The Fat Lady Sings

Interesting Night

So....someone tried to break into our house last night.  It was three in the morning (I was still up with some pain).  Suddenly - one of my dogs (the younger one, Ginger) - flew off the bed into the living room post haste.  She then proceeded to begin deep growling barks - the scary kind, like when she's really pissed off at something.  I hustled out there (as fast as I could considering) just in time to see two things: Ginger all fluffed out - her ridge standing straight up from snout to tail - and the sight of a figure high-tailing it off our porch.

By the time my husband dressed himself and headed outside - whoever it was, was long gone.  No sign of a car - they were evidently on foot, or had parked out on the street.  Now - we live in an isolated subdivision surrounded by cow pasture.  There's a very busy road just outside the neighborhood (it connects to a well-traveled rural highway), however - so if the person wasn't local - they'd have an easy escape route.  We are assuming whoever this was - they meant mischief.  There was no knock on the door from a neighbor asking for help.  It was, perhaps, a crime of opportunity.  Someone seeing if the door was unlocked.

Here's where our dog Ginger really earned her keep.  Ginger is a schizophrenic animal - very high maintenance.  She also a handful to manage - I've been 'run over' by her any number of times.  Yet last night she really did her job.  No one could have made it past her - I'm convinced of that.  Our older dog, Smokey was in the middle of one of his Alzheimer's episodes - so he wasn't able to find the front door, let alone do anything about an intruder.  Family guard dog is now Ginger's job.  Smokey's retired (as it were).

So hooray Ginger!  You will be dining on peanut butter bones (her favorite) till the twelfth of never. :)

Health Updates

Sorry it's taken so long to get back to everyone.  Fact is - I really hate talking about all this.  Complaining makes me feel sicker, if you understand.  The CT test results are back in - and they provide some clarifications....and none at all.  Let me explain: the skeletal CT showed I have one crushed disk, 2 bulging ones and a possible fractured spine.  The fracture could be recent – or from one of my two bad accidents – there’s no telling at this time.  I'm being sent to a neurosurgeon that will presumably send me in for an MRI to confirm the diagnosis.  Doesn't matter - I will not be going in for surgery any time soon.  They can treat the fractured spine with braces and bed rest - but that's it.  I've already suffered through more surgeries than any normal person should ever have to endure.  I wake up in the middle of them; you know (surgeries) - have every time.  Only once did the anesthesiologist listen to me and take the time to monitor my brain waves.  When I started to come out - he was able to put me back under pronto.  The others never did.  I just woke up, and few noticed or cared.  I cannot risk that happening again.  You have no idea what it's like to be frozen under the grip of the paralytic drug they give surgery patients, unable to move and tell the surgeons you are awake and feeling every cut.  It's a wonder I didn't lose my motherfucking mind.  So no.  No surgery.  I'd have to be in extreme straights to ever allow it - especially where I live.  The nearest hospital's death rate is triple what you'd normally expect (even considering the bad health care we have here in America).  No - I'd rather not be dead, thank you.

As for the rest....the CT was 'inconclusive'.  Nothing showed up to explain away my terrible stomach and abdominal pain.  So....its back to the original 'guess' of IBS coupled with severe endometriosis.  The endometrium has most likely infiltrated all my internal organs (intestines included), binding them tightly together.  That means every time I shift or move, my organs get tugged or pulled on as if they were bound together with ropes (which is how the endometrium resolves itself outside the uterus).  There is also most likely quite a bit of scarring (which only adds to the pain).  I knew about the endometriosis 20 years ago - that and the fact that I have multiple uterine fibroids.  I had laparoscopic surgery done on one of my ovaries back then, allowing the doctors to take a good, long look at my innards.  The severity was noted, and I was advised then and there to have a complete hysterectomy.  I said no, not wanting to risk possible breast cancer from the artificial hormones I'd be forced to dose myself with for the next ¼ century.  Now I rather wish I'd taken the chance.  My GYN says I'm at too great a risk for the surgery now - so she wants to deal with the fibroids by burning them out.  It’s barbaric, actually.  The doctor essentially cauterizes the inside of your womb.  I’ve spoken to a friend who had it done.  She said it hurt like a son-of-a-bitch (both during and after) – and had she a choice, she’d never undergo it again.

So – that’s where everything stands.  There are more tests I have yet to endure.  One possibility is to have a look around inside with a laparoscope (again) – see what damage may have been done by the endometriosis – check if there may be something that was missed in the CT.  In the meantime – I deal with the pain as best I can.  That’s why my postings are sparse.  I’m dancing as fast as I can here folks - really!  And there are many good things happening.  I was recently asked to Front Page over at Blondsense (thank you Liz!!!); my book with Kelley is nearing the final stages before publication (there’s some editing to do).  There are also a couple other writing projects I have feelers out for (both genre fiction and autobiographical short story).  So I’m actually busier than my health seems to be allowing me time for (you can add in managing an unwieldy household and recalcitrant critters to the mix).

Well - that's the down and dirty.  Like I said - I HATE talking about all this.  It makes me sound like some complaining old biddy - which is light years away from who I really am.  The physical limitations have me crazy, you know.  I can't even stand for more than ten minutes before losing all feeling in my legs (my spinal problems).  That of course effects walking.  I can make it across the house, but that’s about it. It's a bitch and a half - and it fucks royally with my mind.  I get really depressed at times.  I went from an over-active over-achiever who regularly worked 17 hour days, to someone who can't even bend down to pick a pill up off the floor.  I try and keep a bright attitude – but it’s really hard to do sometimes.  There are days when the pain gets so bad I wish I could pull a Peter Ibbetson or Luis Molina and retreat into my own personal dreamland.  Not possible, I’m afraid – so I write instead.

And there’s been one other consequence to all this.  The pain has isolated me.  It can hit without warning, and with a strength that leaves me gasping on the floor.  You try explaining to someone in a store or on the phone why you suddenly have to immediately go; and no, there’s no need to call an ambulance.  On the phone it’s especially hard.  People cannot see how badly I hurt.  They take umbrage if I suddenly say I have to go - NOW.  They demand an explanation.  There’s no way to politely extricate myself from the conversation.  Even people who know me, but haven’t seen the consequences of my pain take it personally when I just hang up. I haven’t time to be polite, you see.  The pain literally takes my breath away – I can hardly talk. Often I’m left screaming, praying it will pass.  I know it’s hard to imagine unless you’ve been there. I’m told the pain approximates childbirth – you pant for breath, waiting for the spasms to pass.  It’s even considered worse, if you can imagine.  So here I sit – rendered immobile by my pain, locked into a lifestyle I hate – no exit; my own personal hell. Sartre had that right.

Anyway - I’d really like to thank everyone for all the emails.  Your concern is greatly treasured, my friends - truly.  Please know that I keep you all in my prayers.  Please keep me in yours.  And please be patient with my postings.  There are times when it’s not that bad and I can write regularly.  Then there are times like the last few months – when I hardly have moments in which to think.  Life can be so unexpected – can’t it? 

Will They Give a Damn After I’m Dead?

No news yet on the outcome of all those tests.  I spent Tuesday and a fair part of last Friday in the radiology department of our local hospital.  I discovered two things: that I’ve developed a sensitivity to the iodine solution used in CT scans - and that people are generally much nicer to someone in a wheelchair.  That hitch in my get-a-long from those long-ago accidents has been exacerbated by all the pain I’m experiencing.  Walking is an issue now.  Not even my leg braces help any more, I’m afraid…..so when I go these days – I go on wheels.  Will it be permanent?  Who knows.  I guess it all depends on how permanent I am.  Hopefully I’ll know the answer to that when the test results are in.

In the meantime – I’d like to rant a bit about our broken health care system.  It has taken this long for someone to listen to me.  Rolling into my doctor’s office in a chair prompted some action.  Why is that?  Why am I automatically sicker because I’m no longer ambulatory?  What was it about that wheelchair that provoked immediate action?  Frankly – I’d begun to think the only medical attention I was going to get was from the autopsy surgeon.  Diagnosis via death.  And it’s not like I owe these people money!  You’d expect that (unfortunately) from the ‘pay as you go’ brigade.  No - I can pay (for the most part).  I do have medical insurance (for what its worth – but I’ll get to that later).  Still……I’ve been ignored.  Had pain pills shoved at me.  Told it was ‘nothing more’ than IBS and I should get over myself.  One doctor even refused to continue treating me.

It’s shameful.  They should all be ashamed.  And it gets better (or worse).  There I am, hunched in a wheelchair, terrified past rational thought, curled up in pain - and the hospital check in person tells me my insurance has instituted a whole new deductible system:  $550 deductible for hospital visits – paid up front.  No – I say – its $500 and it applied to all medical.  No, she says.  That $500 only applies to doctor’s office visits – you owe $550 before you can check in to any hospital for any tests.  I started to cry.  We don’t have the money.  Not even in savings – and I needed those tests.  Oh - the woman was nice about it – said she didn’t expect me to carry $550 around in my back pocket (she was eying the wheelchair as she spoke – picturing lawsuits, no doubt). Bottom line - they admitted me for those tests.  Mighty white of them – don’t you think?  And yes – I mean that as a pejorative slap.

Sitting opposite me awaiting his turn at the bureaucracy was a man with one arm.  From his age, the age of his injury and the nature of his tattoos – I guessed he was a Vietnam era vet.  While we waited – he told me a bit of his story.  Last week he had been checked in for some kind of treatment.  He’s had so many – they couldn’t find veins in his arms (though they turned him into a pincushion looking for them).  I have the same problem, actually.  My veins roll – so it takes a skilled practitioner to find one.  Last time I went in for a CT scan it took 8 sticks.  But back to the Vietnam vet.  Finally, after going at both his inner arms and wrists - one of the nursing staff thought to read his doctors orders, discovering the doctor had mentioned that this would be a problem, asking the nursing staff to go for a vein in his leg.  Well they did, administered the wrong medication, making the poor man even sicker, so now he’s back trying to get everything fixed.  He was remarkably cheerful, considering.  I couldn’t even manage a smile.  I was too fucking terrified.  

In my humble opinion - our entire medical system is well and truly fucked.  But what can be done?  Haven’t a clue.  I say scrap the bloody mess and start over.  In the meantime I sit, and I wait for my doctor to get off his ass and let me know what turned up.  The longer it takes – the more frightened I get – imagining all sorts of terrible things.  I’m on tenter hooks here – with nothing to do but pray it’s not serious – because if it is – I really do not know what I’m going to do.  Really.   

Send Good Thoughts

I've been undergoing some medical tests these last few days.  Hopefully, they will help diagnose why I'm always in such terrible pain.  My doctor offered up some possibilities - none of which sounded very promising, I'm afraid.  So pitch in with the good thoughts, my friends.  I really need the help.

Critter Update:

Sorry it's taken me so long to post this.  I've had a very looong week, what with managing my own mini-pet hospital and dealing with my own health issues.  I wanted to thank everyone for their good wishes and prayers.  My kitties have all finally kicked the virus, and my dog Ginger is doing better too - though she's still experiencing some pain.  Hopefully this will pass when the antibiotics have done their job.  If she's still having problems - we will have to transport her into Atlanta proper (there's an advanced medicine clinic there).  It's a long drive (1 1/4 hours each way) and very expensive ($100 to walk in the door).  That's where we took Weasel for his diagnosis.  Lot's of good doctors.

Anyway - things are getting back to normal around here.  Today I plan on doing some gardening (if the pain eases up enough, that is).  I hope all of you are enjoying what's left of spring!  Oh - and for those of you experiencing log in problems - I finally fixed it!  Everything should load just fine now (it was a series of broken links).  Just let me know if anything else crops up.

Please Send Some Good Thoughts This Way - More Updates

   

(Louie and Muffin)

(Weasel and Inky Dinky Do)

I have some very sick critters.  Several of my cats have come down with a viral infection that is behaving very like distemper.  Muffin got it first - from boarding at our vets.  He'd been diagnosed with a pernicious cystitis - bad enough that it necessitated staying 10 days at the vets on strong antibiotics.  Muffin is very anti-social.  He'd become somewhat troublesome - so the vet sent him home.  Well - he started sneezing that very afternoon (he must have been displaying symptoms while at the vets – hell – that’s where he picked whatever this is up!).  The next day his eyes were running and he had a high fever.  Then the congestion moved into his lungs.

Back to the vet, along with Louie (not sneezing yet – sick with something else) - but not before Weasel and Inky got whatever this is too.  Weasel almost died he was so bad - and Inky is very, very sick.  I am pissed as hell at the vet - but as she's the only one for 50 miles - we're stuck.  I'm treating the animals myself with antibiotics, antihistamines and eye ointment.  I wish I had some interferon.  It boosts the immune system.  We once had our entire pet household come down with distemper (the symptoms were VERY similar).  Interferon made all the difference.  Frankly - that's what I think we have going on here – distemper - no matter that the vet denies it. 

I'm really afraid the other cats will get sick too – and I’m not sure I can handle it.  My health has been very bad of late.  I am in constant, terrible pain.  It's hard to think, let alone try and remember what cat get what med and when.  Sleep is out of the question.  In fact - it’s been a bad couple of weeks all around.  A power surge knocked out the refrigerator and the TV (after an 18 hour blackout caused by local construction problems).  Our car lost its windshield to rocks (construction again) and my medical insurance refuses to pay for non-invasive diagnostic methodology.  Looks like its exploratory surgery instead of MRI's and CT scans.  I keep telling my husband he really has to start planning for ‘just in case’.

So think good thoughts, my friends - and please forgive my inattentiveness when it comes to posting.  I can hardly think for worrying.

Update:  Inky is not getting better.  He's terribly sick.  I don't know what to do...  The antibiotics have not brought the fever down - not appreciably.  The disease has led to a nasty eye infection (I'm treating it - but it's not any better).  The sneezing is non-stop and he has trouble breathing at night.  All I can do is sit there.  I hate being so helpless.  He's so miserable he doesn't want to be touched - so I can't hold or cuddle him.  I just make sure he's as comfortable as possible and pray.  During the day he hides under the bed or behind my desk in the office.  He's eating - but not like he should.

Keep sending those good thoughts, my friends.  Poor Inky needs all the help he can get.

(Pumpkin and Kilmouski)

Well - you can now add Kilmouski and Pumpkin to the sick list.  Inky had to be rushed into the vet today - he had difficulty breathing.  The resulting change in medications really made a difference.  He seems to be past the crises finally (thank god!).  This virus is nothing if not tenacious.  Weasel is still sick with whatever it is (though on the mend).  The vet insists they don't have distemper - but I'd swear she's wrong.  I've nursed cats through distemper before - I know what it looks like - and it behaved exactly like this virus.  Let's just hope Kilmouski and Pumpkin don't get as bad a case as Muffin, Weasel and Inky.  I'm exhausted.  I haven't many more sleepless nights left in me!     

Mirror, Mirror

Had I the heaven's embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,

I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

Tuesday’s Child is Full of Grace

Yesterday was my birthday.  There was no real celebration, I’m sad to say. Not much gets celebrated these days.  I am in my 5^th decade – and with age comes wisdom – or so they say. So here are my reflections on what it meant to officially enter ‘middle-age’ – that purgatory of between times, when no one seems to give a damn any more who you are, or what you have to say.  Life certainly comes with a boatload of caveats.

Remembering what my life was…..

On the eve of my 24^th birthday I sat alone in my apartment and took stock of my life up until that point.  Assisting me in that endeavor was a ½ gallon jug of wine, and a carton of Benson & Hedges menthol cigarettes.  I remember I wept – for all I had lost, for all that never came and against a future that seemed rather bleak indeed.  I stared at and through that bottle, each sip as sour as my mood, chain-smoking myself into a nicotine high – wondering if I should take arms against my sea of troubles and by opposing end them.  At the time, it did indeed seem a consummation devoutly to be wished.  I was entering my 25^th year; I was living in a one bedroom apartment surrounded by a single bean bag chair and an old wire spool table. Unable to keep my pets while in the homeless shelter, I had stupidly trusted them to my mother who promptly had my brother kill them; ‘for my own good’, she said.  My acting career, such as it was, had come to a screeching halt about the same time I said no to auditioning for Playboy (the casting couch just wasn’t for me).  So it didn’t seem likely I would be accepting that Academy Award any time soon.  In vino veritas – the time had come, the walrus said to speak of many things.  I had a choice to make that night.  Did I give up the ghost as had my sister, aunt and cousin?  Or did I soldier on; changing all those things in my life that brought me to that pivotal moment.  Did I really wish to end the heartache and thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to?

Touches of Summer

First off, I'd like to say that my kitty Pumpkin is feeling much better:

As you can see - he is completely back to normal, seeking out and shredding evil paper wherever it lies.  I'll have you know he does the same to my desk.  If it's made of paper, its fair game. (Clicking on each picture opens them up)

Now to the subject at hand: summer.  I wanted to post a few pictures I took before the weather turned chilly.  Our harvest was good this year - especially the tomatoes.

    

Don't they look luscious?  We had literally bushels this year.  What we didn't eat, we turned into sauce:

 

 

Huge, meaty tomatoes - deep red, very sweet.  Outside of some freaky foam that appeared while cooking (I've yet to figure that one out), the sauce was superlative (and abundant).  Our chest freezer is literally filled to overflowing.

 

 

Yes, that is our front porch, and yes, the vines did grow that tall.  We were actually picking tomatoes on the roof!  The vines grew so thick they completely encased the porch.  Everywhere you looked there was green.  I wanted to put a sign out that said "Triffid Crossing" but my hubby didn't think anyone would get it.

   

Tomatoes weren't our only abundant crop.  Our cabbage turned into some kick-ass sauerkraut - and the melons!  Dear god - we ran out of room for those!  The vines grew everywhere.  We could have fed a small army on melon alone!

So - there you have it.  Summer's last gasp.  If the drought holds, we won't be growing anything next year.  Watering outside is illegal now (unless you happen to be a big corporation).  We have lots of fresh tomato sauce, and tasty sauerkraut to last well into next year (and beyond!) if need be.  I do kinda miss looking at all those vines, however.  :)   

Pumpkin!!! (Updated w/ More Pictures)

The antibiotics worked! No fever anymore.  My baby’s back home!  I know – it looks like he’s in jail – but he’s home - really.  He just has to stay contained for a few days until his internal stitches have time to heal.  No jumping allowed, and Pumpkin is the jumpingest cat on the planet.  He never met a horizontal surface he didn’t like.  So for now he has to live in one of the dog crates.  That’s OK – as you can see it’s nice and roomy.  He has a cat box, food and water, his favorite toy, a soft fluffy bed and some catnip to take the edge off.  If all goes well, we should be able to let him out by Saturday.

I want to thank each and every one of you for your good wishes during this difficult time.  Knowing there is someone on your side when things get tough lends strength.  Most of you have critters, so you understand how integral pets can be to the quality of life.  My babies lift my spirits – they lighten the load.  I understand and accept that loss is part of the bargain – but not so soon. I want my sweet Pumpkin hale and hearty - tear-assing through the house, chasing the other critters and climbing Christmas trees for many years to come.  So thank you.  From the bottom of my heart. 

PS - Here you can see Pumpkin's surgery scar.  It's almost as big as he is!  My husband took Pumpkin in this morning for a check-up.  Everything's looking good - so good in fact, Pumpkin has been allowed out with all the other critters.  He's going to be OK!

 

The $2500 Cat (and counting) - 3rd Update

We had a very frightening weekend.  Our kitty Pumpkin had to be rushed into the emergency vet for surgery.  X-ray’s showed Pumpkin had swallowed what looked like a large rock (????), causing a blockage between his stomach and his intestines.  My poor kitty was in agony.  In Chicago, this could have been dealt with at our local vets (and for far less money). Even the emergency vet up there cost less.  Here……people just don’t take their pets to the vet.  Therefore, the vet charges more. Go figure.  God, I hate living out in the sticks!

And poor Pumpkin!  This could have turned out so much worse. He came through the surgery just fine (thank god). Had it been let go just a few more hours….he may not have survived. I noticed there was a problem Saturday night.  Our emergency vet is more than an hours drive away, so even though I called them, I also called our local vet, hoping she would agree to take a look.  She said there was probably nothing to worry about (great little diagnostician there), but as she was coming into the clinic Sunday morning anyway to check on a sick dog, we should probably bring Pumpkin with.