard.

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Aaaaaaaand that’s my fence gate on the other side. See it cranked into a Vee shape? Bent backward into the yard. Whoops. We have NO idea how badly the gate is damaged. And honestly, we probably won’t know for weeks until all the snow has melted enough for us to get over there. Okay, maybe not weeks, but probably at least a week. We’ll deal with whatever the damage is. The plow guy saw the gate initially, but when he was pushing snow on the other side of the fence, at some point he was no longer able to see the gate. I was standing in the access doorway while he was plowing and I heard craaaack and I yelled at the plow guy to stop pushing! I yelled across the expanse of snow “stop! you’re breaking my fence!” He apologized and didn’t push up against the mound of snow again. But the damage was already done. Oh well.

That was my weekend. How was yours? LOL

 
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Posted by on January 25, 2016 in anxiety, Butthead, dogs, family, Le Moo, snow

 

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Six month inspection

Tomorrow is my first six month appointment after my cancer diagnosis.

I’ve been so busy with Mom, her radiation schedule, cleaning up the volunteer work she was doing, getting a wheelchair ramp installed, and searching for a cleaning service for her house (a small selection of what I’ve been doing the past several weeks) that I haven’t given myself time to think or worry about tomorrow’s appointment.

Until today. We had to take Le Moo to her annual vet appointment, which is about an hour and fifteen minutes away…one way. On the way TO the vet, poor girl was so nervous she puked in the car, so we had to pull over to clean things up. Back in the day when we had Sweet Pea, we always carried a “Puke Kit” when we took her in the car. Water bottle with clean water, a whole roll of paper towels, grocery bags for trash, an extra towel for her crate (she had a collapsible crate) if she threw up on the one we had in there, and lots of handi-wipes for us. But in the past, Le Moo didn’t throw up in the car. She would pant and pace and be restless, but no puking. Butthead doesn’t usually throw up, either.

The last trip we took to the vet for Le Moo, she threw up in the car. We have no idea why, except that we don’t really take the dogs in the car anymore. We groom them at home, bathe them at home, my parents are close by so we walk to their house when we visit, and we don’t take them to Hub’s parents’ house because they have small dogs and a small house. We don’t go to dog parks and we buy most of our dog food and treats online so we don’t go to Petco or Petsmart. And when we travel (rarely) we don’t take them. So we kind of guess that the dogs are out of practice for being in the car. The point being, Le Moo puked in the car today. We accidentally had paper towels in the car, and a large outdoor style trash bag in the back area of the van to protect the floor from dirt from something… And we had handi-wipes. So I cleaned things up, folded up the blanket we put on the floor of the van for the dogs to lay on and jammed the vomit-laden blanket into the big plastic bag. Then we were back on the road.

We spent a fortune on medications for the dogs (heartworm, flea & tick, stuff for their joints) mostly because we have to buy TWO sets of everything for a year. Le Moo got her shots and her exam and we came home.

And I went to check on Mom to see how she was doing today, and to retrieve Butthead because she hung out with them while we were gone. And Mom was not only sitting up on the couch, but she had already had a pretty good sized breakfast and was just finishing a very full lunch. She was drinking hot chocolate and told me she was eating everything she could get her hands on. So apparently her appetite is going strong right now. And then she asked me to go retrieve her crochet bag so she could work on the hat in there.

However long this lasts, it’s really good to see her perking up. We don’t know if it’s the radiation, the steroids, or a combination of both, but it was really nice to see.

So by the time I got home, despite having more to-do things on my list after my short visit with Mom, my head was spinning forward to tomorrow. To my own journey with cancer. I’m not only anxious about the exam (the last time I went in to see their PA, the exam was hella uncomfortable…an issue I’d never had before), I’m anxious about the results. I know they said they would do a pap smear on the cuff area to look for any kind of cancerous cells, but otherwise I don’t know what they’re going to look for or what they might see. The appointment is really only the first piece of the stressful puzzle, because I’ll then be hanging on by a thread waiting for results.

For better or for worse, after the appointment tomorrow, I dive back into Mom’s radiation appointments and a bunch of other things that need to be done. There are people I’m waiting to hear from before I can finish some tasks, but otherwise I have a whole to-do list of things to keep me busy.

I have no idea if I’ll sleep tonight. Not that that is so different from other nights. I guess we’ll see how well I deal with my anxiety tonight.

 

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Had to share…too funny

When I go out in the yard with the dogs I almost always grab the cordless phone and the spiral wrist band that holds the keys to the house. Especially in the summer, sometimes I walk to my parents’ house to say hi if I know they are around…so I have to lock the door in case I leave my yard. It’s habit to grab both things and today I am ever so glad to be in that habit.

Well, I only have ONE attached to the keys, but you get the idea.

Well, I only have ONE attached to the keys, but you get the idea.

It’s sunny and lovely and I spent twenty minutes on the floor petting the dogs. So I decided to get them outside to try to let Butthead run around for a while. Otherwise she gets really restless and antsy in the house…besides, it’s so pretty out I figured I’d do some good with a little sunshine and fresh air (achoo!). So out we go and I grab keys and phone on the way. The dogs go trotting out toward our fence, tails up, heads up, sniffing the air and looking happy to be free. Le Moo wanders only briefly, then finds herself a nice spot and plops down to survey, well, everything. Butthead is more active, so she walks around more, sniffing and looking and stuff. I pet Le Moo for a minute or two, then kick the ball for Butthead…who gives chase and tries to bring it back to me. But it’s almost soccer ball size, so she trips over it more than carries it, and gives up about three quarters of the way back to me. So I talk her into playing with this green foam fake stick thing that we bought so she’d stop eating all the sticks in our yard. She likes it a lot and will chase it if you throw it. Sometimes she’ll just keep it in her mouth and wait for you to chase her…that’s her favorite game. So I grab the stick out of her mouth and sort of wave it around until she gets worked up, then I throw it. And as I’m releasing it from my hand, I feel the stretchy coil thingy around my wrist sliding upward, upward….and OFF MY WRIST. It has about five keys on it (for various houses and locks) so it’s a tad heavy. I cover my head with my arms and try to protect myself from being konked on the head or on my face. I vaguely hear the keys jingle as they land and then I drop my hands and look around.

Shit, Hub hasn’t mowed the yard in just over a week and we had that horrible rainstorm with 7″ of rain over 2 1/2 days…the grass is high, ya’ll. The wristband thing is black. I had no idea where the keys landed because I had my head covered and my eyes shut. I’m sca-rewed. I start pacing along the yard where I had been standing to see if I can find the keys. No luck. And, of course, I suddenly have to pee.

Lost keys, house locked, have to pee. Did I also mention that we lock the gates on our yard so no one can get in and/or open the gates and let the dogs out? Guess where that key is for the gate? On the wristband. I can’t get out of the backyard. I can’t get into the house. I have to pee.

Luckily for me, I have the cordless phone in my pocket. I call my parents’ house and my mom answers. She’s been spending the day doing pre-op preparations (which means not being too far away from a bathroom) and can’t leave the house. But she answers the phone and I ask if my brother is home. I figure he can walk over and help me find the keys, but he’s not home yet. I loathe to tell her that I have to pee, so I just ask her to send my father over when she sees him and she says she will, then hangs up. So I’m pacing the yard like those police recruits do when they’re searching for evidence. Straight line, from one end of the area to the other, turn and double-back. Nothing. Dogs are now panting and looking at me like it’s time to go inside. My bladder is definitely telling me it’s time to go inside. Then I spot my dad heading up my driveway and I go to the gate to wave…

Something shiny catches my eye.

My keys (and wristband) are sitting about six feet on the other side of the gate. The locked gate that I can’t get out of because the key is on my wristband…on the other side of the gate. How the hell the keys flew up in the air and at least ten feet away (I was not standing that close to the gate when the keys flew off my wrist) I have no idea. I point at the keys and my father scoops them up for me and hands them over (he’s also carrying the spare key to my house in his other hand, just in case we couldn’t find my keys). I explain (with gesticulations) what happened and he laughs. We talk briefly about how Mom is doing with her pre-op prep, then he tells me about some TV show he was watching when I called (detection dogs in Russia?). We confirm timing for the morning to leave for the hospital, then he walks off with a wave.

I rush to the back door, one dog following me and the other hiding in the shade, and let myself into the house. I barely stop to toss Butthead a treat and run into the bathroom.

My afternoon. FUN TIMES.

The dogs seem pretty fine with being outside.

The dogs seem pretty fine with being outside.

 
2 Comments

Posted by on May 6, 2014 in anxiety, Butthead, dogs, Le Moo

 

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We interrupt this day

To schedule a muscle spasm. X 2.

Last Saturday morning (roughly 9am), I was reaching down to brush Le Moo and ZZZIIIIIPPP the muscle along the top of my right shoulder that connects to my neck decided FUCK NO YOU WON’T! I spent the remainder of the day in ranging levels of discomfort, from OH SHIT to OW OW OW. I had trouble sleeping that night and couldn’t turn my head to the right hardly at all, and turning to the left brought enough unhappiness that I pretty much stopped doing that, too. I was barely hanging on to hope that I’d be able to see E on Monday and she’d work on the muscle and make the pain go away.

Then it snowed.

Started early Monday morning and continued through the day. By 10am I received an email stating that the PT office was closed and I was shit out of luck. I had already heard that this week was booked tight, so I was really thinking I wouldn’t be seeing E at all since I only had one appointment this week. So Tuesday morning–after another hours of spasms the night before that made my head twitch and another rough sleep–I called the PT office first thing in the morning. It was barely ten minutes after they opened and I was itching to get in contact. Luckily for me, they were able to fit me in before lunch that day, and I went in for my appointment.

E worked on the muscle and told me she could feel the spasm. When she was done, I had some relief, but by the time the afternoon rolled around, I was in pain all over again. Every movement I made felt like I was jarring my neck and shoulders against a brick wall. And last night I had a repeat of the twitchy-spasms for several hours. I wanted to cry because I felt like all the work E did had made no difference. Sleeping was uncomfortable and restless.

Then this morning I woke up and thought…ah, it’s okay! E really DID make it all better. Well, not ALL better, but waaaay better. I was able to move around without that jarring pain, even though I still felt tender. And as the day went on, I felt more and more relaxed and able to move my head more. Day went by, things are still good. Dinner, no problem. Came upstairs and did some stuff in the laundry room, all was fine. Then I picked up a step-stool that belonged in the pantry downstairs, so I carried it to the steps and asked Hub to reach up to grab it from me so it could go back to it’s storage place. However, his reach wasn’t as long as I expected and as I extended my arm (without thinking, of course) so he could take it….zzzzzzzzzziiiiiiipppppppp.

The same fucking muscle seized up and I literally yelped out loud. By this time he had the step-stool in hand and I yanked my arm back over the banister. I leaned over and put my forehead on the railing and I cried. Hub came rushing upstairs to see if he could help me, but I don’t think there is anything that can be done. I’ve got my shoulder down and am continuing to try to stretch the shoulder and neck muscle, but I feel it so tight, waiting to snap short again. I didn’t ride the bike last night because the pain was so bad, and now I can’t ride again tonight. And I go to the orthopedic doctor tomorrow to talk about my knees…I have no idea if I’m going to be able to drive (let alone sleep tonight). I’m not even sure I can go shower and wash my freaking hair…and shaving my legs? Not going to happen, sorry for the stubby/hairy legs, doctor.

ARG. Did I mention that things ALWAYS go bad when we try to take a vacation away from the house? @#$)(*%Y)#_$)@(#%

These spasms are driving me crazy. WTF WTF WTF

Also, OW OW OW.

 

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