The Universe Is Kind of a Dick ...

 

... or so says the sock that went back on my left foot after I took this photo. It's been a rough year so far and an even rougher week. Spouse had a double bypass on January 2 and has learned that he is looking at a future hip replacement and repair of a torn rotator cuff. My back pain just keeps on keeping on, but more on that later.

This week we said good-bye to a family member for the past seven years, our rescue dog Lassa. She was at the local SPCA as a stray, but it's more likely that she was dumped by someone I hope I never meet. The SPCA estimated her age as six, so we knew she was getting on in years. She'd been having breathing

issues and tiring easily for a while, and the breathing issues Wednesday were particularly bad. Older Son and I took her to an emergency vet appointment. They sedated and intubated her to get an x-ray. We knew that she had a growth on her spleen, and it appeared that it had grown significantly and was likely to be pressing on both her lungs and stomach. In addition, some tubes in her throat had stiffened, making it hard for her to breathe even if there had been no pressure on her lungs. Spouse joined us, and we made the decision to let her go. We gathered around her and wished her well as the vet administered to final drug. I was so glad that she had already been sedated. I don't think I could have looked into her eyes as the sedative was administered. Instead, she appeared just to be sleeping. Needless to say, I was bawling.

I have taken her death particularly hard. During the last few months, as medical issues have added up, she's been my go-to friend. Petting her and looking into her brown eyes helped me relax. Our other dogs were pretty much family dogs. They treated all of us pretty much the same. Lassa, though, preferred me. She liked Older Son, who would run with her, but he pointed out that her yips of greeting were louder for me than for him or anyone else. Especially during the pandemic, I was always at home with her. I still go up to bed each night expecting to see her on the bed. She would put herself to bed an hour or so before Spouse and I would come up. So many other times I turn, expecting her to be there, and she isn't. I commented about her death in regard to one of Gene Weingarten's Substack posts, and another person replied with what I think is how I view Lassa even though we only had her for a bit more than half of her life: "I loved you for your whole life and I'll miss you for the rest of mine."

This morning I had a pulmonary function test in consideration of whether I will merit a referral to the long COVID clinic. On those results alone, I probably would not be referred; I expect I came through as very normal. I'll see the formal results in a day or two. Wednesday holds the big appointment and may determine the course of our summer. My back pain has been growing worse. Over-the-counter drugs don't seem to be doing very much any more. Last week I had a second episode of urinary incontinence and suffered a fall pretty much caused by my back. When I emailed the doctor who has been coordinating my back care about those, he told me to send a copy to the spine surgeon I've seen and was supposed to see again in June, and, should there be a third episode of incontinence to go to the Emergency Room. I did as the doctor ordered and send the surgeon a message. I was worked into Wednesday's schedule with a note that the Pain Management procedure scheduled for Thursday may or may not take place. The admonition to go to the ER should incontinence strike was repeated. 

The pain in my back has worsened to the point at which I wonder if heading off to Europe for 18 days is a good idea. What if the pesky third bout of incontinence strikes somewhere in between Amsterdam and Budapest, while we are stopping in different towns throughout the 15-day cruise? About that ER visit? The surgeon previously described my back as "unstable." Does the stronger pain mean that it's unstabled itself into a worse position? We do have trip insurance, so if he tells me that medically, I should not go, we're covered cost-wise. Spouse says he doesn't really care when we go, though the original idea was for it to happen soon after his retirement as a celebration. I can't help but think we postpone the trip for my back surgery, then again for Spouse's shoulder surgery, followed one time more by his hip replacement. The universe might turn out to be a big kind of dick. 

And so, we wait. News at 11:00. 

Marching On

So it's been two months since I last posted. I knew it had been a while, but didn't think it had been that long. I've had better two-month periods, but I guess I've also had worse. One thing I've found that usually helps me put things in perspective is my collection of meaningful (to me, at least) posts from the Thoughts of Dog calendar I get every year for Christmas. I guarantee that these are more profound and meaningful than anything I could come up with today.

the small neighbor human came over today. with an early gift for me. it was a little box. and inside was a little pebble. they said the picked it up. the first time they ever went on a walk with me. i'm not sure if i've mentioned this before. but i would do anything for the small neighbor human.

gooooob morning. I have a feeling today will be a good day. and if it's not. well that's alright too. because there's always tomorrow. and there's always peanut butter.

there is a pattern. amongst humans. to think too much about yesterday. or tomorrow. and not enough about today. today is happening now. it would be foolish to miss it.

sometimes. when i can't fall asleep. i'll pull my stuffed fren sebastian closer. and think about all the wondrous landscapes. i've yet to zoom across.

my stuffed fren sebastian. wanted me to remind you. you are doing great. and you have to trust him. he knows everything. 

 I encourage you. to find the positive in a situation. as well as i can find. a lone beam of sunlight. passing through the household.

the human is jealous of me. they believe i am simple. with simple thoughts. and little to worry about. but if they would take a deep breath. and let the sunlight hit them. without critique. or question. they too would find. little to worry about. 

The last one in the list was the page for yesterday and today. Timing is everything, I guess. When even my watch (a Garmin Forerunner) is telling me I'm stressing too much, I probably am. Re-reading these was a good thing.

As for stress, tomorrow's medical appointment is with the Pain Management clinic. The spinal epidural steroid injection I had six or seven weeks ago worked great. Until it didn't, which was about three weeks after. I reveled in walking without pain. It. Felt. Great. I guess I'll hear tomorrow what other options, if any, I might have. On Friday, I have my every-six-months appointment in Dermatology. On my fall appointment, they found a basal cell carcinoma on the top of my head, resulting in a shaved spot about two inches by three inches. With the hair there having grown about an inch long, I'm heading back to my stylist next week to get at least the rest of my mop trimmed. I really hope they don't come across another on my head this time. Fingers crossed.

 

 

 

Are We There Yet?

In my last post of 2024, I expressed hope that 2025 would, on the whole, be better than 2024 had been. So far, so good at least on the personal level. Spouse had a double cardiac bypass on January 2, and his recovery is proceeding as it should. He is more of a Type A person than he would like to admit, so I occasionally have to remind him that there are things he should not do yet or that it's okay to want to take a nap. The literature he was given about the bypass says that the need for napping or extra rest may last for six to eight weeks. I tell Spouse that he's livin' the dream, napping with impunity.  

My medical travails continue. I will spare you the photo of the top of my head nine days out from removal of a basal cell carcinoma. It looks a lot better now than it did last weekend. In fact, I'm out in public right now without a head or incision covering for the first time. It's not really that noticeable unless someone is taller than I am or standing behind me while I'm sitting.The past week belonged to the dentist, while the coming week belongs to the orthopedic surgeon. I still struggle with the idea of surgery, but am willing to hear what it might entail. 

I'm sitting in the lobby of one of the local libraries. One of Spouse's retired colleagues died recently, and the memorial service is this afternoon. Since Spouse won't be cleared to drive for at least two more weeks, I'm his designated driver. The physicist who passed was 83. One of my friends who will turn 89 in March just transferred from a hospital to a rehab center. She texted the usual "growing old is not for sissies" when she let friends know that she was in the hospital. When do you decide you are old or growing in that direction? While aging was part of the cause of Spouse's cardiac difficulties, it's not really behind any of my medical maladies. I feel the passage of time when for example, I think of something in the past and realize how many years ago it happened.  Do I need a medical condition that resulted from my age to make me feel as if I were growing old? I am certainly in worse physical shape and more fatigued than I was even ten years ago, much of that can be attributed to the long COVID.

I end now before my fingers start typing something about our current political situation here in the US. It's not good, and it will take years, or even decades, to recover if in fact we ever do. And on that cheery note, 2025 probably will be worse than 2024 after all.

Here's Hoping...

...that 2025 can be better all around than 2024 was. I feel as if I survived 2024 rather than lived it. The last month has been particularly hard. I lose it almost daily, resorting to angry tears and feelings of being totally incompetent and/or useless. That's gotta change starting tomorrow (that's what she said). Yes, I already had a short cry today, over one not-so-big thing that happened as I tried to make sourdough bread for the first time. Younger son has a way of gifting me things that push me a bit out of my comfort zone. That can be a good thing; other times, not. One year, he gifted me a marijuana plant, a gift followed soon thereafter by seeds and fertilizers to start my own plants. This year, he gave me a sourdough starter. The bread made from it is on a second rise atop the range. The Dutch oven in which it will be baked is preheating with the oven. If it all comes together or totally falls apart before I finish this post, I'll provide an update.

I have been pondering New Year's resolutions. I make them yearly and sometimes manage to fulfill them. This year, I gave myself a small spiral notebook with the title "New Year's resolutions and other short-lived ideas." As with other notebooks and journals, how long it stays functional is a big unknown. So far, I have entered my resolution for 2025 on the first page. It is guidance a very good friend sent me from a blog or source noted as Sweatpants And Coffee. She knew I needed it. I printed the graphic and taped it on the first page of that notebook. I don't want to risk copyright infringement by inserting the graphic as I received it, but I'll share the text here.

When life is hectic and you are overwhelmed, and your brain is like a squirrel darting across a busy street, remember that all you ever have to do at any given moment is the next thing. You can manage that. Also, you should drink some water.

This seems like a good resolution given how overwhelmed I have felt lately. It also highlights something I have wanted to work on for a long time: focus on the thing I am doing and not let worrying about other things distract me. The fact that I have wanted to work on this for some time should speak to how hard it is for me, given Type A personality and, most likely, ADHD. I'm hoping that just trying to get through life one thing at a time will help relieve some of the anxiety I'm trying not to feel right now.

Spouse's bypass surgery remains scheduled for the day after tomorrow. I may very well be more nervous about this than he is. He asked why that might be so, to which I answered that if something goes wrong such as he dies, well, he's dead, while I would have to keep on muddling through the rest of my life without the person with whom I've shared 40 years. The "in sickness and in health" part of the marriage vows? Yeah, this is it. He's also been relying on me to remember surgery details he needs to take care of--special mouthwash, what medications to stop when, special soap--giving me just one more area in which I can feel incompetent and/or useless. 

Here's the whole-wheat sourdough bread. I won't taste it until it cools, but it does look like bread.

Weak Ends?

This past week was not a good one. The spouse's bypass was pushed back a week, to January 2, giving us one more week in which to feel nervous, even scared. I had asked Spouse if he wanted to scale back on Christmas things--fewer cards, for example. He wants this to be as normal a Christmas as possible. He did put the artificial tree together, but I ended doing all the decorating as he snored on the coach. He fell asleep while watching a program on Nazi death camps; I was afraid turning it off or changing the channel might wake him. Needless to say, I had some resentful moments when I wasn't enjoying the memories brought back by the various ornaments. The glitter-covered mink skull from my biologist cousin, for example, or some of the ornaments I made with Older Son, then two, while in the Netherlands and pregnant with Younger Son. Resentment aside, the tree looks great especially with the addition of Christmas Ape. I don't remember how many years ago it was that Older Son wanted a stuffed ape to top the tree. The ape was a two-way toy and could be turned inside out to be a stuffed globe. The zipper broke, giving a perfect slit in the back by which the ape could top the tree. The star that we used to put on top is now the ape's crown. 

The tree decorating is an example of the fine line Spouse and I have been walking. He wants to take care of me given my long COVID and back pain; I want to take things off his plate to keep things as low-key as possible given his upcoming surgery. We have stepped on each other's toes more than once doing this. I did raise the subject for a brief conversation. We're both trying to do better. 

I have made a start at Christmas cards and at wrapping the presents that were already here. Both activities wear me out thanks to the long COVID that is about to celebrate its second birthday. Some of the cards may arrive after Christmas. I just have to have them all sent before Spouse's surgery. I normally give local friends a holiday gift bag with homemade bread, small jams, and single-pot coffee samplers. One year I also included homemade granola. Last year, I also included homemade cookies. I went back and forth on doing them this year. I finally decided on just cookies. I just didn't remember that I have a bad back, and standing up and moving around the kitchen for much of the day only made bad worse. At least I wasn't standing and kneading bread. 

I had a follow-up with the doctor treating my back. He is not happy with how weak my hips are. I've started to add some hip things to the physical therapy exercises I do most mornings. I've also added some balance exercises since I lose mine easily when as tired as I am most days. While my first pain management test did nothing, the doc has referred me for another specific one. It's similar to the epidural I had while delivering Older Son. He also suggested that, despite how much I have spoken out about not wanting surgery, I see a surgeon for an info visit. He recommended someone he said viewed surgery as a last resort and could give me information I might need if the pain management treatments continue to be fruitless. While I can control most of the pain with over-the-counter nsaids, the amount I need to take is well over the "more than this is not good" dosage. Two doctors have told me I am risking going past the stage 2 chronic kidney disease I managed to develop, possibly from the nsaid doses I have taken over the years for shoulder and knee issues. 

While typing the first paragraph, I opened Amazon Music and started to play Josh Groban's Noel album. It's helping me feel the Christmas spirit a bit more. I need to remember that in the days to come. I want to feel Christmas more than the concern bordering on fear over Spouse's health not to mention my own. All will be well....

On Being Memorable

Spouse and I went to a memorial service yesterday. The person being remembered, Bob, was the father of a very good friend. We had met him and played games such as Cards against Humanity and Florida Man with him. We loved seeing him deliver an answer that made his daughter blush. She didn't know he had it in him. He was a memorable man on both the personal and the career levels. Speakers at the service included each of his four children, one of his grandchildren, and various friends from both of those personal and career worlds. Memories of various people who could not attend in personal were read. As people talked, images of him in various years and places played on a screen on the stage.

As the speakers delivered their assorted memories or even goodbyes, I found myself wondering what would happen with my death. I have no idea if Bob wanted a funeral or memorial service. My father did not want any sort of funeral or memorial service. He'd even written his own obituary, in which he lied but that's material for another post some day. His widow, my stepmother, held a memorial service anyway, as a way for his friends and neighbors to say goodbye. My mother wanted no acknowledgement of her passing, but I wrote a (factual) obituary that ran for one day in the local paper. I haven't been haunted by Mom's ghost, so I figure the obit was okay with her. 

Spouse and I have left no guidance for how our sons handle our deaths. What they do is up to them. We have pre-paid cremation plans to make things easier for them. My mother had done this and it made things so much easier for me. We have not reserved space in a columbarium or mausoleum for our cremains. I keep my mother's ashes under a table in my living room. The cremains themselves are in a wooden urn which sits in the fancy white box the funeral and cremation service provided. My brother and I along with our stepmother took Dad's ashes to Montana and anonymously--and possibly illegally now that I think about it--scattered them at one of his favorite duck hunting spots. Spouse and I can decide how to handle each other's cremains or the kids can do it for both of us. 

If the kids were to have a memorial service, would people come or send in memories of each of us or either of us? I expect that more people would come or contribute to Spouse's service than would to mine. He, after all, has had a career, something I never really had. People would acknowledge his passing on both a personal and professional level. And what memories worth sharing would people have of me? I can think of some noteworthy things I have done or have happened to me, but in many cases only a couple of people know what happened. The time I told a police officer that I wanted him to charge me with a driving offense? When I got four stitches in my chin by an animal doctor rather than one who treats humans, stitches removed by someone trained as a vet tech? Maybe I should write my own obituary and mention those. The idea intrigues me. I'll let you know if I really get around to writing my own obituary; I promise I tell the truth, possibly not the whole truth but nothing but the truth.

Matters of the Heart

Spouse and I met with a cardiac surgeon the day before yesterday. We came out of a two-hour meeting with Spouse set for a double, possibly triple, bypass on December 26. We came home with a bag of supplies he can learn to use now along with a notebook of all the relevant info as well as various numbers to call with questions. It made me wonder about a similar appointment in which someone is told they have cancer. I'm assuming that one would not leave that meeting knowing exactly what is coming. While I have no idea how the bypass will go, there is a closure to the "data collection" phase. We assembled the information and suggestions and made a decision. 

I am now trying to convince myself that I can get Spouse, and myself, through all this. I am making lists, some mental and others on paper. I have started freezing meals; I made more spaghetti than usual last night, and now have two meals in the freezer. We typically get take-out on Fridays; tomorrow, I will order an extra entree or two to pop into the freezer. I expressed concern to the kids that Spouse might have a hard time getting into and out of the back seat of my Honda Element. It looks as if we will temporarily trade Spouse's pick-up for a Mazda our younger son does not use that often. Since said son and daughter-in-law are slowly moving things into their new house, the pick-up will be useful. We can evaluate the Element and the Mazda and see which is better for Spouse. He'll be riding in the back seat for a while, to avoid what would happen should an airbag hit him in the chest. 

I went to the pain management clinic yesterday. They did some injections in my lower back and sent me home with a log in which I report my pain level over two days. Sad to say, I haven't really noticed a decrease in pain. I go back in two weeks for another such test. If nothing they try helps, I shall move on to other possibilities. My brother told me I was handling this much more calmly than he expected. I told him that I have pain. I at least know what it's from. I also know some things I can do to help it hurt less or at least not hurt more. I try not to sleep on my back, for example. That makes the pain much more severe to the point that I cannot walk without using some form of help. No help? Hello, floor! Whatever calm there is comes from knowing that there's nothing I can do on my own to make things better. I also know that I did not to whatever caused this. My back did not start hurting because I asked someone to hold my beer. 

We are not putting up the porch Christmas lights this year. I normally give friends what I call "breakfast in a bag," bags with a loaf of homemade bread, small jars of jam, small (single-pot) bags of coffee, and something else made by me. One year, that was granola; last year, cookies. I don't have what it takes to do all that this year. For about 24 hours, I thought I would just do cookies this year. Honestly, I don't think I can handle that either. We will send out fewer Christmas cards, and I doubt there will be the newsy recap of the year. 2024 has been too rough a year here. The letter would likely report that seeing April's total solar eclipse with dear friends was the high point of the year, while the rest of the year in comparison sucked. Not the sort of letter I would enjoy getting from someone.