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. 

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....

The View from the Hermitage, Day 251

I cleared a wee bit of a flowerbed and repotted some shoots I'd rooted, and my back is telling me that enough is enough. There's a heating pad and book on the couch with my name on them. Tomorrow, I'll see about writing before I do something I shouldn't.