What a Chump!!

I keep forgetting that my niece called about 10 days ago. I ignored the first call, but the second she made from a phone that I did not recognize on caller ID, so I answered. She asked me to do her tax return for her! Apparently she had a job in prison that actually paid a salary. She has never prepared her own taxes. Either her mother did it or I did. She said she felt like she could ask me to do it since she would not get the refund anyway. When she went to school for medical assistant, she incurred a student loan debt which she has never even tried to pay. Both the state and federal tax authorities confiscate refunds when there are student loans outstanding. She may get her loan paid off by the time she is 65.

Anyway, I gave in an agreed to prepare her tax return. I am such a chump!

A Problem with Some Teeth!

I know I have bitched and bitched about pain. It is my constant companion, but there is something else that seems to go along with aging that is driving me nuts-my teeth!

When I retired it was impossible to keep my dental insurance. The cost was ridiculous. Last year when insurance election time rolled around, there to my amazement was affordable dental insurance. The timing was perfect. I’d paid the full price to have a couple of teeth extracted the year before and knew that I had some other problems brewing. Instead of going in for an exam and planning the work, I just went to the dentist for emergencies. My dentist stopped me during one appointment where I supposed to have another extraction and wanted to do a comprehensive exam. I got really pissed, but after thinking about what she had suggested, I went back. After having the exam, she recommended 5 root canals, plus some fillings. I refused the root canals. To have one performed would cost me about $600 per tooth. That’s only the first part. Then the tooth has to be crowned which would cost another $600 per tooth. I’ve gotten decay under a crown before and the tooth ended up being removed, so why would I pay $6000 to risk that? To have the teeth extracted is about $130 per tooth and 2 partial plates around $1000. Which way would you go?

Now I’ve had 7 teeth removed since October. I have 4 molars left and none of them mesh. I have to chew with my front teeth. I brush them about 5 or 6 times a day! I want an apple so badly! I want steak! Everything I eat is liquid or soft.

I decided enough healing; I am ready for the partial plates. I called to make the appointment and they tried to schedule me for fillings. I told them my priority is to get some teeth back in my mouth, and then I will get the fillings. I just hope we don’t get into an argument when I go in.

I am a little worried about getting used to the dentures. I will probably be biting the inside of my mouth for weeks. I just can’t image what it will be like to have the roof of my mouth covered. I shouldn’t be concerned. My one sister has had full dentures since the age of 31. The other sister, ‘Z’ had an upper partial plate. I think part of the reason she got it was to correct her overbite and close the gap in her front teeth. Boy was she pissed when her new teeth had a gap! It wasn’t as big as the one in her real teeth, but she felt she deserved a perfect smile. She also had a hypersensitive gag reflex, but the dentures never seemed to bother her. So all of my worries should be allayed, but if I didn’t have something to worry about, what would I do all day?

Why I Don't Like Vicodin

I have a theory about so-called painkillers. They really have just enough narcotic in them so that you don’t give a damn about the pain. They don’t really relieve the pain. I don’t enjoy the feeling the narcotic causes so I use Darvocet most of the time. It takes just enough of the edge off the pain so that I can function. Tonight however is one of those rare times I will take Vicodin. I was vacuuming the upstairs for hours in preparation for flea treatment by the pest control people. I have a lot of joint and back pain, but the worst is my ankles! I’m just hoping the Vicodin will allow me to go to sleep. I got into bed about an hour ago and could not lie still so I got up. I put on socks to warm up my ankles, but it doesn’t seem to be doing much. I may put my magnets on too. I’d like to get to sleep soon since we have to get up early to be ready for Kombat.

I came up with my painkiller theory after my hysterectomy. I had a PCA pump filled with morphine. It seemed like every time I hit the button, I fell asleep for about 3 hours. When I complained that my bladder was bothering me, the nurses would come in and hit the button on my PCA. I think my bladder catheter was kinked because when I would pull on the hose, the pain let up. I guess it was easier for the nurses to put me to sleep than to look for a problem. When I figured out that I was goofier than I was in pain, I quit using the pump. I started feeling better and left the hospital a few hours earlier than had been planned. Now I try not to use the PCA if I have one.

My sister did not like hospitals and would do everything she could to go home. She would encourage me to get out as soon as I could too. When I had the shunt implanted in my brain she wanted me to go home the same day. Luckily my doctor absolutely refused. I wanted to stay. They had just drilled a hole in my skull and inserted a drain in my brain, so I wanted to stay until they were sure it was working. I stayed over night, but did leave earlier in the day than the doctor had planned for me. By then I felt comfortable and was ready to be in my own bed. I looked ridiculous; half of my head was shaved bald!

‘Z’ would always push to go home when she was in the hospital. After her second gastric bypass it was so physically draining on me when she was at home, I would hope for her to get worse so I would get a break. I would get so tired that I spent most of the day in bed, fully dressed and ready to attend to her. I had a baby monitor from my dad. He had used it when my mother receiving chemotherapy. That monitor saved my sanity. ‘Z’ would not call me for help, but I could go check on her when I heard something on the monitor that concerned me. The monitor is still being used. I gave it to my neighbor so she could sleep and not sit up all night just in case her husband tried to get up during the night. We had home health workers come to help with ‘Z’. It was a relief to have an aide come who was trained in giving bed baths. I got ‘Z’ into the shower only once after her surgery and there was an occupational therapist here at the time. The nurse would come 3 times a week to clean and dress the incision which had re-opened in several places and was also infected. The aide came twice a week to bathe her and change the bed. Of course there were days when I changed the bed 3 or 4 times. When ‘Z’ was strong enough occupational therapy and physical therapy came 2 or 3 times a week. They had her up walking with the assistance of a walker in January. By the time she went back to the hospital, she was so weak she was unable to walk and never did walk again.

Thinking back on all that happened, I think someone could have told me sooner that she was not going to make it. In the hospital they would give her Lactulose by naso-gastric tube which would cause diarrhea and bring the ammonia level in her blood down. When she was lucid again, they would send her home. When she was at home, she was supposed to be taking the Lactulose, but I discovered she would dump it. I guess it was extremely sweet and she did not like it. The first sign of the ammonia increase was a rash. Then she would get weak. Then the mental confusion set in. While she was at Kindred Hospital she had not yet been diagnosed with liver disease. They were convinced she had suffered a psychotic episode and would have to go back to Atlanta Medical Center for a psychiatric evaluation. I wish I would have known about the problem with protein being converted to ammonia. Her spools would have been a dead give-away. She would have a liquid bowel movement which ended up in her bed. It would burn her. She would ring for help repeatedly which didn’t do any good since it seemed that they had only one aide would was willing to clean up those messes. I cleaned her myself several times. One weekend I found that her call button had been taped over. She told me her nurse had done it because they were tired of her using it. I should have raised hell immediately because when I complained on Monday, suddenly no one knew anything about it. They claimed that they checked the security cameras and could not see anyone taping the button. No one who worked that weekend would admit that the button had been taped, so it was just my word against theirs.

I think I am ready to try going to bed again. The Vicodin has kicked in. My ankles still hurt, but I have that slight narcotic haze. I think that is why I went rambling off about my sister’s illness. One more trip to the bathroom and back to bed.

A Day at the Dog Park

Boy, I am pooped! I woke up in pain this morning and barely made it up the stairs to the bathroom. I spent most of the morning reading and taking it easy. Later my daughter-in-law suggested taking some of the dogs to the dog park in Atlanta. I’ve never been there so I decided I would go along. My dog, Raina, has never been to the dog park, so I packed her 20-ft leash so I could keep her under control. The walk from the parking lot to the pet enclosure is pretty long so I got some exercise. Raina did OK until we got inside. I kept her on the long leash, but changed back to the 6-ft leash when she got very aggressive with a Doberman. When we got our dogs alone, they were doing fine. But as soon as another dog came around, Raina went nuts. Hamburger and Penny had a great time. Penny found a Jack Russell terrier to play with. Hamburger liked one dog so well that she almost left with its owners. I had taken my camera along, but forgot to take any pictures.

We stopped for a little shopping at a Petsmart in Atlanta and then grabbed lunch at the Varsity. When we got home, it was time for pain meds and a short rest. Then we went out for flea medication, new coats for three of the dogs and some groceries. We ran short of Frontline and all of the dogs have fleas. That’s not too good when some of them sleep in our beds. Four of the dogs have vet appointments tomorrow, so we wanted to treat them for the fleas tonight.

I felt badly that I had forgotten to feed and water my finches before we left for the dog park. The poor things had no food by the time I got to them and the Society finches were completely out of water. They started screeching in unison when I walked in the door. All is quiet now.

I am such a chump. My niece called the other day and I let it go to voice mail. She changed locations and called again. My son picked up and then buzzed me on the intercom. I spoke to her reluctantly. She wanted me to prepare her tax return. I tried to convince her it was easy to do by touch-tone phone, but she has never done a tax return. I told her to send me copies of her W2s and I’ll take care of it. I should have just said no. Next year for sure, she can figure it out on her own.

They Call Him Arthuritis

I knew we were in for some rain from watching yesterday’s news plus my Weather Channel desktop. It thunders when there is severe weather to report. I would have known anyway since I woke up with a headache and sore joints. Of course part of the joint pain is due to the filing cabinet my son and I moved yesterday.

I went to the doctor again about my arthritis and he has now referred me to a rheumatologist. Of course I can’t get in to see the specialist until April. Until then I’ll get my information, test results, x-rays, etc., together. I like the fact that they send forms ahead of time to be completed. I’ll probably scan them into Acrobat so that I can fill them out with my computer rather than trying to do it by hand. That hurts too much.

I did get a prescription for another anti-inflammatory that does seem to help a little. I just don’t like taking so many NSAIDS. They are hell on the stomach. I think I just don’t feel it as much because of the gastric bypass. Anyway I will get the prescription filled when I have the money free.

When you are in constant pain, you’ll try anything for relief. I have a TENS unit somewhere. It has gone missing since I moved downstairs. I use it on my back when I am going to be out for a long time. I know what TENS stands for, but it is easier to explain that it is a little box about the size of a pager, powered by a 9-volt battery. It delivers an electrical shock to electrodes placed on the skin. It sounds weird, but it works. A few years ago my sister wanted to try magnets. I don’t know if the magnets really work or if the neoprene bands that hold the magnets in place making my joints feel warm. I found mine the other day and have been wearing them.

I tried acupuncture a couple of times. I found an MD who was licensed to do it. It was a bit of a drive. Medical insurance does not pay for acupuncture, but it at least it paid for the exam by the doctor. They say you need to continue treatments for them to be effective, but it just got too expensive. It did have an immediate result that was very interesting. I felt as though I had just drunk a couple a glasses of wine. No wonder they told me I needed someone else to drive. Since then I have found another MD who does acupuncture on this side of town. It’s the same doctor who replaced my sister’s knees, so I trust him. I don’t know what he charges for a treatment, but I may check into it one of these days.

I’ve been wondering about biofeedback. The pain specialist I see has not suggested it. I don’t even know if he does any work with biofeedback. I think I will do some research on it and talk to him during the next visit. It can’t hurt.

Last night I ended up in tears over dinner. We were having crab legs. I never thought anything about it. I couldn’t use the tongs to take the legs out of the pot, so I was grabbing the ones that stuck out with my fingers. I accidentally put my finger in the hot water. That’s what started the tears. I ended up using two wooden spoons to get the legs out of the pot. Then came the really hard part; cracking them to get at the meat. I managed to get enough to eat, but my hands really hurt. I think I am going to stick to lump crab from now on.

Arthritis and Bird Care

I’m whiny again today. This is the second day in a row that my arthritis has been bad. My hands feel like they have been plunged in ice. There is a constant ache and moving is painful. My right thumb actually pops when I move it, which I try not to do. After my third trip up the basement stairs yesterday, I started using the stair lift. I couldn’t wait too long for trips to the bathroom. I wish some generous millionaire out there would take pity on me and build me a safe bathroom in the basement. Remodeling my bedroom cost a lot and it will be a while before I finish paying for it.

I moved for a couple of reasons. My son got married last June and I think he and his wife deserve privacy. I’ve always joked that I will be taken out of this house feet first. I hate moving, so I intend to live out my years here. When my sister was sick, she was so weak that with very few exceptions I had to have the fire department come and remove her from the house. They suggested that I move her downstairs. I thought it was a great idea, but with her being bedridden, I needed her near a bathroom. She could not get to the bathroom, but I needed it for the bedpan and the cleanup. My ideal downstairs bathroom would have a tall toilet. My knees are getting worse by the year. I’ve had surgery on each of them twice. I want a shower stall with a bench. If I need to save money I would use a separate shower chair rather than a built-in bench. It may sound silly, but I want a vanity with a double-bowl kitchen sink installed. I have a kind of kitchen set up now with a coffee maker, refrigerator and microwave. The only access I have to water is the laundry room. I have six 2-liter bottles that I fill. Left over coffee, tea and dirt finch water gets dumped into a paint bucket. I empty the paint bucket in my driveway and rinse it in the laundry room. The only drain in the laundry room is the 3 inch pipe that the washer uses.

I try to keep busy. This morning I used a bathroom trip as an excuse to sweep the kitchen floor. If my son and daughter-in-law had been awake, I think I would have run the vacuum cleaner in the living room. Living with 8 dogs is rather dirty. I wish it would be possible to teach them to wipe their paws before coming in the house. I have now fed my finches and given them fresh water. On a bad day that simple task is hard and painful.

I have two finches that are laying eggs again. I am just throwing them away. I started with 2 Zebra finches last May and I now have 13 or 14. It has been fun to watch them tend the eggs and raise the babies. The two birds that are laying now are children of my original pair. When the first clutch of eggs was produced, I had to use a small stool and a mirror to see the nest. That was upstairs in my old bedroom. I can see into the cages better now that they are on stands. I got to see one of the eggs hatch. The babies are so tiny, but then they would have to be coming out of an egg that is just over ½ inch long. I didn’t know that birds clean their babies after hatching until I saw it myself. The babies do get loud and a bit obnoxious when they leave the nest, but still want the adult to feed them. It’s fun to guess what the sex the babies are. They do not display any of the sexually dimorphic (impressive!) markings until they are several weeks old. The latest baby is just now getting the orange coloring in its beak. There were two babies, but one died. I have two other babies that are a few weeks older. I keep watching to see if they will develop the orange cheeks of the males. I have a feeling that they are females which will mean more eggs to throw away. My room is never quite quiet during the day. Their calls are very pleasant. Thank heavens they sleep at night.

The picture at the top of the post is of a Society finch. The baby it has hatched is a Zebra finch. The Society finches do not have sexually dimorphic markings so I may have 3 males or 3 females. They didn’t seem to care that they had not laid those eggs. They just adopted the eggs are theirs and raised the babies.

My Niece, Part 2

There are moments when I wonder why I am bothering to document all of this. As soon as I think I have finished with my memories, I remember something else like the day my niece’s boyfriend was hiding in my house. There just seem to be so many stories. It seems like there was trouble with ‘T’ all of her life. The earliest story I have been told about was the day that 4-year old ‘T’ tried to run over a neighbor child with her battery powered motorcycle. When the child’s father told my niece to go home, she told him to “hit the bricks”. The expression came from my dad. My brother-in-law took ‘T’ to the offended neighbor and made her apologize. I heard that she cried, but not because of shame for behaving badly, but because she had her motorcycle taken away.

When she started school, the kindergarten teacher had so much trouble with her that the school refused to allow her to return unless she was medicated. Her behavior in third grade was so bad that the teacher moved ‘T’s desk to the front of the room. I mean right in front of the blackboard, not just the front row. I saw it myself, so I know it is true. School continued to be a problem with her. In middle school she showed up one day high on marijuana. The school system transferred her to a special school with behavioral problems. My sister always seemed to believe the fault was the school, not her daughter. I always felt sorry for my brother-in-law. He seemed to be trying to be a responsible parent, but my sister would always back up ‘T’ and ignore his input. When she was 13, ‘T’ was hospitalized in the psychiatric ward. I don’t know what precipitated it, but it was around the time that she was diagnosed as bipolar. She got a furlough to come home for Christmas. My son and I were spending that Christmas with my sister’s family. I was napping on Christmas Eve when I was awakened by my niece crying hysterically. What had happened was that ‘T’ was playing with my son who was 5 at the time, he fell, she fell on him and he had a large cut on the back of his head. It is not fun to be in the ER on Christmas Eve. By the next morning, ‘T’ had reworked the story so that my son was at fault for getting injured and her bad judgment had nothing to do with it.

As I said in Part 1, my niece had been given 7 years probation for the forgery conviction. She managed 3 years of reasonable behavior. Things began to really degrade when she moved in with the abusive boyfriend. Then when she left him and moved back in with her mother and me, and brought the friend who was also on probation. Her behavior was bad enough while she was with us, but it went downhill after I told her to leave my house. She stopped reporting to her probation officer and was involved with drug dealers.

She called one day in late February 2005 saying she had taken a job and needed to come by the house to get some clothes for work. My sister had paid for clothing for ‘T’s many different jobs, so there was a selection stored in the basement. ‘T’ showed up with a woman I did not know and carrying a puppy. She opened the refrigerator for this woman and told her to help herself since, as ‘T’ said, “This is my (‘T’s) house, my real house”. I bristled at this statement, but decided to address it later when the woman was gone. After pouring soft drinks, ‘T’ went to her mother’s bedroom and dropped the puppy on the bed. My sister exploded! She was allergic to flea bites and we didn’t know anything about this puppy. ‘Z’ yelled at ‘T’ to remove the pup from the bed. ‘T’ started shouting back and everything fell apart. My sister was extremely ill by then and did not need to be upset .I told ‘T’ to leave immediately. I was so angry by then that in front of ‘T’s companion I reminded ‘T’ that this was not her home and she had no right to offer the hospitality of my home to anyone. It ended up being one of those yelling matches where everyone’s trying to out-shout the other. She finally left when I picked up the phone to call the sheriff.

Later that day, ‘T’ called on my phone line. She apologized at first and then got angry with me because, according to her, I had embarrassed her in front of her friend. I wanted to hang up but she insisted she had to apologize to her mother. I reluctantly gave the phone to ‘Z’. From the end I was able to hear, they were arguing at first, but then I heard my sister give ‘T’ permission to return. When the call was over, ‘Z’ told me she had allowed ‘T’ to come back to get her clothes. Since she had been ordered out earlier, she had not looked for her clothes. She showed up alone some time after dark. I remember her spending some time in the basement and then she said she wanted some private time with her mother. After about 20 minutes, I found her in the ‘office’ in the dark talking on the phone. I told her she was supposed to be with her mother, not in the office. She did go to her mother’s room after that and then left shortly thereafter.

The next day, I answered a call on my sister’s phone line. She was really feeling awful that day and asked me to take care of the call. It was her bank. They had called to get approval to cash a check for ‘T’. I asked ‘Z’ if she had given ‘T’ a check. No. 'T' must have stolen the check the night before. My sister kept her blank checks in a desk drawer. I asked how much the check was written for. The teller said it was for $1,550.00. I told the teller to call the police immediately, the check was a forgery. They tried to delay ‘T’, but she figured out that something was wrong and left. The police chased her in her car. The story she told me later was that she ended up in a cul-de-sac, grabbed her puppy and ran through to woods to elude the police. She supposedly lost the puppy while she was running. The police lost her.

I called her probation officer to report the incident. I found out she had been assigned to a new probation officer and he was in the process of obtaining a warrant for her arrest for probation violation. Even though I put the probation officer in touch with the detective handling the new forgery, she was never prosecuted for it. Also probation violation is not considered a high priority by the police unless the person has a history of violence, so she went free for a while.

In April my sister was back in the hospital. By then ‘T’ had contacted her probation officer to try to talk him out of punishing her. They made arrangements for her to surrender to him on a specific date. It was decided that my sister needed to be transferred to a nursing home for rehabilitation since she had not been able to walk since January. ‘T’ did help me with the transfer. We had to take ‘Z’s personal stuff to the nursing home. 'T' told me she was supposed to surrender on Thursday of that week. She was also telling her mother that the surrender was delayed because she was helping the police with a drug sting. My sister asked me to stay out of it, but by Wednesday, I called the probation officer to find out what was going on. I told him about the drug sting story and he said it was a total fabrication. The sheriff’s office could not use her in a sting without his permission. Plus she would have had to have been arrested already and there was not record of it. He also said she was supposed to have surrendered herself on Tuesday, so she was late in meeting with him. When I faced her with the truth (in her mother’s room at the nursing home), she told me to stay out of her business and left. She was finally arrested in early May and had a crack pipe in her possession at the time. Between the county jail and the state prison, she served 14 months. During that time, I had to have her sign papers to have my sister cremated because my sister was comatose by then and it had to be signed by the next of kin. The last time ‘T’ saw her mother was the day I called her out on her lies.

Cell phones saved my sanity during my sister’s illness. I felt I had to have the phone so that my sister’s doctor could reach me at any time. I never gave ‘T’ the number to my cell phone. I unplugged my sister’s phone at home, but left the answering machine attached. I turned off the ringer on my line; I had voice mail. I checked the machine and the voice mail at least once a day. Many times the messages were from ‘T’. She would scream obscenities and threaten me. Better that she did that to a machine than to me. The people who needed to reach me had the cell number. When my sister went into the nursing home, I got her a cell phone. The nursing home would allow installation of a hard-line or use of a cell phone. We never gave ‘T’ the number.

‘T’ was paroled October 31, 2006. She is living in transitional housing in Atlanta. She called me for her birth certificate since I am still storing some of her stuff and the personal things of her mother’s I am keeping for her. I paid $32 to order her a new one over the Internet. She needed it to get a job. She says she is working. She seems to think the family should welcome her back like she had been away at summer camp. I laid down my conditions in a letter I wrote to her during her incarceration. I want her to finish her obligations to the state of Georgia, get a job and support herself for five years and then we can talk. She has never truly supported herself or taken full responsibility for her actions. My sister would either give ‘T’ what she wanted or ‘T’ would take it. I am not my sister and I will not step into the role she played in her daughter’s life.

My Aches and Pains and the Dogs Who Make Me Better

I hate to sound whiny, but I am finding the process is getting older to be the pits! I tell myself that things could be worse, but that is hard to keep in mind when my hands ache and my knees feel like they have swollen to the size of basketballs!

Last year during my physical my doctor suggested that I start walking every day. He said that saturating a t-shirt with sweat was the best measurement for the amount of exercise. The second time I went out walking, I slipped on a twig on my driveway and fell flat on my face. I was using my cane at the time, so I got a bruise from it as well as the bruises from hitting the ground. I always have bruises on my legs and arms. After a couple of episodes of temporary deafness in one of my ears, I saw an ear, nose and throat specialist. They tell me I probably have a condition called Meniere’s Disease. It causes ringing in the ears, hearing difficulties and balance problems. I thought I was just clumsy! I had blamed it on my hydrocephalus which was diagnosed in 2002 when I was 47. My neurosurgeon kept telling me that my dizziness and the ‘squealing’ in my ears are not related to the hydro. The problem with Meniere’s is that there are no tests and no treatments. The cause is unknown.

After I fell, I decided to try yoga. My pain specialist gave the go-ahead on it, so I found a teacher close to my home. I had tried a video at home and gave up. It was hard to watch the television and try to do the poses at the same time. I gave it up after two classes even though I did like it. My hands were going numb a lot. It turned out that I had carpal tunnel! It was probably from caring for my sister while she was sick. She was pretty much dead weight and I would have to roll her from side to side. I’ve had surgery on the right hand with immediate improvement. The left one is not as bad and I don’t think I will have surgery on it.

I’ve had surgery so many times that I have started to enjoy being put under anesthesia. I always tell them to do it slowly so I can enjoy it. One doctor called me obsessive because I keep my surgeries and medication in a Word document. A few years later that same doctor decided that I was smart for doing it. Who can remember 13 procedures and when they occurred? Or is it 14? At least I don’t have them numbered, I have to count them.

I put this aside for a few days because it does just sound like someone crying “Why me?” I’ve even read it over several times trying to come up with a way to rewrite it and make it funny. On good days, I can really laugh at myself. I just can’t seem to do it this time. I’ve been using ice packs on my knees for the last 3 days. Whenever it rains or I climb the stairs too many times or I put my foot down wrong, I end up with at least one knee that is swollen and throbbing.

The recent rain is also affecting my hydrocephalus. I get bad headaches before the rain comes. I can feel the drainage catheter filling with fluid. If I have spasms in my back, the muscles pull all the way around to my abdomen. The drainage catheter is under my abdominal muscles so it gets pulled and I feel pain in my gut from the end of the catheter.

At least I felt well enough for a while this morning to write about the wildlife in my yard. I also started work on a website about our dogs and the three (maybe four) we will be breeding. Thinking about the fourth dog does make me smile. My daughter-in-law had bought two chocolate Boston Terriers. The two were just as cute as could be, but in need of a good meal and de-worming. They ended up with the temporary names of Hamburger and Pickle. Pickle now has a new home and a new name. Hamburger fell in love with my son and him with her. It took a while for him to admit her wanted to keep the dog. The name Hamburger is staying. In a way I hope her head does not grow into her ears. Those ears are huge! They look like batwings. Her nose is brown except for one pink spot. Every time I look at her, I think she has mucus smeared on her face.

That felt better; I may feel lousy physically, but the face of a little dog can make me smile. So can my Yorkshire Terrier who is outside barking like we are being attacked by bears. Maybe I need to sit with her for a while. She makes me feel better too.

Enjoying the Great Outdoors

Back when I felt like it was time to get out of apartment living and into a house, I thought it may never happen. My then husband had very specific requirements. It had to have at least 2 acres of wooded land. The trees had to be hardwoods too. I live in North Georgia! There are mostly pine trees in this state. The house had to be brick, not just a brick façade. That was because of the termite threat (I’ve since learned you can get termites even in a brick house). And it had to have a full basement. Full basements have gained popularity in this area in the past few years, but they aren’t necessary like they are up North. I felt like we would never find his dream house, but we did and it was the first we looked at.

The best part of this property is the wildlife. I do see a little less of it since the area has become more developed. I have seen deer and wild turkeys traveling across the back yard. Last summer the dogs alerted us to something outside the backyard fence. It was a small snapping turtle trying to dig under the fence! I was surprised to see it there because it was a little distance from the creek. We find box turtles often; in fact we have to rescue them from the dogs who think they are toys. Every spring a pair of hawks nests in one of the trees. A few days ago I thought the dogs were barking at the hawks, but when I saw two birds on the ground and one in a tree, I knew they could not be hawks. I went out to investigate and discovered they were buzzards that were lunching on the remains of a cat. Yuck!

My sister had an above ground pool put in several years ago. I had a total of 11 trees cut down inside the backyard fence to expose the pool to the sun. That water was cold! The loss of the trees did not deter the tree frogs. They use the pool for mating and spawning. It’s amazing that such little creatures can have loud and irritating voices. The eggs would collect on the Polaris hose. I was glad when we finally started using chlorine instead of an ionizer for sanitizing the water. The frogs still lay their eggs, but at least the eggs die and filter out.

Those 11 trees left behind large stumps. I’m glad I didn’t have them removed. The dogs use them as barking platforms. Watching them, I sometimes think they are playing ‘King of the Hill’.

My driveway is 300 feet long and I like to walk out to get the mail. The main reason is to look for wildlife in the front. There are lots of squirrels and chipmunks. When spring comes, I’ll start seeing the rabbits again. There is a creek that cuts across the property about half way up the drive. The creek has been a problem a few times over the years and has washed out the driveway twice. I like the creek because I can see footprints of the animals that come there to drink. That includes the neighbors’ dogs as well as possum and raccoons. There is enough of a pool next to the drive that there will be small fish wash down from the pond a few properties up the street. They disappear with the next big rain, but I like to think they are making it to Sweetwater Creek and my little pool is just a rest stop.

My cats live inside, but still enjoy the outdoors from the windows. While they lived upstairs, I had lounging shelves on 3 windows. You could always tell when there were birds on the feeders. Eliot’s tail would lash about and she made a strange chattering sound. At night both cats would bat at insects on the other side of the glass. Now that they have moved downstairs, they have to share one window. Sometimes it means that there is some hissing and hitting as they argue over possession of the window sill. One day they were quietly sharing the sill. I noticed Eliot’s tail doing that excited lashing. I managed to squeeze in between them and discovered two tiny black eyes looking back from outside. A mouse had nested in the weeds outside the window. I’m just glad the mouse is outside. I think the mouse is glad too.

I’m trying something to attract more wild birds to the basement window. I use a litter made from corn cobs in my finch cages. I have started dumping the uneaten seed in the bottom of the cages rather than dumping it in the trash. The finches seem to enjoy searching among the litter and the seeds. I cleaned the cages yesterday and emptied the trays into a trash bag. This morning I took the bag out to a spot outside the basement window and emptied it there. The corn cob should degrade naturally and hopefully the wild birds will be attracted to the leftover seeds. I’ll just have to keep an eye on the cats to see if they are watching out the window more.

A Tale of Two Kitties

I have two cats. I am also allergic to cats. Why would someone with cat allergies live with two cats? Get comfortable, it’s a long story.

Remember my niece ‘T’? About three years ago while she was living with a boyfriend, she would come to my house, supposedly to see her mother, but spent the entire time on the telephone. I knew something was up because she would close herself into my sister’s bedroom or the office so we could not hear her talking. This was one of the danger signals with her. She is the type you hate to be around when she is on a cell phone in public. You hear every word of her end of the conversation. She thinks she is just that important that everyone would care. So when she made phone calls privately, something was up. I insisted she tell her mother and me what was going on. After much yelling and screaming about her privacy, she admitted she was calling about a kitten. Obviously she had not told her boyfriend since the calls were being made where he could not possibly hear.

My heart sunk. She couldn’t even take care of herself, how was she going to be responsible for a kitten? I had already taken in her dog in 1994 because she would not take care of it and my sister had sold her house and didn’t have anywhere for the dog. I just knew that if she got a kitten, I would end up caring for it.

She assured us that she was just considering getting the kitten, there was nothing definite. Two days later she walked in the door with a calico kitten. The boyfriend still didn’t know about it. He was going to find out that day when he got home from work. This is the guy she had been living with for months giving her mother and me a phony name for him. She didn’t want us to know he was the same man who had blackened her eye and broke her glasses two years before. I guess he was as thrilled about the cat as I was since ‘T’ started bringing the cat to my house every day before she went to work so that the cat was not alone with the boyfriend. Then it progressed to us babysitting the cat on weekends. I wasn’t having much difficulty with the cat dander, but I did develop hives if Patches scratched me. My sister also had a mild cat allergy, so we kept the cat out of her bedroom.

When I realized that Patches was becoming a permanent fixture, I decided to get her a playmate so that I didn’t have to take Benedryl constantly. I went to the local shelter and found a tortoiseshell cat. She seemed very friendly and so Eliot became a member of the household. Within 48 hours, Eliot was in heat! I don’t know how people can stand having female cats that are not fixed. They are obnoxious when they are in the mood for love. She even offered herself to my old dog. Since I had gotten her from the shelter, her surgery was prepaid and I set it up as soon as possible.

Eliot’s surgery just reminded me of another incident involving my niece. I had trouble fixing the timing in mind, but the cat was part of it and it helped me to remember. My sister owned two timeshare weeks in Florida that usually started the Saturday after Thanksgiving. She and I would go and just relax, maybe spent a couple of days at Disney World and do some Christmas shopping. Eliot would be coming home from the vet after my sister and I had left for Florida. We entrusted ‘T’ with the care of the dog and cat while we were gone. One condition we had set up was that the boyfriend was not to set foot in our house. By then, we knew his real identity. ‘Z’ and I had a good time and as usual we were ready to go home before the full two weeks had ended. We drove straight home on Thursday instead of Saturday. When we arrived, ‘T’s car was there and mine was gone. I didn’t think too much about it since I did allow her to use my car for work sometimes. ‘Z’ and I unloaded the most important stuff and started sorting the mail. The living room television was on. That wasn’t so strange since we sometimes left Animal Planet on to entertain the dog. It was on ESPN, but I thought perhaps ‘T’ had been watching some NASCAR related show and just forgot to change channels. I tried to find the remote, but it was nowhere around. The missing remote didn’t leave my mind, but I still had the mail, some laundry and the dirty dishes ‘T’ had left in the kitchen. I was also looking for Eliot. She was still new to the household and I had left her with the vet and then wasn’t even there when she returned home, so I kept looking for her. I searched almost the entire upstairs and then started on the basement while I was working on the laundry. We even called ‘T’ on her cell phone to make sure that the cat had been in the house that morning. After 2 or 3 hours I got a little frantic. By then I was upset about the cat, pissed about the missing remote and very unhappy about the dirty dishes. I started another search upstairs (it is a ranch house with a full basement) for the cat. I had never checked the coat closet in the living room since it had been a mild winter and we hadn’t been wearing coats. When ‘T’ arrived to pick up her car, I questioned her about the cat and the remote. Finally in exasperation, I checked that closet for the cat. My heart nearly stopped when I opened the door. There stood ‘T’s boyfriend, all 6 feet 4 inches of him, with the television remote in his hand. I exploded! I should have called the police. That man had been hiding in the closet the entire time that my sister and I had been home and never made a sound. I didn’t ask him how and when he planned to leave without us knowing. I ordered him out and told him to never come back. I guess it was foolish of me not to call the police. This man had been violent with my niece and was on probation for domestic violence with his ex-wife. My niece should not have even been with him. It was a violation of her probation to associate with another person on probation. As far as her probation officer knew, she still lived with her mother and me. My dad is right; you can tell ‘T’ is lying because her lips are moving. (I did finally find the cat. She was hiding so far under my bed, that I needed a flashlight to find her. She came out after I had been home for a day.)

I got off on a tangent, duh. Back to the two kitties; not long after Eliot had been fixed, Patches came into heat. ‘T’ of course had no plans about having her fixed and the cat hadn’t even had her shots yet. ‘T’ knew her mother would take care of it; her mother took care of all of her messes. I called around for the most economical spaying price and made an appointment for Patches. That taken care of, the cat became a permanent fixture after we found out that the boyfriend did not like the cat and was mean to her. Now I had a 13-year old Bichon Frise dog and two cats.

I continued to allow the false impression that Patches belonged to ‘T’. After my sister’s surgery and she became so ill, the only time we ever saw ‘T’, it was when she wanted money or a private telephone for one of her schemes. I decided that the cat was mine. I fed her, cleaned up after her and played with her. So I changed her name to Harley which is short for Harlequin (she has diamond markings on her face). ‘T’ was livid! Too bad.

In early 2005, my now daughter-in-law moved in with her dog. I had to have the Bichon put to sleep in December 2004. He was old and very ill. The cats were accustomed to having a dog around, but an old dog, not a pup. They adjusted to Jack the dog. Eliot would hide all day and come out at night when the dog was in her crate. Harley just went about her day as usual. No dog was going to make her change her habits. When my sister passed away, I started feeling the loss of my dog. I found a Lab mix at the shelter that was about the same size and age as Jack and named her Jill. Then my son got a dachshund mix, a female named Reggie (our vet thinks we have weird names for our animals!). Eliot became a little more withdrawn and Harley began playing with the dogs! Poor Eliot, she just tried to stay out of the way of the dogs, but they are natural hunters and chases would happen. I became concerned when I noticed that Eliot used her claws to fend off the dogs. She also used her claws on me a lot which meant ingesting Benedryl. Even though I don’t believe in de-clawing cats, I had the procedure done on Eliot. I was worried about injury to the dogs and I could not continue to take the antihistamine every day. I think she misses her claws. She bites more now and looks frustrated sometimes when she plays with her toys.

By the time that my son and his girlfriend married, the household had grown to 7 dogs and the two cats. Harley was still very cool about the dogs and just acted as if they weren’t there. I had shelves on the wall in my bedroom. I ended up clearing most of the bottom shelf for Eliot to use as her safe haven from the dogs. Now the cats and I have a bedroom/sitting room in the basement. The only dog that comes down here is my Yorkshire Terrier. She is smaller than Eliot, so the cat does not seem intimidated by Raina. Now the cats play together again and not just at night. Harley has adopted a small cardboard box as her own. I need to post a picture of her in that box. I guess only a cat could find it comfortable. Harley also climbs the exposed ductwork in the room where I keep my refrigerator. The first couple of times she got up there, I heard a lot of yowling from her when she could not figure out how to get down. I made the mistake twice of ‘helping’ her and got clawed for my efforts. She figured it out on her own. Eliot has become an accomplished climber of the containers. She has even managed to get on top of the wardrobe. She isn’t adventurous enough to make the jump from the wardrobe to the bed, but Harley has (and startled the crap out of me when she did it when I was in bed). I received a pair of Zebra finches for Mother’s day last year and found out they are a gift that keeps on giving. I now have 3 cages of birds which the cats love. While we were still upstairs, I had to fasten the cages down with bungee cords. Luckily we have only had one incident of a cat upsetting a cage since moving downstairs and I solved that problem with a little furniture shifting. Twice I have had birds escape and Harley has helped me capture them. I have no illusions about Harley’s intentions. If I had not been there to take the birds away from her, they would have been lunch. She is much better at catching them than I am and the birds were not injured luckily.

I enjoy having my own living area separate from my son and daughter-in-law (I just need a bathroom down here!). I did not realize how much it would enrich the lives of these two cats that I shouldn’t really have, but would miss horribly if they were gone.

Attack of the Red Velvet cake

I was writing about growing older, being in pain and being too well acquainted with my doctors. I suddenly felt really down about it and then remembered the remains of a piece of red velvet cake in the kitchen. There is nothing like sugar to make me feel better. At least that was the idea.

It was really a pitiful piece of cake. My daughter-in-law brought it home to me on Christmas Eve. It was squashed and dried out. I actually picked around on the plate and found the moist bits and a little frosting. I did throw some of it away. Maybe that was because the plate was the same color as the cake and I just missed it. I’m glad it tasted good going down because I am paying for it at the rate of 20 minutes of misery for every second of pleasure.

I am sitting here with sweat pouring down my face and feel like I might barf. I had a gastric bypass back in 1998. I lost over 100 pounds and am grateful for it every day. The misery I am feeling is called ‘dumping’ and it is one of the things that make the bypass work. Oh sure I can’t eat as much as I could before and there is less time for my body to absorb anything. The thing that really makes the bypass work is the punishment that is inflicted when I overeat or eat the wrong things.

I grew up Catholic and it seemed like they were trying to teach us to be good, but all we were learning was how to avoid punishment for bad behavior. The bypass feels like that. I’m supposed to learn what it feels like to be full rather than hitting that point when the food just comes back up. None of the literature about bypasses I read warned about lactose intolerance. I love half and half in my coffee. Sometimes I end up with gas, but it’s unpredictable. My doctor said sometimes it goes away. He didn’t say that I would be lactose intolerant on Monday, Tuesday, Friday and Sunday, but only during the second and fourth weeks of the month. For a real double whammy, I will insanely eat ice cream; gas from the dairy and dumping from the sugar. I also have trouble with rice and spaghetti now. If the rice is in soup, I can eat it and if I cut up my spaghetti into half inch pieces like my mother did for me when I was four, I can eat it.

The thought suddenly went through my head that maybe we all need a mother to control our eating, but my mother used to make me eat everything on my plate. She apologized to me repeatedly over the past 30 years of her life. I guess I am one of the people who just need to have the punishment of the bypass. I’ll just blame it on the nuns in the Catholic school.