The evil stepmother rides again!

Well, as I predicted a while back, the blog is pretty blah these days, because I don't have any dramatic new medical weirdness to report.  That in itself is wonderful; lord knows I don't need any more medical weirdness; but it doesn't make for very interesting reading.

So, where are we these days?  We're in almost the exact middle of the busiest three weeks of my entire year, and as it would happen, ALSO in the exact middle of my dental marathon.

School's out next week, which means that school time is mainly cleaning up and goofing off.  That's all fine and dandy, but when you've got an 8th grader who's graduating, you've also got about a million activities tied into it all to keep you busy.  Dances, trips, graduation practice, awards assemblies, you name it, all leading up to the actual graduation.

Take all of that, and mix in voting, vet appointments, guests, tub repair dude, science projects, doctor's appointments, visiting grandma, yoga and my dental marathon, add water and stir.  Sounds like fun, huh?

Next year, thank the gods, we have NO one graduating from anything.  They'll be finishing up 7th, 9th and 10th, so we get a break before we then have several years of people graduating again.

Trevor will, of course, be a valedictorian, just like Conner was before him.  Unlike Conner before him though, I really don't feel that Trevor should be.  That's a pretty bold, controversial statement for me to make, but this is *MY* blog, and therefore is entirely my opinions, take 'em or leave 'em.

While Trevor will be graduating with the proper GPA to earn valedictory status, I personally don't think that GPA alone should be the deciding factor.  I think that the valedictorian(s) should be someone who represents the best of the class in all ways--and that is why they are chosen to get up and speak for the entire graduating class at the ceremonies.  That person or persons should have the moral character to represent their class and have earned their GPA the right way.  I guess that's the best I can do of explaining it abstractly...

But to put it another way, I don't think that someone who hit another student in class and was suspended for a day and received 20 demerits but worked off 10 of them working after school and then later got an F at the quarter in reading for not turning in a single book report all quarter because he was too addicted to his computer games to bother doing his homework but then made up all the missed work and was given *full credit* for it really DESERVES that honor above and alongside people who have honestly worked for it.

I just don't, and if you don't agree with me, that's your prerogative, but like I said, it's my blog.

Needless to say, my very strong feelings in that area make this graduation much less of a proud moment than it should be, and the actions of others make it far less of a happy one than it should be.  Frankly, I'd rather skip the whole damned thing, since it's turned into one of those things where I'm reminded quite clearly that I am merely the stepmother, here to do a job, required to prep for and show up at the graduation, but given no part of it to enjoy.  

Specifically, the shirt that I picked out for Trevor to wear, a nice looking cream colored, non-geeky, cream-on-cream embroidered with Hawaiian motifs, cool, flowing shirt, was deemed unacceptable by his grandmother, and she replaced it with a long-sleeved ugly-ass thing that

 he's going to roast in during the 90-degree + ceremony and dance afterwards.  

But, because SHE is his grandmother, he IS to wear the shirt she bought him and the tie sent by his mother.  I am merely the stepmother, and my contributions and opinions and efforts to do something nice for him are entirely worthless.  I can't wait to see what kind of crap they pull when it's Anna's turn.

Then again, they probably won't do anything--It's worth mentioning that beloved Mommy and Grandma felt no need to do anything of the sort for Conner's graduation last year.  Trevor is almost always the only one who gets special treatments.

And it's worth mentioning again that while I VERY rarely vent about family issues, and almost never talk about the kids' disciplinary problems, this IS my blog, and if you don't like what you're reading, don't read it.  I'm kind of disgusted about this stuff right now, in case you can't tell.

And, it's about time to get ready to head out to today's dental torture session.  I'm never quite sure what they're going to be doing to me each day.  I just show up and sit down and hope for

lots of novocaine.  Yesterday was pretty intensely painful and miserable but that's ok.  I'll put up with anything to get this stuff done!!  

Thank god for yoga tomorrow.  That is my only real obligation for the day, thank god.  I'm doing another private lesson with Lisa to get me back into the space and ready to go to regular 

classes starting next week.  I think that will be a huge help mentally and physically.  The weekend is pretty well empty, and I'm thinking of spending it in bed.  We'll see.  Off to try and tackle the world...even if all I can do is try!

Stella, it is MUCH too early to be up!!

5:41 is not an hour seen by normal people.  I don't even think the early birds have left their nests yet.  Oh, but STELLA...........my darling puppy-girl is racing in circles around the dining room table with her "Wiggly Giggly" ball and trying to fit in crawl spaces that she USED to fit in.  You've grown baby dog!

Meanwhile...Mommy fell asleep over the computer in her rocking chair.  Stella decided that would be a fine time to start eating the kitty's scratcher.  Oliver will be devastated and traumatized if I don't find another one, like, immediately.

I've been wondering the last few days, based on Miss Puppy's behavior, if it was time to start worrying about teething......I'm guessing that it is!

Thank GOD puppy training classes start today.  Muhahahahahaha!!!!  Stella has yet to fully learn that Mommy ALWAYS wins in the long run.

Off to mainline some caffeine and do some picking up around here so I stay conscious.                                          

Reality B I T E S

I wasn't really thinking about cancer today.  I was thinking about puppies and yarn and dentist visits, but cancer decided to rear its ugly-ass head anyway.

When I was very first getting started at the cancer center, with the radiation and chemo, I met a very sweet lady named Eloise.  She was the first other patient to approach me and talk to me and give me advice.  She was just so sweet, always happy, outgoing, bubbly, laughing.  We swapped hats, talked a lot, and gave lots of hugs.  I didn't really know her at all, except from the cancer center, in passing, but she always gave me a hug.

Well, I sort of accidentally read the obits for maybe the first time since we've lived up here, since logically enough, we don't really know anyone who might be in there, and found out that Eloise died.

Reality check.  Reality bites.  

Part of me is sad and depressed, but part of me also knows that at least in public, Eloise never was either one of those things.  And that, my friends, is fucking amazing.

Here's to Eloise.  Hugs all around.

HOW long?

Good lord, I've managed to not post anything in a full week?!  How did I manage that??  Geez, where are we......I could have SWORN I posted some things since then, but if I did, where in hell did I post them at?  Hmm.

Ok, since Thursday...let's see if I can manage a quick recap of some highlights.  I got my hair done.  Yay for a great stylist who's making this grow-out process a little easier on me!

Last Saturday, we actually left the children for quite a long time and went down to Dixon, about an hour and a half, and saw my old stomping partners, the guys from Silvertone & their lead singer, that Chris Isaak guy.  

Great show, even if it apparently does take a village to get me in! Huge thanks to Pauline for putting it all together.  Having absolutely zero idea what the venue was going to be like, how crowded it would be, etc, I was very afraid of just buying tickets and showing up and finding out I had to stand for a really long time or something--something, anything that my bod just physically couldn't take-- so I begged for some help.  

As it turned out, what I needed was for the entire staff of the Dixon May Fair to attend a training seminar...we're going from entrance to box office to venue box office and everyone just sends us somewhere else with some variation on "we don't have a guest list," "what do you mean a 'band guest list'?" and utterly baffled looks.  Of course, all the traipsing around trying to do this is, ironically, exactly the kind of physical exertion I had been trying to avoid in the first place, and the whole "I'm on the list" protocol is very foreign to Lloyd.  

He's not used to the waiting, the 

confusion and the rent-a-thug security who peg you as some desperate groupie in the first 5 seconds and therefore treat you like crap from that point after.

Just in the nick of time though, I recognized Sheryl, CI's manager and was able to grab her and bother her to bother our friendly neighborhood tour manager.  Way too much bother! I hated having to bug everyone incessantly, but thanks to everyone's hard work, we got in, we saw a great show, and Lloyd had fun, which was the goal.

Sunday, I recovered from Saturday...

Most of the last week I got to be sick and feel crappy as hell and sleep a lot trying to get well.  I had another one of those weird incidents where I ran hugely high fevers for a couple days, while feeling dizzy, having double or triple vision, if I could focus at all, and generally feeling horrible.  And then, over time, it went away.  

No idea what is going on with that, but it's about the third time it's happened.  I called Andy, Lorrie called me back, and we had long conversations trying to figure it out.  We're working on it.

I've also had some really monsterous bouts of neuropathy to work through, and all the usual suspects in terms of my side effects and daily bs.

My quest to see a neurologist has been a tad derailed, but luckily, I don't need one quite so much right now.  I seem to have gotten past most of the weirdo neuro symptoms and MAY even be able to KNIT for extended periods!  I guess that's a great thing, because the neurologist can't fit me in until the end of August.  August!  As weirdly transient as my symptoms are, there's no way to know if I'd even need a neurologist in August.

Who knows.  I'm tired of having weird things wrong.  So far today I feel pretty crappy, just generally flu-y.  I'm pretty convinced I have a sinus infection at the end of all of this, so I'm just taking it easy, or at least trying to.  Right now I'm having a mental war between laying still and reading magazines and baking hyper-nutri-fied oatmeal cookie bars.  I don't get much food in me, so I figured that might help get my protein and iron levels up, those being the highest priority.  Andy read my labs from March and was quite unhappy with me...... VERY unhappy.  He sent me off for more labs, and I hit a personal milestone-- NINE tubes of blood.  NINE!   

The only other significant report is Oz.  He's actually doing pretty well right now, which kind of confused us, so we took him back to the vet to have his blook levels rechecked, and find out what we should be looking for in terms of making sure he wasn't suffering at all.  

Of course, his kidney enzymes were still very elevated, but nowhere near as badly as before.  His BUN level before was 202; this time it's 59.  Normal is 15-34.  Creatine before was 9.9; now is 7.8, normal is 0.8-2.3.  So, while he is still not going to make it through this in the end, he seems to have decided to stick around a lot longer than I expected.  The sq hydration that we're doing, the tuna and wet cat food, everything else, seems to be doing him some serious good, and he's up and around, using the scratching post, acting pretty damned good.  He lost more weight, so he's like a skeleton with fur, but he's doing ok, which means I'm doing ok.  As long as he's not in any pain or discomfort, like losing control of his bodily functions, then we're good.

I think I've covered everything...and I'm tired of writing, so I quit.  Man, that teaches me to not miss an entire week of updating this thing!!!!!!!  

I hope everyone is enjoying this gorgeous, gorgeous weekend.

Pond = crack

I admit it, I'm addicted.  I am a hopeless pondophile.  That's P-O-N-D, and not P-E-D, people.  I will sit and watch the African chickens (also known as Guinea fowl, for those of you who need translation) scurry about and look for jackals and giraffes.  I never knew jackals were so gorgeous.  I guess I just assumed that they were sort of gnarly looking, like all the other canids in Africa.  We saw a HUGE pack of African wild dogs prowling around the other night, and they are just about the ugliest things I've ever seen.  They look like they were put together out of spare parts, like patchwork.

Nighttime brings the hyaenas, and lately, HUGE herds of elephants.  The kids are gettng used to me shouting "Giraffe!!" or something at random moments.

Thanks Darce.

Anyway, it was pointed out to me that I haven't posted an Oz update lately, and I should.  

Ok, Oz is fine.  

He's still got terminal acute kidney failure, but he's fine.  Weird, yes?  Ever since we moved the food and water up here, started the subcutaneous hydration, and bought him THE nastiest smelling and looking wet food (Lloyd hit it on the nose when he said it looked like there were cut up worms in it) he's been acting a lot like his old self.  He uses the scratcher, eats, drinks, goes downstairs to potty, scarfs kitty treats, snuggles with me AND wants to play games at 1 am.  

We're taking Stella to the vet on Monday to get her last shots, and I'm going to have to ask the vet what to look for that his kidneys are really going on him, and it's "time."  He's acting so much like his old self, minus a few pounds, I'm not sure what will tell me.  He sleeps snuggled up with me when I nap and has even taken to staying on the bed with us for the night.  Used to be, he'd cuddle with Lloyd while we watched the news and as soon as Lloyd would turn on his side and zonk out, Oz was off on mysterious kitty business for the rest of the night.

So, the weird answer is, he's fine, and I have no idea!  We'll see what the vet has to say.

As for my health, I have a sinus headache from HELL!  My hands are still a mess, but thank god I see Andy tomorrow.  I've actually gotten used to not having sensation...it's like learning to type all over again, but at least I'm learning.  It's probably actually not a good thing that I'm used to it though!  The cancer center was supposed to be hooking me up with a neurologist, but I haven't heard from them yet.  I'd guess I'd better bug them.  

The lymphedema has largely resolved, save my my pubic area.  It doesn't seem there's going to be a resolution there, and that it may require professional treatment and lots of it.  The tissue is already in the early stages of fibrosis, which is when the tissue starts getting thick, spongy and hard and may be completely irreversible.  All I know is it's damn uncomfortable and painful.

Lots and lots of neuropathy, in my feet, which also have some deep cracks starting again, and inguinal area of course the hands, on top of everything else that is going on there. AND, what I think might be going on there is some for of evil arthritis, because I'm starting to feel it in my knees, hips and all kinds of other joints, which are getting swelly and painful.  Creeeaaaak, groan...

And did I mention puppy-induced sleep deprivation?  

Time to fix some of *that* problem now, and see what Andy can figure out tomorrow about any of the rest.

It had to be fluff.

My hands are cooperating today, so we get an entry! Yay!

It's funny how two seemingly unrelated things can combine to make a royal pain in my ass.  Case in point....

Thing 1: Since knitting seems to drive my poor hands batty, I got the great idea that I might be able to do some spinning, since the hand movements used entirely different.  A majority of the hard work of spinning is in the feet and ankles, while the hands mainly guide the puffs of fiber through the machine.  Ok.  Nice rainly day, maybe I'll try spinning.

Thing 2: My puppy is obsessed.  I think all puppies get obsessed with something, be it chewing on shoes or eating plants or something.  Mine goes for dust bunnies and Sparky-fluff--the yellow stuff from his toy that lands all over the house.  Outdoor cobweb/dust/plant fiber puffs blowing by?  Yum!  So, has anyone guessed what really sends her over the moon?

Yup, the one activity that I think I can do involves fluffy puffs of fluffy puffy camel or wool fiber fluff that my darling puppy is determined to get her paws on at all costs.

This is really, really not fair.

But in other news, I called the cancer center about this hand bullshit and they're making me an appointment with a neurologist.  Oh, goodie.  A neurologist is an "ologist" I haven't had yet.  With any luck, he will do something for all this pain.  The hand is pissed now, so away I go.  Cross your fingers for me--I can't cross mine anymore!

Since I can't type much...

Since I can't type much...I give you gratuitous cute puppy pictures!

Since I can't type much...I give you gratuitous cute puppy pictures!

Who needs hands?

I mean, really?  Who needs hands?  I can do without them, right?

Apparently my body thinks so, because I'm rapidly losing painless or numb-less use of both of mine.  The right was the first to go, as I've mentioned, and the left is following very, very closely behind now.  

To explain fully, I'm losing normal use of the hands and arms, gradually.  Sometimes I feel pretty normal, and then I move, and all the fingers of my hand go numb, or tingly.  Or there are shooting pains up as high as my shoulder.  Sometimes I can do things even though I'm numb and can't technically feel what I'm doing; sometimes I can do things even though I'm in a lot of pain and havev strange sensations like my fingernail is going to come off or something.  Strange stuff.  Sometimes I can't open my hand all the way or straighten my fingers.  The pain is really quite intense.

And sometimes, my hands HAVE to work, like when I'm sticking giant needles in my poor beautiful cat, so I have to learn how to make them do the right things, even though I can't feel them.  I do a lot of that, taking care of pets, fixing food, reading, typing or whatever I need to do in my daily life.  I can't just quit, can I?

So, if there are fewer blog entries for a while I try and figure out what in the world is wrong with my hands, along with the other joints that are hurting like hell, creaking, popping and making my life an absolute living hell.  I plan to have a great talk with Andy when I see him in a week or so, but I have to wait until it's time for my normal monthly visit to see him.  I could see him before that, but it's $100 an office visit, so I don't want to go twice if I don't have to.

Well, after typing this, the middle finger of my right hand, which is the absolute worst of the bunch is shooting pain all the way up to my elbow, is numb, does not open OR close all the way, and is making me want to yell obscenities that would wake up the puppy, so I'm going to STOP typing now.

Wish me luck.

Peace...no quiet, but plenty of peace

It's a gorgeous Sunday afternoon here... the sun is out and shining and gorgeous; the children have finished all their chores so the house is nice and clean (unless you count puppy toy-carnage, which I don't); everyone of all species is happily occupied, and I can sit here and relax.  Ahhh...

For today's gratuitous cute puppy picture, I give you a boy and his dog laying on the floor.  Stella was amazingly cuddly today for most of the time.

And as I come back to this blog entry, at 9:30 at night, I can tell you that Stella's cute and cuddly kissy act during the day led to spastic hyperactivity and mouthing and biting like crazy this evening.  We're all pretty sure she's grown massively in the last 3 days in height, length and weight.  I can't wait to get in to puppy training classes!!!

Oz is hanging in.  I just hydrated him and put him with the big boy for a while to snuggle.  He and Conner are very attached to each other, so this is going to be very hard on the poor kid.  He just lost "his" cat, one of the previously outdoor neighborhood cats who fell in love with him, a couple years ago now.  But Oz is getting up and eating and drinking, using the scratcher, using the litterbox and snuggling and purring.  However, he has lost 2 lbs since his vet visit.  It's going to be tough to tell when it's time.

Otherwise it was a fairly uneventful Sunday, which is FINE with me.  Right now, everyone is settled in bed or on the couch, the toys are cleaned up....

THAT is no small task sometimes....having a puppy is a lot like having a toddler around!

Not much of an update for today, but not much to update!  That in itself is a pretty good thing.

Time to migrate upstairs and settle in to bed, read some more and then crash.  Sleep!  Yay!

Alpha:Omega? what

It is really rather difficult to be managing both the beginning and end.  

I've got a baby to raise, and my oldest to say goodbye to.  That's enough to make anyone completely insane, right?

I certainly hope that's enough justification.  I can't remember what I'm doing or have done from one minute to the next, while trying to raise baby, take care of Oz, fill out disability paperwork, handle normal household responsibilities, help take care of kids, try and take care of my myriad aches, pains and really BAD pains, remember to take my pills, remember to give Pea her pills, wonder what in god's name is wrong with my right hand, and above all, take full, 100% complete and total UNARGUABLE SOLE RESPONSIBILITY for knowing when Oz's time is up.  

I bottle fed him at 3 weeks of age and wasn't sure he'd survive.  I will be the only one to decide when it's time, so I have to watch carefully.  Not one minute of suffering if I can prevent it.

Meanwhile, I need to call the vet NOW, when I'm at home, calm and functional, to find out what my options are for Oz's final arrangements, and make a decision now.  I think I'll go do that.

Ok.  That was a lot harder than I thought it would be, but it is done.  Pea and Stella were good to lay down with after the phone call.  We'll now have two cats' ashes in little wooden boxes in this house.  Throwing up is a distinct possibility, but I really hope I don't.

It's just a very strange place to be, dealing with cancer and sickness and a sick cat and a new puppy.  There is a lot of sadness and a lot of joy all in one room.

I think I deserve to go read a book now.  No more being productive and cleaning and such for now.  Just resting.

Scratch that.

Well, our diagnosis is not stupidity.  Unfortunately, my "mommy" instincts were right that there was something far worse than fear of puppy going on with Oz.

The vet called this morning with his test results, and his liver enzymes were fine.  His kidney enzymes were not.  They are something like triple or quadruple what they should be, and he is in acute kidney failure.  

Some of you might remember his major cystitis incident in 2003, the night before I had to leave for Darcy's wedding, where he almost died on me, and had to spend 4 days at the vet's office in kitty ICU.  That severely compromised his kidneys, and is why he's had to eat special "urinary tract" formula cat food, and watched to make sure he is always drinking.  His kidneys were the first thing I was afraid of this time when he wasn't drinking.

With kidney failure, some cats can be brought back away from it with sufficient fluids, IVs andnutrition.  The vet told us that she had only occasionally seen that work, and only with cats who had MUCH lower levels than Oz does.

At his stage, all that can be done is to keep him well hydrated with subcutaneous fluids daily, try and make sure he eats, and watch until the Mommy instinct says that he is suffering.  There will be positively no suffering at all.

It is not a good day in my world.  Major lymphedema pain, major neuropathy pain, a right hand that really isn't working because it's numb and painful, a near-migraine, nausea, pain where my incision was, allergic-ish whle body itchiness, exhaustion from being kept up all night with puppy, mounds of paperwork to work on for disability, and a cat with acute kidney failure that I have to stick a needle into.  Not only do I have to process this myself, the cat I raised from 3 weeks old, but I have to tell the kids, and there will be much crying involved.

Nope, not a good day in my world at all.  I'll go back to the paperwork.

Diagnosis: Stupidity

Well, everyone will be happy to hear that Oz's probable diagnosis is stupidity.  Not eating and not drinking is just dumb.  He's just been upset about the puppy coming home, and since she spends most of her time in the kitchen/dining room, where the food and water is, he just started hiding upstairs.  Stupidity!

However, when cats lose a large amount of weight in a short period of time, they can develop something called  fatty liver syndrome.  

The main symptom of fatty liver syndrome is jaundice, and the vet didn't find any signs of yellowing in his mouth, eyes or ears.  Just in case, she took blood to do a panel of tests to make sure, and she'll call me in the morning with the results.

Luckily, the cure for fatty liver syndrome is pretty easy--it's calories.  Eat, eat and eat!  Hopefully, of course, he doesn't have it, but if he does, at least the cure isn't too horrible.  We're trying to get him to eat some nice high-calorie wet food and tuna and such in the meantime regardless to get his weight back up.  Anna just opened the vanilla ice cream, and I think I'm even going to try and tempt him with some of that.

Anyway, that's the update.  Hopefully the dumb cat will rebound soon!

Attack!

Oh, there are so many enemies to vanquish in the dining room...The empty food bin...the puppy on the other side of the fireplace glass...the shredder...Pea...and especially that archenemy, the boinging doorstop.  

Now THAT thing must be stopped at all costs.  Mommy took away the plastic cap, but it's still evil and must be made to boing, and then barked at for a very, very long time.

Oh no!  The empty food bin just tried to steal a toy!  It had to be retrieved with great care, many test lunges/jumps back, and finally, one great leap to seize the toy and run like hell.

Yes folks, welcome to the spastic portion of our day.  In the morning, when Stella wakes up with the sun, Mommy brings her downstairs and plops her in her playpen and makes her breakfast.  Stella eats her breakfast while the coffee brews, and then Mommy drinks her coffee while Stella has a little post-meal nap in her pen.  When the coffee's done, that means it's time for the post-breakfast potty, and then!  

Then!  

Then it's the best part of the day!  The gates go up, the toys come out, and it's berserk time!  This part of the day involves attacking many toys, getting stuck underneath the kitchen table trying to get to the toy that rolled on the other side, and most importantly, galloping laps around the table and the island in the kitchen with occasional stops to bark at the doorstop or something.

Welcome to my world!

But, at least that's a good part of my world.  Lymphedema and neuropathy and brittle bones and sick cats are the bad parts of my world.

I am very worried that this stupid old cat isn't going to bounce back from his self-inflicted idiocy, so we're seeing the vet today.

I kicked a magazine holder-cube-thing, accidentally, of course, and I think I slightly broke something in my toe.

My lymphedema has decided to flare again, rather badly, especially in the pubic and genital areas.  I am amazed at how much lymphedema can hurt, even after it's gone!  It hurts like all hell when it's flaring...lordy...and then after the swelling goes down, the places where it was are really tender, like if you cross your legs, the top of your shin hurts like hell.

Then you add in the neuropathy, which is causing me major pain and problems, especially in my right hand, and you have a complete list of things to make my life frustrating.  I want to knit, and I have shawls to make (!!) and my damned hand keeps going numb and painful.  It's pissing me off!!!

Ok, there's my venting for the day.  My hand is driving me crazy, but my puppy is sitting on the floor chewing a toy being blissfuly C A L M, so I really shouldn't bitch about anything.  If she follows her normal pattern, she'll zonk out for a nap soon.  I had planned on joining her on the cushion on the floor (which she seems to like) but now that I have a vet appointment for Oz, I'm afraid I'd oversleep!  

That's about all from this part of the world.  Stay tuned for an Oz update after he sees the doctor.

Oooh, wildebeest!

Ok, first and foremost:  Yesterday, Dawn got a clean bill of health on her 2 year checkup, meaning she is officially in remission from her cancer.  REMISSION!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

That is the best news I have heard in I don't know how long, and I'm actually a bit overwhelmed.  I can't find the words I want to be able to find to express how I really feel about that, but I am pretty sure most of you out there have a good idea how I feel.  Wow.

Dawn, way to go.  I wish I were there to celebrate with you, but have a glass of wine for me, and a toast.  I don't know what I would have done without you the last 6 months or so.  I'm sending virtual hugs and all my love and thanks and happiness for you!!!!!!!!!!!

And now, back to our regularly scheduled silly blog entry:

I swear, watching this webcam of the pond in Botswana has totally warped me.  I was well on the way to start with, but.....  I'm obsessed with missing something and completely riveted when I see something other than guinea fowl and egrets.  Last night, the most gigantic herd of wildebeest appeared out of nowhere, and then proceeded to line themselves up in perfect order along the shore of the pond to drink.  Fascinating!  It's now almost dusk at the pond, and things are pretty damned quiet.  Bummer.  Somebody needs to show up and entertain me.

Stella is doing her best to entertain me, but I'm ignoring her.  Opera has never been my thing.  She's been a little BUTT so far this morning!!  Aside from the 6:30 wake-up (ok, I can excuse that--the sun is up, our little circadian clock says it's time to wake up), she's been spastic and biting like crazy and jumping in her pen, a habit that MUST be broken.  Not one is it essential that she get gate-trained, one of those jumps put her snout deep into my left eye socket at a pretty high velocity.  Should be a pretty good black eye out of the deal, but at least there was no vitreous fluid leaking anywhere.  I think she's reached the terrible-2-weeks. 

The good news is that she does respond to training really, really well.

OMG, there's a crocodile that I swear is about to strike at a heron!!!!!!!!!!!!  Wow!  C'mon Mr. Croc...this pond has a zillion herons.  I wanna see this.  Wait....is it a croc?  Or is it a Nile monitor lizard at a funky angle?  Now this is drama, boys and girls!

Anyway, she responds to all the training methods that we're trying with her, unlike a certain golden retarded.  The only problem is that we can't spend 24 hours a day working on training methods.  But, as I've been telling her, the honeymoon is over, and real training is about to begin.  She's 9 weeks old today, and she's proved that she is very capable of understanding our commands and the clicker system.  Just don't anybody tell her that the "treats" we dole out ever couple of seconds are actually single pieces of her kibble puppy food.  She thinks she's getting spoiled rotten.

Either this is a really lazy crocodile, or the camera angle is misleading and he's really about 12 feet away from the heron--too far to strike.

The boys are all headed off to an air show at Beale AFB today, which means Anna and I are on our own.  I'm thinking of being daring and leaving Little Monster alone just long enough for Anna and I to go have lunch or something, just to see how she does to being left alone.  I haven't decided for sure yet, but I'm thinking.

A big part of that is, of course, how I feel.  And how I feel so far is exhausted.  I really didn't want to get up at 6:30.  I may end up down on the floor with Stella napping again this morning.  That's what I ended up doing yesterday for an hour; then, I took about a 3 hour nap late in the afternoon, and still dropped right into bed at bedtime.  

Now, I need to leave the computer for about 60 seconds.  Who wants to bet me that the croc makes his move during those 60 seconds?  The stupid heron is even asleep now!  Dumb bird...or else he knows something we don't.  Hrm.  Well, here goes nothing.

He didn't strike, but he's closer, and his head is waaaay up, like he's thinking about it.  And the heron went back to sleep.

Oz is doing better, but not better enough, yet.  He's eating at least a little canned cat food and tuna a day when I take it up and put it right in front of him, and eating dry food when he feels like it.  We have 4 bowls of dry food out there, but I can't leave the tuna or the wet alone for long or the other pussycats demolish it.  That's ok after he's had his fill--don't want them to feel left out.  I think a lot of the improvement I see in his shape, his coat, eyes, everything, is due to being at least almost properly hydrated now.  He drinks lots of water, and I think thata has made all the difference.  He has a urinary problem anyway, so going without water for any period of time is not cool for him at all.  There are two good sized bowls of water upstairs now, one of which is not reachable by doggies at all, and the water level is dropping significantly each day.  I've seen him jump on and off the cabinet where the dishes are, so I know his strength is good for getting up there where the stuff is.  Still, I'm not 100% ok with where he is, and if I'm still at this same place Monday morning, we're heading off to the vet asap.  He's not a young cat, but he's not an old one either--10 1/2 isn't old for a healthy cat, at all.

As for me, I am in pain.  That pretty well describes my existance right now.  

They moved the camera!  No more heron and crocodile, just guineafowl.  :-<

Anyway, pain.  Nothing of earth-shattering importance, just annoying pain.  Joint pain, muscle pain, fascia pain, incision area pain, pubic pain, neuropathy pain, lymphedema pain.  Everywhere that was swollen or still somewhat is hurts, which is weird--like, the tops of my feet hurt if you touch them, which is way strange.  So, nothing of great concern on my part, just fatigue and pain.  I'll live.

I just wish I knew if the heron did!!

Validation's a bitch.

Yeah, sometimes validation of our life decisions comes in unexpected and shitty ways.

Just yesterday morning, I decided to quit my job of being a professional patient and stay at home with my kids, both 2- and 4-legged varieties.  By the time I went to sleep last night, four of the 4-legged kind were having a medical problem of some sort and some degree of severity.

Pea is of course still having her assumedly arthritic problems, and is on her medication, but has been limping really severely lately.  We don't know why, and we don't know what exactly we can do to help her feel any better than the meds might.

Sparky is limping severely, and we discovered that is due to a nasty scrape in the middle of his front left paw pad.  Aside from standard first aid treatment, there's not much we can do for that, save going to the vet to have her outfit him with some sort of doggie shoe, which I'm really not sure she has on hand.

Stella seemed to have all the side effect reactions available from her dewormer.  They usually feel crappy and run a bit of a temp when they get that, and she did.  She's been sleeping a lot more than usual (not that I mind THAT), and was a bit "off" yesterday.  If that's all the reaction she gets though, I'm fine and dandy with it.  Oz was so allergic to a dewormer once, his whole head swelled up!  She seems to be totally fine overall.

But Oz...he has been the biggest casualty of my inattention, and I just figured it out last night.  He is apparently much more upset about Stella's arrival than anyone else is, and than anyone would have guessed.  I've seen him downstairs, but I was never really paying attention to what he was doing, but it was apparently NOT eating or drinking.  I figured out last night that he's been starving himself and he's lost enough weight to scare me.  How did  I miss this?  I touch and pet this cat every day.  I cuddle with him for naps, I snuggle up with him at bedtime, and I have been, in the last few days even, and I never noticed anything out of the ordinary.

We're pretty sure that Stella is the main problem; although he comes into our bed while she's in the crate, and I have seen him in the room with her.  Leaving in a hurry, but in the room.  It couldn't have helped any that when Stella arrived, Conner was gone.  This new horrible thing came, and his boy was missing.  Double whammy.  My poor beautiful pussycat.

So, we've figured out that he does WANT to eat and drink, which is 90% of the battle.  We've now got food and drink in two places upstairs; on the chest in the hallway niche, and in our bedroom.  That way, whether our bedroom door is closed or not, he's always got access to food and water.  If he keeps up eating and drinking, he should rebound pretty well, but I've got to check with the vet about subcutaneous fluids anyway.  I'm incredibly worried and upset, but if he is eating and drinking, I will worry less.  I will still give him bowls of whipped cream and cream cheese and whole cans of tuna if he wants, but I will worry less.

I think that the universe is telling me that my decision yesterday was the right one!  I figured out that the best phrase for what I'm feeling right now is that I need to inhabit my own life.  Lately, I've just been skimming over my own life in order to do all kinds of other things.  It's all be about me, sure, but at the same time, I haven't done a damned thing for myself in the sense of taking time to do some yoga to unwind and help heal, much less get to a class, or go get my massage I have the gc for, or read a book, or finish season 2 of Dexter, or paint my toenails.  

Oh yeah, and I have a puppy to train.  I informed her this morning that the honeymoon was over, and we were going to be starting the real deal now.  Actual training.  I have no idea what in hell I'm doing, but we'll give it a shot anyway.

I am exceptionally glad I am not driving up to a doctor's appointment right this minute, like I was supposed to be.  I'm glad I am at home watching my puppy chew on a rope, and my gorgeous Peadog bask in front of the fire, and the fact that I'm going to go finish cleaning the kitchen after this.  I *am* limiting how much time I spend on my feet, because it affects my swelling a lot, but cleaning the kitchen actually feels good right now.

But before I do that, I think I'm going to go take my cat a can of tuna.

HIPPO BIRDIES GALORE!!

Oh!  There are many wonderful birthdays to mention...

HIPPO BIRDIE TODAY TO DADDY!!!!

And a belated Hippo Birdie to my wonderful Auntie!!!!!!!!!!!!!

For being rather belated and behind on just about everything right this minute, you both deserve a full, complete, illustrati-a-palooza on my blog.  Yes, it's the highest honor I have the power to bestow.

I love you both very, very much!!!

And while we're mentioning them, happy yesterday birthday to Mike,happy day-before-yesterday birthday to Misty, and happy posthumous birthdays and love to Grandma Jackson and Grandpa Moyer.

***************************************

And about that earlier post?  He didn't get mad, freak out, or have a fit at me.  There is domestic bliss in the Irwin household today after all.

And a small puppy with farts that smell worse than the stench from the animal rendering plant just up Highway 99 from here, grandly featured on one of my favorite TV shows, the ever-tasteful "Dirty Jobs."  Much worse.  And she's sound asleep, so I'm not sure she'd go potty even if I took her outside.  I think she has to wake up first and realize that she has to go.  

PPPPP-UUUU

Oh!  She woke up!  Oh.  Nope, false alarm.

It is time for a break.

My darling husband doesn't know this yet, and he's going to have a fit, but I am taking a break from being a professional patient, for the rest of April.

Ok, yes, if something happens where I have an emergent condition, and I really need something; fine, I will seek the appropriate help immediately.

Otherwise, I am taking the rest of the month off to rest (instead of driving up the mountain every other day), get my sleep patterns back to normal (after getting up at odd hours with the little one), bond with my puppy, pull my weight in taking care of my puppy and starting to train her, not be so crabby around the house because I'm trying to do 12 things at once crammed into the little bit of free time I have after getting up early and driving up the mountain for something, and lots of other reasons, but the main and most important one--so that I don't have a complete and total breakdown and scream and yell because I'm tired and crabby and sick of going to doctors appointments and I need a break to be able to take care of this new little being in my household and still have some time left to be nice to the children AND read a book for a little while.  

Complete breakdown is not very far away at all...and I'm glad I recognized that before it happened.

Yeah, he's going to throw a fit.  A big one.  Today is likely not going to be a good day in my household, because we're probably going to have one of our once-a-year actual fights.  I usually refuse to fight about anything, because I think it's stupid, and I will still hold to that theory, but sometimes I have to stand up for myself a little more firmly, shall we say, than normal.

I'd like to think that he'll listen calmly to my very calm explanation of why I'm so close to having a complete nervous breakdown, but that won't happen, and the reason it won't is because he is so incredibly worried about me that it makes HIM nearly have a breakdown.  I realize that, and I have to always remember that's why he gets so upset and freaks out is just that he's trying very hard to take really good care of me, and he's done so much to make sure that I have the medical care that I need and everything else, I can't fault him for that at all.

But, this is it folks.  I've been a professional patient for 8 1/2 months now, and I've pretty much hit the wall.  I need a break.  I have shawls to knit, and brownies to bake, and a puppy to train, and I spend all my time going to, coming from, recovering from or preparing for the next medical appointment.  No more.

At least for the next two weeks, if not 3 or 4, until it's time for my dental care marathon in the end of May.  We'll see.

But at least two weeks.

And then...things changed...

Ok.  Things changed a tinsy bit last night.  And, being the good blogger of full disclosure, and since my puppy is asleep, I am filling you all in.  Puppy wakes up, and all bets are off, dude.

I'm sure we all remember the "incident" of Weds night/Thursday, with the high fevers and all?  It might or might not be connected to something bigger.

Since then, I've had random incidences of high fever.  I have also had random incidences of slight lymphedema-ish swelling, mainly in my genital and pubic area.

Friday morning, in the shower, logically enough, I discovered that my genital area was swollen.  REALLY seriously Frankenstein, scare me enough to actually call my husband to show him in terror swollen.  There was also swelling in the pubic area, the entire mons pubis and a little bit of the creases of my legs in the ilioinguinal area.  Swelling, but no pain in either place, no redness to speak of, nothing else really.  So, I put on my happy $90 pants to compress the area properly and went about my day.

Sometime later, in the afternoon, I discovered I had a low-grade fever, 100.2-ish.  Ok.  More Advil.

Bedtime came, and I discovered that the pants had done their job fabulously in the genital area, almost entirely de-swelling me there, but the higher mons area was still really swollen.  I got the BRILLIANT idea of turning the pants around backwards for the night, since the widest, biggest area of the compression foam was in the back--right where it makes the most sense if one is actually a bicyle rider using the pants for their intended purpose.  What a concept!  But even more shockingly, my brilliant idea worked.  Wearing the pants backward compressed things properly, and when I woke up, all was well.

Somewhere well into the evening yesterday, I looked down at my ankles and almost went into cardiac arrest.  I think they were roughly the size of telephone poles.  Or a little bigger.  My legs were swollen up, my feet, ankles, knees, thighs.........you get the point.

Legs up the wall yoga poses and lymphatic drainage massage had little effect.  I had measured around my ankle and a bit higher and kept checking it, but very little change.  Great.............

I must say, I *almost* broke my own cardinal rule......but I finally broke down and called the emergency number for the cancer center and Dr. Mazj told me very directly NOT to panic.  So I didn't panic.  Ok.

{Ok, I give up.  I gave it a good shot, but I can't stay awake any longer...continued tomorrow}

Tuesday now--I had to go to sleep.  When I nod off over the computer, it's never a good thing.

Anyway, I was deep into massive lymphedema land, where my entire lower body was filled with fluid, and it came on so suddenly, Dr. Mazj started automatically scheduling tests.

I was already supposed to go in yesterday for a pulmonary function test, as a result of the whatever-it-is in my lung, so I did that, then I went and got stitches pulled out of my jaw, stopped by the lymphedema clinic where my therapist was not in.  Shit.  Called her, got ahold of her down in Chico.  She was massively upset to hear that I had developed all of this, and so fast.  She advised me to stop the massage until we got the results of my tests from Dr. Mazj, just in case....because yes, of course the thing Dr. Mazj is worried about is a blood clot, and to keep working on compression using layers of tights, leggings, etc, to keep my swelling down.  

After I talked to Mary and got some great advice on how to proceed, and WHEN to panic, aka when to go to the ER, I felt much better, and then it was time to go back to the hospital.  I had to go pick up nasty barium contrast for the CT scan that I'll be having tomorrow to make sure that there is nothing nasty lurking in my pelvic or abdominal area.  Then I went upstairs and had a Doppler scan on my legs, which I found out is a sophisticated version of an ultrasound.

THEN I was finally done.  I headed home, with a quick stop at Walmart in Oroville to grab some more compression stuff for me, and Iams canned puppy food for the little monster here, and then I came home, propped my feet high in the air, and collapsed.  Oh, and chased Stella, walked Stella, played with Stella, fed Stella, chased Stella some more, took Stella potty, etc.  Since Anna had been at school all day for the first time since getting a puppy, she was feeling deprived of some puppy love time, I convinced her (with almost zero work!) that she needed to puppysit so I could watch "Chuck" on tv.  It got me a break to put my feet up and stay still for at least a little while anyway.

It was a hell of a day.  As I told the kids, I got suffocated, hyperventilated, shut in a little plastic box and had blood drawn straight from an artery (pulmo tests); had things cut out of my mouth with sharp scissors (dentist); picked up some poison to drink (barium); and had strange things done to my leg arteries (Doppler).  It was a hell of a day...and I still have to go back for the CT scan & chest x-ray tomorrow and see Dr. Batin (the pulmonologist) on Thursday.

The GOOOOOOOOOOOD news, which reached home before I even did, is that I do not have any blood clots in my legs, according to the Doppler scan.  Yay!!

Ok.  

You are all now completely caught up, and no one (mother......) can accuse me of not keeping them updated, it just took me some time because I was too tired to type and kept passing out.  Minor detail.

Today, we get to take our beautiful puppy to the vet for her first exam.  She's had her first shots, so it's time for our well-puppy exam and scheduling her vaccines and spaying.

After that, it's resting time.  I desperately need some resting time, especially since the little one had me up at 6:30, and I went to bed after 1, when I finally put this thing down and gave up.  

I think it's time to wrap this multi-day post up and go zone out to some wildlife in Botswana for a while.

A virtual vacation....and WOW!

This is just a very short blurb to lead you all on an African Safari, thanks to Darcy.

http://www.facebook.com/ext/share.php?sid=76714921477&h=jlBBa&u=wt4_F&ref=mf

This is a live webcam pointed at a watering hole in Botswana called Pete's Pond.  A few minutes ago, Darcy and I just watched a young bull elephant get his evening drink and dirt-bath at the watering hole before crashing off through the brush.  It's evening there now, and from my experience yesterday, what you see and hear after dark is a lot of bugs flying around, lots of little birds wandering around the shoreline, and random splashes in the distance that your imagination goes wild on, thinking of what might be making the splashes!

I just wanted to share that with you.  If the link above doesn't work for some reason (something facebook-related, for example!), you can go to National Geographic.com and search in the video section for Pete's Pond, Mashatu Game Reserve, Botswana.  I found it very easily that way.

That's all for today.  Nothing much has changed since yesterday.

{The section above was written on Saturday.}

NOW, it's Sunday, and of course it's Easter.

With all thanks to my friend Alex for the verbiage (those of you who know Alex will understand, and those who don't will be deeply offended, sorry), I wish everyone a *very* happy Zombie Baby Jesus Day.

All is well and happy here--the sun is shining, it is warm and gorgeous outside, my doggies are happy (Pea and Stella did some serious playing this morning, and Pea was having a ball!), my children are happy with their little bit of Easter joy, since everyone is too old for the bunny now, my darling husband was happy with his Easter basket I made him as a surprise, Conner had a great time on his camping trip, my baby girl is sound asleep on a doggie bed, and all is well.  Ahhhhhh........................  :-)

Attack of the wild puppy!

Where have I been the last week, you wonder? Well, we got a puppy. That kind of explains everything, doesn't it?

Stella is FIFTEEN POUNDS of half purebred Border Collie and half purebred Lab, and is every bit as energetic AND intelligent as those two breeds would suggest.

Her Daddy, Jake, apparently commands hefty stud fees normally, but his visit to Abby when she was in heat was a surprise, shall we say. My gorgeous little girl and her siblings were the result, and I got what I wanted--a mixed breed dog, med-large size (we hope!), of two breeds at the top of our "good breeds" list.

Not that there are "bad breeds" of dog out there, don't get me wrong--I mean, I'd love to own an Akita, or a Siberian Husky, but they are on our bad list because they tend to be very territorial, one-family, and do not do well with visitors or young kids. We'd love to adopt a rescued Greyhound, but they tend to chase and eat cats. Those are traits we do not want in a dog--so that's how we made the "good" and "bad" list.

She is, of course, a handful and a half, if not more!! She's exploring everything, getting into everything, chewing on everything---oh, god, she just discovered the doorstop that goes BOINGGGG, and after twanging it twice, barked at it--but anyway, she is gorgeous enough, and smart enough to make up for all the usual puppy-ness. She actually understands "sit" and even "lay down" most of the time.

{I'm on the "morning shift" right now, meaning that after the 6 am potty run, I stay up and deal with the ball of energy. Luckily, the house is big enough because she is small enough to provide ample space to run! Anyway, I take the morning and let Lloyd sleep in, and then I get a good nap in the afternoon in return. Today will be just a little different; I'll have her most of the day by myself while he takes Anna to Kaiser for her final Gardasil shot....Trevor will be here though, maybe I'll make him take a turn!}

She's actually so smart so much of the time that it surprises me when she gets in trouble. We've designated the kitchen and dining/family room has her play zone (supervised, of course) and I've got gates across so she can't get anywhere else. She still finds things....dishtowels are the latest "prize" but I'm learning to ignore it until she starts to get bored of it and then take it away with a firm "NO" of disapproval.

The Bible right now is "Puppies for Dummies." Laugh if you will, but the woman who wrote it seems to really know her stuff. Everything she's said to do really works. I'm reading and re-reading and sticky-note-ing and writing things down on index cards... I am so determined to do this right, after my experience with Dildo the Golden Retarded and having just read "Marley & Me," I'll stand on my head if I have to.

The good news is, I bet I won't have to. For one thing, this experience is different, because I have a husband to do it WITH me, and two out of three kids who want to help train her. That changes the entire equation. Thank god! And, you can look into this dog's eyes and see the intelligence. When you get her eye to eye, and talk, she's really paying attention to what you say, and I am pretty sure she already knows her name, and is starting to associate basic words like "potty" and "NO!" (our current favorite).

By now, you're wondering what the rest of our household thinks of Stella.

Well, the birds couldn't care less. I'm not sure they've noticed. It's just one more thing that crawls around on the floor, right? Gracie is most amused. Something to torment!!!!! The other cats....NOT amused. They've been pretty brave overall. Oz just came out of Stella's playpen, where he was scoping things out. Oliver has come very close to her, while she was sleeping of course, to check things out, but they're not interested in putting up with her when she's mobile and wanting to play with them. That's all she wants, is to play with someone.

Pea has behaved almost exactly as we expected. This is "her" puppy. She doesn't "fuss" over Stella, grooming her, as much as she did with Laci, the puppy we babysat for 2 weeks a couple of years ago. But she plays with her, to a degree, and lets Stella know, in a Mommy-dog kind of way, when it's gone too far. She's made sure Stella knows that SHE is alpha, and Stella always rolls over to give Pea her belly and submit. Pea watches over her, and the two of them regularly lay on the soft doggie beds in front of the fire here in the "family room" I've created in the dining room.

{in this house, this room was supposed to be the family room, but we turned it into a dining room. After we painted, I turned the table around, installed a rocker by the fire and some doggie beds, and now we can use half the room for dining and half for just relaxing in the rocker and communing with doggies.}

Sparky is not amused. No, not amused at all. As long as puppy stays far away from him, he's fine. Life goes on as usual. But...when puppy notices him, and wants to play, which is her number one goal in life, he turns on her and she turns tail and runs like a smart dog. We have to watch her and and try to keep her from bugging him.

Overall, aside from me being sick (explanation in a minute), a new puppy wreaking havoc in the house, 3:30 am and 6ish am potty times, aka lack of sleep, and the fact that it's raining on Conner's camping trip, all is well. We are happy, if exhausted.

On the medical front, dun dun duh.... life is strange. I had another night like I've had twice before now (I think twice). It was sort of like the night before I had to go to the cancer center in emergency mode, after I'd missed all my pills for a day. But this time, I hadn't missed all my pills, at all. And, I hadn't felt like I was getting a cold or flu, like I did that time. This time, I went to bed a totally normal person, and woke up somewhere after 1am with massive diarrhea and chills so severe that I knew I had a fever. Took temp, and yes, it was quite a significant fever, and no, I'm not going to tell any of you what it was.

Repeat that scenario several times, with my fever decreasing a little each time, and that's what my night was like. In some of the later wake-up times, I started noticing that my lungs hurt. A lot, almost like pneumonia. Eventually, I got something of a cough, but not often. And a headache to end all headaches.............you know, the "hit by a truck" kind.

I spent a large part of the day in bed, trying to recover, headache, still dizzy, very shaky all over, seeing double, not able to walk straight, and utterly exhausted, until the time came where Lloyd had to cover for me on driving Anna and her friends to the movies for her much-belated birthday party. I set up the cake and utensils on the table for them, dragged Stella's playpen upstairs, and managed to fashion things so she was contained on my side of the bed and the bathroom so I could go back to bed. She's paper trained, thank god, and THANK YOU MARY, so I was able to crash out.

Eventually, my fever went down to 99.2, which is within the no biggie range. Today, I'm 99.5. My lungs still hurt like hell when I breathe, REALLY hurt when I breathe deep, but don't feel congested at all. I'm still headachy, still kind of dizzy and shaky, but otherwise doing alright. The diarrhea is an entirely separate issue. I saw Andy on Tuesday and he set me up with 4 separate sets of stool sample/culture kits, which is just a JOY, I tell you. But, at least Andy is being exceptionally proactive, as usual, testing me for parasites, a specific bacterial problem, and some other stuff I don't remember, so he can hopefully rule all of them out, and diagnose me with post-radiation colitis, which he can then treat.

And yes, Andy needs to know about this last incident. He knows about the previous, but not in great detail, because I went to the cancer center for treatment, since it was a weekday and therefore I was going to the cancer center ANYway! This one was just bizarre...but that's what Andy's good at. I've tried doing some research myself, and I can't figure out for the life of me anything it could be. He has a magic little handheld device that can figure out anything, apparently. The irony is that I just saw him Tuesday, when we started addressing my massive diarrhea problems, but this hadn't happened yet, and I was honestly too sick to call him yesterday. So, since he's not in the office today, I'm going to write him up a very detailed description of everything that's gone on, and fax it over to him. He loves figuring out difficult problems, so this one should be a kick for him, right?? Lungs and an astronomical fever. Hmm.

Ahh, my little blog entry for the day has taken me almost 5 hours to write! thanks to the obvious interruptions of puppy, illness, and a DH in a really horrible mood. So, I think I'll close now and get back to my puppysitting. God only knows when or if I'll get a shower today, but that's ok. Trevor's the only here to see me, and he doesn't care what I look like.