Two dogs and a ladle

Every morning, I rush two eager dogs out the door so they can do their doggy business. I am getting used to the routine, although it's not charming in the dead of winter. It's cold, is what it is!

This morning, I had to take a ladle with me again and get a new urine sample from Molly. The last time, which was the first time, was so easy that it almost scared me. That was the morning of my shoulder surgery, and as soon as Molly squatted, I stuck the ladle under her, then poured the pee into a baby food jar. No problem. The vet had called me and said Molly had calcium crystals in her urine, and needed more water. She told me that Molly could have bladder stones and I would need to get another sample in a couple of weeks.

For the last two weeks, the beagles have been chowing down on kibble plus canned food. No complaints from them. They don't have to clean out the cans and dispose of them and all of that messy stuff.

Today, I needed a new sample. I went out the garage door as is usual now, since my front porch is covered in ice and totally unsafe to walk on. I had the two leashes in my (good) left hand and the ladle in my (ouchie) right hand. I didn't expect any issues, other than snow on the ground.

It's amazing how two dogs can react, first thing in the morning, to deer tracks going across the front lawn and driveway. I am pretty sure there was something else, too - maybe Rocket the neighbor beagle or a coyote - whatever it was, it incited much interest in the beagles. Baby peed right away, but I didn't need that. Molly held her pee while she snorted snow, stuck her nose in it, and ran around like a freak on crystal meth. My shoulders, of course, had to follow along; I couldn't pull back hard. It helps when they both go in the same direction.

There I was, half asleep, trying to get Molly to pee while I hold a red ladle to gather the evidence. They were really being uncooperative and dragging me all over the yard, making up for their previous angelic behavior since my surgery. I was about to give up in exasperation, when things changed.

I heard Gaily's garage door go up. Gaily is the Cairn terrier who is in love with my girls. She must be - she tries to hump Molly every time she gets close. All three dogs charged at each other in glee. I tried to dig in, but 70 lbs of determined beagle is impressive. I was about to let go and just cry from pain when Gaily's mom got close enough for them all to sniff each other's butts and say HI. Gaily's mom and I were content to speak; no need to sniff butts, we recognized each other under the coats and hats and all.

Molly still held her pee.

All three dogs jumped and danced for joy and whatever it is that makes dogs happy. I ached, and tried to hold on best I could.

Molly gave me her evil grin, and held her pee. Baby, however, pooped, leaving me to try to hold the ladle at the ready, and clean up the poop too. I managed, somehow, to get it cleaned up off the snow.

Gaily also has calcium crystals in her urine and has had surgery twice. She eats a special, prescription diet, and nothing else. Ever.

Molly sidled sideways and started to squat. Yikes! I grabbed the ladle, stuck it under her, and saw snow creep in. I don't think urine samples are supposed to be watered down. Quickly, I dumped it, and stuck the ladle back under Molly.

Success! A perfect mid-stream catch.

I dropped the sample off after PT. The PT seemed to wonder why I was a bit sore today, but she congratulated me as usual on my excellent healing powers and agile range of motion. Yeah, yeah, just keep massaging those muscles, OK?

After that, I did a little shopping. I was checking out a very nice backpack for traveling (a possible trip is coming up), and my cell phone rang. I answered it, and it was the vet. I gently, but firmly, put the backpack down as she gave me the news.

Molly has another UTI. It's very bad. She also has way too many calcium crystals in her urine and I need to take her in for X-rays of her abdomen, which will get both her bladder and her kidneys. She will be looking for stones.

Molly is a very sick girl.

Please keep her in your thoughts. She probably will need surgery to remove stones. Surgery on an Addisonian dog is not something simple. I flat out asked the vet if this is likely to kill her. She said no, probably not, but she didn't sound totally convincing.

OK, I don't need a backback. I don't need to go to Arizona. I need my Molly to be well.

Tonight is shot night. I have it here. I hope it takes me less than five hours this time to do it, assuming I even can, since I am so right handed and my right hand is a bit weak now.

Tomorrow, I drag two hyper-freako dogs to the vet for a couple of hours. They are never separated, so both have to go. Assuming Molly needs surgery, she will probably be there overnight. Molly has never been in the vet's overnight, and I will do anything I can to avoid it. They don't have someone there all night, but I am here all night to watch her. I don't need much sleep.

Best case scenario is that Molly will be on prescription dog food the rest of her life, as far as I can understand it. More "liquid gold." Molly looks lovely in gold. Molly has been a little "off" lately, but not much. She has been a tad quieter, although anyone who has been here has not seen it. She has a great quality of life and greets each day with unbounded joy.

Whatever it takes.

 

 

Put ice on it

I get cold very easily. I can't explain why my relative decided Michigan was a good place to live, but here I am. My dad was from the south, but my mom's family was here for at least one generation before her. Personally, I don't even like ice in my drinks. I like to be warm.

Every person who has seen my shoulder has said, "Put ice on it." I am starting to feel like a pina colada. Or a beer bottle before a frat party. Can't I try some nice, moist heat for a while? No. Put Ice On It. Sigh. I have had to show my colorful shoulder to so many people that I now wear tube tops rather often. It allows me to keep a modicum of modesty while displaying my colors.

Today was my third trip to PT. The bruising has settled enough so the PT didn't cringe. Either that, or she is getting used to it. The great map of China has faded quite a bit, finally. PT is wonderful. They massage my achy bicep, my shoulder, and spend some time trying to massage down the swelling under the incisions. It sort of feels like a little peanut under each incision. Then, they do passive range of motion. My ROM is very good for someone who had surgery 11 days ago, and almost as good as the average person already.

I can't do it all myself yet, though. I can wash my hair with both hands, although washing with my right hand is, as George Burns said about sex at age 90, sort of like trying to play pool with a rope. My arm is quite limp and weak. I can reach up to the counter at PT and sign myself in, which I wasn't able to do last week, at least. Too bad I can't style my hair yet, but I am hoping to be able to by the weekend.

After PT, I went to see the surgeon for follow up. After spending an hour reading in the waiting room, the nurse disrupted my book (Fallen Angel, Greg Iles) and called me back. She asked to see my shoulder, of course. She said it was "fairly normal looking for someone who has recently had surgery." The PA came in and shook my hand. He showed me the pictures, and explained one as, "This is where he (the doctor) shaved off some of the bone." I laughed.

Both the nurse and the PA looked at me funny. I said, "Is there ANYTHING that women don't have to shave?" The PA looked a little embarrassed, and the nurse laughed with me. I told the PA that the pictures looked like Jupiter to me. He said he would have the doctor see me, so I sat back down with my book and waited for him.

Eventually, the doctor came in. He asked if anyone had seen my shoulder, and I said yes. He didn't ask to see it, which made me smile. He shook my hand. Were they just trying to see if I could do it? He asked how I was doing, and I said I was doing great. He asked how many times I had been to PT and I said 3. He said come back in 8 weeks and see the PA.

That was rather anti-climactical, I think. I hope he is in contact with PT. I could have been lying, after all. Just because I dressed myself, put on makeup, carried a small tote bag with a book and things in it, plus my purse, and smiled, doesn't mean I really am OK, does it?

So I put on my jacket, scarf, and sunglasses, by myself, and drove myself home. Still smiling.

I tell you, that doctor and the PA should be on the cover of GQ.

 

 

An Uplifting Experience

After my second session of PT today, I decided I needed more time out in the real world before I returned home to slip into some fashionable flannel jammies. Today's jammies have cute little doggies on them.

I am having trouble with dressing myself, so I decided I need a strapless bra. I hate the things, actually, but sometimes things are necessary. The straps cut into my shoulder incisions and that isn't pleasant. I found out that wearing a tube top under a hoodie works well for going to PT, but not for shopping. The top just slides down after a while. Luckily for others, I kept the hoodie zipped all the way up. I figure a tube top will "stick" to a strapless bra better than my skin.

It has been years since I went on a lingerie shopping extravaganza. I admit that I love the stuff in general, just not strapless bras. I had all the time in the world. First I checked for shoes. I found the exact shoe I wanted. A beautiful black pump with a gorgeous heel, in very soft leather. The shoe was a perfect fit, and the price was ideal. If they ever find the mate to it, they have my name and number. I love that shoe. There are some problems with wearing the sample size of ladies' shoes.

I am still looking for a new purse after my disillusionment with Louis Vuitton. Did I write about that? They guarantee their product for two years. Not lifetime any more - two years. I can't wear out a good purse in two years, it takes me much longer. I respect my possessions and they last me a long time. I found several that were OK, but couldn't decide which I liked best, so I took a pass.

Next, lingerie. Everything looked good today. I found four strapless bras that looked serviceable, and decided to get all since I couldn't exactly try them on today in the store with my sling and all. I found a few normal ones, and some very cute panties. I am sometimes very easily amused. Most of the time, really.

After checking out, I went for lunch. After not having dinner last night due to the Child being in a hurry, I figured I better feed myself.

I came home, rather full (for someone who has lost 5 lbs in a week), and was about to take the dogs out in windy "feels like" weather of three degrees when the child showed up. Good timing, I thought! No, Baby wouldn't pee right away and Child became impatient with the dogs, so I had to take over. Brrr, that was cold without a coat! I sure hope I can get a coat on before the next trip outside or I am going to freeze solid! This is not jammie weather.

Perhaps I should mention that I didn't go shopping in jammies? I put on jeans today, for the first time! Before this I was going out in sweat pants or lined workout pants, whatever they are called. Zippers on pants are not easy for me yet. Anything that requires two hands isn't easy yet.

Child did attempt to assist me with getting up Molly's urp from last night. The steam cleaner, which I cannot handle myself now, decided to blow up and dump a big black greasy area onto my carpet. Child had to go to work. She did what she could on the urp with a brush and some cleaner. I have been trying, off and on, to work on the grease spots. That steamer company is going to hear from me! It's less than a year old. Grrr. The best they will tell me, probably, is to take it some place to be repaired. As if I could even carry the cord right now? What about the huge black stains on my brand new carpeting?

Unfortunately, all the lingerie fit except one bra, which was immediately passed on to the child. It should fit her perfectly. She was happy for that. One of the panties was for her, too, which made her smile.

She left for work, leaving me alone until at least Monday. She will be working long hours over the next four days anyway. I am good with that. I seem to be managing fine most of the time, and if I need her, I can call and she will come.

It's already much quieter here.

Maybe a little too much?

 

 

Coyotes again

Last night I was pretty tired, and knowing I needed to be up and at physical therapy this morning, I actually went to bed at a halfway decent time. It was before 1 am, anyway. I can't say I am a good sleeper, but I have been sleeping a little more since the surgery. Child was up a little later, studying for her physiology exam today.

The dogs still sleep with me, cuddled up, as always. Around 3:30 am I heard a strange noise outside. It was sort of like dogs howling, but higher pitched. I was hoping my deep-sleeping hounds would not pay attention. I might as well have hoped that I would wake up and find that the Child had cleaned my entire condo. Or even one room.

Molly was up immediately. Baby took a little longer to crawl out from under the covers. Both stuck their faces to the window over my head and searched quickly. I don't think they saw what they were looking for, although Molly may have. Both started to howl.

Who knew that when coyotes howl it's karaoke time? I laughed. Child got up, not laughing. She wanted me to make the dogs stop. I asked if she heard the coyotes, and she said we were all nuts. Her room is in the front of the condo, and mine is in the back. My hearing is probably better than hers, anyway.

The dogs and the coyotes sang for a while, then everyone settled back to sleep.

I am wondering what summer will be like with the windows open.

Physical therapy was not a problem at all. I saw Jessica, who had worked me over last summer for a while. All she did was measure my range of motion, then do some passive range of motion exercises on my arm. She was amazed at my range - honestly, I was too. After that, I got a gentle massage and then an ice pack. I return tomorrow. She figures I will be going 3 times a week for 3 months to get back to normal.

I wonder what song they will be playing tonight?

 

 

Negotiations

Sorry I haven't written since Day One. I really have been doing great. Today I went out for lunch and met a friend. That means I drove and everything :)

Any suggestions on how to convince my child she doesn't need to stay here any more? She doesn't seem that worried about me, but I suggested today that she go back to her own home from Thursday-Sunday since she works long hours those days. She didn't bite. Maybe I could offer her the leftover Vicodin?

She was a real trooper when it came to getting the Big Bandage off. It was gross. I am not easily freaked. I used to work in a med school. I have seen and smelled just about everything, between that job and my social work years. I used to arrange payment for disabled and elderly people to have help in their homes - they often confused me with a nurse and would whip out their fresh incisions and infections and bed sores before I could stop them. I saw enough oozy and nasty things to last me a lifetime.

However, this was gross. My right upper chest totally resembles a colored map of China. My bicep is almost black, it's bruised so darkly. The shoulder itself had that pain pump in, which means a small tube was inserted about six inches into my shoulder. That was surrounded by blood soaked gauze, and a plastic sheet was glued on over the steri-strips, which were to stay in place. I had no idea that skin could turn teal color. I have blood blisters from the tape, raised red lumps from the tape, and assorted bruises that make it look like I lost a few rounds with a band of gorillas.

Child kept offering me a shot. I was confused. A shot of what? The doctor did not give her any syringes that I know of. I finally asked her - she meant vodka, LMAO!

Child peeled all that off me. The tape was not easy to get off. I had loosened some of it, but could not reach the back or the side of my shoulder. Some of my skin came off with it. She didn't hesitate. She didn't flinch when she had to peel off the bloody gauze, she didn't even blink when she had to pull that little hose out of me. She reacted well when I told her there was blood dripping off my elbow and to get it off the carpet.

She even remembered to wash her hands first. She peeled all that stuff off me, let me go look in the mirror, then wiped me down with hydrogen peroxide and slapped new bandaids on anything that stayed wet. I was impressed.

I have been alone most of the time, though, due to her work hours on Thursday through Sunday. She had class Monday, and is studying for an exam on Wednesday. I think I can manage alone now. I have been taking the dogs out alone off and on since Day Two. (Yes, less than 24 hours after surgery I was outside with the dogs.) I can shower, I can dress myself, I can open soda bottles, I even did a load of laundry. I can't style my hair, but it doesn't seem to need it. I had it cut the day before surgery.

She seems settled in.

 

 

Day One

Today I really have been doing very well. I had a pain block, a Marcaine drip, and Vicodin. Who could be too miserable with all that?

The pain block wore off, and the Vicodin did too, but I didn't take any more Vicodin for 10 hours. That was preventive, really. The Marcaine drip comes out after 48 hours and I will honestly be glad to get rid of this third breast.

The bottle of Marcaine is sort of inside my sling - it feels like a third breast. Only harder.

I have a slew of bruises and blood blisters and ulgy marks from my allergy to tapes and from being stuck all over with needles and other sharp things. I am OK with marks, as long as they don't hurt. I prefer marks to pain.

I can type using both hands now, but I haven't tried to take the dogs out myself yet. I think I could, but I will put it off as long as I can. I was alone twice today for a couple of hours each time, but the dogs held it and all was well.

The doctor, the nurse, and the anesthesiologist all told me that the third and fourth days will hurt like a, well, you know.

The surgery was done in a new large clinic, the size of a hospital, that does outpatient surgery only. They have a very thriving business going. Everyone was very kind, polite, efficient, and professional. The building is very clean and modern. They had me in and out in just a few hours. As far as surgical procedures go, it was not bad at all.

I am not enthused about the anticipated pain on the weekend, but the Vicodin is refillable.

 

 

done

I am ok.

xoxo

 

 

Health Care in America

 Two patients limp into two different American medical clinics with the same complaint. Both have trouble walking and appear to require a hip replacement.

The first patient is examined within the hour, is x-rayed the same day, has a time booked for surgery the next day and, within two days, is home recuperating.

The second sees the family doctor after waiting a week for an appointment, then waits eighteen weeks to see a specialist, then gets an x-ray, which isn't reviewed for another month and finally has his surgery scheduled for 6 months from then.

Why the different treatment for the two patients?

The first is a Golden Retriever.

The second is a Senior Citizen.

 

 

A Volunteer

Even atheists can have angels. I believe this. I have one, and sometimes I just feel charmed.

My friend who was originally supposed to come watch me Thursday night after child goes to work just called. She is still coming after all! That is a big relief for me! My usual Friday evening walking/dinner partner is coming Friday evening (she will be late), and my forever friend Cindy will take Saturday. Sunday I can lean on neighbors - I doubt I will need much by then. I am sure Rocket the beagle and her mom will be glad to come visit for a while :). Rocket thinks I make the world's best dog treats.

I was hoping not to have to lean on anyone too hard, and it looks like I will succeed after all. Child, however, will still be flayed if she doesn't sleep here 14 nights, unless I release her. In writing. Notarized. Triplicate. Four wintesses. 

I will probably have to give her a paper in writing stating I insist she leave. I might even have to offer incentives.

 

 

Birthday Encore

Today I am trying to do the last minute things before surgery that will make life easier for me (and whoever is helping me). I bought groceries. I scheduled a haircut for tomorrow. I have a nice afternoon planned for tomorrow. Thursday is the slice and dice day.

Last night child was expressing concern over the fact that she has to be at work by 4 pm on Thursday. I am aware of this. I was also aware that the doctor's office told me that they would not tell me the time of my surgery until 3 pm on Wednesday. Since I also had some other questions, I called the doctor's office.

They will give me Versed almost as soon as I get there. While I love the stuff, I think it makes me babble about things best not discussed with one's child. I told child last night that if they give me Versed, she is to tape my mouth shut for 4 hours. I will be knocked out. I will be allowed to change my clothes, I just won't be able to remove the bandages for 48 hours. That is a relief for me. I had awful visions of my arm inside my zipper hoodie on a sling, and someone needing to look inside my hoodie and being traumatized for life. I can have the sling on the outside and wear the hoodie normally. I picked up a couple of tube tops to stick underneath, and I will be allowed to wear those.

I had told child that I would ask if she could watch my surgery. She was so geeked up that I was almost embarrassed that I suggested it, and was told that she could not watch a family member. So, I asked if she could watch someone else get sliced. This might be something she can do - we are going to talk to the doctor about it. I was also told I can ask for a video of the surgery.

Finally I got some answers on the time of the surgery. Currently I am scheduled for 9 am, but it could vary a little. She assured me it will be in the morning. Child can get my prescriptions, run next door, and have them ready before I am done. There is nothing more annoying than having surgery and having to sit in the car in a lot of pain while someone goes and gets drugs. The other choice is leaving me home alone while she goes to get them.

Then I had to call the child. I hoped she was up, since it was 4:30 pm. She can be crabby when provoked. Let's just say that I quit trying to wake her up by rubbing her back when she was very young. Eventually, I stood at the door and threw shoes. Or raw meat.

She was at lunch. Personally, if it's 4:30 pm, I would call it dinner, but most likely it really was her breakfast. She immediately apologized for her behavior last night. She said she is sorry if she said anything mean to me. Mean? Well, yes. I told her that I knew she didn't mean it and that was why I ignored her. She thanked me for that. She was pleased to find that my car was the car that her presents ended up in. I hope she found her shoes.

She was all geeked again about watching my surgery, but I had to tell her that she can't watch mine. She said she understood. She will discuss watching another while I am in recovery or returning on another day to see someone else's surgery. She is still very interested in that.

If I am lucky, she feels guilty over her behavior last night and I can play up to that on Thursday. Maybe I can get two weeks out of it.

Remember that $100 she borrowed? She doesn't seem to.

 

 

Happy Birthday, Child

Molly is doing just fine. I think her infection is clearing up.

Just remind me next year when child's roommate calls me and invites me to child's favorite bar to celebrate her birthday to Just Say No.

Child parties hardy. I don't want to understate that. She really knows how to have fun. They went to a football game today, then had drinks at a nice place, and something to eat. I passed on that part. I went to the surprise party afterwards, starting at 9 pm. I am not all that fond of being out really late on cold winter nights when the roads are freezing up. I figured to say hi to her friends and go home after about an hour.

However, I got talked into staying late. Late enough that the child maybe had one or six drinks too many. She turned 27 on MLK. It always turned out nicely for her that she had her birthday off of school.

Everyone decided to move on to another bar. I decided to go home. Child decided I could not drive and took my keys. I was not unable to drive, and assured her I was fine. Noooo, she had to ride with me to my condo, and her friend was to find a ride and follow us. Not logical, you say? I agree, but it was her birthday, not mine. Halfway to my condo she decided I had ruined her birthday and she wanted to go where her friends were. I U-turned and returned her to her friends.

OK, that should have done it, right? Oh, no. Her friend had called on the way, and he was advised to meet child at the bar. No problem, right? Everything should have been great. She already admitted I obviously was fine to drive and wondered why I ruined her birthday. Excuse me? I was just trying to go home so that she could have some time with her friends.

I tried to drop her off. After I said goodnight to her friends, I was on my way out the door. Again, she tried to take my keys and made an issue enough so that her friend and another friend decided to follow us to my condo. If I couldn't drive, why would she get in the car with me?

So, they followed us, and I was obviously driving just fine. By the time they got back to the bar, it had to be closed. I am sorry, child. I don't know what the problem was, but I don't think it was me. I just got home - it's 2 am.

Next year,just let me stay home, OK?

I have to go pee pee, Mommy

Once the child starting driving her own car, I figured I was done hearing those words - "I have to go pee pee, Mommy." I forgot I have pets. While I did love my cat, I do not miss her kitty litter. She never asked permission to pee anyway. She just went in the general direction of her litter pan and let it rip. Go Wiz!

Of course, I am referring to the beagles. Their little bladders run my life sometimes. They have the servant bell to let me know when they want to pee, want to eat, or just generally want to say HI. Last night, around 8 pm, Molly started really hitting the bell hard. Often. Like every 15 minutes. Sometimes five minutes.

Remember, I live in the frozen north. While our winter has been "mild," anyone living in a milder climate would vacate this state in January. I would like to, also. It's no longer mild, anyway. It was in the 20s last night. Every time the dogs want to go out, I have to put on a hat, usually a scarf, a heavy winter parka, boots or at least waterproof warm shoes, and then I have to collar and leash each dog. Then, after they do whatever,  I have to undo the whole process. If they immediately pee and come right back in, I can do it in three minutes.

Three minutes is no big deal in the summer. Now, it's getting frustrating. Last night I was tired of going outside so often. Finally at 1:10 am, Molly hit the servant bell and went to bed. So the logical thing to do was follow her. I was tired, she was tired, I had already realized she has a UTI, and we needed some sleep.

At 1:14 am, Molly got me up to pee. I had to find my sweat pants, slippers (forget boots that time of night), get the rest of the stuff on, and get her out. Baby barely moved over so I could get out of bed, so she stayed in bed all night while we went out constantly.

At 1:24 am, Molly got me up to pee. Ditto the rest.

At 2:45 am, I realized I was still wide awake and had not taken a sleeping pill, so I took half. Molly seemed to be finally sleeping.

At 2:54 am, Molly got me up to pee. Ditto the routine.

It went on like that all night long. I did not sleep at all until 8 am. I slept from 8 am to 10 am. You would think it would be deep, dreamless sleep by that time, right?

I had a nightmare that ran like a horror book. I was a victim of serial killing torturers. I finally was able to call the police, who came out. The killers convinced the police that nothing was wrong. I managed to call again, and this time I threw myself at one of the police officers, causing a minor wound, but enough so they hauled me off to jail. I don't know what happened to the killers. They are probably still at it, in someone's dream. Whoever has nightmares where there is a "happy" ending?

Now where would that come from? I have three David Wiltse's books here, but haven't read them yet. He has one sick mind. I love that guy :)

Once I got up, I had to take Molly out, of course. She was banging on the servant bell. I also have some, ahem, urp spots on my bedroom carpet. I figured I wasn't getting up and putting a leash and collar on my poor sick dog and dragging her outside to puke. (I just steamed the carpet. ) I fed the dogs, took Molly out three or more times.

Then I called the vet and begged kindly for antibiotics for Molly's UTI. I was way, way too exhausted and stupid feeling to dose Molly up with Valium, wait two hours for it to work, then drag two hyper/freaky dogs into my car and to the vet's while Molly refused to pee in a container for them. Anyone could see the blood she was trying to pee out. No question of her problem.

I got lucky. The vet agreed to do it. I just had to agree to get a container of Molly's pee some time in the next two weeks. In a week, I will be unable to do it. Let's all wish the child luck in getting a container of pee from a dog who will not cooperate.

Molly has had one antibiotic so far, and already has cut down to peeing maybe once an hour; sometimes two hours. She slept most of the day otherwise, is eating fine, and hasn't urped again. She will be fine :)

I need a nap.

 

 

 

Good news, bad news

Life is a balancing act, isn't it? Sometimes it is more obvious than others. I swear if I lose 5 lbs, someone near me suddenly says, "Hey! I gained 5 lbs! Then I start to feel guilty. I have wondered, if everyone in the world gained 5 lbs, would the earth slow down from the weight? I am surprised that we blossoming Americans haven't thrown the whole orbit of the galaxy off by now.

The good news is that I finally wrote the letter and accompanying list of issues for the condo people. The bad news is that my document printer won't print well. It needs to be run through the test cycle. (I don't want to use the photo printer, although I can.)

The good news is that the test cycle is well described in the manual, which is lucky since I can't remember anything. The bad news is that I was unable to find the manual.

The good news is that Molly and I found the manual, somehow right where I had already looked. The bad news is that Molly didn't follow me out of the room when I left it and shut the door. She eventually started quietly scratching the door. (This has happened before, the silly dog!)

The good news is that I have been given the name of a vet that will charge only $23 a monthly shot for Molly's medication instead of my current vet's charge of $55. The bad news is that I have been going to the same vet's office for 30 years. Change is good, right?

The good news is that my doctor has already mailed me a prescription for physical therapy following my shoulder surgery. I had believed this to begin 4 weeks after surgery. The bad news is that I was misinformed. It starts five DAYS after surgery. That sounds very painful to me.

The good news is that we haven't had any snow and it has been very warm, considering this is Michigan, this winter so far. The bad news is that the fun is over. It's snot-freezing cold outside.

The good news is that several neighbors have offered a hand when I am recovering from surgery. Personally I think they all want to play with Molly. The bad news is that three of them will be out of town for two weeks or more right after the surgery. I wonder if that is a coincidence or not?

The good news is that I love wildlife and having coyotes nearby doesn't bother me much. The bad news was last night I heard a small animal screaming outside when I had the dogs out and had to drag them in. Mother Nature can be a real bitch sometimes. Coyotes can't go to the local grocery store for dinner. I haven't seen any Coyote Chow there anyway.

The good news is I passed my yearly (which was due last spring) dermatology exam and I didn't have any new skin cancer. The bad news is he still got to spray me in four different areas with the liquid nitrogen. That stuff stings really badly. My dermatologist is a sadist, but he is California surfer cute and charming, so he gets away with it. Child concurred on that one after she went to see him also.

The good news is a friend wants to come see me the day after surgery. The bad news is he can only come at 7 am due to a conference.

The good news is I will have surgery in 9 days. The bad news is I will have surgery in 9 days. Is anyone willing to accept an email or call from the child and put the word out on how I am doing if I can't do it? I fully expect to use the computer the same day, but who knows for sure?

 

 

Victory Dance

I am a very practical person. I do what needs to be done. I tend to be calm in a crisis. I bought a light blue fleece to wear home from the surgery, then took it back because I figured blood might stain it. In other words, generally I am not squeamish.

For some reason, stabbing my dog with a needle and holding it in long enough to push the "liquid gold" (name is based on the cost and how it magically keeps her alive and well) into her almost did me in. I did not have anyone to hold her down - if she decided I did a bad job and hurt her, she could just run off or turn around and bite me, causing me to hurt her more. The medication could then end up partly in her and partly not - the dosage must be to the tenth of a milligram to keep her healthy. Scary stuff for someone who went into the social sciences.

It took me five hours of attempts. When she was geeked up on the Valium, I sat on the floor and asked her to sit with me so I could do the deed. She said, OK sure, right side or left side how about this side wait let's run over here oh no you need me to sit on your lap and lick your face right side or left side hm wait let's bounce around and jump on the furniture isn't this fun?

So that wasn't working. I waited for her to be asleep and hopefully a bit drugged. I sat down next to her, asked her to sit still, grabbed her neck - she moved around to make it easier (or so I thought) then she jumped up and ran into the kitchen where I keep the treats. That happened three or four times. Maybe five. A few times I grabbed the skin and poked her with a fingernail, just to test her reaction. None at all.

I finally accepted that Molly is not an ordinary dog. She totally equates the needle with treats. When I first brought the needle in, she jumped up for it. Mine! Mine! Give me TREATS now!!

Sometimes we just have to go with the flow and accept the natural order of things. I tossed a milk bone at Baby. Baby was having a great time last night - extra treats for no reason! I went to hand one to Molly so I could get her while she was focused on the treat - and I dropped it into a corner.

My shoulders started to slump and I almost gave up at that point. Everything seemed to be going against me. Molly went for the treat and ate it.

I grabbed the skin on the back of her neck after she ate it, told her she needed to hold still. Last time it took the vet and a vet tech to hold her still for a shot. I told her she didn't need to be held down. I reminded her that she wanted the shot, she wants to feel well. I asked her to not move for just a minute.

I jabbed that needle perfectly in. I had trouble with the plunger again, but got every little drop into her and pulled the needle out. Molly turned around and looked at me, I looked at her -

and a Victory Dance erupted in the kitchen at midnight with the blinds open. My arms went up (sorry, shoulder) and I jumped up and down howling like a beagle (windows were shut). Molly gave me a look that made it clear I had been lacking in courage but finally made the grade, and Baby went looking for more treats. Molly started jumping for joy with me.

It was a real Kodak moment.

I will not be afraid next time, other than the fact that I will have my right arm in a sling and I am right handed. My arm will be as weak as a noodle. We will deal with that when the time comes, right? I have a used needle - I can practice left handed on fruit. Fruit loves to be stabbed.

Within five minutes both dogs were sound asleep and Molly resumed her snoring.

It was a non-event for the dogs. I grabbed for the raspberry stoli and cranberry juice. I had to celebrate learning a new skill.

Molly never even flinched. I have decided that she fights being held down at the vet because it offends her sense of dignity.

 

 

Right jab

Poor Molly. Her shot is overdue. She is good for several days after her due date, but I worry. So, I was going to take her in today. Oops, she needs the Valium first to avoid seizures. That means watching her like a hawk for two hours, taking a freaky/happy dog and an excited spare dog to the vet and wait for a shot in a small waiting room, since it's the day after the vet has been closed for several days. Then, come home and watch Molly like a hawk until the Valium wears off.

Or, I could:

a) take her in tomorrow

b) do it myself

"B" was looking good because I am feeling a lot of fatigue today. I stopped at the library, hit the grocery store, and barely made it out of the grocery store upright. The vet's office was two miles away - I figured stop in and either get the needle or make an appointment for tomorrow.

I very earnestly said that I had someone to help me, so they gave me the shot for $55. Same price I pay if they do it. It costs them $99 for a 4 ml vial. Molly gets .8 ml per shot. I pay $55. It's the American Way. I handed over a credit card; they gave me a prepared needle. They told me that if I chicken out I can take her in tomorrow and they will do it.

I came home, I looked at Molly, I looked at the needle, I thought about the hand problem I had last time, I looked at Molly - I gave her half a 10 mg Valium. I very seriously considered taking the other half. I decided it's not nice to steal drugs from a dog.

Molly got very hyper/happy. What was I thinking? She was going to be calm? I looked at the needle, I looked at Molly, I looked at my hand, decided to wait until she got sleepy.

Molly eventually fell asleep after about 3 hours. The other half of the Valium is looking better to me. I grabbed the needle, grabbed a hunk of skin - and she decided to get up and go beg for treats. Needles = treats. Sigh. I threw a bunch at Baby, threw some on the floor for Molly, and reached for the skin - she tried to stuff all the treats in her mouth at once, and gagged. I laughed.

I put the cap back on the needle.

I am waiting for her to fall asleep again. It would be so much easier on Baby - she sleeps like a corpse. I could cut her foot off and she probably would sleep through it. Not Molly.

Molly wants this shot. I have to do it. It will keep her alive.

The vet and I agreed that Molly is so smart that she would probably give herself the shot if I gave it to her.

I am considering that next.

I can do this, I really can.

It will hurt me more than her, right?