For those of you that check up on me occasionally (is there anyone out there that does that?), I'm still alive.
I'm in charge of a project at work and I don't have time to pee most days let alone blog. Yes, I blog during slow times at work. Don't judge me.
I'll be back as soon as I can. I miss telling my stories (even if no one is reading them but me and Angry).
If I don't see you before January or February, have a Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah or happy what ever you might be celebrating!!
Showing posts with label Sadness. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Sadness. Show all posts
Thursday, December 6, 2012
Thursday, December 15, 2011
My love, my shadow.
Almost 15 years ago, Angry and I adopted a cat from a no-kill shelter. I want to tell you his story.
I went to buy some kitty litter from a local store. Some people from that shelter were there with cats and kittens in cages, looking to adopt them out.
I spotted a little grey guy who looked like a cat we already had. He was so cute and sweet that I adopted him on the spot.
When I asked the people about him and they estimated that he was about 6 months old. One of their volunteers had been driving down a very busy street and she noticed him running around. She pulled over and called out “Come here kitty cat.” He ran right to her and let her pick him up! He loved everybody, even a stranger on the street.
When we got him home, we put him in one of the bedrooms to separate him from our other two cats until we could get him checked out by the vet to make sure he was healthy. And then we’d have to introduce them slowly.
We’d go in a check up on him and give him some loving about every hour or so. One time, Angry went in and he came right back out and said, “It smells like piss in there.” Sure enough, he hadn’t been fixed (they told me he was and I didn’t look at that area to check) and he was spraying everywhere in the bedroom. Everywhere. He could smell the other two cats and wanted to make his presence known!
When we went to bed, we tried to think of a name for him. He couldn’t go to the vet without a name. We discussed lots of options but didn’t “love” any of them. Finally, I said, “Wait a minute; I love Gossamer, the monster from Bugs Bunny. He’s a monster right now. Let’s call him Gossimer.” We spelled it differently so he’d be unique. I called the vet at 7 am the next morning and told them we needed a checkup and a neuter that day.
He became my baby almost immediately. He had to share me with one of our other cats but when she died, Gossimer got full possession of my lap and my time.
In late October, as we were getting ready to go to Mexico, Gossimer started to rub his face and shake his head like he was in pain. We knew his teeth were sort of yucky and planned to get him in for a cleaning and have any bad ones pulled when we got back from vacation.
Unfortunately, the day before we left, he stopped eating. We called Angry’s parents and asked them to rush him to the vet on Monday. When we called them to check up on him, it was dire. But the vet got him “up and running” again with some fluids and some antibiotics. The plan was to clear up the infection in his gums and then do the dental work.
The week before Thanksgiving, he stopped eating again. We made his appointment for the Friday after Thanksgiving and he went in that day for a cleaning and any pulling that was required.
It was very unpleasant for him. He had two teeth pulled. One small one way in the back of his mouth and one canine (the big pointy one) on the bottom. Canine teeth help keep the jaw bone stable and when his was pulled it did quite a bit of damage. He was in a lot of pain and we had him on some narcotic pain meds and antibiotics.
He seems to be healing and was slowing eating small bits of food. Then, he quit eating again. The vet checked him out and felt that his jaw was healing well. We couldn’t figure out what was happening to make him not want to eat. We started giving him some more pain meds and that worked for a few days.
On Friday of last week, he quit eating again. We visited the vet again on Monday of this week and she said she was terribly worried that something else was “really wrong” that was not related to his jaw. She drew blood and we waited with baited breath until Tuesday for the results.
The results showed that he had cancer. By Tuesday he had really wasted away to nothing. He had, in these months, gone from about 7.5 pounds to 5.6 pounds. He was so weak that he could barely stand up. He was basically just staring straight ahead with no “life” in his eyes. The decision was easy for us. He could not suffer any longer and keep starving himself to death.
Tuesday night we took him to the vet, wrapped in his favorite blanket, and let him go to heaven. He was finally peaceful. He had been so hurt and sad since October.
I miss his face. I miss his purr. I miss his big eyes looking up at me waiting for me to scoop him up into my arms. I miss his long claws that I never trimmed enough, that would scratch my legs when he jumped on me. I miss his prancing around the kitchen because I could never get his breakfast or dinner ready fast enough for him. I miss him playing with his favorite plastic ball with a bell in it (carrying it in his mouth like a goof). I miss his “yowling” when he was hunting his toys. I miss his scratching on my bedroom door if I didn’t get up early enough for him (and while I was getting ready for work in the morning because he missed me for those few minutes). I miss his body sitting on my lap all the time. I miss him trying to get onto the TV tray when I was eating cereal or ice cream to get some goodies. I miss him reaching into the potato chip bags to help himself to salty treats. I miss him digging in the carpet. I miss him running to the door to greet me every time I was out of the house (or even if I was in the basement!). I miss him sitting on the toilet lid clawing at my legs, trying to get me to hurry up when I was brushing my teeth (so I’d pick him up). I miss him waiting for me to put on my jewelry in the morning so we could get some petting time in before I left for work. I miss him turning over onto his back to get his “armpits” scratched (he loved that!). I miss holding him in my arms, listening to him purr every time I picked him up (which was all the time). I miss his “head bumps” when we sat on the couch.
I know that he’s in heaven playing with his buddies that preceded him in death. I know he’d not in any pain. I know that he’s back to being a healthy kitty. I know that he’s at peace. My tears will eventually dry and my heart won’t ache constantly.
Goodbye to my handsome buddy who was my shadow for almost 15 years. You’ll be missed Gossimer. You’ll be remembered with much love and happiness.
I went to buy some kitty litter from a local store. Some people from that shelter were there with cats and kittens in cages, looking to adopt them out.
I spotted a little grey guy who looked like a cat we already had. He was so cute and sweet that I adopted him on the spot.
 |
| You would have taken him home too! |
When we got him home, we put him in one of the bedrooms to separate him from our other two cats until we could get him checked out by the vet to make sure he was healthy. And then we’d have to introduce them slowly.
We’d go in a check up on him and give him some loving about every hour or so. One time, Angry went in and he came right back out and said, “It smells like piss in there.” Sure enough, he hadn’t been fixed (they told me he was and I didn’t look at that area to check) and he was spraying everywhere in the bedroom. Everywhere. He could smell the other two cats and wanted to make his presence known!
When we went to bed, we tried to think of a name for him. He couldn’t go to the vet without a name. We discussed lots of options but didn’t “love” any of them. Finally, I said, “Wait a minute; I love Gossamer, the monster from Bugs Bunny. He’s a monster right now. Let’s call him Gossimer.” We spelled it differently so he’d be unique. I called the vet at 7 am the next morning and told them we needed a checkup and a neuter that day.
He became my baby almost immediately. He had to share me with one of our other cats but when she died, Gossimer got full possession of my lap and my time.
 |
| Catching a few rays. |
 |
| Gossimer tried to help me blog. It was obviously boring for him! |
 |
| Where's my milk and ice cream? |
 |
| Packer fan, through and through. |
 |
| I was a naughty kitten! |
In late October, as we were getting ready to go to Mexico, Gossimer started to rub his face and shake his head like he was in pain. We knew his teeth were sort of yucky and planned to get him in for a cleaning and have any bad ones pulled when we got back from vacation.
Unfortunately, the day before we left, he stopped eating. We called Angry’s parents and asked them to rush him to the vet on Monday. When we called them to check up on him, it was dire. But the vet got him “up and running” again with some fluids and some antibiotics. The plan was to clear up the infection in his gums and then do the dental work.
The week before Thanksgiving, he stopped eating again. We made his appointment for the Friday after Thanksgiving and he went in that day for a cleaning and any pulling that was required.
It was very unpleasant for him. He had two teeth pulled. One small one way in the back of his mouth and one canine (the big pointy one) on the bottom. Canine teeth help keep the jaw bone stable and when his was pulled it did quite a bit of damage. He was in a lot of pain and we had him on some narcotic pain meds and antibiotics.
He seems to be healing and was slowing eating small bits of food. Then, he quit eating again. The vet checked him out and felt that his jaw was healing well. We couldn’t figure out what was happening to make him not want to eat. We started giving him some more pain meds and that worked for a few days.
On Friday of last week, he quit eating again. We visited the vet again on Monday of this week and she said she was terribly worried that something else was “really wrong” that was not related to his jaw. She drew blood and we waited with baited breath until Tuesday for the results.
The results showed that he had cancer. By Tuesday he had really wasted away to nothing. He had, in these months, gone from about 7.5 pounds to 5.6 pounds. He was so weak that he could barely stand up. He was basically just staring straight ahead with no “life” in his eyes. The decision was easy for us. He could not suffer any longer and keep starving himself to death.
Tuesday night we took him to the vet, wrapped in his favorite blanket, and let him go to heaven. He was finally peaceful. He had been so hurt and sad since October.
I miss his face. I miss his purr. I miss his big eyes looking up at me waiting for me to scoop him up into my arms. I miss his long claws that I never trimmed enough, that would scratch my legs when he jumped on me. I miss his prancing around the kitchen because I could never get his breakfast or dinner ready fast enough for him. I miss him playing with his favorite plastic ball with a bell in it (carrying it in his mouth like a goof). I miss his “yowling” when he was hunting his toys. I miss his scratching on my bedroom door if I didn’t get up early enough for him (and while I was getting ready for work in the morning because he missed me for those few minutes). I miss his body sitting on my lap all the time. I miss him trying to get onto the TV tray when I was eating cereal or ice cream to get some goodies. I miss him reaching into the potato chip bags to help himself to salty treats. I miss him digging in the carpet. I miss him running to the door to greet me every time I was out of the house (or even if I was in the basement!). I miss him sitting on the toilet lid clawing at my legs, trying to get me to hurry up when I was brushing my teeth (so I’d pick him up). I miss him waiting for me to put on my jewelry in the morning so we could get some petting time in before I left for work. I miss him turning over onto his back to get his “armpits” scratched (he loved that!). I miss holding him in my arms, listening to him purr every time I picked him up (which was all the time). I miss his “head bumps” when we sat on the couch.
I know that he’s in heaven playing with his buddies that preceded him in death. I know he’d not in any pain. I know that he’s back to being a healthy kitty. I know that he’s at peace. My tears will eventually dry and my heart won’t ache constantly.
Goodbye to my handsome buddy who was my shadow for almost 15 years. You’ll be missed Gossimer. You’ll be remembered with much love and happiness.
Thursday, December 1, 2011
I wanna bitch about something.
As I say in the "About Me" section, I love some good beer or tequila (and wine too).
I don't have a drink every day but when I feel like it, I pop open a beer, pour a glass of wine, or have Angry make me a margarita (he makes a great one!).
Or, we visit our favorite local restaurant’s bar (and all our Facebook Friend bartenders) for Happy Hour.
I'm currently taking an antibiotic. This antibiotic has a "severe" reaction to alcohol. It is so severe that I can't even use mouthwash, cough syrup, or perfume.
Read that again. . . I can't put alcohol on. my. skin.
Needless to say, these 7 days that I’m on this medicine (and at least a couple of days after to let it work its way out of my system) suck. Big time.
Like I said, I don't have a drink every day. But since I know I can't, I've neverwanted needed a beer so badly in my life.
Every time I go into the fridge those beer bottles are staring back at me as if they are daring me to open them. I swear I heard “triple dog dare” last night as I was shutting the door. I hate them right now.
Thanks for letting me bitch. I hope I can survive until next Wednesday. Wish me luck; I'm going to need it.
I don't have a drink every day but when I feel like it, I pop open a beer, pour a glass of wine, or have Angry make me a margarita (he makes a great one!).
Or, we visit our favorite local restaurant’s bar (and all our Facebook Friend bartenders) for Happy Hour.
I'm currently taking an antibiotic. This antibiotic has a "severe" reaction to alcohol. It is so severe that I can't even use mouthwash, cough syrup, or perfume.
Read that again. . . I can't put alcohol on. my. skin.
Needless to say, these 7 days that I’m on this medicine (and at least a couple of days after to let it work its way out of my system) suck. Big time.
Like I said, I don't have a drink every day. But since I know I can't, I've never
Every time I go into the fridge those beer bottles are staring back at me as if they are daring me to open them. I swear I heard “triple dog dare” last night as I was shutting the door. I hate them right now.
Thanks for letting me bitch. I hope I can survive until next Wednesday. Wish me luck; I'm going to need it.
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
A sad blog post with a happy ending.
I've been thinking lately about some sad things.
My Mom passed away in February, 1994 from pancreatic cancer. While I've moved beyond the true "hurt" of that, I miss her a lot (more than a lot). I think about her all the time and there are many, many things that remind me of her. I often cry when I hear certain songs or see certain movies or other things that remind me of her. I see things and often think, "Mom, you would have loved that!"
My Step-Mom passed away this October from breast cancer. She fought a long, hard battle. She was brave and did all that she could to survive. I miss her. I especially miss her silly giggle and her always positive attitude about everything. She was the kind of person I could only wish to emulate.
I'm sad for my Dad who lost two very special, very beautiful women. He's lonely and I wish I could make that go away.
My Sister-in-Law had breast cancer. She is a survivor!! What makes me sad about this is that she had to go through surgery, chemo, and radiation when she didn't deserve to. I understand that life isn't fair but it still sucks big time.
About two weeks ago, I went for my yearly mammogram. I've been getting them done longer than a lot of women because my family is "loaded" with cancer. My doctor felt we should start a baseline earlier than most women (well before my 40s).
A few days after my yearly "squishing," I got a call from the clinic saying that the radiologist had found something "concerning" and wanted me to come back for more images and possibly an ultrasound. I couldn't get an appointment for two weeks so the waiting game was on.
I tried to not think about it but it was hard. I thought of my Sister-in-Law and her successful battle. I thought about my Step-Mom and her unsuccessful battle. I thought about my Mom and wished she was here so I could cry on her shoulder.
My follow-up appointment was yesterday. I got squished big time in that machine. Lots and lots of pictures. Then the tech asked me to come back for more after the radiologist had reviewed the first set. I have to admit; when she called me back I thought, "This must be bad."
The radiologist came to see me and said that everything was fine. She explained that in a mammogram, the images are 3D not one dimensional like an x-ray. I know that but what I didn't know (which she explained) is that you can get something called "bounce back" in the image. This can come from veins, fat or muscle. It shows up like a "spot" on the image. The original spot from two weeks ago wasn't there and there were some others that were more obvious (images were taken from many different angles this time).
My drive to the clinic was hard. I was sick to my stomach and a little scared. My drive home was happy and I felt elated. I thought of all the people who drive home with the word cancer in their diagnosis. I hope that for all of them, success is the path their lives will take.
It was a bag of mixed emotions for me recently but the ending was happy. I'm so glad I can say that.
My Mom passed away in February, 1994 from pancreatic cancer. While I've moved beyond the true "hurt" of that, I miss her a lot (more than a lot). I think about her all the time and there are many, many things that remind me of her. I often cry when I hear certain songs or see certain movies or other things that remind me of her. I see things and often think, "Mom, you would have loved that!"
My Step-Mom passed away this October from breast cancer. She fought a long, hard battle. She was brave and did all that she could to survive. I miss her. I especially miss her silly giggle and her always positive attitude about everything. She was the kind of person I could only wish to emulate.
I'm sad for my Dad who lost two very special, very beautiful women. He's lonely and I wish I could make that go away.
My Sister-in-Law had breast cancer. She is a survivor!! What makes me sad about this is that she had to go through surgery, chemo, and radiation when she didn't deserve to. I understand that life isn't fair but it still sucks big time.
About two weeks ago, I went for my yearly mammogram. I've been getting them done longer than a lot of women because my family is "loaded" with cancer. My doctor felt we should start a baseline earlier than most women (well before my 40s).
A few days after my yearly "squishing," I got a call from the clinic saying that the radiologist had found something "concerning" and wanted me to come back for more images and possibly an ultrasound. I couldn't get an appointment for two weeks so the waiting game was on.
I tried to not think about it but it was hard. I thought of my Sister-in-Law and her successful battle. I thought about my Step-Mom and her unsuccessful battle. I thought about my Mom and wished she was here so I could cry on her shoulder.
My follow-up appointment was yesterday. I got squished big time in that machine. Lots and lots of pictures. Then the tech asked me to come back for more after the radiologist had reviewed the first set. I have to admit; when she called me back I thought, "This must be bad."
The radiologist came to see me and said that everything was fine. She explained that in a mammogram, the images are 3D not one dimensional like an x-ray. I know that but what I didn't know (which she explained) is that you can get something called "bounce back" in the image. This can come from veins, fat or muscle. It shows up like a "spot" on the image. The original spot from two weeks ago wasn't there and there were some others that were more obvious (images were taken from many different angles this time).
My drive to the clinic was hard. I was sick to my stomach and a little scared. My drive home was happy and I felt elated. I thought of all the people who drive home with the word cancer in their diagnosis. I hope that for all of them, success is the path their lives will take.
It was a bag of mixed emotions for me recently but the ending was happy. I'm so glad I can say that.
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