Tuesday, May 31, 2011

Memorial Day

This weekend was quite busy.  We never got to the movie theater.  We never played frisbie golf, not that I was in the mood for it anyway.  It was probably best that we were so busy.  We took some tomato soup to Ma on Sunday just as the dinner carts were rolling out and we'd just happened to time it perfectly.

On Monday morning, Memorial Day, we got a phone call mid-morning.  It was Ma and she was very upset because Tim had lost one of the dogs (Tim stays with her and they have 3 dachshunds)  We weren't clear if the dog was outside or inside when the dog was lost so we headed over to the house to help find it.

We were also debating why Tim would tell her such a thing when he hadn't looked yet.  That's something you keep to yourself until the dog is lost forever, especially when the person you're telling is in the hospital.  On the ten minuets drive over, I ranted and raved about how stupid all this was and that Ma really didn't need this right now.  If the dog was lost outside, anyone driving by could have picked it up, assuming it had been dumped to survive the dead grass fields.  How many miles might we have to cover if the dog was outside?

We arrived to the house to see all three little dogs inside their little fenced in areas.  Apparently, Tim had stepped in poop, hollered and threw a fit about it, and sent one dog running terrified.  The dog was found under a bed.  I called Ma to give her the great news.  She was coming home this day & I let her know the rest of the tomato soup was in the fridge.

Around 3pm I fell asleep and Shawn didn't wake me up until 4:15.  I was irritated about that.  And apparently, Ma had been home since 1pm, just no one bothered to let us know it.  This late afternoon on what I considered to be like a Sunday, we headed over to the house once more.  Ma is in very little pain and doing really well.  We discussed all sorts of things and once, by ourselves--God help me--we got into that old religious discussion again.

I explained to her what I'd heard on a Joyce Meyer CD.  She listed all the Christian religions, the number of sub-religions and said this was all a result of arguing.  But she also said, if you believe this or not that, Hey--that's OK.  We don't have to argue about it.  We can still along!  Ma is agnostic and I still don't really know what that means but we can usually agree to disagree in a friendly manner.

At bedtime I was wide awake from my late nap.  I finally decided to take the top sheet off Prissy's bed.  She had leaked a small amount of poo on it and I can't say I haven't taken it off yet.  As I straightened out the cover (they both always liked to burrow) I cried silently but so hard that I had more snot come out of my face than tears.  Shawn, well across the house never heard me.  I arranged the cover until it was perfect with not a single wrinkle in it.  Lucy, finishing up her dinner hopped into her own bed.  "You're gonna have to hold me up for a while," I told her.

Every day does get a little easier.  Lucy is eating more, but still looks back at me when we go outside.  She's always checking to make sure I am there and perks her ears up wide when the cat creaks through the dog door.  I'm still quite nauseous but food is beginning to taste better.  It may seem silly to become so depressed over a dog.  Just consider it as something I loved deeply.

I didn't sleep much last night and I'm regretting that I let myself fall asleep so late in the afternoon.  Today will be a hard one.  Maybe I'll start my Spanish lessons again.

Monday, May 30, 2011

Writing Doesn't Make Me Feel Better

Last night, even though I was not hungry, I ate half a box of cereal, hoping to get things moving down there.  It was very painful this morning.  I felt like I was being stabbed from the inside-out.  And yes, there was blood again, but only a tiny bit.  Here's to hoping that it's merely stress and a lack of fiber.  *clink*

I'm crying over the stupidest things.  Saturday I gave Lucy two small pieces of cat food and cried.  Sunday, I watched her poop and burst into tears.  Lucy did her thing and trotted off to smell every square inch of the yard.  Prissy always kicked up blades of grass with her hind legs.  Lucy didn't do that and so I cried.

Lucy always preferred Shawn's lap to mine.  His has a "pillow" that my lap wasn't designed with.  Prissy always stretched her body out against mine so that her entire back lay flush with the side of my leg and I'd scratch her belly.  We watched the second X-Men movie for the upteenth time and Lucy stayed in Shawn's lap.  So I cried.  I had no dog at my side.

The house seems quieter.  More empty.  I have no energy.  God, when am I going to feel better?  When am I going to reap my joy?  I think I've sowed enough tears for a thousand joys.

Sunday, May 29, 2011

The Door Is Open But There's No Sun Shine Shining Through

Today is Sunday.  This is the first day I have no woke up crying over the loss of what I considered to be a good friend and comfort.  I feel guilty, as though I am letting go of her.  As I write this though, the screen and the keys are becoming very blurry and tears are rolling down my face.

On Tuesday, I felt as though I would never feel better.  I felt like my whole world had been torn apart and I was forced to continue to function, to make a trip to the store, to go to work, to wash the dishes.

Lucy is quite helpful though.  Mom said is was very good that we had her now.  I understand what she meant finally.  I gave Lucy a long overdue bath yesterday.  I let her outside and she immediately dug up some cat poop and rolled her entire body around in it.

Lucy got a second bath.

She's acting differently.  She's won't let me out of her sight, not for a second.  She requires me to follow her outside.  If I won't go, she checks every 5 seconds to make sure I am standing at the kitchen window.  She follows me into the bathroom, even if I only need to change into my pajamas.  "I think she's realized Prissy is gone," Shawn said.

Both the moms told me to leave the bed there.  Ma suggested Prissy may visit me again and would want her own bed for however brief her visit may be.  Mom suggested Prissy's bed would be a great comfort to Lucy.  That's exactly why I left her toys where they were always kept.  I may not be to smell such a small indistinct scent, but Lucy may be able to.
 
Lucy also has been acting differently in another way.  Overnight she's seems to have become a complete clown, doing things that make me laugh out loud.  She's a total monkey!

Everyday it seems to get a tiny bit easier.  Everyday I seem to cry a little less.  But then I feel guilty for that.  I don't want to forget how Prissy made me laugh.  I cannot ever forget the night her stomach was blocked and I cried for two days in worry.  The hair on her belly never did quite grow back after the surgery.  I don't want to forget how she'd start to run on the kitchen floor, yet stay in one place, unable to get traction.

I have heard that in Heaven, you get whatever--whatever--your heart desires.  I desire, obviously my family, but I also desire my dog.  My heart is hurting.  I cannot imagine that my heart will have such an ache in Heaven and I hold onto the belief that I can at some later time, drag her around by that brown pillow as she latches on the other end by her teeth.

On Tuesday, one day after the start of all this crap, I checked the newspaper.  The daily Bible verse was from Psalm 126:5.... 

They that sow in tears shall reap in joy.
 

Emotional Blockage Part Four

I hate to get personal, but I figure everyone poops, but no one talks about it.  Forgive me if I seem to get graphic.  I have not been going because I had not been eating.  I did finally get the urge at work on Friday morning and it was very painful.  I figured it was simply because I hadn't been getting my fiber.

On the tissue was the unmistakable red hue of blood.  You think I mentioned this to anyone?  No, no, I don't think so.  I was really just hoping it was a lack of fiber and this little problem would just go away.  It felt like I was pushing out dried tree bark and I'm thinking that reason alone is the cause for the blood.

The pizza I ate Friday night moved quickly into Saturday morning. It was less painful and there was a bit of blood, not much at all.  It was more pink than red this time and I took that as a good sign.

Saturday was very busy.  My parents came over; Dad had not yet seen our new kitchen.  Shawn took our eldest nephew, Dylan to get his graduation present--about $200 in tools for his diesel mechanics classes.  Originally, we were going to offer to pay for a class but this way, Shawn could teach Dylan which tools were junk, which were worth the seemingly unreasonable price, and which one you could break in half and exchange for a new one.  It was a learning experience.

This weekend was a bit early as we have not recovered from the massive vet bill.  I was hoping to put this off for a little while but it just so happens there are many Memorial Day Weekend sales going on and it worked out well.  I wish we could have done more for Dylan, but I was also happy we are able to do what we could.  I dare not look at the checkbook though.  I have been under far too much stress for one week, I think.  I don't even know what we have.  What was once a large number, years of tucking away dollars has slowly dwindled.  It's hard to a natural born saver to spend money. 

We really wanted to stress to Dylan to not hesitate to ask for help if he needed it.  "Even if we didn't have any money, he could get some food out of our cabinet," I told Shawn.  "I don't want to see him go hungry."  Of course you're going to worry.  And it's not even my kid!  (Although is kind of like a little brother; more so than like a nephew)

At the hospital it was a great day!  Ma had that tube running down her sinus cavity to her stomach removed!  They would not take it out until she passed gas.  "Knowing your luck," I told her, "you'll fart in your sleep and no one will know!"

Dinner came while we were there and I happily watched her eat ice cream, broth, pudding.  She drank milk and apple juice!  She also requested tomato soup.  She said they had some for lunch but, "It ain't Campbell's!"  I promised I would stop by the store the next day and bring her a big bowl of tomato soup.

Emotional Blockage Part Three

Shawn finally, gratefully hopped into the shower and I settled at the computer to pay some bills that had to be paid, like right now.  Lucy sat in my lap the whole time.

Shawn was also the first to stay with Ma after her heart surgery so he'd learned a little something about how dreadfully cold the hospital can get over night.  Years ago, I learned to take a jacket with me if I had the choice and I have done so each day this week.

After Shawn left, I got myself into the shower.  Lucy came in and hung out on the bath mat until I lost it.  Without the distraction of my family, worry over Ma, bickering, bustling, and waiting, I had suddenly remembered my dog was gone.  I cried and cried and cried.  I talked aloud to God.  I told Him I was sorry I was angry at him for making us do this and I didn't understand why this had to be done this way.  I bawled and cried to God until my skin was wrinkled.

I didn't feel any better afterward.  I got to bed very late because I wanted to make sure Lucy had lap time with me before bed. When it came time for Lucy's late night treat, she spun a perfect circle and openly sneezed on my bare feet.  She's never done that!  As many times as she tried to imitate Prissy's ability to sneeze at will, Lucy could never do it.  I bent down, rubbed her ear and told her, "I needed that."

Shawn had a sleepless night.  Ma got a morphine drip around 10 pm and was doing really well after that.  She'd be in the middle of a sentence, hit the button, and gone!  Shawn said she would often wake up talking, like a Chatty Cathy.  I was glad to hear that.

At 4:25 am my body awoke with a jump, startled from slumber as the high pitched screaming emitted from my clock.  Lucy, much out of her character, clung to me.  Shawn came home at 5 am and told me about his night and hit the bed.  I set the alarm for 11:30 and later called his coworkers to let them know Shawn would be in for half a day.  As for me, I fell asleep the night before pretty quickly, despite having coffee at 7pm.  I may have slept many hours, but I slept hard.

Work was difficult.  It was easier at the hospital.  I felt stronger there.  It does take quite a bit of energy and effort to put up a happy face when you are miserable, but it seemed easier this time at the hospital.  My body was weak and tired.  Caffeine didn't help, it just made my hands shake.  Memories of my dog flooded my mind.

I could not get that image out of my head.  The light had not yet left her eyes and yet her little face was in a cross between relaxed and frozen.  I felt as though my heart was broken.  There was a hole in there, a hole in my very soul.  I remembered a brief conversation with Shawn on Tuesday night.

"What are we gonna do with her bed?" he asked.
"It's gonna stay right there!" I answered.
"Well, it can't stay there forever."
"Well, it can stay there for right now!"  Really?  Are you really asking me about Prissy's bed now?  Like his brothers, I often feel as though Shawn doesn't mean to be an asshole, stuff just comes out of his mouth.  And far as I was concerned, Prissy's bed would sit right where it is for as long as we have Lucy.  They often traded beds and there's no reason to put it away.  Stupid.

I dragged through the day with zero energy.  I sat at the break table and blankly stared at sale papers for Sears and Home Depot.  Jackie came in to fill her cup at the water cooler.  Here, you must understand that Jackie is renowned talker.  She simply must talk all the time.  As she filled her cup, I wallowed in my misery and weakness.  "I'm gonna split my vacation this year," she said.  "I'm gonna take one week in June, one week in August."  I said nothing.

Great.  Fine.  I don't care.  I really didn't.  Forgive me, but I've been in a big bubble of Me for a few days and I really could care less what people are laughing about, bitching about, talking about.  I don't care!  Most have been gracious to distance themselves from me and I walk around with glassy eyes.  Others say the most random blather about things I have no interest for.

Just as I was getting ready to shut down the air compressors, the boiler, Patty told me about the woman with the dog.  We have a laundromat next door and everyone has been telling me about this dog for months.  I knew better, I knew better, I knew better.  But I was afraid I may not get another chance to see this dog.

Liz described as the ugliest dog alive, but cute in its own way.  It was born deformed with teeth pointed in all directions and so long the poor thing can't close his mouth.  His tongue just hangs out and flaps in the wind, his eyes bulge outward.  Liz told me the woman feeds the dog baby food by spoon because he cannot chew due his teeth being so odd.  And she never puts him down, never leaves him at home.

I entered the laundromat and told the woman that everyone is telling me I just had to see her dog.  She smiled proudly and turned so I could get a good look.  He was adorable!  Of course we got to talking.  I told her about our loss.  She offered sympathy.  She told me about her "special needs" dog and I told her about our Lucy.  Lucy is similar in that she's so ugly she's just cute and once you find out she's slightly retarded, you can't help but love her.

I made my grocery trip as quick as I could.  I brought the cooler and stored the ice blocks in the freezer at work so I could hit the hospital without making two trips to Wal-Mart.  I promised Ma I would pick up some magazines.

I found myself on my knees on the floor in front of a section of Thank You cards.  I sat on my legs with my butt rested on my feet and cried silently as I tried to find just the right one.

I found one with a photo of a dog with a stick in his mouth.  It read, "All the kind things you do.....will come right back to you".  Perfect.  I finished my grocery shopping trying really, really hard not to bawl as I did so.  Stifling a good cry hurts so much worse.  If you ask me, I think it's what causes many types of cancers.  It just cannot be good for your insides.

I packed the cold foods into my cooler and headed to the hospital.  Ma looked so much better.  Her face was pink again instead of an ashen gray.  I must have stayed two hours, at least.  All my sadness was forgotten, gone to another place.  I told Ma about how I myself have often been doing twelve things and to have to pause to eat seems like just another chore.  I often slam something down without chewing halfway and it often--for most of us anyway-- gets stuck right here and I rubbed the center of my chest.  I tried to play it off like this was really no big deal and even Kelley admitted to doing the same thing I've done.

On Friday, work was about the same as Thursday.  My body was drained, exhausted and I wish I was anywhere but at work.  The previous night was the first night I could really sleep and I closed my eyes around 9:30.  At exactly 3:17 am the carbon monoxide detector chirped, alerting me that the batteries were low.  I cannot understand why the batteries get low in that thing during the most ungodly of hours--every single time.

I refused to get out of bed and simply allowed myself to wake up every half hour to that high pitched obstruction.  After work, my first stop was to the vet and I had meticulously written the note in the card the night before.  I'd written:
God put us humans in charge of the animals and I’ve been struggling with why we had to decide for ours to live or die.  For me, I could not bear to hear her cry in pain and Shawn described it as choosing between selfishness and guilt.    I know it will take time to heal and in the meantime I can focus on how to prevent back troubles with our other dog, Lucy.  Your personal note meant a lot to us and right now a little encouragement goes a very long way.  We do not have children but we love our pets just the same without going into that area of weirdness  :-D  I want to thank you for making the process as easy and gentle as you could.  I watched Prissy’s face and I know she felt no pain.  Thank you
Unfortunately, Dr. Gage was at the front desk as I walked in.  Just seeing her made my eyes well up and she hugged me, told me she knew it was hard.  I gave a receptionist a tube of the intestinal lubricant, explained that I had only used four doses and I was hoping someone else could use it.  She told me she took it off my account and I'd have a credit of $13.60.  That was really sweet.  I wasn't looking for a refund, I was just to help someone but since the seal is broken, they'll probably use it in the kennels. 

I also found out that Lucy's estimated age is now nine.  That took me by surprise a little, I was hoping she was a little younger.

At the hospital in the early evening, I ate decently for the first time.  Shawn had gotten a pizza at lunchtime and left half of it behind.  I greedily ate three pieces, nicely distraction by the hospital setting and my family members.  I was also praying it wasn't going to mess with my stomach.

Saturday, May 28, 2011

Emotional Bloackage Part Two

Early Wednesday morning, I explained to my boss, Allan what was going on and that I may or may not need to leave later.  "Well....When it rains, it pours, huh?" he said.

I really don't think Allan mean to say stupid things on purpose.  I know, you're probably thinking what I was.  Having my beloved dog dying and Ma being the in the hospital with God knows what isn't easily compared to unexpected bills and flat tires.  I think Allan was unsure of what to say at the moment and that is just what came out of his mouth.

The cigarette store closed at 6pm so as soon as Ma was rolled into surgery, Shawn headed home to drop off his truck; I picked up cigarettes and nicotine gum.  I was first into the house and a wild bird was fluttering into every three dimensional object int he living.  Shawn's albino cockatiel, LuLu was in a great panic and the floor beneath her cage was covered in her own feathers because of it.

"Um," I began as Shawn entered the front door, "we have a slight problem."  Maybe the bird got in the day before when I let Lucy out and was just really quiet all night and this morning.  I didn't even try to analyze it.  Miraculously, the bird flew into the kitchen and Shawn closed the kitchen doors, opened the back door and it flew out.  Weird.

I packed a cooler with sodas and ice packs so we wouldn't all be spending our paychecks at the vending machines.  Once we arrived back at the waiting area, none of our family was to be found!  "This is how it's gone for me ALL day!" Shawn said.  We found our family in a private room with a doctor.

"Do you want to tell them, or should I?" the doctor asked our siblings.  "You're not gonna believe this!"  The doctor went on to explain that they cut open several inches into Ma's intestine and found THREE whole, unchewed dehydrated apricot pieces.  They had to pry them out, sewed up the incision and were pretty much astonished from there.  All day I had prayed it was something silly like bad chicken salad, but I would not have ever guessed this.

Everyone walked outside to scatter into the parking lot for a smoke.  I was several feet from Bob when he said--what I thought I heard him say--"No one tell her it was apricots; let her come up with her own thing."  Tim sat on a bench as the others filed out.  Earlier, Shawn mentioned to me that we should chat a little extra with Tim because, "He's the only one of us that doesn't has anyone.  He comes off as a hard ass, but I don't he is as much he likes everyone to think so."  I told Shawn that I didn't exactly expect Tim to open up to me or anything but I saw an opportunity on the bench.

I simply sat on the bench and asked how he was doing.  Bob had been carrying a McDonald's sack like a piece of luggage and I mucnhed on cold, rubbery french fries.  A beady eyed bird practically came right up to me so I threw him a fry.  The bird greedily snatched it up and we laughed.  "There's something wrong about that," I chuckled.

That's about the tall & skinny of bonding with Tim.

Sheila nagged me to call our own mother as she had been concerned as well, even called a few asking for prayer.  Sheila had the last to call Mom and she probed Sheila if I had smoked.  "No, she's just chewing her gum," Sheila told her.  Oh, for all outside parties reading this, Sheila is my sister and she married Shawn's brother, Bob.

Everyone had gone inside except for Shawn who lingered in the parking lot.  I found a bench and called my mom, told her the great news.  Wrapping up the conversation, Shawn found me & sat down.  I mentioned something to Mom about the apricots and Shawn made a "tsk" sound and gave me the most hurtful, hateful look one can imagine.  "What?" I asked.  "NOTHING!!!!!" he said and walked off.  I followed, the phone still in hand.  "What?  What did I do?  I don't know if you don't tell me!" I hollered.

"Bob said not to tell ANYBODY about the apricots and you told HER about the APRICOTS!!!!"
"I thought he meant it as joke, like let her come up with whats he thought it was," I said.  I was baffled by all this and suddenly, hurt and very angry.  I called Mom back, told her not to tell a single soul about the apricots and that I had to go.

I found the others in a secluded spot in an otherwise empty room.  They were all alughing  "Can anyone tell me why Shawn is so pissed at me?" I asked, my hands shaking with anger.  I told them briefly about outside.  "I told you not so say anything!" Bob said.
Laughing, Kelly said, "I already slipped and told Dustin!"  (Dustin is her eldest son)
"I thought that was a joke, I didn't understand!" I said.
"You were right there!  I told you!" Bob said.  He wasn't angry but he seemed like he didn't understand why I didn't understand.
"I really don't see what the big deal is," I stammered.
"Because we don't want (pointing his finger) OH!  Apricot lady!" Bob exclaimed.
As if all this was going to be blasted on the evening news. 
This back and forth went on for a minuet and I eventually said, "I'm not saying shit to him, not to anyone!"

I had left my purse on the floor and went to the bathroom where I fought tears and punching a tile wall.  I really did not understand what the big deal was or why Shawn was so hurtful toward me--as if I really need that right now!  I was happy to hear apricots!  It wasn't colon cancer, it wasn't a twisted intestine--this was good news!

After several minuets, I returned, scooped up my purse and disappeared.  I found a bench outside near a fountain and hoped no one would find me.  I did not care.  Shawn hurt me and I wanted to be alone.  I stared at the birds playing in the water and cried.  Really, after everything that's happened in the last three days!
I pushed my face into a Reader's Digest that I'd had stuffed in my purse.  I sensed someone walking up behind me. 
As with all conversations that I've typed out, I don't remember all the details of this one.  Shawn sat down and s aid he was sorry.  I loudly came at him with everything I was feeling.  "Well I'm sorry if I made a mistake.  I guess I misheard Bob, I misunderstood and I really don't see what the big deal is!  I made a mistake!  I really don't need this shit from you right now!"

Shawn asked if we could just put this behind us and I told him that I could not just turn it off like a light switch.  We returned inside and I was still burning with anger.  I made to sure to sit in a single chair and bury myself in my magazine.   Sheila later told me that before Shawn found me on the bench, someone told him, "You'd better go make up before you're on the couch tonight!"  And that's all that was said to him.

Kelley returned with her eldest daughter, Ali and her new boyfriend, Cody.  Why on earth she did this, I cannot say.  We could be hear till midnight, waiting for Ma to come out of recovery.  And now we have this other family's boy to look after?  It once took Bob five hours to come out of anesthesia, so who knew how long we might be here!

Shawn was telling about how his cell phone takes pocket pictures.  The camera often goes off by itself in his pocket.  He made a joke about how he's got nothing but photos of testicles in his phone and it's like some mess up porn.  Actually, he's got about 78 pictures of just dark--because it's in his pocket, not his underwear and there's not a shred of light.  Shawn had an audience and he was on.

"Well that wouldn't work," Ali chuckled.  Tim started in on Ali about how she'd better not know anything about porn, if he finds out, blah, blah, blah.  He went on for six days.  Ali just looked at her hands and said nothing; I swooped in for the rescue. 

"She didn't even say anything about that!" I quickly entered in.  Then is all on me.  "Oh what are you, Miss Grahm?"
"Miss Grahm?  What are you even talking about?" I asked, confused once again.
"What is it...Jean Grahm or something, Billy Grahm's daughter, trying to save the world!" Time answered.
"I'm not trying to save the world, it was all just a joke, leave it alone!"

I later explained to Ali that Bob once made fun of my teeth until I was crying my eyes out.  At the time, I thought he was trying to hurt me.  I was fourteen, for Pete's sake.  I also told her that those two tend to take something, a joke, a picking on, and let it run on for days.  They don't mean to be hurtful, they just don't know when the joke has run its course.  I saw her face.  I know that feeling quite well.

The family name blasted over the speakers just at the right time before this little stupidness between me & Tim became something more than stupid vs stupid.  And it can happen in a nano second, I assure you.

Once on the fifth floor we crowded together in a private room and Ma seemed to be doing just fine.  Kelly asked which one of us was going to stay the night and when no one volunteered, Shawn stepped up. I knew Bob had been awake for over 24 hours and could not.  I wasn't sure why he still stood at all.

I was actually glad Shawn volunteered, "Because no one else was gonna step up," as he put it.  I needed to distance myself a bit.  I was less angry, but I was still angry he would treat me with such hurt after what we had been through together, only a couple of days ago.  That hurt from Monday had not left.  It was merely set aside for the moment.

Friday, May 27, 2011

Emotional Blockage Part One

For purposes that you understand who I am talking about, my mother is referred to as "Mom" and Shawn's mother will be referred to as "Ma".  This title came about as a result of Ma's house becoming the hub for all area teenagers when Shawn was in Louisiana.  Early on, she told me to call her this, as everyone else did, and I always have except where it might confuse people.


I went on to work and Shawn went to catch his eldest brother, Tim before he went to work.  Shawn called me occasionally on my cell with bad information.  I don't mean just bad news, but more along the lines of misinformation confused by emotions.  Kidney disease, cirrhosis of the liver, a possible heart attack....  It was like Shawn was the last man in a game of telephone and this is where my information was being fed from.

When Dad was in with his weird, brain thing that only 100 people out of 7 billion have had (at least since medical science has advanced) I learned to take everything with a grain of salt.  I really don't understand that phrase but for me, on Wednesday, it meant don't take anything too seriously, at least if it came from a doctor's mouth.  Or Shawn's mouth, for that matter.

With Dad, they told us it looks like brain cancer, it looks like an aneurysm, it looks like every possible worse thing you can imagine that would possibly kill your daddy.  In the end, it would have been much better and easier on everyone if the folks in the lab coats would have just said, "We don't know what it is."  And so was the case now. 

Every possibility made Shawn an even bigger wreck.  Down in the room within the emergency room, we clustered together and hugged the walls as nurses bustled back and forth, getting ready to send Ma to the floor where she'd await surgery.  The CAT scan was no good.  The area of her stomach was so swollen that nothing could be seen clearly.  The EKG read oddly and the cardiologist arrived to tell us that he was pretty confident the EKG was picking up noises going on the stomach and wasn't concerned at all about it.  Ma made jokes with every nurse and doctor and her humor was appreciated.  "It usually isn't," she replied to the cardiologist after he told her so.  Laughter followed.

While waiting to change floors, rooms, and scenery, the typical family silliness continued.  Bob and Tim told the story of feeding their two large Dobermans hamburgers and one had basically exploded (massive diarrhea) all over the backseat of the car.  These stories went on until my stomach hurt so badly from laughing.  My stomach hadn't hurt from laughing in so very long and I didn't realize until that moment how much I needed that.  For a few days, my stomach had been hurting, but not in a good way by any means.

We waited in a room that had curtains for walls for more hours.  Hours and hours and more hours seemed to go by as we waited.  We waited in chairs, we waited standing up, we waited over here, over there.  Ma's blood sugar was checked, checked again, drugs given, check this, check that.  She's diabetic so there was concern over her overly high blood sugar.  Normal for you and me is 120.  Her's was 425.  For most, that might mean eventually slipping into a coma.  "It always runs high," Ma simply said. 

Ma was scared and nervous but didn't let on too much about that.  I got as close to her as I could; my short body could not reach over the bed rungs.  "I know you're going to be just fine," I told her.  "I know because I can't take any more this week.  God only gives you what you can handle and He knows I can't handle any more!  I think you're going be OK." 

Not that I can explain it, but I had felt early into all of this that everything would work out really OK.  Ma is not religious, but she does believe in God.  I tried to comfort her with that as much as I could.  I also tried to use it to comfort myself because deep down, I really didn't think I handle anything else.

Wednesday, May 25, 2011

Does it ever stop?

Shawn's brother, Bob called this morning at 3:30 am.  Their almost 72 year old mother is in the hospital with stomach pain, throwing up.  The hospital's cat scan is broken so they were transferring her to another.  Bob said they didn't yet know anything and there was nothing we could do right now.  He would call me back when they get to the other hospital. 

I explained this to Shawn and tried to have him sleep.  I tried to sleep myself, knowing my alarm would be screaming angrily at me in the next hour.  I lay there for about ten minuets but knew all too well I would never get back to sleep.  I did not sleep the night before.  I was hoping between the two of us, maybe at least Shawn could get a little sleep. 

And so here I sit, typing this out, praying, crying over past events, and hoping Shawn is actually sleeping and not just lying there awake and worried.

I just don't think we can take much more.

They Say A Good Cry Is Therapeutic Part Five

I've taken a lot of Advil and chewed a lot of nicotine gum.  Only God knows how much because I sure haven't kept track.  Last night, we shared a few moments of just hugging each other and crying profusely.  I told Shawn my thoughts on how I did everything right, even down to buying plants that were nontoxic.  And it still didn't matter.

Crying, he said, "Of course it did!  You did everything right.  We had twelve years with her.  You treated her like a child and because of that, she was the healthiest dog for her age."

In the end though...  On that first day, Shawn said something really sweet, something about how we'd been this treasure....  I cannot remember it.  Last night we were standing in the bathroom, of all places, when I went on about my above remark and he was struggling about how we're given charge over the animals but have to go through something like this.  I said I was feeling the same way but left out the gory details.

Lucy did eat a little last night.  And for all concerned parties, I did as well.  Not feeling like cooking, I made Hamburger Helper for the first time in six months, at least.  I had a small bowl and made a very large bowl for Shawn.  He ate it all and gave Lucy the sauce that had settled at the bottom.  "You're gonna get treats, but we're not going to spoil you," he told her.

I gave her some small bites of hamburger, hoping to stir her appetite and eventually, later that evening, she ate from the dog food bowl.  In typical Lucy-fashion, she took one single piece of dog food at bedtime, and carried it to her bed for safe keeping.  From this point on, it probably won't matter that there isn't another dog here.  Lucy has just always hoarded food.  Even after all these years, I think she's still afraid she may not eat again.

This was another thing we discussed.  "How old was she when we got her?" Shawn asked.
"Nine months," I replied.
"No, this one," Shawn said looking to Lucy.
"They estimated by her teeth that she was four.  But she kinda has bad teeth....  She may have been older."

Shawn went to ask how long ago we'd gotten her and I really could not remember.  I knew I was working at Valet and I've been there for six years.  She may be at least eight or nine.  It occurred to us that she may have been jumping up and down from furniture for the last five years.  "She may have another four or five years yet.  And we can handle it then," I offered.  I don't think it was much comfort to either of us.  Shawn said he couldn't possibly go through this with Lucy.  My fear is though, down the road, we may very well have to.

In the bathroom, Shawn had reassured me that Prissy loved me, reminded me of that with little details.  I know that.  I guess there was a good reason she clung to me for the last month.  I know that little dog loved us both in different ways.  It's so difficult to give up, to let go of a creature that loved me without question.  I don't know that I can let go.

For the first time in months, I bought a frozen pizza yesterday.  I knew I would not want to be cooking.  Conscientiously, I picked one that did not have sausage on it.  We both kind of hate those weird little sausage balls that comes on frozen or take-out.  And yes, of course the dogs would always get a taste.  Prissy would get to the point of acting like a bad dog with Shawn because she knew he would give her a bite of greasy, fatty sausage.  They always knew from me, they'd get a teeny bite of crust.  I'd often have to slap Shawn's hand, figuratively speaking, for giving them too much sausage.  I wish I had bought a frozen pizza in the last month.

In late afternoon, I had gone a good half hour and stayed dry.  I remembered that I had not checked the mail.  Insid the mailbox was what appeared to be a greeting card.  Inside was a card with a cat and dog on the front.  Inside, printed was, "Our loyal friends will always be with us.  They come into our lives and leave their paw prints on our hearts forever."

Below that was written:
I share in your sadness in the loss of Prissy.  May you find comfort in recalling the special times you have shared with her.  She was lucky to have your love and care for so long.  Dr. Gage

Of course my dry spell was totally over.  Shawn saw the card when he got home and whatever dry speel he had was totally over as well.  "That's very sweet," he cried.  I told him I would pick up a thank you note when I got to the store.


Monday morning I had a thrown up as a result of doing nothing but sitting in bed and chewing nicotine gum all day Sunday.  I sit here, editing this post, adding details and my stomach is churning pretty good.  Too much nicotine will cause extreme nausea and vomiting and I'm fully expecting both this morning.

Tuesday, May 24, 2011

They Say A Good Cry Is Therapeutic Part Four

It's little things, really.  It occurred to me that the dogs' shots would be due in about 2 weeks.  It also occurred to me that I would be wrestling with only one dog this year.  My mind has been in overdrive, reminding me of all the little things I'm going to miss. 

They Say A Good Cry Is Therapeutic Part Three

Today was a bit blurry.  Literally, because I went through most of the day with tears in my eyes.  And when there weren't tears in my eyes, my contact lenses were fogged up to no end.

This morning was hard.  And it's only Tuesday.  I practically woke up crying and really lost it when I opened the kitchen door and only Lucy came running out of the living room.  In all my misery, I'd forgotten to give her a little treat.  I always gave them a little treat because Prissy had been on a medication for her stomach for most of her life. 

Shawn broke down again as I was leaving for work.  He was holding me, shaking very violently, saying, "I'm so sorry!" repeatedly.  I had to talk him down from this, convince him that we did make the right decision, that Prissy was in too much pain to drag it out any further.  "You cannot do this, please stop!" I pleaded.

I barely spoke to anyone at work but I could feel people looking at me.  It hurts even more when you just want to fall to the floor and bawl but you have to hold it in.  I felt like my head was going to explode all over the place.  I felt like my guts had been ripped out.  Everyone knew I had been crying and I'm assuming everyone knew why.

Early on, before the rest of the crew had clocked in, my boss Allan came up and started.  Oh, Allan.  He's always talking, talking, talking.  Let's talk it out, if you wanna talk, talking talking talking.  I did not wish to talk today.
"Hey girl.  I just want to--" he started.
"I don't wanna talk about it!"
"I know, I was just going to--"
"I don't!"
"I just wanted to say that I've been there and I understand and I know how hard it is."

I doubt it.  There's not another dog alive like mine.  I never really had any friends.  Prissy would greet me with a wagging tail and exaggerated enthusiasm when I came home.  If we left for five minuets, it's like you;d been for weeks.  She stayed with me through every illness and every upset.  She made me laugh in ways a person could not.  She kept me company when I was lonely.  She did not judge me, she did not talk about me.  She loved me without question.  That, that everyone listening, is what unconditional love is. 

And unfortunately it forced me to do the hardest thing I've ever done.

The BBQ restaurant across the street was up wind from the store so that meant everything they cooked all day was blowing downwind, right into the huge backdoor.  All morning it smelled like lard being poured onto a fire.  My stomach was messy, at best.  It cramped like severe constipation, rumbled angrily with huger, and churned like a food processor.

For most the day, I was sent running to the bathroom where I would cry uncontrollably for a few minuets.  After blowing my nose and splashing water on my face, I was back to work, fighting tears.  I felt like I could sleep for two days.  My body was weak and all I wanted to do was sit somewhere and just cry.  "I want my dog back, I want my dog back!  Please, God, give me my dog back!"  If anyone had walked by the restroom at that given point in time, I am sure they would have heard me & I did not care.

I went a good solid twenty minuets without a tear.  I was taking something out of the small washer when Jackie came up behind me.  "Hey, I'm real sorry to hear about your dog," she said gently.
I merely nodded.  I could felt my sinuses swelling.
"I know they're you babies.  Was this the one you were telling me about before that was so fiesty and would just jump on people?"
I shook my head as my face distorted into a I'm-going-to-lose-it-right-here kind of expression.
"Well, I'm really sorry," Jackie said. 

I sauntered over to the dryer with tears streaming down my face and my second stop was of course, the bathroom.

For some parts of the morning, I was just angry.  I don't it's fair that we had to do this.  I'm saying I went so far as to shaking my fist at God, but I asked many times, "Where are You?!  Why did you force us to do this?  How could make someone do this?!!!!"

I did everything right.  I fed her the best food; I'd even done quite a bit of research on it.  That little dog had never tasted chocolate, garlic, or a grape.  The only plants I bought were only after checking online that they were nontoxic to dogs.  We chased each other around the house for exercise.  I did everything right!  And it didn't even matter!  THIS ISN'T FUCKING FAIR!!!!!!!!

For most of the day, I'd gone back and forth between being angry, severely depressed, and abandoned.  I was so tired of crying.  I just wanted to fast forward through all of this.  How can anyone be asked to do something so hard? 

I had to stop and get a few groceries.  The produce section was past the meat section and when the smell of raw seafood hit me, I thought I was going to throw up all over that store.  I had to mosey through the bakery and it hit me all over again.  I grabbed a head of lettuce and the heck out of the there.

I cried nearly the whole way home and dried it up on the curb.  Ok.  I was fine.  Until I opened the front door.  Lucy was there, of course, just as eager as ever to see me.  I went straight to the back door to let her out and Lucy flew through the kitchen.  I opened the kitchen door for......

No.  Not today.  I slid to the floor and sobbed.  My body shook and strange noises came from my lungs and breath.  Forget the milk; I don't even care about the milk!  I can't do this, I can't do this, I can't do this!  God, I cannot do this anymore!  I just want the pain to go away!  Take it away!!

After several minuets, I knew I didn't have a choice.  I had to do this.  I collected myself as best as I could and retrieved the groceries from the hot car.

For most of the afternoon, Lucy has not left my side.  For the last month, ever since Prissy was first in pain, she would not let me out of her site.  It was sweet, but slightly annoying when I was cooking.  She stuck to me like glue.  Lucy has been doing that today and she's kind of a loner who chooses when she wants to be loved.  Kind of like a cat, but less involved.  Don't misunderstand, Lucy loves to be loved.  She just won't usually follow me around from room to room. 

If I had known this was going to be our last month with Prissy, I would have given her all her favorite treats.  I would have given her an entire slice of pizza!  I would have played with her more, sat with her more and loved her more.  I didn't want it to be like this. 

Anyway, Shawn called and I asked him if he'd given Lucy a morning treat and the answer was, "Yes, of course!"  She had barfed it up.  It's not really uncommon for Lucy to barf a little now & then, but I checked the food bowl and it had not been touched.  I knew now there was nothing in her little tummy.  I told Shawn Lucy was acting like a little clown and that helped a lot.  She was just acting silly.  Of course this lead to tears and more crying from me and I didn't want to get him started.

Mom called and I cried quite a bit.  She'd been through this twice with two dogs she loved very much.  She really wanted to meet me on Thursday.  "Maybe we can go to Starbucks and get your thingie!"  She means a frappucino.  I told her I'd think about it, but we could probably do that.   


Shawn spent every morning with Prissy.  They'd watch Fox News together.  Lucy has a habit of chewing her nail and occasionally bites into flesh which causes a little yelp.  Prissy would always get up and run right over and check on Lucy.  Prissy would turn in circle and sneeze when the good treats came out.  After many years, Lucy began to attempt to copy this by slowly walking in a full circle and blowing a little puff of air out her nose.

If I were laying down, Prissy had to be against my body.  If I moved, she moved.  Prissy had itchy eyes, always worse in the spring and she'd crawl into Shawn's chest and rub her face in his beard.  She really enjoyed that and it always made us laugh.  Alternatively, Prissy would lay her chest on mine and collapse her upper body against me.  This became known as "Puppy Hugs" and she would do it on command.




I want my dog back.

They Say A Good Cry Is Therapeutic Part Two

They say a lot of things.

I got a box.  "Get her blanket," Shawn said.
"She doesn't have a blanket.  She has a pillow," I replied.
"Well, get that and we'll bury her with it."

Prissy's Hump Pillow was her most treasured toy.  She was nine months old when we got her and her owners gave us a tiny bed with a brown removable pillow.  IT was medium brown with black paw prints all over it.  Prissy would shake it like a rag doll, hump it until she was exhausted and drag it all over the house.  I patched that thing more times than I could count.  I've wanted to wash it for years, but I was always so afraid it would disintegrate in the wash.  It was her favorite toy to bring out while company was over and she would hump that thing right at their feet.

What else would I have done with it?  I could not throw it away.  I laid the pillow int he box and Shawn laid the little bundle on top of it ever so gently.  He grabbed two shovels and headed for the backyard where we picked a spot and he got to work.

I went into work mode.  I could not sit there, doing nothing.  I took out some trash, washed a sink full of dishes, scrubbed the bathroom.  I also spent a lot of time with Shawn as he dug and cried the entire time.  I looked down at my shirt.  A large brown stain was at the very center of it.  I pulled it up and smelled it.  "I have to go change my shirt," I announced.
"Why?" Shawn asked.
"Doody."  I was at this point that my voice choked up and cracked wildly.  "I didn't even realize!"

On Sunday, it was quite painful for Prissy to get into any kind of position to pee and I knew she hadn't gone poo-poo.  She must have leaked onto me while I held her.  It completely broke my heart.

I had called the Vet and asked the receptionist if it would be alright if I came by the next day to pay the bill and she said it would be alright.  I burst into tears and cried out to God, "I could really use some comfort right now!"  Call me crazy; I really don't care at this point.  I was sitting with my face in my hands and as soon as the words were out of my mouth I saw in my mind an image so perfect, I could reach out and touch it.  Prissy was running.  It was very sunny & clear and there were trees in the background.  I couldn't see what she running on but I could see her.  I could almost reach out and touch her.  Her skin was taught and her fur was silky and smooth and she seemed so happy.  It only lasted a second.

Around 11 am Shawn hit rock and could not dig any further.  We went into the living room and he opened the box.  I'd been wanting to open it for a couple of hours.  Part of me wanted to make sure she was really gone.  Part of me was terrified we'd be burying our dog alive.  But her little face after it happened....I knew she was not there.  I argued with myself over it.

Shawn gingerly opened the box and stroked the towel crying, "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry!" over and over again.  I cried openly.  Afterward, I merely wanted to sleep, to escape so I took two Benadryl.  Lucky for me, I am a light weight when it comes to any sort of drug so if I am in pain, the simplest of allergy medications will knock me out in a heartbeat.  I put in the last of the Shrek movies and lay with Lucy curled up in my chest and Shawn hugging us both. 

In my fog, I knew the phone ranhg two different times.  I had known that Shawn had gotten up.  I woke up around 2:30 and Shawn soon came into the bedroom.  "She's been with you this whole time," he said, speaking of Lucy.

Later, Lucy headed outside onto the giant slab of concrete that preceded the lawn. She walked forward one or two feet, stopped, and looked toward the door.  She waited a few seconds.  She started forward again, stopped and looked. 

I spent the rest of the day crying and talking with Shawn.  He said that we can take some comfort in knowing that she died with those who loved her most.  "If I have a choice, that's how I want to go," Shawn said.  One thing I struggled with in that private room at the Vet's was what if we make the wrong decision?  Shawn has been struggling with a lot of guilt because he the one to put it into words.  He's hold me and shake violently, saying, "I'm sorry, don't me mad at me, I'm so sorry!" over and over. 

Shawn mentioned again and again how this how situation sucked.  Just flat our sucks.  "It's like," he began, "you have to choose between guilt and selfishness.  Do you keep them for you?  Or do you do what's best for them?"   Something else he'd said many times was, "She was good to us and we had to be good to her."

I have to remind him of the sounds Prissy had made, that we made the right decision. 

I spent most the day trying to stay awake, even through fits of bawling.  Nearing bedtime, I slammed my head straight into the edge of the refrigerator and I'm not even sure how it happened.  I blame the Benadryl fog.  I know two was too much, but I was so desperate to escape.  I hit my eyebrow very squarely and fell straight to the floor.  I held my face and just cried.  Shawn, on his way tot he other room for a smoke, passed by and saw what had happened.  He sat down, scooped me up and it suddenly became much less about the pain in my face.

At some point, I'd fallen asleep.  I awoke to Shawn calling Lucy quietly toward the hallway for bedtime.  I reminded him that she gets a joint supplement.  It was a couple minuets later that I could hear Shawn sobbing from the other end of the house.

Lucy had stopped at the door and waited.  Shawn scooted her into the kitchen but Lucy was apparently waiting for Prissy.  After her bribe/treat, Lucy headed to the corner where the two dog beds are.  She looked one, looked in the other, looked around, and eventually settled in Prissy's bed.  This is where Shawn lost it.

They Say A Good Cry Is Therapeutic Part One

You shouldn't ever have to make the choice for something to live or die.  It's isn't right.  It isn't fair.  I guess I was a little naive to think we wouldn't ever have to go through this, make this decision.  Ever. Well, call me naive.

"Who the hell are we?" Shawn asked.
"We're the people who took away her suffering.  That's who we are,"  I replied.


I have a feeling it's going to take me a while to write this as I cannot even see the screen.  My eyes are so puffy I no longer appear to be American.  Enjoy that.  It's the only joke I'll tell here.  We had our 10 pound Chihuahua for twelve years, if my math is correct.  The vet was astounded at the blood work, at how healthy she was.  However the X-ray had proved otherwise.

A month ago, we put her on steroids.  Prissy hated the liquid medicine that preceded the pill and fought me more each day of the two week period she'd half to take it.  But within a day of being on the steroids, she improved dramatically.  She was a whole new dog.  Today is Tuesday.  On Saturday, Prissy was walking slowly, carefully.  On Sunday she was whimpering and crying every time she moved.  As the day progressed, her pain progressed.

I sat with her for the entire day Sunday.  I tried to keep Prissy from moving, to keep he comfortable as much as possible.  She would not even lay her head down and he front legs would start to buckle from holding herself up for so long.  Even move, ever adjustable would cause her to cry out and for me to well up on tears.  I could only just sit there and watch her be in pain.  I couldn't do anything.  I couldn't help her.

I spent most of the day with the right side of my body numb, and angry at God.

I promised Prissy we'd get her fixed up the next day, on Monday.  I was hoping we could get another steroid shot, another medication and everything would be fine.  That night, I laid her in her bed and for the first time all day, she lay down and slept.

The next day I went off to work, told my boss I needed only an hour.  I was happy that it looked like a busy day.  That would pad my check nicely.  At 7:30 I left work and met Shawn at the vet.  He sat in his truck holding our little dog and was was sobbing.  "How are we doing?" I asked.  He shook his head.

Shawn said every little tiny bump hurt her; the entire trip hurt her.  He also said that earlier, he turned from Prissy for a few seconds and heard her make a noise like he'd never heard before.  "We've had this dog for a long time and I've never heard her make that sound!" Shawn cried.

He was in the bathroom and apparently Prissy was trying to go through the doggie door, cried out in such pain that it sent Shawn flying down the hallway.  He went straight to her bed and panicked because she was not there and found her standing by the door, "Hunched up like a cat."  He felt guilty that he'd forgotten to take her out.  It was her instinct to use that door, of course but, "I never heard her make that sound before."

Once inside, we discussed things with the vet.  The issue here was that there is no cushion between the two vertebrates in Prissy's back.  The steroids only worked one month and this time it was so much worse.  And from here, it would only get worse,  We were left alone to talk about it.

This little dog never left my side anytime I was sick and now I held her close to my body.  "Shawn, I cannot make this decision.  I can't do it!" I sobbed.  I don't expect people without pets to understand this.  Why should it be up to us to make this decision?  Life and death is a decision that God should make.  Not us!

Shawn said to keep this going, we'd be selfish, and it may be so much worse the next time.  He was the one to say the words to the doctor.  I was incapable of doing it.

The vet shaved a bit of hair from Prissy's leg and started an IV.  Shawn scooped her up and held her tightly.  She was terrifued.  She was in a place she didn't know, with strangers on either side of her.  I stood directly in front of my dog's face and looked right into her eyes.  I whispered, "I'm here," over and over.  Shawn felt Prissy's body relax, he later told me.  Prissy's eyes lowered as though she were sleepy and her focus began to drift.  The pink medication was injected and Shawn said within one or second seconds her entire body went completely limp.

Prissy was no longer looking at me, but through me, past me.  I kept waiting for her to blink.  She never blinked.  The vet placed one hand on Prissy's head, a stethoscope on her chest.  Several seconds went by, an hour for all I know.

"She's gone," Doctor Gage said quietly.

For several minuets we simply stood there holding Prissy and each other, sobbing quietly.

We wrapped her in a towel, placed Prissy in the passenger seat of my car.  I pulled my car behind Shawn's truck in the driveway and placed my hand on the little towel, now 7.9 pounds and bawled horribly.  Shawn got out of his truck and opened the car door and held me.  I cried so hard that air could hardly enter my lungs.  A high pitched sound was made with every breath I inhaled.  Shawn's body shook against mine and we just cried together.

Saturday, May 21, 2011

Catching Up

I'm not bitter or depressed, just really busy and haven't felt like writing.  I've been panicking about money and eating like a 5 year old on Halloween night as though there are no consequences.  It's not so much that I've been eating really bad stuff like entire bags of chips, but I have been eating a lot when I am not hungry and I wish I could stop.

Still wishing away the pocket around my waist and thighs, still wishing for perfect skin.  I have been using my eliptical, but only for 10 minuets in the morning on weekdays and 20 minuets each Saturday and Sunday.  With that meager amount of exercise with the out of control eating, I wouldn't be surprised if I've gained weight. 

I've been putting in overtime at work while maintaining the cleanliness at home that I require so I'm a bit tired at that may be why I am eating more--because of the tiredness.  I've been stressed out, as always.  Nothing new there.  Shawn needs a hundred dollar book for school, his dentist is pushing him to get these fillings, we wanted to buy my nephew his starter tools for his diesel mechanics classes as a graduation gift....

Gas prices.

I think I've made my point.  I will say though, God has certainly blessed me at work.  For the past three weeks, clothes have been pouring into the cleaners and it hasn't been too difficult to acquire overtime.  I obtain overtime by staying after everyone leaves and everything is done and cleaning the areas that no one will touch.  For example, I might clean out the shop vac, or clean behind a machine that spits oil onto the wall.  Things like that.  And the hotter it gets, the harder it is to make myself stay.  However, God heard my cries and answered with a lot of business!

Because my job is really doing the same things over and over five thousand times each day--I could do it in my sleep--I downloaded free Spanish lessons to my music player and have been focusing on that.  What I learned in high school has slowly trickled down from the recesses of my mind but I get frustrated that I haven't just woke up one morning and been able to speak the phrases I've learned fluently. 

It's as though I expect I should be able to instantly absorb everything. Instead, I've been listening to the same lessons, over and over, checking my pronounciation with my Mexican coworkers and actually passing time more quickly.  The lessons allow me to focus on something not quite as mundane as tying your shoes 5,000 times in a day.

http://radiolingua.com/category/shows/coffee-break-spanish/page/7/

This link will lead to Coffee Break Spanish, which is a great way to learn Spanish.  It's short 15-20 minuet lessons and there are many, many other languages as well.


Ah, this is why I do not write when I am not int he modd.  This entire post is so boring it reads as though I'm explaining a dream I had.  Oh, well.

Wednesday, May 11, 2011

Bleh

Don't feel like writing.  Bitter, depressed.  Hate my job, hate my life, feel like crap allt he time and there's never enough money for anything.

PS  The kitchen looks good, the dog is doing just just fine.
That is all.