20 Years of a Lie?

Almost exactly twenty years ago I was faced with a diagnosis of rheumatoid arthritis. Lots of meds. Lots of frustration. Years of steroids left me with osteopenia, treated that a decade ago, now need to check the status again. (Which reminds me that I need to call the facility that was supposed to contact me two weeks ago. In typical medical fashion.) I can't remember how many different medicines I tried. How many side effects I found--I'm looking at you, methotrexate.

But apparently it was for naught, and the times I felt good were from the steroids and times when my body just naturally calmed down. 

I saw a new rheumatologist last month, since my one and only other rheumie left last year. I'd been getting gradually worse joint and tendon pain after many years of remission of what I thought was RA. But apparently it wasn't RA. The new doc checked me out pretty well but found no actual swelling. We talked for a while and she dubbed it: hypermobility, barring other diagnoses. Specifically "hypermobility spectrum disorder", but we were checking for a battery of tests to come back. They mostly came back negative. It isn't RA. It isn't autoimmune at all. It's... Something. 

Now, I'm hoping that she doesn't brush me off and say to just deal with it. I've been "dealing with it" for all of my life. As in, at least as long as I can remember. As long as my mother can remember. And I'm sick of hurting. I'm sick of having my shoulder just drop out of its socket. My ankles, and hips, and fingers going on strike randomly. After consulting Dr. Google, there's so many symptoms that make sense with the HSD--including the joint issues, IBS, and menstrual issues. Fun fun! At least that last one was ousted and is no longer a problem. Now THAT was an awesome surgery for SO many reasons.

I see her again next week and I'm both looking forward to and dreading meeting up again. I don't know if I'm going to be dismissed as a hypochondriac (could be--but unlikely in this instance) or once again be told to lose weight, get more sleep, drink more water, have less stress. Yeah. Working on that. Why did I still have these problems as a kid? 

For two decades I thought my joints were eating themselves from the inside so I was on, quite literally, chemotherapy for YEARS. And it may have done nothing at all. Or not. I'm not sure. The money and time involved was probably astronomical. But I was physically disabled either way, no matter the diagnosis. I dealt with it, with a hefty dose of help from those around me--especially my man. So I guess the diagnosis didn't make much of a difference in the long run.

Fret fret. Stew stew. Ruminate. The doc visit will happen. If HSD is the diagnosis, not much can be done that I'm not already doing. Though I do need to exercise more. That's a fact. And I have the gear to do it. But... mope. It may be something else. I just feel lied to because of something that was a mistake. 

Future Bear Dog?

Last we talked you met Jett. It's exactly two months since she became party of the family.  She's now 8-months old and has blossomed into quite the pooch! No longer scared of everything, she now has to be reminded that not everyone wants to say hi on walks. Meeting people, even those she knows, may involve wariness. Or a great desire to play keep-away that manifests as running away from her new/old friends! So I have a work in progress who is now in obedience classes to get us both into a settled and well behaved state. We need a lot more practice. I'm hoping she'll be better behaved than I am!

 Her Favorite Position: Full Superman Sploot

In the first week of June I broke/badly sprained my poor pinky toe stepping over a chair acting as a gate to keep Jett out of the rest of the house. It is taking its darned sweet time healing, and at 6 weeks out now it is still not letting me walk more than about a mile without voicing its displeasure at being used. This makes it rather difficult to go on longer walks with the dog (with her in a weighted backpack to tire her out more), so I've been trying to get her worn out other ways. That's been interesting since she's not interested in fetching. Doesn't really care about treats. She ignores laser pointers, even though she loves chasing lizards. I can't play tug much due to sore hands even though she LOVES to play tug/eviscerate the tug toys. And she's a young German shorthaired pointer with energy to burn. Luckily she has two huge yards to zoom around, one at Mom and Dad's place and my big yard at home. She's managing and, outside of morning and evening zoomies, she's pretty low key. Just after breakfast and around dinner time she turns into a manic shark, but we're working on that. My nickname for her is Sharkie, and the bruises up and down my body show the origin of the name!

We're still working on house training and finding out her tells for when she needs to go out. She has solidly gotten the idea that she needs to go outside to do her thing, so we're almost there. I'm going to try jingle bells at the door to see if she'll indicate when she wants out. I foresee her getting the idea and non-stop jingling to get our attention like she does by barking when begging us to play outside with her. It'll work either way. I may go crazy while teaching her, but she'll get it, even if it is just at the parentals' house.

Bird Dog Genes at Work

As a month ago she was 50 pounds and 23" at the withers but still growing like a weed. Other than a lazy eye and food allergies, she's got a clean bill of health and now has active health insurance. Who knows how big she is going to get, but she's already on the high end for her dominant breed size, so I'm scared to think of what she's crossed with. The vet thinks there may even be a smidge of great Dane in her, but I'm hoping not. Her paws are indeed big enough for it though. And thank goodness she finally found out that she is capable of jumping into my car by herself. Lifting her is a pain--literally. She has not yet figured out that she can probably just step/hop over the chairs I have blocking the way into other parts of house and it's only a matter of time. But she's almost ready for the freedom anyway, given how house training is going. I am dreading the time that will come (soon) when she figures out how to lift her head and steal things from the countertops! Till then, I'll just deal with her tweenage temper tantrums and training  and try to keep her occupied. And focus on getting her recall better, as right now she's got a massive case of selective hearing. Just like a moody and tired tweenager/teenager. 

Bah! Kids! 

But it's good to have a new furry companion around (though I miss my old bear dog.) I can't wait for the weather to be less ridiculously hot/my body stopping misbehaving so we can go out camping! Maybe this one can have a chance to scare off a bear at some point. 

My Hiking Buddy

Meet Jett, the New Poochie!

Jett with her first grass in at least two months

There’s a new pooch in the family!

Please welcome Jett, the German shorthaired pointer mixed mutt. She started her known history when she checked into the Albuquerque shelter program back in March. At 6 months old now, that meant she had spent a third of her life in the shelter. She sat there in her tiny cell, much loved by the staff, but unable to find a new home because she was terrified and hunched away from the door where people would pass by. Two weeks ago today (that would be Mother’s Day) my mom informed me that she was going to see a dog. Uh oh. My mother. Checking out a dog. She has made it clear over the years that she is NOT a dog person. Something was up. So I packed up the basics I had left over from Link’s stash and headed north.

At the shelter I perused the pooches in their cells and how they each reacted to someone walking by. At the back of the long hall my mom stood sweet-talking a scared black and white lump named Joan Jett that wouldn’t really come close to the door at all. I figured she was a lost cause. I saw another dog about the same age just up the hall. We decided to let the little lump sit for a bit and take out the second one. Big mistake. That wasn’t going to work. But Mom wanted to see the lump. I conceded that it was okay to check.

I’m not sure how the dog catcher managed to get Joan Jett to walk to the meeting area. He probably had to carry her. But we fell in love with the scared little lump. She became mine and we went on our merry way. She traveled in the car wonderfully and back to the parents’ house we went. She didn’t really walk on the leash at this point, and had to be lifted in and pulled out of the car.

She started out glued to the ground. If she was afraid of it, and that was most of the world, she would lay down and shut down, unable to move. Into Link’s old harness she went so we could lift her up a little and start her brain working again. Fast forward to now and it’s been a week since she’s become a lump. Good girl.

Whoever had her before me had trained her to walk nicely on a leash and had most of house training done. She also will not lick my face (and usually not my hands), even if I’m an inch from her snoot! I detest licking, so this was a very nice surprise. What she was not trained at, courtesy of being in a cage so long, was not freaking at the world in general. This began my mission: introduce her to a world that was not as scary as she thought it was. Now, instead of shutting down, if she gets spooked by something she will go and investigate the offending scary thing. She LOVES car rides, so going the 90 minutes between houses is a breeze. Getting her back out of the car was originally difficult, but we’ve gotten over that. I still have to lift her 45 lb. fuzzy butt into the car since her underused back legs are too weak for the jump. She can scramble up, but it ain’t pretty. She’ll get there.

She got a bath that first week. She wasn’t happy about it, especially the moving table, but she did well. I didn’t dry her with the machine, but her coat is thin enough that a simple towel dry was fine. And it took exactly one minute for her to roll in the dirt once I got back to the house. White fur? Nah. Dust. This is her default secondary color. I wipe her down with a wet shop towel whenever she comes inside to keep some of it out of the house.

Now that she’s less afraid of…everything, she is officially turning into a teenager. Keepaway is her favorite form of responding to “come” when off of a lead. We’re working on that. Lowe's is my favorite spot inside to introduce her to new sights and smells. She now has “sit” understood pretty well, “down” is a work in progress, and “stay” has not started yet for some reason that I’m not sure of at this moment. She just now is getting the hang of fetch (“Get It!”) and give (which right now is doubled up with “leave it” which is already ingrained). It only works with her beloved duck and only inside. I desperately need her to understand Get It because she is a hunting dog. And a puppy. She she has ENERGY.

Note her favorite duck in her mouth as she sleeps

When she gets bored makes her displeasure known with the whining and the occasional yipping bark. Paper towels aren’t safe anywhere near her. When you want her to come to you while outside and she doesn’t want to stop playing, her response is to play keep-away-from-you till you give up and pay attention to her till she is tired or until you (I) manage to catch her and boot her butt back inside. Or I only let her outside without a lead if I have no interest in having her come in any time soon.

And I can’t bribe her effectively. She’s not food-motivated, though she does like the occasional hot dog or dog biscuit (in a pinch). She ignores peanut butter, sweet or plain. She will tolerate carrots sometimes. Squeaky toys she likes, but has no interest in doing what she’s doing to redirect her attention. I have found a dog food that doesn’t leave her allergic to it and biting her skin off though. I can use treats/puppy food to lure her pacman-style into going places or sniffing things I want her to do. Like go into the crate, which she was probably already partially trained to use with how easy it was to get her used to it. Or to use the dog door that is actually too short for her, though I did take off the flap for now. Trail of treats can work well, though I try not to use treats outside of recall and times when she needs to figure it out herself with just a little guidance or risk freaking herself out and the exercise backfiring.

And now that my body is up and down with no clue when it will be able to go for a walk, training her is my one way to tire her out effectively. She does love romping around outside alone, so she is getting some exercise, just not as much as she or I would like. I manage about one walk every other day. Not ideal at all. But she’s adapting to my needs. Such as zonking out in the living room when it is too darn hot to be outside. Or consistently playing outside for a while after she has breakfast at 6:30 in the morning. Sleeping through the night/showers in the crate is a plus too. Her teenage stubbornness and nippiness are being worked on. I had forgotten that 6 months starts the teenager time.

Ten (10) minutes in the yard after a bath

And yes, I was not sure about having a dog when this whole thing started. I’m still hoping that I have the physical and mental capabilities to keep up with a six-and-a-half-month-old high-energy and very smart pup. But she starts her weekly training classes on the 16th to get a whole bunch of learning in for both of us, and I am trying to get her up to speed on the skills I remember how to train to get a jump on the class. It will be money well spent, just like with Link.

And there you have it. Welcome Jett to the family. I’m sure you’ll be hearing about her a lot from here on out.

Our first Be-Backpacked Walk

Dear Grandma and Grandpa,

I miss you both, especially you, Old Man.

When Grandma died this summer I was sad. But it was time. She hadn't been herself for years since the accident caused by an underage teen t-boning Grandpa and Grandma's car. She just faded and got mean. It was time. 

But Grandpa's passing was more difficult. Much more. That hardy submariner grabbed at every minute he had left. For the last year he needed liters of fluid drawn off of his lungs every week. And most days he wanted to be in this world. Yes, 92 years were taking their toll on his mind, but he never ceased being him to the very end. The rest of his friends and family were gone. The younger family, other than my dad--the son-in-law--were at least 900 miles away. But we tried to go up when we could. Stressful, but good.

Was he always nice? Reference: submariner. To quote the priest who gave a sermon for him,  "If you wanted his opinion, he'd give it to you. If you didn't, well, you'd get it anyway." You may not like it, but you knew where you stood. He and I spent time just relaxing outside on various porches talking about life. We didn't always agree, and hell, if it was politics or religion I guarantee we didn't. And yet, we'd (normally) just kibbutz and have a good time. I miss those chats and stories. Boy did he have a lot of awesome stories!

I didn't realize how much I miss that old coot until Saturday. Looking up at the burl-base lights he made long long ago clicked something in my brain. I wanted one of those chats. Him with his scotch and water, me with just water. I never did drink booze with him. But last night, meds be damned, I had a swig for him. Not scotch. Um... Kinky Pink. He would not have approved of either the name or the frufru-ness. Which makes it even better! (Or maybe he would. If I recall correctly, Grandma liked the bottled cooler version of the drink.) So we shared a drink. 

And that will have to suffice. I wish I would have pulled every story out of his memory, embellished or not, and written them down. I think I'm going to have to do that for the ones I do remember. And I'm going to keep the lights on. They make me smile. As much as he drove me crazy, Fox News and all, I loved him so much. Grandma too, but he held highest honors. Here's to you, Gramps!

It's Been a Long Three Months

Hey there! I do exist! I swear! I'm working on getting less bat shit insane, but I'm finally going to give y'all an update, and boy, is this going to be an update. It may need two posts. From my phone. Forgive my probable grammar and spelling mistakes. 

Now, how I'm going to go about this is going to be rapid-fire at first, then I'll break it down later.

October went fine, with only a few hiccups but nothing major or out of character. November? Not so much. So here we go: 

1. I made a mistake at work that left me in question to whether I had a job--for weeks. 
2. Link started acting stranger than usual. Unable to sit still, non-stop whining and pacing. Perfectly fine during the day. I got no sleep and he declined. Took him to vet. Not much they could do but give him pain meds and hope for the best.
3. Started the drive to South Dakota with Mom and the dog. And I ran over somebody's big dog on the interstate. Killed the dog, did lots of damage to the car (mostly covered by insurance). Limped the car home and let Mom go north without me. Really glad Link had his seatbelt on.
4. That weekend Link went off the deep end, snapping at me, tearing things up, repeating the weekend before but worse. It was time.
5. The following Monday I put him to sleep. He even got a full order of McNuggets before I said goodbye. Damn, do I miss that dog. 
6. Said that nobody else is allowed to die, nothing's allowed to break, November was still salvageable. 
7. Heh. 
8. That Thanksgiving week I got the call that Grandpa had died in his sleep. Crap. Family decided that he could chill till next week when traveling was safe enough to drive up and have the funeral. 
9. Thanksgiving weekend a sewer pipe in my house cracked. Not a big deal day to day with how the house is made or where I am in the line. But it wasn't (isn't) going to be cheap.
10. Eating was becoming difficult as nausea has kicked up and innards committed mutiny.
11. Traveled to SD for the funeral which was nice but really stressful with my declining body and outside stress making it worse every day. Cleaned out (some) clothes from the grandparents' house. And about 100 pairs of my grandmother's shoes. 
12. Rode home with Dad so I could go back to work (when I found that I did indeed still have a job).
13. Found out that I had lost over 20 pounds since the beginning of November on accident and still losing. 
14. Also found out that the nausea was... psychosomatic caused by stress. The difficulty eating probably is too, but I'm still working on that. 
15. Aaaand... we're back to less stress. There's still quite a bit there, but nothing in comparison to the last month.

Which brings me to the end of the year. Nothing more was allowed to break (too late), or anybody to die (still good), or, or, or.

With that, I'll leave you with a photo of Link's final (for now) resting place in front of a lamp made by my late grandfather.

The Opposite of Shrinking

Since the beginning of the year I have been gradually been slipping back up. 175ish at my lowest up to 206 today. Stress has made it much worse over the last month, but that is no excuse for me eating that much. The out of town activity and plantar fasciitis has kept me out of the gym, so that isn't helping either. And I'm struggling. I was doing keto up until when I stopped in February. Travel pretty much sent me into a spiral of "I'll get back on it tomorrow" lapses. 

So now my body is getting bigger, my innards are constantly unhappy, and my joints are ticked off. One thing that I know can make a difference in the last two is getting off of the massive amounts of gluten and wheat in general that I eat. When my husband was still alive I was on a strict gluten-free diet to keep my innards calm. While that helps my gut, it also tends to lessen my eating out and binging on sweet carby goodness at work and gatherings without being as restrictive as keto. It is worth a shot since I already know how to work it.

I am thinking that the sheer amount of sugar and artificial sweeteners may be contributing to the gut upset. Cutting back on sugar and cutting the artificial ones out completely has helped I think, but there is still problems. No magic bullet so far. I am grasping at food straws. Something has to be a culprit to being chained to the bathroom. At least stevia and monk fruit drops shouldn't cause problems and are great for my morning tea. 

So I'm frustrated. A heck of a lot heavier, a heck of a lot more gut issues, and a heck of a lot of anger at myself for giving in to eating too much.

From one of those road trips

Plans and Peets

I had grand plans for this weekend. It was supposed to be cool and comfortable with no rain and minimal wind. Score! Camping weekend! I got all the food assembled and cooked for ease of use. I packed up the car. I made sure that the house was in order. This morning I finished up packing all but the food and had a hunch to check the weather once more. Dammit. The wind was set to be 15-20 mph steady and 30-35 mph gusts tomorrow and a chance of thunderstorms. Windy today. I don't like camping in wind. I really don't like taking down or putting up tents in wind. I had said that I was darned and determined to go out. But nope. With a sad heart I unpacked and piled the goods back into the house. *sigh* I haven't been out since the spring when it got too hot to tolerate. Best laid plans of mice.

A background of me and camping: I do not pack light. I pack for comfort. This includes a beefy cot and double pads. A tall 4-person tent for me and the dog. Stove, full propane tank, and a full file box of kitchen gear. I do NOT pack light. It is a way for me to disconnect from work, people, and the internet/phone coverage. I do keep a solid hold on books stashed in my bag and on my phone with solar charging panels and battery banks. Books. That is my main form of entertainment while out. But, alas, that was not to be this weekend.

Not a small tent. And not this weekend.

But next week looks good. Maybe next week.

In other news, my grumpy peet (foot) was constrained to a CAM boot for two weeks last month. I thought my foot was all better, or at least I was hoping that. But after short 15 minute walks it is acting up again. Ice bottles are my friends. I am just going to consider it as a permanent thing and just keep doing the maintenance exercises and stretching and hoping for the best. If it gets worse, fine. I'll go back to the doc. But a different doc. Second opinion time.

As for the cluster**** that was the week before last, all but the medical insurance is taken care of now. It didn't take nearly as long as I thought it was going to be to get fixed. Even work is going okay!

Dog is in a holding pattern. He is still able to get onto his couch by himself. He needs a sling to get up the ramp and into the car, but that is minor. I have booties for him when walking on concrete because he drags his back feet somewhat that wears his nails thin. Rugs all around the house help him keep his footing. He will be here as long as he wants to be here. But for now? Cuddle bug! Or speed bump since he is laying in the middle of the walkway.

And now? Trying to not eat everything in sight. Time to take the body back under 200 pounds, up from my latest low of 180 ish. My joints in general are unhappy. So I will do what I need to do to safely get there

All Hell Broke Loose

And has mostly been battled back into its place. Hold on, folks, this is going to be a long one. Weekend before last I went with my mother on a quick five-day road trip to South Dakota to visit Dad and Grandpa. It is a thirteen/fourteen-hour trip that we split between ourselves to get there in one piece. Normally no major issues.

Until.

Halfway between NM and SD a check engine light on my car went on. I tried the quick fixes that I knew that we could do on the way up. Then the temperature sensor went on at the same time. Nothing we could do, but it wasn't brining up the "HEY, IDIOT! Stop driving!" flash, so we went on since I know there is a Subaru garage in Rapid City. I immediately took it to the garage where they got it in as soon as possible. But that meant that we were down a vehicle with only Dad's monster truck to drive, and Grandpa can't get into that short of a crane. They weren't going to get it in until Tuesday--which was when we were supposed to get home, not just starting the drive. So I fretted and stewed. Eventually it was brought to my attention that I get loaner vehicles when I have work done at the shop at home. Maybe they would have one there? Lo and behold! Success! That way Dad could take the loaner while Mom and I took Grandpa's Outback to NM and still have a vehicle that Gramps could get into and out of without ending up in the ER.  That left the repair cost, which could be an arm, a nose, a leg, or the whole shebang. I got the call that I was dreading halfway home: it was fixed. And the cost? Free! Well, other than getting it back to NM. (Dad even drove all the way to NM to trade out vehicles instead of me needing to meet him halfway.) Subaru had a rider warranty on the part as a known flaw. I wonder what the cost would have been if I had the work done at a non-Subaru garage. 

As a second issue, I had never heard from my extended warranty people that I may have needed to afford the car work (that thankfully never had a bill). I emailed. I called. I begged. I eventually (today!) got a response back that I am actually covered with no additional issues. I was pissed that it took them that long to get back to me. But knowing it is in place makes me feel better. Another thing off the list.

The day we arrived in SD I got an electronic notice from New Mexico Medicaid. My coverage had been cancelled because USPS managed to lose my paperwork. So the solution was to reapply and wait for them to get it processed and a new card sent out, which they warned could take 30-40 days. That meant that meds and doctor appointments were put on hold with time to fret and stew that I might end up in the ER or need something expensive over the next month (some of my meds are damned pricey). But I got the application and only could wait. Halfway through last work week I got the quick notice that they had accepted my application and I would just have to wait for my new cards to arrive and I would be good to go. That was a lot of headache that won't be happening again since from now on I am getting a tracking receipt for my paperwork. Live, learn, then get leverage.

That left Grandpa. He's getting one to two liters of fluid taken off of his lungs a day due to the much-advertised mesothelioma. His port for draining keeps plugging up and he is needing more put in as of late. We had a good visit, not even too much nagging or news. No network news, as a matter of fact, which is a great weight lifted off of my mind. The day we left he needed another port put in, just a few days after his last one. Everyone was worried. But now it seems to be working, and we don't have another emergency trip up.

It appears that things have mostly smoothed over, just awaiting my medical cards. Probably will be going up again in October for a longer visit. But that is for next month, whenever I can get around coworkers' schedules. Link is all ready to get on another road trip and to check out the deer in the back yard. And to hop on pop. Even if he does need a boost to get on the couch occasionally. And I am happy to have life settling into a calmer status. (Maybe enough to go camping next weekend!)

Ready for a Road Trip

On Baristas, Boots, and Belligerent Bellies

I spent 8 am to 2 pm in Silver City just exploring and learning while the dog stayed home and chilled. My first stop was to an eclectic coffee shop that looked like it was pulled directly from some Alaskan hippie shop. And it was positively wonderful! Oiled wood with burls supported the ceiling and polished paneling on the walls Eclectic art hung from the ceiling with paintings on the walls, as well as vintage games, made the place feel nice and homey. Lots of space to chill on the three levels of seating (small amount of seating, but you had your choice of space to sit. The had lots of baked goods and coffee that smelled heavenly. They also had a large assortment of tea that they bag themselves for purchase by the mug. I saw a heavenly thing: a gluten free cheesecake and chocolate brownie! I've been successfully testing out if my body is reacting poorly to gluten again. It seems that cutting it out is working wonders for my unhappy innards, so I am running with it. I snagged the goodie and a black coffee and munched my way through breakfast. Just across the road was the town museum, which was pretty cool too.

Tranquilbuzz Coffee

I learned that the local mine (Chino--the third largest open-pit copper mine) had gotten rid of their smelter in 2002. That means that I was one of the last people to see it in operation when I visited in 2002 for a college field trip. I can still remember the heat off of pouring metal and the huge elctroplated panels ready for shipping. Then there was the gatorade-blue colored solution that gave off fumes so bad that my nose smelled copper and sulfur for the next two weeks. It was a great trip that made me appreciate the entire facility as somewhere I would rather not work. The mine itself was an awesome learning experience too. I didn't even come up to the hubcap on the big trucks. But the smelter was the highlight of the trip. It was also the trip that I learned that I never wanted my college advisor to drive a van around twisty turny roads again. The next time I drove myself.

After a trip down memory lane, I snaked my way back through downtown to the local hippie-mart to snag overpriced goods for the rest of the week. I will shop local when I can, and they had lots of the gluten-free goodies that I was looking for (like bread. I have been craving bread and I knew that they had some I could happily eat), in addition to local produce. Then it was time to go rescue the dog from the incoming thunderstorm and do laundry, which I hung inside since the rain was coming in. Then it was time to just listen to videos and chill out while the rain fell.

Over the last two years I have been battling foot issues, with the worst offender being plantar fasciitis. A little over a year ago I was in a walking boot for the foot and that cleared up part of the problem. Fast forward a year and several cortisone shots later and I am back to having problems. I spent two weeks in the boot again to see if that would help keep me out of surgery. It seems to have helped, now that I have gotten used to being on my own level feet again. The foot pain is still there though. I have a podiatrist appointment in two weeks to see as a second opinion if I should go through with the surgery. I am leaning toward no right now. Hoping for the best and doing all my exercises like a good girl until then.

So now I am spending the day eating and doing as little as humanly possible. No hikes thanks to the dog being too lame to do them anymore and I don't want to go out alone. I am considering it as a healing time for the foot and brains. And I have once again forgotten my tea. It is now lukewarm. Just means that I will have to chug it and make more!

A Vacation to Nowhere...

 ...and nothing.

I am making it a point this week while on vacation to do as little as possible with the time I have. Work is on notice that I would rather not be bothered. Parental units know that I may or may not have phone coverage while I am out here. And it's great! I've been here three nights so far, with four more to go. I have left the house to take Link for short walks, avoiding the burrs as I went--though he was certain that he wanted to take a chance and piss on the burr plants! He apparently has no intention on self-preservation.

Him with his stylishly day-glow booties

Speaking of the dog, he's had quite a decline in health. With a diagnosis of degenerative myelopathy a few months ago, he is doing rather well for the condition. I have been grasping at things I can do to keep him up and running. My vet offers acupuncture for dogs, so, while I didn't get any benefit from it when I tried it, Link seems to be doing well on it since his decline has been slower than expected. Unfortunately, the condition is progressive and unable to be cured. Probably only a few months, but he will let me know when it's time. Knowing that he isn't in pain from it makes a big difference in my mind. Walking like he is drunk is rather cute, if not frustrating to him when he plunks down with a grunt. He's dragging his back paws quite a bit now, so I bought a new pair of shoes for him. Probably will have to get different ones that don't give his toes too much traction on pavement and gravel. He's really unsteady on his hind end, so I have rugs strewn around the house to give him a steady path. He also gets a boost up the ramp into the car with a sling that my coworker gave me. We will work with it day by day.

Poor pooch was not thrilled with the thunderstorm we had today. It wasn't long, but he was back hiding in the bathroom, squished into the foot-wide area between the tub and vanity, until it passed. But he got over it quick. Now it is raining again, but without the lights and booms, so he is happy to be down by my feet on his cushy blanketed spot.

So yes, it is raining. We will be putting off his nightly run until the chance of wet-dog-stench is lessened. Besides, the later we go out at night mean the later I can sleep in! I have a book of short stories by Sir Terry Pratchett that I am currently consuming before bed. No real reading outside of online during the day. 

And tomorrow whenever Link wakes me up for his duties I will get up and shower, then lock him away so I can take a jaunt into Silver City for breakfast/museum/groceries. That will be my main thing to do on this trip. And that's enough for me!

Well, That Didn't Take Long

100,036 miles as of hitting my house today. That voided my so-called 10-year warranty from the manufacturer (that didn't even last 5). So I just bought an extended warranty--no not from one of those phone scams. When my car gets repairs, they are costly. I love my Forester, but damn can it be expensive without insurance. This one will pay for everything and extras to boot for less than the arm and a leg of the first company I scoped out. It was an interesting conversation explaining how I have 25k miles per year without it being commercial use. He didn't believe me at first, then I explained the middle-of-nowhere home/work situation. No really. I drive. Plus 1800 mile trips to SD. So now I have paid an arm (but not a leg) for peace of mind that I wouldn't have by just setting aside money.

Yup. I Drive.

Alas, the dog licked a hole in his foot (again). He's been in a cone for a week. I keep letting him out to drink and eat and then seeing if he can handle not putting tongue to foot for a while. So far the longest he has gone was about 15 minutes before being re-coned. That means he unable to use the doggy door, and that makes him incredibly mopey. He is the saddest dog that ever did dog. Complete with laying down and letting out the loudest sighs he can possibly manage. I would feel sorry for him, but he has access to his couch and toys and scritchies and the possibility of freedom. But all he knows is that it itches and licking it feels better. I can't fault him. I've been known to make wounds worse by futzing with them as well.

Thanks to time change I am still jet lagged, despite it changing over last Sunday. I do not adjust well. On a good note, it means that I feel like I need to eat all night for one hour less than a week ago. The sun goes down and the munchies ensue, so I have less time to munch uncontrollably. Which means that now I am just thinking that it is dinner time (at 6:20pm). Yet I am still tired at regular bed time. Which is strange. But that's brainz for you!

And finally, I found out an incredible new development: I can stand up from the floor without using my hands or arms. I haven't been able to do that for the last 13 years (at least) thanks to a long time of having to use crutches and canes due to the stupid rheumatoid arthritis. I am just now, thanks to the gym workouts, able to do it! I keep finding small things that the work has improved and it just makes me smile and have even more reason to get there and work out. Of course, a couple days after abusing my legs and my knees are screaming at me. I think it's worth it. Now pass the ibuprofen.

Coping Mechanisms

Long ago, when I was but a small and imaginative child, I had an imaginary friend: Mousie. Mousie was neither male nor female, though I think now that Mousie was usually a she. So she and I went on grand adventures and escapades. She was very much real, yet I always knew somehow she was in my mind. 

She was real enough, though, that one day I told my brother that Mousie was sitting where he was about to sit. And he plopped down anyway. Big mistake. According to my mother's recollections, he ended up screaming at my mom to, "Make her stop!". I just kept yelling at him that he had sat on Mousie and attacked my much-older-than-myself brother. His purposeful act alone was an unforgiveable offence. (Though I did eventually forgive him.) I only stopped after he apologized to Mousie. He learned his lesson.

Looking back I can see that Mousie was how I dealt with the world, especially when my dad was gone for work. He would be gone for months at a time which as far as I can tell was usually during the winter. As I got older that would change to being gone throughout other months. To add to the existence of my friend another creation, Daddy Mousie, would travel with him while my own friend stayed at home with me. It was how I dealt with his absence. And it must have worked. 

So I bring you: Mousie.

Yup! I have a new tattoo. Mousie is sitting in a teacup with a Zelda crest and a spoon. That spoon relates to Spoon Theory which explains how there is only so much energy in a day and each task takes some of that energy. The Zelda crest? Let's face it, I just love Zelda.

And the best part? My mom designed it! I can carry that with me.

Now I just have to remember not to gain weight again or my tattoos will warp, and this one has very fine lines. I'm pleased with how it turned out. And I have my very own Mousie to help me through future hard times that reminds me to hold onto at least one spoon for when it is needed.

Merry Christmas Eve—Alone

And that suits me just fine.

Originally my plan was to spend last weekend at home and up in the city, making chocolates, hanging out with the dog, and overall just chillin'. That did not happen,

Not one bit.

I managed to get the norovirus gut bug from hell starting Thursday night. To put it in perspective, I slept on the bathroom floor for two days. I don't remember Friday. Of which I am probably very appreciative. I just got back to real food yesterday, if that gives you an idea of what tore through my system. But that is mostly taken care of. 

Between that, COVID last month, and whatever-the-hell I had in September, I got sick more in four months than I have in the past two years. I think. I may be having selective memory. But at least I had actual sick leave thanks to New Mexico law this year that got me through COVID. The other two times have blessedly been over weekends or vacations. That week of COVID would have cleared out my originally given three days that I had last year leaving me with nothing for the various migraines that I have begun to have over the past year (since my hysterectomy they have been rare, but more as of late). Thank you, New Mexico, for ensuring that I have reasonable sick leave!

So I got to spend the time Dad was in town for the parental units' anniversary mostly out of commission. And that means that I didn't get to visit like I would have liked. It also meant that my expected partial weekend on my own was a little less enjoyable than planned. Instead, I chose to spend this weekend at home instead spending New Year's weekend up with Mom. I needed a break.

And that means that I am spending Christmas with the dog at home without the pressure of cooking, appearing put together, and facing the outpouring of spoons that I just don't have. Boss gave me Tuesday off, so my weekend is an extra day longer. I have me. I have the dog. I'll have spoon recovery. I'm good. 

On the dog. Dad found a lump on the pooch's side that I didn't know of since it isn't a place I usually scritch. So there is a vet trip on Friday and back to Albuquerque. Hoping that he just has a lipoma that can be ignored, but I need to make sure. I'm not really freaking out about it yet since there's nothing I can do about it. Oh, I'll panic eventually once I am closer to the visit/already in the visit, but for now I am calm. 

But for now, no panicking, no people, no (or little) stress. I am using a couple spoons for dinner tonight, but those will be easily recovered tomorrow.

Oh! And on spoons: Mousie (the original imaginary friend), spoon (spoonies), and teacup (TEA!) are about to be on my arm. All based on my momma's sketch after mentioning that I wanted these things on a wrist tattoo.  Here. Have a sketch.

Life is Good, Despite Interference

I remember rock climbing every weekend, horse riding, belly dancing, and martial arts of various types. That would have been from 2003 to 2006. Those days are gone, and that's okay with me. It was too much work since a few of those overlapped others, even on the same day. I learned the meaning of 'square horse stance' from riding a square-backed horse and then doing the practice an hour later. But I was younger and far less...um...experienced in life. Injuries, health issues, mental wringers, and sheer laziness have all kicked in. But I am going to get a little better than complete couch potato, and so far it is working.

These Kick My Rear

I have gotten back to eating responsibly (once again), even if it is realizing that some days will have more food or less/no exercise than others. That combined with the strength training I have been doing at the gym and home have started me down on the scale again. I'm back below/at 180 pounds consistently now, so I know that I am making progress. I keep waiting for the time where I can get off the floor from a kneeling position rather than scrambling to both feet or using furniture as a crutch. Upper body? It's going to get better and maybe even fill out the skin that has decided to be bat wings. (I am not really expecting much on that front since even when I was rock climbing I had wings. Just my body being me.)

Got my foot fixed (once again with a steroid injection, luckily not the bone issues like earlier) so I can be back on the treadmill for at least short amounts while I build back up that muscle and have an easy warmup. Have I mentioned that I love my podiatrist lately? Because I do.

And Monday I worked my legs off. Stairs are not my friends. Yesterday was shoulders and back. I am just starting to feel those muscles. This is progress. I didn't overdo myself (at least not too much) as far as I can tell. It is going to take some time to find what works best. And then I get to switch it up again to start all over again with different muscles. And maybe get in a swim or two. We'll see. 

And I feel good.

Holidays are Bittersweet

I'm always leery of what my brain is going to do with holidays. Sometimes they are just like any other day and other times I get hit with a brick to the brain. Thanksgiving, humble though this year was, reminded me of chosen-family celebrations from long ago. When we each took a dish and ran with it. Jason? Tasty tasty dinner rolls. Me? Usually pecan pie with nuts held together with a tiny bit of maple-flavored goo. Not low calorie, to say the least. And then there were all the other dishes which we started in on in the afternoon and continued to feast upon throughout the night. 

Not My Pie. Mine Was Better.

Silliness ensued, of course. I don't remember if there was booze, but I am guessing that there was--and before you get any ideas, I don't remember because of the time since then, not because I was pickled. Maybe. So-called shirtless o'clock probably hit around dark with a pile of us on the floor/couch watching a bad movie or playing Guitar Hero. And all the bad and raunchy jokes we could come up with. There were many.

But those times are gone. Left behind are the good memories to carry onward. And that is okay. I hold onto those memories and stash them for darker times. Times when my brain can't hold onto the light. So I shove the good memories into my consciousness to try to force out the bad. It usually helps, so I call that a win.

So carry on, declare shirtless o'clock, and tease those around you mercilessly while eating all the good food loving family can create.

The Empty Lectern

This time of year is when Jason started really declining. 10.5 years since he passed, but the slow progression of his cancer really became evident at this point in the year. But I am healing over time. And it also brings up hard memories that I also cherish just as much as the good. 

One example is when he was supposed to deliver a presentation to the IEEE conference in Santa Fe in December of 2012. He wanted so badly to go, but his speech and cognition was just not there enough anymore for a live presentation. I offered to be his spokesperson, but we both knew that it was just not going to happen. It was with heavy hearts that we canceled his presentation, knowing that we had reached a milestone that we never wanted to happen. He was on what we referred to as the Tumor Fryer (I have a previous blog referring to that one here) and we were hoping for a miracle but realizing that miracles are few and far between. He had worked so hard to be invited to that event and it crushed him knowing that he couldn't participate. He decided not to go at all due to his speech issues.

The Empty Lectern

Having to cancel that presentation was, in some ways, an admission of defeat. An admission that the inevitable was happening. Something that we had staved off for far longer than any of his doctors though possible--all thanks to friends and family that supported us physically, financially, and emotionally. You have no idea how much you all helped, especially just knowing that someone was thinking about us and rooting us on.  (Are there onions being chopped in here? I feel onions.) Thank you all so much!

Memories of Beginnings

Just how did I meet my husband? I was clueless to his advances, despite his impressive skills at massage that he shared with me. So I remember well when I met him in my eyes. Not when I knew he had a Thing for me, just who he was. 

2010 Easter--not enough photos of both of us

Back in 2005 I was belly dancing, living on a good healthy diet, and walking everywhere on my college campus (which, admittedly, is small). So in short: I was built. I also was in a couple short acting skits that he was manning lights for. Cue the massages. In hindsight, a normal person would have taken this as being hit upon. Nope. Clueless. But I did look damn good in that cocktail dress I work for one of the skits.

One of my fellow actors invited us both to her house for a gathering which turned into more gatherings and a steady helping of bad movies, good company...and more of those sweet sweet massages.

But I was STILL clueless.

He asked me out once, but I turned him down as I was more focused on classes that were kicking my butt. (Calculus, I'm looking at you.) So we continued the gatherings and, unbeknownst to me, basically started going out with him on accident. Our first 'date' was actually instigated by one of the hosts of the gatherings much later on. At that point I realized that, no really, I was in a Relationship. Which confused me to no end since I never saw it coming. To be exact, I had never really been in a dedicated relationship before, so it was all new territory.

I have turned down quite a few people because I was an incorrigible flirt and had no intention of following through on the flirting. That is just how my friends and I played together. I still don't notice romantic/um...athletic attention, nor do I seek it out. I am quite happy to be a dog mom and ruler of my domain with no intention of changing that fact. Luckily my family is not pushing me to get married again or start up a relationship. They're fine with me as I am. 

But one thing I do miss is being more...I don't know...desirable? Yet I don't want the long-term attention, just a little encouragement that I have some attraction from the world. A push to my self-esteem as it were. And that is one reason that I am trying so hard, and sometimes stalling, at working toward a healthier me. Will I ever be in the shape I was when I was rock climbing, walking, belly dancing, and lifting weights? HAH! Nope. That's just too damn much work. But I want to see what I can do with what spoons I have. The gym workouts are happening. The damnable tendon damage and muscle use kicks in 48 hours post-exercising, but it will be worth it if it makes me stronger, more flexible, and--as a side effect--more toned. I want this for me, but there is that part of my mind that really wants it for, lets face it, attention. And I think that's perfectly fine so long as the other reasons come first.

A Comedy of Errors

I'm late to the game with this post, but I thought it was fun enough to get its own story.

Back on the 14th I decided to go north of town and watch the eclipse. Instead of staying in Albuquerque and seeing totality for several minutes, I took the easy way out and went just up the road to where I could see it for a short while...and avoid all of the Balloon Fiesta crazies at the same time. So I scooted 15 miles north to San Acacia and found a nice spot off the road to park and watch the action.

Now, I had my phone plugged into the car and was watching the sun at the same time. This should have been a red flag for me since the car engine was off. If I just turn the ignition to radio mode the car won't play from my phone. But nope. Instead I had it on the accessory mode with all sorts of electronics on. But I was enjoying the sights and thought nothing of it.

Until I went to start the engine after the eclipse. And it was too dead to turn over.

That's okay, I have my battery jumper in the back. I dug it out and got everything set up and pressed the button. I hopped back into the car and tried the engine again. Still dead. Crap. I scoped out the lights on my jumper to troubleshoot. But there were no lights to be had. It was deader than my car battery. Well huh. 

As I was cussing up and down for not charging the blasted jumper, a cowboy that could have been a twin to Sam Elliott drove up. He tipped his hat and commented, "Hood and hatch open. Looks to me like you may have a problem. Can I help?"

I explained the problem and gratefully accepted his help since I was fairly off the road and hard to see. My cell coverage was meager and I was desperate, though I hadn't had time for that desperation to kick in yet. Pissed off was more like it.

He hopped out of his truck and dug around where his jumper cables should have been. Nothing. His son had taken them out and never put them back. But he said he'd be right back after he snagged them from his house just down the road.

A suspicious length of time went by so I cooled my heels. Then I slapped my forehead as I remembered that I carry jumper cables in my emergency kit! I dug them out in case he couldn't find his, which was my guess as to why he was taking so long. That could have saved a lot of headache for everyone involved.

He came back with jumper cables in hand. They looked pretty rough. He explained that his were nowhere to be found so he borrowed a pair from his neighbor. So he hooked everything up and I tried to turn over the engine. 

Nope. Nothing. But I now had my (brand spankin' new) cables! He hooked those up and voila! Success! 

I apologized profusely for taking up his time and offered to pay for his troubles, which he declined--I was expecting it, but I always offer. Then he tipped his hat to me and off he went. I then got to appreciate just how lucky I was for the day, eclipse, podcasts, cussing, wonderful help, and a short road trip. It was a good day.

And the jumper is now charged.

Who am I Again?

Good darn question. There are days I question my sanity. Then there are weeks where I question it. The past two weeks have been in that vein, especially the last week. So what's wrong? The upcoming trip, of course, is weighing heavily on me, though it is nothing out of the ordinary for me. And the rest of life is pretty darn stable. So why am I not? Chemistry. Better or worse living through chemistry, I am almost certain. And that's just how it is going to have to be for the next week, then I can work on lowering stress and futzing with the chemistry side of things.

On a different note, this week I took stock of the people in the gym, both at my normal spot and one closer to the middle of town that was right across the road from my doc. I saw three women, myself included, when I was treadmilling at my normal spot (2 pm) and only one other woman at the different location (3 pm). None of the women were on strength training equipment. The rest were mostly semi-buff men. Things I didn't notice when I signed up. So I'm a wee bit intimidated, but determined to get out on the floor and do my best. On a good note, the strange acting chemistry has me motivated to go to the gym when I can.

I have the much-put-off trainer visit today, assuming all goes well. Today and tomorrow in fact...which now that I think of it may be a bad idea to be sore on the road. Oh well. I will have earned it and have something to distract me from the miles. I have no idea what to expect except for learning about where I am right now and maybe a short foray into the machines. It's only a 30 minute session, which isn't very long in the grand scheme of things. I have two more after this.

Oh yes, and when I first got my evaluation from a trainer, included in the membership price, they suggested two to three trainer sessions A WEEK. At $65 a pop. There was a special for the first three, hence, I have them. But each week? *Pfft!* That ain't gonna happen. I just want to be able to use the machines correctly so I am not relegated to treadmills (which I have at both homes) and the pool (which is nice and all, but I really need strength training). If I have to use YouTube to learn how to use them I will. Not the best idea, but it will work in a pinch. So I am going to be using the facilities to the best of my ability. Whatever that is. And I wonder if I will still have this energy after the great medicine futz.

Threatened with the Inevitable

Late last week we got bad news about my grandmother. The doctor was recommending that she go on hospice care. She hasn't been getting better after her hip surgery and is mentally declining. 

BUT

After that suggestion she suddenly started to get better. With the aid of a little pain meds she has been working on moving around and breathing better. When threatened with the inevitable, sometimes that is a push to defy time. So she currently isn't on hospice, though she has round-the-clock care that is probably better than what she would have in an inpatient care facility. And she's in a home setting with that care--not her original home, but a home that is not a facility. And usually she would have Grandpa there with her. However, that got interrupted this week after only a few weeks of her being back with him.

He has health problems, that is known. And he's had trouble breathing on and off for the last many months. This week it was bad enough that he used Grandma's oxygen machine (the extra one that would not deprive her of her own air) of his own volition before finally admitting defeat and going back to the ER. Once there they tried to find out what is going on. 

They found one of the problems: 1.5 LITERS of fluid in one of his lungs. It can be pretty hard to breathe with one full water balloon taking up space in your chest cavity and only one squished lung that works at all. So they got rid of that and all of a sudden he could breathe unassisted again. He's still in the hospital while they figure out just why it happened. Hopefully he will be out soon with a fixable answer.

Grandpa with Link in 2014

On that note, Mom and I are heading back up to see them both this weekend in another whirlwind trip from Saturday to Monday (Maybe Tuesday). We'll see how it goes. Only a small chance of snow, but we're taking the cold-weather gear just in case. And it's supposed to be lows in the teens in South Dakota so we're going to want it for there anyway.

In other news, I am on the way to a healthier me and it is going well, though so far I have only taken advantage of the pool due to my unfamiliarity with the weight machines. That will come over the next two weeks with the trainer (which has been getting pushed back quite a few times due to scheduling issues on both sides). So I swim. 

Especially when I remember to take my bag in the morning. I have made it a point to take it with me, but twice out of the the past two weeks I have managed to forget it--that second time being today. Last time I had to get back to the gym because I had an appointment with the trainer. Today? Not so much. I am am striving to not Nope-out of going back to the gym after getting home. I shouldn't have too much of a problem now that I have a secret weapon: my swim headphones. I swear that whoever developed bone-conducting technology must have been either hard of hearing or a swimmer. Yesterday I tried them out for the first time and found myself NOT looking at the clock and instead just paddling away while listening to (loud) rock music. Instead of 30 minutes of gee-I-should-keep-going I suddenly looked up and found myself 20 minutes over my goal. Score! So I think that will help keep me going a little easier. Also I can wear the gadget while lifting and such while still being able to hear what is going on around me. Double score!

So I will be exercising when I can, traveling when I have to, and trying to eat reasonably overall. I want to get back below 180 by the end of November. That's three pounds. I can do that. Or I will just take the time my body needs, if that be what is necessary. We'll see.