What You Don’t See

Here’s what I was pondering yesterday. Grief, and the showing of emotion.

Yesterday I had to go to the vet’s office, for the first time since Bruiser died. Going to the place where she died, it made me want to throw up. I knew that I would physically be able to do it, I could make myself open my car door, place both feet on the ground, walk through the door. I had to get Jake’s steroids and heartworm meds for him and Chelsea. It needed to be done, and so I could do it. But I did not want to do it. Emotionally, I did not know quite how I would stand it. Or… I knew that I could stand it, because apparently I can stand just about anything, but I did not want to stand it. And I varied between “I can do this, no probs.” and “I am going to have a total breakdown.” And once I was on my way there, I saw quite quickly that things were veering straight into breakdown land. It was not surprising, as several times I have burst into tears just from passing that exit on the highway, so the idea of actually going into that place, the last place we went together, the place where I had to leave her body when she was dead, the place from which she is never, ever coming home – that idea was just… I don’t know the word for that idea. (I hesitate to use the word “unbearable” anymore, because I don’t think that word means anything. Everything, it turns out, is bearable to some degree. Unless it actually has killed you, you have borne it.)

And so on the way there, knowing what I had to do, I started crying. I cried all the way there, and I cried in the parking lot. And I cried as I walked in, and I cried as I told the ladies at the counter what medications I needed. And I saw Bruiser’s and my favorite vet, and she said hello to me and I just stood there weeping, and also going about my business. I did not let the fact that I was crying stop me from interacting and getting my business done. I just did it while I was also having an obvious emotional response. And I felt really OK about that. I have suffered an intense loss. I am devastated about it, I am sad. I feel pain when I think about it, I feel pain when I have to take part in activities that make me remember it. That pain and grief and loss comes out my eyeballs in the form of tears. They are an expression of my overwhelming sadness. That sadness did not stop me doing what I needed to do. My sadness and tears did not end the world. Presumably, after the girl with the intense sadness was gone, the veterinary staff went about their day as normal. Part of me wanted to feel ashamed and wrong-headed for being so openly, unabashedly sad, and yet I refused to. I did not want anything from them (aside from the meds I was buying.) I wanted no particular comfort or attention. My tears were not a strategy devised to elicit anything from anyone. I wanted only to exist in my own emotional space, having my own feelings, and expressing those in a way that not only came naturally to me, but also was not something I could control. I could have taken medication to make myself not feel those things, and not express those things, but to me that no longer seems like a sensible option – ingesting chemicals to quash my emotions. For whose comfort would I be doing that? For the people who might have to see my grief? I think they can stand it.

So while and after this happened— here’s what I was also pondering. I know that many people I see on a daily basis are also experiencing some intense forms of emotional upset. I mean, I presume they are.  Things happen to people, people get upset about them, that’s the human condition. I don’t know about them, because even though I know other people must be feeling some feelings, I do not see this expressed very often. I don’t know if that’s happening outside my sight range, because I do not search for it in other people’s faces. And honestly, I do not know for sure if it is happening at all. I was wondering, as I stood there weeping at the vet’s office—am I the only person today who will stand here and do this? The only person this week? The only person in the world, ever, to stand here feeling this way and let it leak down my shirtfront? I don’t know. Maybe so. Nobody else I know ever talks about feeling the kind of wild grief that I have been going through. Maybe it’s not considered polite, or maybe it’s considered weak, or maybe nobody else really feels that intensely about things, and my emotional brain is cranked up to eleven. Honestly I have no idea.

All I know is that these emotions are mine, and they are real, and they are not something I am going to pretend not to feel, or squash down or hide away behind a big fake “everything is fine!” smile. Being in touch with my emotions is a gift that I have given myself permission to accept. And I would say that I am sorry if it makes other people uncomfortable, but honestly, I am not.

Explaining the Unexplainable

On May 12th, Princess B’s heart finally gave out on her. She began to have trouble breathing, and she was in obvious distress, and I had to make the decision to let her go.

Since then I have been struggling to find a way to say that. To talk about it. To let people know. And I have discovered that there is no way to talk about it, it is an impossible thing. There are no words to make someone else understand what’s gone from my world. Maybe one day my brain will find a way to make letters into words into sentences that can somehow convey what has happened, and how I feel. But not now. And so instead, I will simply say that she is gone, and here are some pictures of her that are my favorites from the eight years we spent together. Continue reading »

Special Offer

Spot all three chihuahuas in this picture, and receive a major award!

Pupdate

Just picked up more of Princess B’s newest meds from the vet today, and I am very excited to report that she’s responding really well to them! No coughing fits, no collapsing, she acts like she feels well – it’s awesome. She’s been on this three-drug combo for about a week, and I think it’s definitely the right thing. Feeling very positive about it. :)

Yeah, she's upside-down, because that's how she hangs when her UncleTodd comes over.

Things I am Loathe to Talk About

The list of things I don’t want to discuss at any one time is fairly large. There are 4-5 things I can think of right now that I am totally unwilling to talk about, because if I don’t talk about them, they won’t be real. But something I don’t want to talk about but feel that I must is that the oldest of my three dogs, Princess Bruiser, is sick.

I don’t know how old PB is, she was a stray and was at least 6-7 years old when I got her back in 2002. So she has to be 13-14 years old, and possibly is even older than that. She has had a heart murmur since I got her, and that’s progressively worsened with her age. Nevertheless she’s remained quite spry, with the dire prophecies of surgery needed to correct her luxating patellas never coming to pass, she (usually) runs around and keeps up with the other two. And aside from poisoning herself with xylitol that time, she’s been fairly healthy. Sure, she gets tired easier than the other two do and would prefer to spend most of her time either being carried around or laying on a heating pad basking, but she’s an older lady. That’s to be expected.

One of my favorite pics of Princess B, back at my old apartment.

In July though, she had what we’re going to call an episode. She came upstairs as we were getting ready for bed and she started coughing. That’s not abnormal for her, and chihuahuas frequently suffer from collapsing trachea  – coughing makes them re-expand. So I didn’t think anything of it. But then she started wheezing, and then she fell over. Just kaboom, fell over on her side, conscious but unable to move. I picked her up and she was like a ragdoll, her body just sagged limply in my hands. She couldn’t even lift her head. So I held her, willing her to keep breathing, and after 5 minutes or so she was able to move around a little again. By the next morning she was fine. I took her to the vet, and she did some x-rays. Bruiser’s heart is enlarged, asymmetrical and had some fluid buildup around it. Also hear heart murmur had progressed from 3/6 to 4/6. Basically the night before her heart was no longer circulating enough blood to her muscles and organs to keep them working, which is why she collapsed but was still conscious. At that time the vet put her on an ACE inhibitor and a diuretic, to make her heart work more efficiently, and told me to keep her calm. Since then she’s improved, she’s had one or two coughing episodes since then, but nothing major. But last week she had another episode like the first one.

I had been trying to carry her up and down the stairs since the first time that happened, especially at night when she’s overtired, but she snuck up behind me last week as I was upstairs getting dressed to go out. She stood there looking at me and then she started coughing, then she collapsed again. This time she was crying because she couldn’t breathe, and contorting her neck to try to get air. It’s really awful to see. So I took her back to the vet. Now they’ve put her on a second drug to make her heart work more efficiently, and reinforced that she can’t do anything to strain her heart, like get excited or go up multiple flights of stairs. I can tell she’s tired, when she gets in bed with me she lays in one position on the pillow all night, covered with a blanket, not willing to move around. This morning she had a coughing/shaking fit while coming down the stairs – something that’s never happened before. It’s very scary and sad. Every day when I come home I am not sure if she’s going to come to the door and greet me, or if I am going to find her body somewhere cuddled under a blanket. I know I am a doom and gloom kind of person, but I also know that it’s only a matter of time until her heart can no longer function.

Because I am a worrier, and planning makes me feel more prepared and in control, I’ve found a company that will come to pick up her body when she dies. I know that seems very maudlin and maybe cold-hearted, but I couldn’t take the thought of being alone and grieving in the house with her dead body, and trying only then to figure out what to do about it. I needed to have plans in place for when that time comes. This company will come to get her and cremate her remains and return them to me. I don’t even know how I can type that without freaking out – but honestly I would rather come to terms with it now than later.

I have no concept of how my life is going to be without her in it. 7+ years of her constant companionship have changed me. Sometimes during those years she was the only connection I had (or wanted) with the outside world. Having the other dogs will soften the blow somewhat, I think, and that’s part of the reason I have them. I can’t be alone in that house without her, certainly. Not that I don’t love the other two, but PB is my heart.

Anyway, I don’t want to talk about this but I feel like I have to. Both so that I can process it and prepare myself, and for those of the rest of you who know her, so when and if something happens to her it’s not a rude surprise. Maybe I am wrong and she’s got years left on the planet. I certainly hope so. But I suspect that’s not the case.

You Down With OPP?

In lieu of anything of substance, please accept a photo of one of these terrible, horrible, no-good dogs.

Low Light

I don’t know why they always do the cutest things when they’re up here in the office where the light is so shitty.

Click pic for full size.

♫ I always feel like…

♫ Somebody’s watching me…

Vet Check

Took all the wee ones to the vet this morning, as they all had some kind of issue to investigate. Wasn’t too cold, but still they acted as if it was -20°, the way they carried on shivering in the car. Had to take Manchester to get there, but that wasn’t bad at that time of morning (about 9:30-10:00 a.m.) Anyway, wrangling all three of them on their 3-way lead is difficult, and probably insane looking, because we got a lot of commentary on the way into the vet. I never know how to respond when people tell me how cute they are. They are insanely cute, but that’s nothing to do with me, they just are. So it’s odd to say “thank you” to that. But I usually say “I know, aren’t they?” Which sounds maybe a little assholish. Whatever.

Anyway, Jake got blood tests and he’s off the Vitamin K as of Monday, as long as the tests come back OK. Then its just prednisone and PepcidAC for the foreseeable future. Refilled that prescription and noticed when I got home that it says “prednisolone” instead of prednisone on the label, and the pills look different. Now I have to call them on Monday and see what’s up with that.

The lump on Chelsea’s back is a cyst, not a tumor and should resolve on its own eventually. Bruiser’s hyperpigmentation on her tummy is from laying on the heating pad, as I suspected. He said it’s not bad for her, the pigmentation or the heating pad, just her body’s reaction to the constant heat on an area where she doesn’t have a lot of fur.

So for now we’re all happy and healthy and everybody’s fine and there’s no chihuahua drama, and that’s the only holiday gift I really give a crap about.

Life in the Tri-Chi Zone

Butt-Sniffing/Crybaby Action

Just some typical Chi shenanigans. Chelsea was sitting in that chair crying to herself for no reason for about five minutes. (We’re trying to teach her to self-soothe, but so far it’s not working.) By the time I got the camera, she’d moved to the ottoman, and Bruiser and Jake decided to get in on the action. I particularly like how Jake appears to spring from nowhere like the young kangaroo he is, and the three way butt-sniff that immediately follows his appearance. Other favorte part is at the very end where Jake tries to sniff Bruiser’s ear and she gives him a big helping of hey, have a look at my teeth, buddy.

Gah. Dogs.

You know how they tell you that rescue dogs will need a lot of extra love and patience? They are NOT KIDDING.

I am so aggravated at this little dog right now that I could drop kick her across the floor. Seriously. This scampering around the house and refusing to go outside is ON MY NERVES.

This morning I got her downstairs and outside, then she actually ate breakfast. This afternoon when I got home she came downstairs, went outside to pee, came inside and ate. So far so good. But then while the other two went back outside to poop, she ran up to the second floor, pooped in the bathroom, THEN came back down and wanted to go outside! Then when I got upstairs someone had also peed next to the pee pad instead of on it, and all the pee went under it, so there I was scrubbing the tile floor for the billionth time this week.

This evening we are in the 2nd floor office, and it’s time to go outside for the last call tonight. I carry her to the stairs and shoo her down. When we get down there she runs to the living room. I tell her to come outside with the normal dogs, and she looks at me all suspiciously and then breaks for the stairs, scampering back up to the second floor. I know if I chase her back up there she will run for the third floor, and if I chase her up there she will probably run under the bed.

I don’t have the patience for this shit. I am tired, and she is nonsensical. I am kenneling her tonight, and she can just hold it. It is not even that cold out, FFS.

Edit: Well, that did the trick — for one day at least. When I let her out of the kennel this morning she ran downstairs, went outside, then came back in and ate breakfast.

Gearing Up for a Lazy Saturday

We’re coming down the home stretch of NaNo, and I feel pretty comfortable with where I am. About 33k words. I hope to have 40k in by the end of the weekend, which shouldn’t be too hard to do. I have cleverly arranged things so that I don’t have to leave the house today if I don’t want to, so I should be able to get some decent work done.

Had to take Jake back to the vet yesterday, it was almost time for his bloodwork and I noticed some spots on his stomach that I suspected might be petechia again. It’s hard to tell because they’re basically just red dots & blotches, so any scrape he gets might look like that. The vet said better safe than sorry, given the condition he’s got, so they went ahead and moved his bloodwork up by a few days. Called this morning and his white blood cells and platelets are slightly elevated. This is actually good, because it must mean that his body is making some of its own platelets by now. I am still waiting for the results of the clotting factor test, but since these marks on his stomach haven’t spread I am hopeful that they’re just scrapes or something.

Anyway, that’s all for me. I am still waiting on news from MyTodd™ about some kind of fracas at his after-hours last night. Apparently there was an ambulance involved. I am glad I went home straight from the bar, his after-hours parties scare me.

Looking forward to NaNo being done and really doing a lot of reading in December. Instead of writing goals, I think I may set myself reading goals next month. People have suggested a lot of their favorite 1st person works of fiction to me, but if you have more please shoot them my way.

In the Mouth of NaNoWriMo Madness

So not much to say, or time to say it. I took these pictures of Jakester tonight. As a result of my spoiling him he’s become uber-clingy and wants to be held all the time. Or stuck in my sports bra to kind of lounge across my chest in the mornings. Anyway, they’re blurry and badly lit and I really like them anyway.

Back from vet

We went to see the vet this morning so Jake could have his blood-platelet count tested. The vet tried to get the blood from his arm but apparently he wasn’t having it, so they had to stick him in the jugular. This when he’s got a clotting problem. Anyway, there’s a little hole there, but they say he stopped bleeding pretty quickly.

I will get the results of this test on Tuesday, but they’re probably going to be a little misleading. Since he had a plasma transfusion last week he’s apparently running on borrowed platelets. The vet said that the ones he got should last about two weeks, and hopefully by the time his body destroys those it will have also started making new ones of its own, thanks to the steroids. If it hasn’t I don’t know if he will need another transfusion to hold him over while they start new (stronger) meds, or what will happen. Overall he seems well, but his gums are still really pale, and that bothers me. One good thing is that the vet found a chewable form of prescription Vitamin K for him that is only about $5 a week, as opposed to the prescription Vitamin K we had to get at Walgreen’s that was $80 for a two-week supply. This whole ordeal is kicking my savings account squa in the nuts, so that was some welcome news. Jake is now a member of Walgreen’s prescription savings club though, which I find hilarious. He has his own account, and I would have to pay a fee if I wanted to use it for me too.

After the vet we had to go to the grocery store which was right next to the vet, and I was not driving 20 minutes home to drop him off and then 20 minutes back just because society somehow thinks that dogs in bags are less hygienic than toddlers running around wiping their grubby hands on everything. (Sorry if you’ve got toddlers and think they’re all swell & totally clean, but this is a pet pet peeve.) So even though I’ve never really carted Jake around in a bag like I did Bruiser, I found one big enough for him and snuck him into Trader Joe’s. He did fine, just chilled out in there once he was all zipped up and no one called me out on it, so that was good.

Now we’re home and I need to get started on kicking out some serious words for NaNoWriMo, which is why I took all these Fridays off in the first place. But first – lunch.

Back to the Coal Mine

So tomorrow I have to go back to work, and that means I have to leave Jake here. He’s been fine all weekend, acting like he feels well, no bleeding, vomiting, petechia, nothing to give me any cause for immediate concern. But I can’t get over the feeling that as soon as he’s out of my sight something’s going to to wrong. I am nauseated at the thought of leaving him for 8 hours.

I wish that the vet(s) could have given me a prognosis that was more reassuring, or at least gave me something more concrete for my mind to chew on. Like: If “x” he will be fine, if “y” there is a problem. Right now it’s more like: if “x, y or q” there’s a problem. If none of those, there may still be a problem.

So tomorrow I am going to have to go sit at a stupid place and deal with fuckwitted morons, addressing problems of no consequence to people who will never understand WTF is going on around them, all in service to a useless cause, when all I want to do is stay home with my little guy. Life sucks like that. We have to spend all our time doing shit we hate, in order to afford the one or two things in the world we care about. Because that stupid ass job is what gave me the cash I needed to treat Jake. It pays for our house and his food. But it also sucks away part of my soul every single time I have to go to it.

Someday I have a dream of being able to afford truly employer-independent health care, and being able to survive on the income I could get from freelance work. Maybe.

So tomorrow I am going in early in case I need to leave early to run Jake to the vet for blood work. If I do, that means I will be expecting results on Tuesday. I am also seeing my new endocrinologist on Tuesday. Tuesday’s also when a little national election is happening too. You may have heard a little about that.

All in all, I think I am going to be looking forward to Wednesday when – even if it’s not the news I want – I will have some news, and get out of horrible anxiety filled waiting/limbo land.

/Sunday Rantings. Have a good week everyone.