Doxie Proxy

Lost.

Mister is ill - 3 days gone with bronchitis and a wretched cough, poor thing. He’s slept precious little and aches all over. Sleeping with him and the dog is an exercise in patient compassion. He coughs, wakes up, rolls over, groans because he aches, the dog is displaced from his snuggle spot amongst Mister’s legs (under the covers), the dog then rolls over and groans because he’s arthritic. So…it goes something like this:

Mister: *hack*

Mister: *wriggle* *moan* *rolls over* *groans* *hack* *cough*

Taz: *smacking noise* *wriggle* *wrigglewriggle* *flop* *groan*

Bless their hearts. That’s about all I can say, because my man, he is sick, and not just with the man-flu. (OK, I admit it. In his words, as well as mine, he feels like ass. In fact, yesterday he was sitting down, looking like he felt just horrid, and I looked over and said “Ass?” He replied “Yeah.”

Now see, for us, that’s funny as heck. An entire conversation in just two words, and nothing more needed to be said. My poor darling. I hate that he feels, well…. like ass.

The Book of Eli turned out nicely. I do enjoy Denzel Washington. The man can act, and he’s handsome, to boot. Why can’t he run for president? Oh, wait.. because he doesn’t have decent political experience, and he’s a good actor? Well heck! Apparently that’s all you need to get elected these days. Bleargh. Whatever. I joined a FB group along with lines of “I hate it when I get up in the m0rning and 0bama is president.” Again with the bleargh.

Argh. I would love to go see Legion, but must save money. Phooey. Will do next week.

Started back on the hand-written journal a few nights ago. (Dear God, I actually just wrote “a few night’s ago” - WTH is wrong with me?) I have always adored writing somewhat like the journal reads in that Bridget Jones movie. Y’know, all “am v. displeased with weight. Hair vile today. Must have this bushy shag snipped soonest.”

No, seriously…I tend to be more real, I suppose. I don’t know why. There’s a much bigger chance of someone finding my actual journal than this site, and no, it’s not because I’m a complete dolt and think all this is OMG private; it’s because Mister couldn’t be arsed to look for it, and that’s not a bad thing. I don’t say anything in either one that I wouldn’t say to him, so…meh.

Taz is snuggled beside me, curled up in a white blanket older than I am. Abigai1’s on her bed, snuggled up in a pink blanket, again, older than I am. What is up with my natty blankets? Ah well, they’re in good shape, and they belong to the dogs.

God, I’ve written about nothing, haven’t I? Blathered on incessantly about essentially random stuff, which I hate to read, but apparently tend to write.

Mom’s out of the hospital - thank you, God. Thank you, thank you, thank you. Please keep her safe.

Dad’s feeling much better - thank you again, God. Thanks so much, because he felt truly wretched for several days, and is only now able to eat with some semblance of normalcy. Poor thing. =(

My aunt’s doing well in rehab. She broke her hip, and I still can’t believe it. Please be with her, Lord. I do love her dearly.

My other grandmother seems to be doing well with her hip replacement. I’m not close to her (and it’s her own doing), but I am glad she’s not in any pain.

Lord, please be with all those folks in Haiti. I know folks say there’s a purpose for everything, but I sure don’t understand what it is for that awful, awful tragedy.

Time for Mister’s cough syrup. (Thank you, codeine!)

Night!

Tags: movies

Laughter

It’s been a long, long time since I laughed til I couldn’t breathe, but while watching  Paul Blart: Mall Cop, I did just that. As my dear friend K. would say, it was Hi-LAR-ious! Kevin James has the most versatile face, and the expressions he makes are hysterical. It was a cute, feel-good movie, and I walked away smiling and entertained. Mister and I don’t expect every film to educate us about life, or be an academy award winner; we just want to be entertained. We were, and that’s what matters to me.

We wanted to go see something that would take our minds off the present dilemma:

Abigail has relapsed again, we think. Her back legs are becoming wobbly, for lack of a more sophisticated term. Upping her dosage has usually corrected the problem fairly quickly, and we’re then able to taper her back down. The vet, while I don’t want to say he insisted, felt strongly that she needed to see the surgeon again, and probably have another myelogram. I was really against this, for a variety of reasons to be detailed later, but in the end, I know that I’m not the one with the knowledge and experience regarding my beloved dog’s illness, and I went with what he suggested.

She had her myelogram this morning, and it was clean. Normal. Fine, as in the CSF looks clear, and her spine is fine. So.. I just put my poor dog through a painful and invasive procedure for nothing. OK, not for nothing - at least now we know that her symptoms are related either to her illness or the treatment. But… still. I’m up at 0432 in the freaking morning because they wanted to keep her overnight for observation after the test, and I can’t stand the thought that she’s not here with me, in the bed, snuggled up beside me. I’ve damn near dehydrated myself with bouts of tears, and I would give much just to be there with her, or to have her here with me. Yes, I know the reality and facts of the situation. Yes, I know I’m being an emotional, rambling, irritating family member. I just can’t stop worrying that she’s not sleeping, because I forgot to bring a blanket or something that smells like home, and are they checking on her frequently enough, or is she hurting, and my God, I’ve got to stop this, because here we go again with the tears.

The surgery center she’s at is clean and professional, and the people there have never, ever been anything but kind. I know this. My rational half knows this.

Please just let the time pass. I can pick her up in 4 hours, and bring my sweet baby home - after I pay the $1200 for the test, the CSF send-off, the consult and the overnight fee. TWELVE HUNDRED DOLLARS! And she went through needles and dye! In her spine! So we could see that it’s completely unchanged from the one she had 1 year ago!

Ranting again…must stop.

I know, emotionally, intellectually, and professionally, that a test or procedure with a negative finding can have just as much diagnostic importance as one with a positive finding. I know that the outcome of this test - the fact that she has no spinal issues - is important to know at this time, in that it affects her treatment regime. If it was a spine issue, then the GME meds would change, and visa versa. I know this. Her ataxia could be due to prolonged steroid treatment, as this can cause relaxation of the tendons/ligaments. At least, I think that’s what can happen. I’m tired and upset, and am running on fumes at the moment. I’ll verify my thinking later. Verify…clarify. Something like that.

I just want her home. It feels like a part of me is missing. How cliche. How true.

Praying, and counting the minutes. A post entitled “Laughter” that is mainly about sadness. Sheesh!

Tags: Abigail, GME, movies

Memoirs

We went to see a Memoirs of a Geisha matinee today, and it was a lovely movie. I don’t care that there were Chinese actors playing characters in a movie based in and on Japan, for they did a wonderful job. The cinematography was breathtaking, and Michelle Yeoh and Ziyi Zhang have the most incredibly expressive eyes. It was a beautiful story which translated into a beautiful movie. The only thing I would have changed would be the part about the handkerchief at the end.

Spoiler - Highlight to reveal ->In the book, she pulled it from her sleeve
and showed it to the chairman. In the movie

she let it go atop a cliff, and it flew away into the wind. <- End of spoiler.

I need to do some serious organizing. We’re getting a new set of bedroom furniture sometime in the next few months, and I want to switch the computer room with the bedroom. I initially switched them because the fan in the then-bedroom squeaks like mad, and neither I nor Mister know anything about fans, be it installing or fixing them, and neither did/do we care all that much. Now, much to my chagrin, I realize that the new stuff needs to go in the now-computer room, and I want to to use this as an opportunity to do a purge of everything and anything I don’t need or love (see question #9).

Tags: movies