Marta: My Life

The calm after the storm

2008-05-24T08:31:00.003-04:00

My daughter-in-law left early this morning for her weekend with her family. My son and I agreed not to tell her what happened yesterday until after her trip. The only thing she noticed that was out of place were the pictures that fell off the wall when my son slammed a door.

I spent the evening copying video tapes to my computer. It's all part of a project for my dad. I found footage of his mother in my sister's old home movies. I have contacted my brother-in-law's family so see if they would like to have DVDs created from the old movies.

Other than working on the video for dad, I want to get the pool filter running today. It looks like a swamp, but I know I can clear it. I started removing the leaves on Thursday. The filter will remove a lot, but we will still keep cleaning. I hate that pool and could live without it, but it is here and I have put money into it to make it usable, so we will use it. I figures when the deck reaches the point where it is no longer usable, we will disassemble the pool and get rid of it. I never wanted it. I just let my sister go ahead with it to appease her. She was in it all of 2 times.

What a bummer

2008-05-23T12:14:00.003-04:00

I hate it when I climb all over my son. This morning it happened after a series of events lead me to find hamburger wrappers and cat pee behind a chair in the livingroom. It's not fair that I seem to have these blow-ups when his wife is not available. The problem is that they live like slobs. Nothing is ever put away. Empty soft drink cans and dirty plates litter the livingroom and my son's office. I hate going into their bedroom. I cleaned it once when they went away for a few days. I won't do it again.

We need to sit down together and hash this out. My fear is that this behavior will continue when they have children. The answer I get from my son is that he is busy with school and his wife has work. Somehow I worked a very demanding career, raised a son, kept a fairly clean house, did yardword and still had time to sit down and watch a movie.

I've written down what set me off today so that I can talk with my daughter-in-law. She is working right now. She will be home for a little while, but then has to go back to work until 10 pm. Tomorrow she is leaving to spent the long weekend with her mother. I think I need to let it wait until she gets home. I need the notes to explain how this happened.

I hate this.

It's been a while

2008-05-22T18:42:00.002-04:00

I think I need to start using this as a diary. Things happen and I don't remember them or only remember part of them. Today I called a company that had charged my debit card for $1. My account was overdrawn, so that was an extra chunk of money. When I called the number listed on my statement, it turned out to be for a medical discount card. I never would have said OK to that. Then they mentioned the $100 gas card come-on. That I remembered! That is the only part I remember. I would not have approved it if they were going to charge my card before I saw the program. Well at least the bank is going to reverse the charge and the NSF charge. Life is expensive enough.

This business with my memory bothers me. I have times like now when I feel dizzy and floaty. I can make sense, but not if I am given too much stimulation. Right now I would get really pissed if someone interrupted me. These are the days when calls like that come in. Or someone beeps in on call-waiting. There never seems to be anyone doing that except when I feel weird.

Maybe I am feeling this way because I worked on cleaning the pool today which I am not supposed to do. Sean's going to help me with the pool tomorrow. Seems like I always have to start on a project by myself before I get help. I have had dinner while I was typing this and I feel a little better.

My niece is in jail again. She has been there since March. This may be her "third strike". At least she has not been bugging me. I still keep waiting for "pay phone" to show up in the Caller ID.

The pain is intense today

2007-11-08T23:19:00.000-05:00

I have had a really crappy day today. At least I slept well last night…and all afternoon! I don’t know what started it, I didn’t do anything strenuous. I have been having headaches all week, but today I developed a hot pain along the drain for my shunt. It’s ridiculous, I need an ice pack for the pain in my head, but I need heat for the pain in my neck and running down my chest. I would be really worried if I were running a temperature, then it might be an infection. This is supposedly scar tissue running along the tubing. When I ended up in tears I took a Darvocet and a Tramadol. When they kicked in I got so drowsy that I ended up in bed for the afternoon. Shannon’s mother called and I am surprised that I managed to make sense to her and get a message. It took all of about 5 seconds for me to fall asleep again. Sean even came in the room, after he knocked on the door and left the mail for me. I was totally unaware of it.

I’ve taken the Darvocet and Tramadol again before the pain gets too bad. I really hate that I have 2 shelves in my room that look they belong in a pharmacy. I get most of my meds in 90-day supplies, so there are several bottles of each thing that I have to keep track of. My pain specialist won’t write 90-day prescriptions for 3 things because they are controlled substances. He doesn’t want to risk having them stolen from the mail. I guess it is wise but it is a bit of a pain to keep track of which meds get filled every three months.

I suppose it could be worse; I could be without treatment for the pain. It’s so stupid that this all started when I was trying to tie my shoe. It just seems like it has been downhill ever since. I can’t really look at it like that. I had developed osteoarthritis in my knees in my early 20’s. It seems to be in all of my joints now. It is the worst in my knees and thumbs. Why my thumbs? The hydrocephalus was supposedly there all of my life. It might explain the bad headaches I have had for years. I thought they were caused by allergies and sinus congestion. I need to get my head around managing the pain like someone would manage diabetes. It just hurts so bad to walk some days. I think I look like the chimpanzees in the original “Planet of the Apes”; all hip movement and no knee.

I am going to go watch the stuff I taped tonight. I am leaving Raina upstairs again tonight. After she woke me at 3:30 am the night before last, I need to have her sleeping with the other dogs. This way she will already be out of my room when I have one of the pregnant dogs move in.

Hi there! I'm still around, just have been busy

2007-10-25T08:13:00.000-04:00

If you check my blog at www.monsterpuppies.com, you'll see why I have been very busy since July. Even though some days I didn't think I would make it, I loved having the puppies here. I am looking forward to our next bunch. My daughter-in-law is interested in showing Cavaliers, so we are planning for the future there. We will need to find a breeder that sells show quality dogs.

The drought here in Georgia has been getting a lot of publicity. I am concerned about it. I'm wondering about shutting down the pool. I hate to let the water go unused. I wish I had something to store it in so that it can be used later. I have to partially drain the pool so that the plumbing is not damaged by freezing. You never know how our winters will be. Some years they are very warm and I would not have to shut down the pool. Then we also have winters with sub-freezing temperatures for days. Those are the ones I am concerned about.

I am also concerned about my memory. I called one of Zoe's friends the other day because I could not remember if I had let her know that Zoe is gone. It turns out that I did contact her in 2005. I am thinking very hard about giving her the link to this blog. She and Zoe were very close and this woman was touched by the abuse that occurred in our family. It's a very tough call. I am working on a very long email to her that covers what happened to Zoe with her last surgery. I am thinking of giving her the link to let her know it would explain a lot of Zoe's behavior and she can read it or not. I don't know yet I am going to do. I keep remembering the old saying about letting sleeping dogs lie.

My thumbs hurt!

2007-09-11T21:00:00.000-04:00

I am so tired I could just cry. Since my finches are gone, I wanted to clean the floor in my room. I had rolled up the area rug and put it in the trash the other day. The dog and puppies had just wet it beyond cleaning. So, I spent the entire morning and most of the afternoon moving furniture, vacuuming and mopping the floor. I had been thinking about turning my bed with the long side against the wall, so I tried it. I even lay down and watched my soap to try it out. It was a good idea, but I didn’t like it. So I ended up putting it back where it was this morning. I had my son help me move my dresser into my room. I was a little tired of realizing that I needed a bra and nearly stepping out in front of someone. Now I can dress in privacy. I still have some other moves to make, but didn’t want to push my help too hard today. After all, he was going to his in-law’s house to clean it around 5:00 pm.

I took my dishes upstairs to wash them after my meal of canned red beans and rice (ooo, yum; NOT). The sink was so full of dirty dishes from yesterday and the day before, I ended up doing an hour’s worth of dish washing. I hate it. Washing utensils is so painful. Any pressure against my thumbs is awful! I scraped the remains of last night’s casserole into the trash with my hands. I wish I could let the others here feel this pain once and they might appreciate what it takes for me to do the dishes for everyone. I think I’m just crabby because we ran out of cigarettes and don’t have any money. Maybe I should look at it as a good thing.

Oh yeah, I was right about the squirrel's cage. I had to throw one of the towels away it was so nasty.

"T" strikes again!

2007-09-09T10:19:00.000-04:00

New trouble with my niece, the guy who took her junker car came by the other day. He had been to the tag office to transfer the title and get tags for the car. The second title showed up on the computer. A flag was put on his personal car tags and driver’s license. If he cannot show that he has a legitimate title by Sept. 29, they will suspend his tag and license. I was just sick! I had forgotten that ‘T’ had gotten a duplicate title. One of her drug dealer friends tried to use the second title to transfer the car into her name. Now we need ‘T’ to go to the tag office to prove that the car is being transferred legally. I don’t want to see her. I am not really needed, but I am the connection to ‘T’ so I have to be involved so she will go with us to straighten this mess out. The guy with the car has a friend who does title transfers for a car dealer. He has provided her with copies of all of my documentation about the car loan and the release ‘T’ signed so I could get her car when she was in the county jail. If this woman can make this happen, I won’t have to see my niece. I should know in about an hour, a very long hour.

Marta, the ultimate bitch!

2007-09-09T09:54:00.000-04:00

My sister bit my finger about 5 years ago. She was in a lot of pain that day from her Crohn’s Disease. She said she hurt so much she could just bite me. I was a smartass and stuck my finger near her face. Big mistake, she chomped down hard enough to bruise me, but stopped short of drawing blood. I didn’t quite understand what she meant that day, but I do now! I gave my finches away yesterday and did a little more of the moving and loading work than I should have. I awoke at 5:30 am this morning because I was dreaming about pain and then was awake enough to feel the pain.

It’s rather ridiculous how much pain medicine I can take when I am like this and it doesn’t even make a dent. Last night I had 2 Darvocet, then a Tramadol and finally resorted to Vicodin. I wasn’t even goofy! I walked my dog a short time ago and just her pulling on the leash hurt my back. I stopped in the driveway to stretch my hamstrings. I didn’t think showing off my ass on the street was a good idea. The neighbors may be accustomed to me walking the dog in my nightshirt in the morning, but I think bending in half as far as I can and showing my undies would be pushing the boundaries of eccentricity.

I have a long day ahead. My son and I are going to Dahlonega. We owe a breeder there a stud fee for our Cocker Spaniel. They were going to take the pick of the litter, but the litter ended up being only 1 puppy. Instead we are giving them 2 female Yorkies and getting a breeding pair of Cavalier King Charles Spaniels in exchange.

Talk about being stupid: I just cleaned the puppies’ playpen. I leaned over the side to clean the bottom and sides with Fantastic. Of course the bed and the bottom pad had to be cleaned too. It’s not as good a job as I would like, but I just can’t do any more. I have this feeling that I will end up taking care of any litters we have in the future. The squirrel has been using the same towels since it arrived and its cage is dirty. I just fear that the animals will get sick if their areas are not cleaned regularly. But then that squirrel is the exception to that rule!

I am convinced that my son and DIL think I have OCD. That’s because I remember when its trash night, I load the dishwasher when there are dishes in the sink, I wipe the stove when its dirty, I wash dishes that don’t fit in the dishwasher, I collect glasses and dishes from the various rooms and put them in the dishwasher, I throw away empty soda cans and beverage bottles, I put empty shopping bags in the bag holder, and on and on and on ad nauseum. I went upstairs to let the dogs out and wash my few dishes. One of the dogs had crapped in her crate, so that had to be cleaned up. Her blanket was covered in feces and soaked with urine. I threw it down the basement stairs so it could be washed and knocked over a glass dish that has been sitting on the stairs for weeks. The blanket landed on a box of jewelry which has also been on the stairs for the same amount of time. I think there is shit on some of it, but I don’t care. Then I had to clear out one sink to have a place to wash my dishes. I had a couple of containers that I wanted to put in the dishwasher. It was full and had not been run, something I find frequently. I did find a detergent tablet in it already, so I guess someone just forgot to turn it on. So I started the dishwasher then washed my dishes. I was going to leave the stuff in the sink, but I just couldn’t. I washed it and put the stuff on a towel on the stove to dry. I bet I will find things stacked up higher and the towel folded over so the stove can be used. Maybe a burning towel will show my family that putting the clean dishes away would be more sensible.

I know that I was raised by a tyrant who went too far with his rules about housework. I know that many times I am responding to his conditioning rather than what the situation really requires. But I do not think I am that nuts when I expect basic cleanliness. Put dirty dishes in the dishwasher, throw away your empties, put things away after you use them; I think its just simple logic. At least I know some stuff gets done when I do something like write a blog entry like this and tape it to the back door. It just pisses me off that I have to be a bitch to get people off their asses.

I'm pissed and acting pissy again

2007-09-04T08:17:00.000-04:00

It is difficult to live with adult children. Especially if it is in the house I worked for many years. Mine do not seem to have any of the pride in it that I felt. When they got married I tried to offer them a sense of ownership by moving into a room in the basement. I told them the upstairs was theirs, feel free to decorate and make any changes.

I try to stay downstairs as much as I can. The dogs and the ferrets rule the upstairs. The hall light switch was broken at least three weeks ago. I have offered to help repair it, but still the hall is dark. The problem is that often there is dog shit in the dark. When the light still worked I would clean up the mess muttering to myself. I think the light will remain broken until I either fix it myself or force my son to fix it.

This morning when I was outside with my dog I found the Polaris (the pool cleaner) lying on the ground. I didn’t really just find it today, I saw it last week after my son and DIL had friends over to use the pool. It is difficult for me to lift the Polaris and the water it contains to put it back in the pool. I stupidly assumed that it would be taken care of later. They had been drinking that night and probably forgot it. Now the dogs are chewing on it. The dogs consider anything on the ground fair game. That’s why I have wire fencing around the filter and power switch for the pool, they have been chewed.

We are supposed to be getting a breeding pair of Cavalier King Charles Spaniels this week. I have been saying since we found out this was happening that the outside pen needs to have the weeds cut down. I go unheard. I cannot do it. Oh I can, but the price in pain is bad. I finally sold the lawn mower because all of the “to-do” lists that included anything to do with the mower went unfinished.

When they go on vacation, I kill myself cleaning their room and as much of the upstairs as I can. There is months of dirty laundry, dirty glasses and empty drink cans in there. I should have known how things would be based on their cars. The cars smell of McDonald’s French fries and there are dozens of empty soft drink cans. I have to clear a spot to sit if I have one of them take me somewhere. I keep thinking that all I want is routine clean-up, not spring-type scrubbing. I would love to see someone else care enough to vacuum the dog room of all of the hair the dogs shed. I would love to see the mess made by the ferrets vacuumed periodically.

I don’t know what the answer is. We are financially and in my case physically dependant on each other. I just can’t let go of some of my expectations.

Catching Up

2007-07-27T20:28:00.000-04:00

I'm feeling a little whoozey right now. I was having a lot of pain in my tailbone, so I laid down to watch my soap. I fell asleep instead and when I woke up, my tailbone was on fire. I took a Darvocet right away and put an ice pack on it. The medicine wasn't working fast enough for me, so I took another one. It's helping, but I don't like that way I feel.

I think I may have to call my pain specialist to have refills called in before I have my appointment. I talked him into seeing him every 12 weeks rather than 8 weeks. I am also going to change to the Cedartown office. It will be closer than driving 100 miles round-trip to Canton. I'm hoping he will write 90 day prescriptions for the 2 drugs he is insisting I have refilled every month. I understand that they are controlled substances, but it would save me a little money.

Most of my pain this week is due to leaning over the playpen to get Raina or the puppies or clean out the bedding. It's a Catch-22. If I lean over, my tailbone and right leg flare up. I can't squat because of my arthritis. Too bad I didn't get a used baby crib instead of the playpen. I could have put the puppies up higher. I think I need to check the space between the spindles on a crib. If it's too big, maybe I can put some sort of netting around it. Sounds like I need to do some shopping at the thrift store before it's time for Raina to have another litter.

Tomorrow my daughter-in-law is running a fund-raiser for a dog park. She has drafted my son and recruited her mother and several friends to help. There will be 2 agility demonstrations, an area for dogs to be off-leash, wading pools for the dogs and a dog treat bake sale. The kitchen has looked like a bomb went off a couple of times. It smells so good when my DIL is working on the treats, I have been tempted to taste them. I just hope the weather is good to them. There is a fifty-fifty chance of rain. My contribution has been to wrap and package dog treats and print the transfers for the t-shirts and iron them on.

My Niece, Part 3

2007-07-11T08:55:00.000-04:00

My niece ‘T’ had been leaving me alone as I requested. I started feeling like something was about to happen; this was the longest period that she had been out of touch. I was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

One day the phone rang and the caller ID showed only “Wireless Caller”. I felt I had to answer. It was my niece. She said she had called to give me her cell phone number in case of emergency. Finally she got down to the real purpose; I had mentioned in a previous call that a couple of people had expressed interest in her car. She said she liked using public transportation and did not want the car because it held too many bad memories. She gave me permission to sell the car for the “blue book” value and send the money to her.

A couple of days later she called and practicality ordered me to sell the car. She kept talking about “blue book” value. That car is junk! The tires are rotted, the brakes are bad, it has not been started for over a year and the interior is full of mold because of the broken windows. ‘T’ has also conveniently forgotten that she still owes me over $6,000 on the car.

If she calls again, I think I will insist she sign the title for me (I’ll have to send it to her to be signed). Then I will call one of those places that say they buy junk cars. Any money I would get would be rightfully mine. I would be lucky to just have someone tow it away without my paying them to take it. I certainly need the money, but if I got anything for it, I may send her some just to shut her up.

I hope they are doing regular drug tests on her. She sounded like she was in one of her manic periods. That is when she begins self-medicating. I don’t know if the state is still providing the medication prescribed by the prison psychiatrist or at least giving her a break on the price. She just sounds like the same old ‘T’ that would steal from her mother without blinking an eye.

Dogs, family and websites

2007-07-11T07:56:00.001-04:00

I haven’t been here to post for a while. It seems that the dogs and my family genealogy website have been taking all of my time. My son and DIL went on vacation in early June which left me with 9 dogs (yeah that is 9) and the rest. By Wednesday of that week, I was ready to release my finches into the wild, turn the cats free in the front yard and start adopting out the dogs. Luckily one of my son’s friends was able to come over to stay with me. He took over the difficult dog duties and it was such a relief.

My Yorkie is pregnant. That’s why we had 9 dogs instead of 8. When breeding time came, the stud I had arranged was unavailable. His owner was due to deliver a baby herself any day. In desperation my DIL and I searched for an alternate stud. The only thing we could find was a male Yorkie for sale. He turned out to be a proven stud and a very sweet dog. So dog #9 came home. He was very enthusiastic about his duties as a stud. As a result, I have a female who looks like a hairy football. Her first due date is July 21. The male was starved for affection and needed more attention than we could give him. So we put him on Craig’s List and the calls started within 15 minutes. He has gone to a wonderful home where a very lovely teenage girl will give him the love he needs and 2 Pugs to play with.

Hopefully the Boston Terrier and the Cocker Spaniel are pregnant. We had to pay a stud fee for the Boston, but the owner of the Cocker stud wants first pick of the litter. I need to measure their bellies again today to see if there is any change. The Boston has gotten heavier, so she must be pregnant. I hope the Cocker is pregnant. Her stud was very beautiful. He is black and white with a shock of white hair in the middle of his black-colored head. Her litter should have buff and white and black and white puppies.

Through all of this my pain continues. I am having trouble picking the Boston up because of my back. I have finally been to the rheumatologist and fortunately I do not have rheumatoid or psoriatic arthritis. I have good old osteoarthritis, but it is particularly bad in my knees and hands. The doctor recommends injections of an artificial lubricant into my knees. I am all for it, but must pay $160 out of my pocket per visit for 5 visits. I just don’t have it now. When I sell the first of the Yorkie puppies, I will be able to afford the injections. The second puppy is going to purchase a 1988 pickup truck so that I will have a vehicle again.

I have been mentally and emotionally stressed out too. I have finally admitted that my finances are out of control. I sought help with a consumer counseling service only to have them recommend that I file bankruptcy. At this point I have to just try to dodge creditor calls. I can’t even contact an attorney until I have a certificate from the consumer counseling service. It’s part of the new bankruptcy rules. I hate it, but it may be my best opportunity to get things under control. I should not have credit cards; I just treat them like a license to spend.

There have been pleasant things happening too. I found my Dad’s favorite song and made him a CD for Father’s Day. For his birthday I made him a slide show of his early life, my mother’s early life, their wedding and an assortment of family photographs. Choosing the background music was challenging, I didn’t want to make people cry and also didn’t want to be flippant. For my mother’s segment, I used Steely Dan’s “Peg”. It’s one of my favorite songs and of course it was her name. Dad was in Texas with my sister’s family over his birthday. They had a party for him and waited until everyone left to present him with my gift. He loved it. I guess the rest of the family loved it too. My sister had previewed it and decided then that it needed to wait until only the family was there to watch it. I sent extra copies for my sister’s family. I also sent copies to mom’s brother and sister. I had fun putting it together, but had to leave out many pictures to keep the running time down to 15 minutes. I think I am going to make some more slide shows. I have loads of pictures in albums, but never really look at them. If they are put together on a DVD, I may look at them more often. I also have the ability to transfer video tape to my computer. I have super 8mm movies from the 1970’s I want to share. I also have my son’s first year. Some of that is dark and I hope I have software I can use to play around with it and lighten it up.

My genealogy website was hacked and used to send out millions of phony bank emails. As a result, I am moving it to a new hosting company. I have everything back up except the database. That was the point of weakness that allowed the hacker in. I had not been keeping up with the updates, so it is partly my fault. I have been able to get it back up with the version I was using when it was hacked, but I am having trouble updating to the latest version which is more secure. I just keep plugging away until I get it right.

Catching Up

2007-04-22T15:34:00.000-04:00

I haven’t bitched in a while. I guess things have been going OK, but then I remember back over recent events and they really haven’t been.

I finally went to the rheumatologist a couple of weeks ago. He thinks I have osteoarthritis which I guess is better than having rheumatoid, but it is still arthritis and it still hurts. I woke at 2:30 am this morning with pain in my knees and hips. It was 5:30 before I could go back to sleep. The doctor changed my anti-inflammatory medication and doubled the dose on my Neurontin. He was amazed that I am still in pain with all of the medication my pain specialist has me taking. At least he believed that I was suffering pain and didn’t get condescending by suggesting I lose weight. He also took x-rays of my hands, shoulders and knees and bone density scans of my pelvis and hips. I’ll get the results of those and my blood work when I go back in June.

The water line from the meter to the house had to be replaced. No big deal except when it is 300 feet long and crosses a creek. I had two plumbers give me estimates. I had guessed somewhere between $2500 and $3000. Luckily it came in close to the lower end. I had to refinance my mortgage to come up with the cash. The hard part was waiting on the loan company. By the time the money came through the leak was so bad we were turning the water off at the meter. We would turn it on for a couple of hours a day to take showers, run the dishwasher and do laundry. In between those hours we flushed the toilet with buckets of water dipped from the bathtub. Thank heavens we are set for the next 50 years now.

The dogs have all been fine. We are waiting for 3 of them to come into heat so we can breed them. Last night we had a guest dog. Someone dropped a beagle off in front of the pet superstore where my DIL works. She could not stand to have it wandering around until the next day when Animal Control would be available. My son and I just got back from taking the dog out to the shelter. He should be adopted quickly. He looks well cared for and is well behaved.

I came close to killing our dogs. When Jack first started getting on the hot tub lid, I tried several things to dissuade her. Nothing worked. I just gave up trying to keep them off. There are at least 4 of them that get up there now. A few months ago, one of them chewed off a handle. I could still put up with that. In the past 3 weeks, one or more of them have torn up the cover and begun digging through the Styrofoam core. I’ve put plywood over the holes. In order to use the hot tub, I think we will need to use a full sheet of plywood and cut it to cover the entire lid. We’ll have to piece it together since the hot tub is 7 feet by 7 feet and a sheet of plywood is 4 feet by 8 feet. We have learned the hard way that anything the dogs can reach, they consider to be fair game. The skimmer net for the pool was the latest item to be lost. We pay a price for having so many dogs, but they do bring us a lot of pleasure. I have begun walking my Yorkie almost daily. She pesters me until I get her leash. Some days I don’t really feel up to walking, but usually feel better after even a short walk.

Pain, Water Leaking, Plumbers and Mortgages

2007-03-09T18:09:00.000-05:00

This morning the pain situation is bad. My back is hurting. I think it is time for an epidural again. The constant pain level has been climbing and I have had more days like this lately. I would love to clean the leaves out of the pool before my next trip to the pain doc. That way I won’t waste the epidural. Maybe the weather will warm up a little next week and I can get it done.

I wish the plumber would show up. The water line is leaking right before it comes into the house. I should have realized it last month, but I just paid the water bill and didn’t look at the usage graft. I’m praying he doesn’t say that the entire line needs to be replaced because I just can’t afford it. Money just seems to disappear. At least my teeth are paid for. I’ve wondered if it would save some money if we were to dig up the water line. Since we don’t know when the plumber is coming I’m afraid to start digging. The dirt may be holding some of the water back. That may be really silly. If I dig up the water line, may be I can fix it myself. I think this needs some Googling.

Later: Well forget fixing it myself. The polybutylene cannot be repaired. Over time it becomes brittle which is why it is leaking again after being patched 2 months ago. In order to come up with the money to replace the water line, I am refinancing my mortgage and getting cash out. There will be enough money to pay off a couple of other accounts as well. At least my monthly payment will be within $75 of the current payment. I had two plumbers come out to do estimates. I did not enjoy letting one of them down. He was not happy and nothing I could say was going to make it easier. I just wanted off the phone! The work can be completed in a day and without interrupting the service. They will lay a temporary line on the surface so we will be able to access the water while they are working. I felt better about these guys because they bothered to check with the county about the necessary permits and inspections. The loan has been approved. I have to wait for the terms and completion of the paperwork. I don’t know how long it will take. I hope it won’t be long because I hear water running out into my front yard.

I just talked to the loan coordinator and he was delighted that I got all of my information faxed to him so quickly. I should hear from the appraiser on Monday. I hope this just goes quickly.

I'm feeling dizzy right now and I think it is just because I am tired from all of the anxiety over the water leak. I called the original plumber to tell him that he lost out on the replacement job. He didn't seem to be broken up about it, so I think I made the right decision in replacing him.

Lottery Woes

2007-03-09T06:28:00.000-05:00

I didn’t win the Megamillions jackpot and it makes me sad. I am happy for the gentleman in Dalton who did win. He can now take care of his mother and daughter and go fishing for the rest of his life. I think that is great. I have such plans made for a big win in the lottery. I would probably faint dead-away if I ever won. I got really light-headed the time that I did win $5,000. I would set up a trust fund for my niece ‘T’ with the provision that she would forfeit everything if she bothered me or was convicted of another felony. I would take care of my Dad, my sister and my brother. My grandnieces and grandnephew would have college funds. Of course my son, daughter-in-law, all of the animals and I would be looking for land to build our dream houses. I would have to have my bathroom built in this house until we were ready to move into our new homes. I would also set up a couple of scholarship funds to help kids like my son get educations. He just did not meet any of the special interest qualifications for the scholarships available. Mine would be for kids of single parents who are no longer able to work and still considered middle-class even though their income barely meets their needs. My son has an art student scholarship he would like to establish with a rather rude name that I am not sure I remember correctly. I think it is the “Big F**king Art Scholarship”.

I am in some real pain this morning although my hands aren’t really bothering me which has not been the case most mornings. I think I over exerted myself yesterday. While waiting for the guys who were installing a new filter on the pool, I ran the robot vacuums around in four rooms. It should not be any work for me, but I stop them periodically to empty the dirt and clean the brushes. With all of these dogs, I have to do it frequently. I had planned to clean the patio, but it was just too much for me. I left the lawn blower in the kitchen so my son can do it this weekend. I was also going to clean out the bird cages, but my daughter-in-law said she would do it. I’m not sure when she will get the chance. They are making her work over 7 days without a break.

My daughter-in-law went with me on my daily walk with my dog. She was brave enough to take Hamburger, Penny and Winston all at the same time. I had a hard time walking Raina and Penny on Sunday. I was in charge of poop cleanup. Luckily only two of the dogs felt the need. When we got back home, my DIL took the dogs down to the creek. It was a little difficult for me to get to the creek, but I went anyway. I’m glad I did. Raina went into the water and had a little swim. Winston loves the water and went in too. I just hope Raina doesn’t expect a swim every time we go for a walk.

I Can't Seem to "Bury" My Sister

2007-03-01T11:42:00.000-05:00

I am the executor of my sister’s estate. The bills were paid and the rest distributed a while ago. I have kept things going in case I was able to sue the doctor who performed ‘Z’s 2nd gastric bypass. I’ve had one attorney say it would be to tough to get any money and a second has never returned my calls so I am going to close this chapter of my life. The only problem is that it involves the probate court and my niece. I have to petition the court to release me from my duties as the executor. Part of the paperwork requires the signatures of all of ‘Z’s heirs. Even though she was disinherited, my niece is considered an heir.

I hate asking her for anything. She never responded when she was given notice of probate by the court. Things went through because her lack of response was considered to be an affirmative response. Those times the notices were sent by the court. This time, I am sending her a form to be signed. I’ve been procrastinating for days. Today I decided to get it over with. I wrote her a short note, included the form, $20 for notary fees and bus fare and a return envelope with postage attached. I just hope she takes care of business and gets the form back to me soon.

My fear is that she will see this as an invitation to contact me. She does not understand that I want her to prove she can be a responsible adult. She thinks that serving 14 months in the county jail and a state prison should be enough. I need to see that she can support herself without leeching off someone else. My sister never stopped supporting ‘T’, so she did not learn how to do it on her own and I’ll be damned if I am going to take over my sister’s role. It would hurt my niece more than it would ever help her.

Well, I had to make one more try at the malpractice attorney. The second one has never returned a phone call so I called them to give them a nudge. I just want them to tell me to forget it or that it may be worth pursuing. I have a picture I took of my sister’s incision on 12/28/2004. It is awful, not only are there open areas along the incision, there are open holes where the surgeon placed drains when he did surgery to clean out the infection and fluid build-up. I need to get rid of these images. They haunt me. I feel like I should have tried to stop her from having that surgery. I felt that the outcome was not going to be good and never told ‘Z’ about my concern. She haunts me and I have to learn to let her go or she will haunt me the rest of my life.

The Brain Drain

2007-02-26T19:44:00.000-05:00

In late 2002 I was diagnosed with hydrocephalus. It is a chronic condition of the brain that causes cerebrospinal fluid to build up in the brain. Normally the brain creates and absorbs this fluid as needed to carry nutrients. Usually it is diagnosed in infants whose skulls are not completely formed and may become enlarged from the condition. Some of us either develop it later in life or live with it for years before exhibiting symptoms. My doctor feels that I am one of those who have had the condition for years, but now my body cannot compensate.

I remember having headaches for years, but attributed them to stress. I was a systems analyst and a single mother. My career was accelerating. I was supervising 13 people and managing 3 major projects. I loved the stress, but the headaches were becoming worse. When my son had a crisis, I reduced my workload to be with him. The headaches were still bad. Then I retired because of my chronic back pain and the headaches did not let up. I still attributed them to stress. I did not have the career responsibilities any longer, but it was hard for me to go from having a demanding career to full-time mother.

When my sister moved in with me in 1995, she noticed that my moods were unpredictable. I would change from being up and happy to extremely depressed in a matter of minutes. I knew that I could be angered very easily, but thought that was part of being in constant pain.

I was also having trouble with my balance. During a walk down the hall to the bathroom I would sometimes run into the wall. I used to do a lot of do-it-yourself projects at home. I installed ceiling fans, upholstered furniture and put up wallpaper. Now it was not safe for me to stand on a single step stool. I fell off ladders more than once. My sister and I both thought it was due to the function deficit in my right leg from the herniated disc.

I started having auditory hallucinations. I can’t even pinpoint when it started. I would hear a dog barking with both of our dogs in the room. They weren’t barking, but I still thought I heard a dog barking in the room with us. I would go to the door hearing a doorbell or knock and no one was there. At first my sister would simply placate me by saying she must have missed what I heard. When it became more frequent she admitted that there was no sound to be heard. I blew my top more than once thinking she was just trying to piss me off.

When the visual hallucinations started, I got scared. At first they were just dots or flashes. Then I started seeing animals and large bugs. It was hard to read because I would be distracted by non-existent figures. The day I thought I saw I man in a green shirt in my bedroom, I decided it was time to go to a neurologist.

I had a brain MRI on my birthday in 2002. The results showed that the ventricles in my brain were enlarged which is indicative of hydrocephalus. The neurologist referred me to a neurosurgeon. I went to the same doctor who had performed my back surgery. I knew him and felt comfortable with him. He agreed that hydrocephalus was a possible diagnosis, but thought it had been decided too quickly and needed more investigation. I went to a different neurologist for more tests. (I changed doctors because the first one didn’t seem to like me having my sister in the room with me. She became peeved when my sister asked questions and demanded to know what my sister’s qualifications were.) The second neurologist performed a spinal tap and a test involving the injection of an x-ray detectable dye into the spinal fluid. It was unpleasant, scary and painful, but necessary. I had to go back to the hospital for x-rays for 4 days in a row to measure the absorption of the dye. The results were all positive for hydrocephalus, so surgery was scheduled to implant a shunt in my brain.

The shunt is a very simple device. It is a drain that runs from my brain to my abdomen. There is a valve on the shunt that controls the flow. Apparently over-draining is more dangerous than pressure build-up. The pressure valves were developed in the 1950’s by an engineer whose son suffered from hydrocephalus. He wasn’t able to save his son, but millions have benefited from his work. I was so freaked out about having the surgeon drilling through my skull and putting a catheter in my brain that I didn’t even think about how the rest was going to be implanted. When I woke up with pain in my lower abdomen, it started to dawn on me. I had a 3 inch incision just below and to the right of my navel. I still didn’t think about how the drain was run under my skin. Then the bruises started showing up. They use a thing called a trocar, which is just a fancy name for a hollow rod, to push the drain down the body under the skin. I ended up with a bruise running the entire length of the shunt. When I had my first mammogram after the implantation, I discovered that the shunt is visible on x-rays. Since my shunt was implanted as an adult, I should not need to have a revision (replacement) unless it fails due to an infection or damage in an accident. I do not envy those who get shunts as babies. They have to have revisions because of their normal growth. The only thing I have to do that is out of the ordinary is to take an antibiotic before any medical procedures and that includes a simple cleaning of my teeth. Medical implants are prone to infection, so a preventive dose of antibiotics is recommended.

I had another symptom that I did not realize could be related to the hydrocephalus until the day after my surgery. For years I had popping and crackling noise like fluid in my left ear. I thought it was because of year-round allergies. When I woke that morning I noticed that the sound was gone. It comes back sometimes and on those days I have headaches and balance problems. I’ve also been diagnosed with Meniere’s disease which affects the inner ear. So whether it’s the Meniere’s or the hydrocephalus affecting my balance, I try not to climb anything but stairs.

The "Kids" are Sick

2007-02-14T11:32:00.000-05:00

Just after I tell how to live with 8 dogs, my son is offering to buy a gun and start shooting them, starting with the little one. I know he is joking. The dogs seem to be passing an intestinal virus around. Penny, the older Boston Terrier, barfed on my son and DIL’s bed the other day. The little one, Hamburger, was vomiting yesterday and last night. I got up this morning and found vomit in the pen where she slept. The Boston’s were exiled to the dog bedroom after the first vomit on the bed. When I saw the runny bowel movement on the floor, I dropped my papertowels and knocked on the Master bedroom door. “She is your dog and I can’t handle all of this shit” was what I woke them with.

My son had his t-shirt up over his nose like a mask when I left to return to my room. Shortly after that he called me on the intercom to find out the location of our latex gloves. It seems one of the dogs had been pooping in a blanket on the floor and covering it like a cat. I couldn’t help but laugh. I quit laughing when I found a laundry basket containing the poopy blankets.

Well another of the dogs has started vomiting. Here we go again.

Do I Have Rheumatoid Arthritis?

2007-02-14T11:29:00.000-05:00

I’m sitting here planning the evening’s television viewing while I watch Wheel of Fortune with one eye. I am so fatigued, but I don’t think I could fall asleep. I’m too tired. My day was not really that busy either. That is one of things that make me concerned about my arthritis. I have been tested for rheumatoid arthritis with negative results, but I exhibit many of the symptoms. I’m anxious for my appointment with the rheumatologist. The hardest part is knowing that something is wrong, but not having the expert pronouncing it as being so. There is a history of psoriasis in my family. I have psoriasis, but my skin is no where near as bad as my son’s. Could it be psoriatic arthritis? There is also ankylosing spondylitis which primarily affects the spine and hips. That could be me also.

I am very tired of being in pain all of the time. I’m finding it difficult to drive so I don’t go to the library often. When I do check out books, it hurts to hold them. I want to make coats for the dogs. It took me a long time to take a coat apart to make a pattern. I haven’t gotten any farther because I just don’t have the energy. It’s frustrating! I don’t write anything these days. Everyone, including my son and daughter-in-law get messages and lists from me that have been produced on a computer. Using a keyboard is less painful than writing.

I think it is also depressing because this is something I associate with aging. Inside I feel the same as I did when I was 12 to 14 years old. My body is giving out and it scares me.

Steps as Parents

2007-02-11T23:27:00.001-05:00

It amazes me sometimes how a silly thing like a commercial can make you think about something important. It was a Kleenex commercial with the therapist on the street. He is with a guy who is talking about his stepfather. It made me think about my own stepfather.

We were all grown up by the time my mother married my stepdad. Still he stepped up and was a parent to all of us. He didn’t even meet my brother until he and my mother had been married for over 20 years and my brother was in his late 40’s. The two of them have become very close. It’s not unusual for my brother to call and ask when I last talked to my dad. They seem to miss each other’s phone calls frequently. When that happens, my brother gets concerned and checks with me.

My brother has reason to be concerned. Dad passed out while driving home from Texas about 2 years ago. Luckily he did not have an accident or do any damage to his car. The same year he went to Ohio for a visit. While there he collapsed and was airlifted to the Cleveland University Hospital. A pacemaker was implanted in his chest. Several of us volunteered to go to Cleveland to bring him home, but he would not hear of it and made the drive home alone. A couple of months later, my sister called me to tell me that Dad was in the hospital in Atlanta. She had been contacted by a woman who was a stranger to both of us, but was obviously a friend of Dad’s. He had an infection around his pacemaker and she had accompanied him to the hospital. It turned out they had been dating. He had kept it quiet for fear my siblings and I would disapprove. Our mother had passed away in April 2004 and he was afraid we would not think it an appropriate length of mourning.

He has been the only grandfather all of our children have known. He is great-grandfather to the four children born to those grandchildren. It’s a job he has taken on willingly. I think he has performed as our parent since 1972 with grace and wisdom. Thanks Dad!

Arthritis, housework and new teeth

2007-02-10T09:07:00.000-05:00

Next week is Valentine’s Day and my newlywed son and daughter-in-law have been working on gifts for each other for weeks. She kept asking me what he was planning for her, but I didn’t remember what he had told me. Luckily she convinced him to tell her that he wanted to get her a computer of her own. It turned out she didn’t want that. I’m not sure what he is planning now, but I may have forgotten again so that I can’t answer is asked. She got him a bicycle. I think that is really funny because he hated the bike I bought for him when he was 6. He was convinced it was trying to kill him. I sold the bike and he learned to ride on one belonging to one of the neighborhood children.

I am proud of the fact that they are thinking about each other and making plans. My son never had the benefit of a role model in how husbands and wives relate to each other. The only time my ex-husband got me a valentine, it was a candy heart. I was going to a doctor to lose weight at the time. It was back in the days when it was still legal to prescribe amphetamines. Here I was seeing the doctor once a month, taking my speed every day and measuring every bit of food. He couldn’t understand why I was upset about the candy heart! I had to keep the damned thing for months before I dared to toss it out for fear of hurting his feelings. I would have been happy to get a card.

This morning my fingers are barely working, but at least I feel like I have a reason other than it just being the morning stiffness. Our Oreck vacuum cleaner stopped picking up stuff the other day. I had just replaced the bag too. I have always been the type to take things apart, so after determining that it was not a blocked debris tube the other day, I brought the machine down to my room and tore it apart. Just inside, I found the remains of a ball the dogs had destroyed, the insides of a stuffed toy and a bunch of bedding from the hairless rat’s cage. It’s a good thing we have about 5 different vacuum cleaners so that we can use another to clean up after the dogs. They play very roughly with their toys. There always seems to be stuffing from some toy lying around on the floor. This house has literally gone to the dogs. I can’t complain too much. My room has “stuff” the birds have thrown out of their cages on the floor. I have to vacuum at least every other day. I’m glad I decided on laminate flooring.

I have been holding my breath waiting on two packages this week. I get most of my prescriptions by mail. The cost is much better that way. I get a 90 day supply for the cost of purchasing 60 days worth at the pharmacy. I waited a little too long to order so I have been out of blood pressure medicine and Prozac for several days. I sent my order by priority mail and requested 2nd day return delivery. The tracking information shows a scheduled delivery date of Feb. 12. I don’t think the process has been speeded up at all! At least it does not appear that I was charged the extra $10 for the faster shipping. The other package contains some gadgets to help people with arthritis. Since I don’t have a kitchen downstairs, I fill 2-liter bottles with water for coffee, tea and soup. Even though those bottles have been opened before, they are difficult for me to open. One of the tools I bought will help with that. It also opens pull-tab cans and plastic bags. I am tired of opening things with my teeth. With the luck I’ve had with my teeth lately, I’m afraid that pulling the seal off the Folger’s can will cost me a chunk of a tooth.

I had the impressions done for my partial plates the other day. It was a little messy, but they got good impressions. I was peeling that stuff off my lips for hours. I go back March 6 to have some teeth filled and have my first fitting. I am looking forward to getting those false teeth. I can’t decide whether I want a steak or some sushi for my celebratory meal. It will be good to eat without having to swallow whole pieces of food again. This is just another thing that makes me feel like I am turning into my mother.

How Do You Live With 8 Dogs?

2007-02-05T14:13:00.000-05:00

I love animals and have had pets off and on all of my life. One of the worst days I had while my sister was sick was the day I had to have our 16-year old Bichon Frise put to sleep. He had started having grand mal seizures and we did not know why. They could be controlled, but he was not the same dog on the medication. Since I was dealing with my sister’s illness, I didn’t even consider replacing him.

My son’s girlfriend needed a place for her dog when she and her roommates started having problems. Since I have a large fenced backyard, she called me for help. That’s when this big goofy dog Jack moved in. The dog was still a puppy but well behaved due to the training my son’s girlfriend was doing. After my sister passed away, I felt there was a hole in my world that could be filled by a dog. We took Jack and went to the local animal shelter to look for a dog. I wanted one about the same size and age as Jack. There was a very sweet Lab mix that was 10 months old and she became my Jill. My son felt left out, so we added Reggie, a dachshund-beagle mix, to the household.

With that many dogs in the house, I wanted them all trained. We signed up for a class and Jack became a star! That dog wants so badly to please my son’s girlfriend (now wife) that Jack tries to anticipate the next command. Jill did OK with training. Of course the truth of it is that the class is for the owner, not the dog. Where my daughter-in-law (DIL) worked with Jack daily and several times a day, I would practice with Jill a couple of times a week. My son was worse than me about practicing. In his defense it is hard to work with a dog who thinks that it’s all about getting the treat. Forget doing something for the treat-Reggie just wanted that treat. We did manage to graduate and the dogs do have the basic commands down. Jack outdid everyone by performing a pirouette in mid-air and I think that was the trick that got my DIL hired as a pet trainer. Some of the dogs work with her as demonstration animals.

My DIL had made friends with our teacher. The teacher had a dog she was giving away and my DIL wanted it for her grandmother. We ended up with the dog, Kippy, in our household for a month after she was spayed. She fit in very well and I fell in love with Corgis because of her. When her departure time was approaching, I started to miss her. We ended up getting one of her puppies, Winston. I call him my “little man” (even thought he ended up neutered). Things did not work out with grandmother and Kippy and I was truthfully delighted. Kippy came home and we now had 5 dogs.

When there are 2 dogs in a household, it’s not much different than having one; just more poop. Once you go over the number 3, you have a pack. It helps to understand a bit about wild dog packs. They are matriarchal although there is usually a male ruler too. Since Winston is the only male, that job falls to him-he is the Alpha male. Then the females decide among themselves who is the Alpha female. If it requires a fight, that’s what will happen and you just have to let it happen. So Jack and Jill went at it and Jack ended up having to have four wounds sutured. We thought the matter was settled, but noticed that Jill who up until then had treated Jack like her playmate and best pal was going into alert status every time she was near Jack. We had to keep them separated. Even though Jack was submitting, Jill would attack her. We made a very hard decision and found Jill a new home where she was the only dog. The confrontation with Jill seemed to wake up Jack’s need to dominate. She went after the other dogs a couple of times. The problem is that she is so much bigger than the others and could inflict some real harm.

We decided to manage the pack by isolating Jack. We have baby gates on most of the rooms. The smaller dogs go into a gated room while we move Jack outside and inside. The thing I feel bad about is that Jack spends a lot of time in her crate. We do have a pen inside the fence and have started putting her in the pen. She gets plenty of exercise then because the Corgis are herding dogs and seem to think they are supposed to herd Jack around the pen. They bark in unison and run around the pen while Jack bounces around inside. I hope the neighbors don’t mind.

My DIL convinced me that since we love dogs so much, we should try our hand at breeding. She wanted to start with a Yorkshire Terrier. I agreed, but only if it was to be my dog. I gave up Jill, so I wanted a replacement. We got scammed on our first attempt to get a dog (don’t buy off the Internet unless it’s a local breeder that you can visit). Then I got Raina. Her name is from reina, Spanish for queen, but spelled differently so people will know how to pronounce it. About three weeks later we got Penny, a Boston Terrier. She is definitely my DIL’s dog. Our latest addition is Hamburger, another Boston Terrier. She claimed my son as her human.

I almost forgot CC! I do that often. She arrived between Penny and Hamburger. In fact my son didn’t even know we were getting her. He was a little pissed when he got home from class and found another dog! My DIL found CC in an online advertisement; free to a good home! We were the first to show up to see her and there had been 8 or 9 serious calls, so we grabbed her. She is a pure bred Cocker Spaniel. CC is beautiful and very sweet. I forget her because she just blends in and doesn’t call attention to herself. I should remember her because my Yorkie bullies her terribly. There are times that we have to drag CC inside by her collar because she is afraid of Raina, a dog who is 1/3 of her size. I call Raina my “Yorkshire Terror”.

So far CC and Raina have been in heat. Raina was too young to breed, but we did try with CC. My DIL had found a male Cocker Spaniel whose owners were willing to let us use him as a stud. He came to stay at our house for a week of unbridled doggie love. Unfortunately we had two virgins and we are not sure they successfully mated. The books I have read recommend that one of the dogs should be experienced. The humans involved, meaning us, were inexperienced as well, so we don’t know if there was anything we could have done to encourage them.

So now there are 8 dogs in the house: Jack, Reggie, Kippy, Winston, CC, Raina, Penny and Hamburger. We use magnetic letters on the back door to show the location of each dog: at work, in the pen, in the backyard or in the house. We use baby gates inside the house to restrict access to the dogs. We use crates to aid to house-training and for sleeping. Selected dogs do get to sleep with humans, but only if they follow the rules. The crates are also used during feeding, but no dog gets their food bowl until they are calm and sitting. Just like children, the dogs need discipline and structure.

Winter Musings

2007-02-01T14:31:00.000-05:00

I moved to Georgia in 1978 to escape the snow. The winter before I moved we had over 100 inches of snow in the Cleveland area. My day started by cleaning the 3 inch accumulation of snow off of my car. Then I had to clear the snow the plow had pushed up behind the car. The day I gave my manager my letter of resignation, we were having a blizzard in March. He jokingly asked me how I could leave all of this while gesturing to the snow covered window.

The first winter in Georgia we had an ice storm. My then husband and I had doctor’s appointments that day. Foolishly we made the trip to their office only to find it closed. What should have been a 10 minute drive took about 45 minutes. It wasn’t us who were having the trouble; it was the rest of the traffic. We should have been ashamed of ourselves laughing at drivers spinning their wheels in hopes of getting some traction. We had a front-wheel drive car and winter experience. I should have felt bad slowing driving around stuck cars. Cleaning the car was fun too. We were very optimistic about the weather and had disposed of all of the window scrapers and brushes. I ended up using a credit card to scrape the ice off the car windows.

The children in Georgia know how to enjoy even a dusting of snow. I’ve seen pictures of kids sliding down hills on pieces of cardboard. The snow was so light that the grass was still visible. It didn’t stop them. My own son goes out whenever there is snow to play in it, and he is 24 now. Somewhere there is a picture of the snow duck he made at 1 am when he was 7 or 8 years old. I got him up in the middle of the night to see the snow and there was only enough to make a duck.

This is the second time in 2 weeks that we have had wintry weather warnings. This time there is snow in the mountains to the northeast of Atlanta. I will bet the dairy sections of the grocery stores were stripped of milk last night. I am not really being facetious about this. I do remember a winter storm around 1981 that had Atlanta frozen for about 3 days. I was able to get to work on the third day and needed to man the telephones since the admin people were not able to get to work. Atlanta is the corporate headquarters of the company I was working for and I took many calls from other parts of the country. People were irate that they had not been able to reach corporate for two days. I don’t know how many times I explained how an ice storm cripples this area. I felt for them because I remember being expected at work under the same conditions in Ohio. They just aren’t prepared for winter weather here.

I wanted to include some real winter weather pictures. Too bad these are all from my childhood. By the time you are an adult, it gets old.

Notice that the snow is up to her knees.

Valentine's Day:
I had to add to this. I just got off the phone with my sister-in-law. They had to have their driveway plowed this morning after a 20 inch snowfall. I am so glad I live in Georgia!

What a Chump!!

2007-01-31T10:07:00.000-05:00

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!

2007-01-31T09:57:00.000-05:00

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

2007-01-30T02:25:00.000-05:00

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

2007-01-23T23:46:00.000-05:00

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

2007-01-21T10:14:00.000-05:00

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

2007-01-16T13:44:00.000-05:00

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

2007-01-12T18:01:00.000-05:00

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

2007-01-06T20:10:00.000-05:00

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

2007-01-06T19:36:00.000-05:00

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

2007-01-04T11:13:00.000-05:00

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

2007-01-03T21:51:00.000-05:00

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.

Me and the technology revolution

2006-12-30T09:50:00.000-05:00

I was awakened yesterday morning by my cell phone crying out for recharging. I just took it off the charger the day before. I couldn’t get enough signal to call home and tell someone to remove my dog’s coat, so the phone wasn’t really used. I think I need a new battery. Since I was already awake, I got up to watch my favorite morning show Good Morning America. They had a segment on viral videos that got me thinking about technology.

I sort of fell into the technology arena as a career; it was actually a desire to avoid PE class that got me into what was call Data Processing in 1970. I had moved to a new town and they had vocational training available in high school. I had observed some of my brother’s experiments into weird science, so I thought maybe the Electricity/Electronics class would be for me. The Vo-Ed guidance counselor convinced me to go into Data Processing instead.

I didn’t realize that the school’s technology was just behind the times. It was all donated equipment, so they didn’t have a computer. I did at least learn to operate a keypunch (does anyone remember cards?), sorters, interpreters, collators, calculating punch machines, reproducers and tabulating machines. They were all geared to manipulating punched cards and hopefully create meaningful reports from them. It was sort of fun playing with all of those wires we had to plug into thick plastic boards. We were also given classes in accounting and I learned I had a knack for putting numbers in little boxes.

Still not really having a goal in mind, I applied to college with Data Processing as my major. It wasn’t until I started my classes that I discovered that it was computer programming. Luckily it fell in line with putting numbers in little boxes, so I did well. I was fortunate to get a programming job shortly after graduation and so began my career. I never thought that my high school training would be of any use, but I was the only person who even recognized the dusty old machines in the storage room and so became the on-site expert for punched card applications.

I think a lot of my success was due to the fact that I was always like a kid on Christmas when presented with new technology. I still marvel at the fact that the laptop I am using right now has more memory and computing power than some of the mainframe computers I worked on in the 70’s. I do confess that I was very skeptical about personal computers when they first appeared. I thought of them as glorified video games. My brother-in-law had introduced my then husband to Super Pong and my hubby had to have one right away. Of course I was the only opponent available to him, so I got hooked into playing almost every day. He seemed to enjoy trouncing me just a little too much, so I developed a real dislike of video games that required aiming and shooting. When Atari introduced its first home computer, my ex wanted one. I did not want a computer in my home because it was too much like bringing work home. I also figured it was just to give my husband a newer, bigger video game console. The day I found a personal accounting program for the Atari, I started to see the home computer in a new light. Unfortunately my husband got the Atari in the divorce, so it was a little while before I had a computer at home again.

I didn’t really expect the microprocessors to stick around. At one job we had created an Accounts Receivable system on a mini-computer to replace one that ran on a mainframe. We converted one branch to the new system and noticed some performance problems. It was taking almost as long to process one branch on the mini as it did to process the entire company on the mainframe. We still had 37 branches to convert to the new system. So we set up a test using 10 branches. The results were laughable. My project leader was really into statistical analysis and had a ball working up the projections. At 75% conversion, it would take 24 hours to process the accounts. At 100% the projected processing time was 48 hours. I had done some research into the operating system of the mini and found that our time problem was related to the alternate inquiry paths that the analyst who designed the new systems had used liberally. Every time one account was updated, all of the account records had to be updated to preserve the alternate paths. Surprisingly the answer was to create a separate file for each branch.

The IBM personal computers started appearing in my office in 1985, but they were used only by management. They seemed limited to word processing and spreadsheets. Having worked with batch processing applications for years, I still didn’t see why people were so thrilled with Lotus 1-2-3. I figured the admin folks were just glad to see the old Wang word processors go away and force all of us technical types to do our own documentation. I did like the flowcharting program. It was much more fun to use than a pencil and a plastic template.

The business analysts kept throwing around the term “automated platform”. I was working for a bank and it turned out that ‘platform’ referred to any function performed a branch by anyone but a teller. This was where they were going to first utilize the PC’s. I had been working on loan applications and the first to use the PC’s would be Customer Information. CIS had just been an application we fed with loan information. I didn’t realize how important it was in the bank’s relationship with the customer until the big re-vamp of CIS started. The automated platform was going to be a byproduct of the CIS project. It just seemed to take forever to get off the ground.

The first real value I saw of the PC’s use in business applications was when my team started reworking of our loan calculator. We were fortunate to have a business analyst who was a math whiz. He had also learned Lotus, so he had set up Lotus applications that the programmers could use to test the new mainframe version of the loan calculator. By the time I retired from the bank the automated platform was a reality. We had tied networks of PC’s in the branches to the mainframe. Account setup was performed in the branch by the personal bankers. The customer’s existing relationship to the bank was available to the network from the CIS system on the mainframe. Personal and address information was retrieved and could be updated while the customer was present. The PC specialists had worked out a method to distribute software updates to the networks over the T1 lines rather than having someone go out to each branch. We were creating loan documents on blank paper at the PC using stored boilerplates and data retrieved from the mainframes.

In 1988 my sister’s husband got an Apple II GS as part of a bonus from his employer. I ended up buying one for myself because my sister kept calling me with questions that I had no way to answer. I had never touched an Apple computer. I still didn’t want the computer to become a way to work at home so I was glad it was an Apple. I didn’t think it could communicate with an IBM operating system. I bought a 300 baud modem (wow!). Soon I was connected to GEnie (America Online didn't support Apple then) and discovered a bunch of games and applications for the Apple. There were bulletin boards where other Apple users that knew more than me were available to help me out. In fact that was where I learned I was wrong about being able to communicate with an IBM mainframe. Soon I had the appropriate software, was set up on the bank’s security system and now I could manage most of my middle of the night trouble calls from home. The only problem with it was having to logoff the computer to call the mainframe operators at the office. I do not miss dial-up. When several of us had computers at home and were handling trouble calls with them, I convinced my manager to get us a cell phone. It weighed about 5 pounds and had to be carried with a shoulder strap. I also had purchased a PC clone personal computer. It had a 100 MHz processor and 100 mg hard drive. Now I was in the fast lane! That was about 1990.

The personal technology boom started just about then. Cell phones got smaller, personal computers got faster and larger memory, and hard drives got larger capacities. I have upgraded or replaced my computer about 6 times. Megabytes gave way to gigabytes, which will give way to terabytes soon. Communications speeds took off like a rocket. I was a member of a very small group when I bought that 300 baud modem. Now I find it difficult to get through a day without using the Internet and on a cable modem of course. I have become one of Time Magazine’s Persons of the Year! I use VoIP telephone, so no more long distance charges. Cell phones not only allow us to speak to each other, now we text message; take pictures and video then send them to our friends; listen to music downloaded from the Internet and can check our email. Soldiers in Iraq are able to record events and post them on the Internet. We are truly able to communicate around the globe and it is all due to personal computers, cell phones and the Internet.

My grandmother lived through the advent of airplanes all the way up to the space shuttle. My mother never learned to use an ATM. She felt the people of a certain age just could not learn to live with all of this new technology. I vigorously disagree. I feel like I have experienced 200 times the technological advances she was exposed to. I still have a time to experience more. Where will tomorrow take us?

The story of my niece, part 1

2006-12-27T13:21:00.000-05:00

I am having one of those days when all of the joints in my hands and my knees feel like they are rubbing bone on bone. I know that I am particularly bitchy on these days, but it is difficult to be pleasant when a mere touch to my hands feels like a hit with a baseball bat.

Christmas was lovely. I spent the day visiting my daughter-in-law’s family. They have always been very warm and welcoming to me and I appreciate it greatly.

My niece ‘T’ got an excuse to call me thanks to my actions. Mail for her is still delivered to my address and I resent it. I had requested a change of address for her with the Post Office. She received a letter notifying her of the change and that, she felt, gave her permission to call me. I told her about 2 ½ years ago that this is not her home and will not be her home in the future. The amount of mail had dwindled over time, but last spring it began to pick up again. Not just bills and such, but junk mail too. I even called the prison to see if she had Internet access that would allow her to sign up on mailing lists. They claimed she did not have the Internet available to her, but I still suspect she was behind the resurgence in the junk mail.

Backing up slightly, my niece 'T' had moved in with me in April 1994. She had quit high school, had no job skills and no job. 'Z' called me in tears, asking me to take 'T' in because she was homeless and my parents would not have her in their home and she would not go to a shelter. My parents would not allow 'T' in their home because she had been stealing from them for several years. They had owned a convenience store and had chalked up the money discrepancies over the years to math errors. The truth came out when 'T' took $600 in one chunk. I put up with her laziness for a short time, and then told my sister we needed to do something. 'Z' came up with the idea of getting her daughter into Job Corps training. We took 'T' to Gainesville, Florida in July 1994. It got her out of our hair for a year, but that was about the extent. When she was getting close to graduation, 'T' told her mother she was going to remain Florida to be with a man she had met at Job Corps. 'Z' didn't want her to stay there, so I played the good guy and suggested she move in with us. I was feeling really good about myself although having 'T' move in was the last thing I wanted. I set up all sorts of conditions like being employed and being respectful of the other people in the house, but 'T' was still the same: lazy, deceitful and a thief.

Living with my sister and my niece was like living with two bad tempered cats in a bag. It was awful to listen to them argue constantly. They would call each other ‘stupid’ and each was very critical of the other’s actions. In my niece’s defense, my sister was never encouraging to her. I have to attribute this to my sister not feeling good about herself. ‘Z’ was openly critical of strangers. I found it embarrassing. ‘T’ was a copy of her mother. She would lose jobs by telling her supervisors that they were stupid and incompetent.

It took me a while to admit to myself that I was seeing drug abuse in ‘T’s behavior. I would ignore it because of my “go along to get along” attitude. She was very secretive about her activities and would never give us any more than a first name for her friends. She had been forging checks on her mother’s checking account for more than a month before ‘Z’ would admit it to me. I insisted that ‘Z’ report it to the police. ‘T’ eventually turned herself in and my sister bailed her out immediately. When the district attorney’s office did not proceed as quickly as my sister wanted, she dropped her complaint. I was unaware of it and did not find out until the day ‘T’s trial was supposed to begin. I was livid, but did not make a big deal of it. What a chump! Of course ‘T’ swore it would never happen again.

It never really stopped. ‘Z’ would have her daughter do our grocery shopping claiming that neither of us was physically capable. ‘T’ would pad the grocery list and buy things for herself or her friends. It was easy to do since she was given access to my sister’s debit card to do the shopping. Sometimes my sister’s checking account statement would arrive with transactions at Wal-Mart or Target on the same day that she shopped at Kroger for us. Her spending $10 or $20 was bad enough, but at times it would be $200 or $300.

When she began forging checks again, she was living with a boyfriend. This was during the same time that my sister was suffering the affects of her first gastric bypass. ‘Z’ was disoriented most of the time and hallucinating a lot. ‘T’ had been coming to her mother’s apartment to give me breaks from caring for my sister. The day I returned and found a “roach” in an ashtray, I put a stop to ‘T’s visits. When ‘Z’ had her reversal surgery, I foolishly allowed ‘T’ to stay with me for a while at the Days Inn. One day she borrowed the car to go to my house to do laundry for us. She was gone much longer than was necessary. I discovered later that she had taken her boyfriend to my house which I had expressly forbidden. Shortly after I took ‘Z’ home, we both discovered that we had jewelry missing. The forged checks began appearing right after that. ‘Z’ again hid them from me at first, but when the amount was over $3,000 in one month she finally told me. I insisted on reporting it to the police again. This time I stayed close to the investigation and did everything I could to dissuade ‘Z’ from backing down. It took a long time since we had to wait for surveillance photos from the bank. When we had identified her in 5 pictures, a warrant was issued. Since it was not a violent crime, it was low priority. We were waiting for her to be arrested, not letting on what was happening and she was behaving the same as usual.

When ‘Z’ was reaching end of her patience, I suggested that she request restitution from the bank. They replaced the stolen money and so became a victim in the crimes. Now my sister could not back down on her complaint. To get ‘T’ arrested, we had to set a trap for her. We arranged with the city police and the county sheriff’s office to have the warrant served when we got ‘T’ to come to the house. My sister called her and told her that they needed to talk about the forged checks. The best time would be that morning since I had an appointment and would be out of the house. Actually I was in a neighbor’s house watching for ‘T’ and called the sheriff when she arrived. When it all came together, I felt relieved and yet sick to my stomach. I started smoking again that day after 13 years of not smoking.

My sister posted her bond (again). Then she had to be arrested again for 2 more checks. It took a while to get the photographs and the warrants for those checks could not be issued until she had been identified. This time we went to the magistrate’s court when she was formally charged. I foolishly agreed to speak on her behalf. I stood and told the judge that drugs and the boyfriend were a lot of the problem and that my sister and I were ready to take responsibility for her. The judge ordered a psychological evaluation and ordered me to take her! It really ended up being for nothing because both my sister and my niece decided that the psychologist was an idiot. While we were waiting for the trial, things continued has they had for years. At some point, ‘T’ moved out again. I don’t remember the specific incident because this played out so many times. It probably involved a lot of screaming and my calling the sheriff. I can’t even remember where she ended up living.

Since ‘T’ did not have any money, she was appointed a public defender who recommended that she plead guilty. The day she was to enter her plea, I found out my sister had never filed her victim impact statement. The district attorney uses this in recommending a sentence to the court. I grabbed someone from the DA’s office that morning and we sat down to talk about it. ‘T’ would get probation since this was her first offense (because my sister didn’t follow through the first time). I wanted some conditions imposed, such as anger management classes. I really wanted her to serve some of the time, but probation was the usual sentence. ‘T’ behaved terribly in court. The judge predicted that she would violate her probation and imposed a ‘no contact’ order so that ‘Z’ and I would be left in peace.

After about 10 months of relative peace (‘Z’ had been talking to her daughter by phone periodically which made her angry; my son and I suffered the fallout of her anger with ‘T’), my sister wanted to ask the court to lift the ‘no contact’ order. Again I did my “go along to get along” thing and even went to court with ‘Z’. Things continued the same as they had for years with ‘T’ stealing by using her mother’s debit card and being chronically unemployed. I did call her probation officer after a year and suggested to him that he drug test her. The secretive behavior and mysterious disappearances had started again. As a first time offender, she was required to submit to drug tests at any time. The probation officer had not done any testing during that first year. In fact, they never did. When she reported the next time, he asked her if she was using again and she admitted it. He put her in a diversion program for 10 weeks and that was the end of that.

Besides her year at Job Corps, ‘T’ had also attended school to be a medical assistant. (This was before her felony conviction and now the state of Georgia is trying to collect on her student loan. She also likes to try to impress people by referring to this as going to medical school.) She just would not apply herself to anything and could never stay employed. There were two jobs that gave us some hope. She managed to stay with one fast food place for 10 months. She was fired shortly after a robbery. I suspect that she was involved, but there was not sufficient evidence to charge her. Her next job lasted almost a year. In June 2002, she moved a friend of hers into my garage without my knowledge. He was here for three days before I knew anything. I never did know what he did for a bathroom for those three days. When I found out he was in my house, the story I was given was that he was homeless because of a fire and it would only be a week. ‘Z’ and I were cautioned by ‘T’ not to ask him questions because he was traumatized by the fire. Again what I chump I was! After 3 months of this guy sitting on his ass (on my old sofa) watching TV or sleeping, I suggested to him that he do some yard work in exchange for living in my house. The next thing I knew, ‘T’ had her mother in the bedroom, screaming at her that I bothered this young man. The next week ‘Z’ found a $470 ATM withdrawal from her checking account that she knew nothing about. I immediately went to ‘T’ and her friend and told them they had 1 hour to get out and 4 weeks to remove all of their stuff. (He had brought a pile of possessions with him.) A few weeks later I discovered the reason ‘T’ was being so secretive. A letter came for him from the probation office where he was required to report. With both of them on probation, they were both breaking the rules. I just wrote “Does not live at this address and never did” on the envelope and put it back in the mailbox. ‘T’ was livid (I had to tell her). I don’t know if he got in trouble and I don’t care.

I guess ‘T’ went to live with the ‘guy’ and his father. A few weeks later, ‘Z’ begged me to drive 50 miles in a storm to pick up ‘T’. They had kicked her out for not contributing to the household! I don’t remember where her car was. The episodes concerning her loosing temporary possession of her car were so numerous that they have run together in my memory. Her short-term ‘visits’ were also so numerous that they also run together.

When my sister decided to have the second gastric bypass, ‘T’ was supposed to go with us. The night before the surgery she changed her mind. When ‘Z’ started having complications, I only remember ‘T’ coming to visit twice during those 65 days immediately after. She did show up at my house in November, dropped her car insurance bill in my lap and told me it needed to be paid. I invited her to take her bill and leave my house. After my sister died, I found out that ‘Z’ had been paying her car insurance every month. (This was the year 2004 and my niece was 29 years old!)

I almost forgot about Christmas that year! ‘Z’ had been discharged from the hospital (this was after the 65 days) on December 23. She had always made a big deal of the holidays. So when she asked if ‘T’ could come and stay Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, I gave in. ‘T’ arrived on the 24^th, stayed a couple of hours and then disappeared for 3 days. When she did reappear, she assumed she was welcome to stay through her mother’s birthday on the 31^st. I told her to leave and had to threaten to call the sheriff to get her to leave.

When my sister came home in December, she did improve. Then there was a drastic change. She had been able to get up with a walker and suddenly she had no strength. When she reached the point where she could not sit up unaided, I took her to the ER. She was admitted and remained almost a month while her GI specialist assessed her and tried several treatments. ‘T’ was dropped off at the hospital by one of her ‘friends’ and stayed for several days. The hospitals in this area have fold-out cots so that family members can stay and help with the patient’s care. ‘T’ would sleep very late (read that as ‘all day’) and be in the way of hospital personnel. ‘Z’s car was in the shop and I had not been able to get there to pick it up. Even though her mother had forbid it (and so did I) ‘T’ managed to get a ride to the dealership and took possession of ‘Z’s car. She disappeared for 2 days. When she did return, I took the keys away, told her to pack her bag and took her to some apartment she directed me to and left her there.

I am emotionally exhausted at this point. I have been typing this and revising it for several hours. I am far from finished. I do see my own failing in all of this. I should not have let my sister or my niece manipulate me. I guess I need to relive it all to be sure that I have allowed myself to heal enough that I don’t desperately need people to like me to the point that I give up my own will or make my own decisions. More later, maybe in a few days.

It's Christmas!

2006-12-23T21:31:00.000-05:00

My life as a child really had it's ups and downs. Christmas was the one day of the year that was good, a definite 'up'. Every year my mother would sew a new outfit for each doll that my sisters and I had. There were always cookies and decorations. I can still recall the smell of a pine tree just brought into the house. Part of the fun was figuring out how to make a tree stand up straight when it was sitting in an old tar bucket. We didn't have a proper tree stand until the mid-60's. Then it became my job to lie on the floor under the tree adjusting the screws in the stand to get the tree straight.

My son was born just before Christmas, the best present I have ever received. I have a picture from that year with 'S' sitting under the tree just like a present. The year that he turned 3, he wanted to decorate the tree all by himself. Luckily it was only a 3 foot artificial tree. He kept putting all of the ornaments on one side and did not want me repositioning them. When the tree finally tipped over, he looked at it as if the tree should have known better than to fall.

I grew up in Ohio, so there was snow every winter. I enjoyed the snow as a child. It was only when I had to drive to school or work in it that I developed a real dislike for it. The town where I grew up is in the Ohio River valley, so we had some really steep hills. Sledding was the winter sport. Traffic on 14th Street would yield to the sleds. We would rub wax on the sled runners to make them go faster. It's a wonder that kids lived through sledding season. I had a bad headache after I hit my cousin in the legs when she wandered into the path of my sled. I guess it was good luck for her that I hit her with my head rather than the front of the sled. My brother broke his arm trying to stop his sled from going under a parked car. There were broken bones, sprains, scrapes, bruises and cold fingers, but it was all worth it for that excitement. It was really neat at night when little bare patches in the snow would cause the runners to spark on the pavement, like fireflies on a winter night.

TGIF and bad things that happen to some children

2006-12-22T11:24:00.000-05:00

Unfortunately it's one of my bad days. A bad day for me starts by waking up with back pain and realizing that I didn't sleep well because of pain or I was dreaming about being in pain. It is raining today and that seems to make the pain worse. I am also having a lot of pain in my hands from arthritis. I will be spending much of my day in my recliner with a heating pad on my back. I have a paraffin spa for my hands and have already dipped my hands. The paraffin is hot and melted. It feels really good to cover my hands in that hot wax and just sit while it cools down. My sister had purchased the paraffin spa a couple of years ago and I have since inherited it.

I alluded to my sister in the "Hello I'm Marta" posting. I'm using the alias of 'Z' for my sister. People who know us will definitely be aware that it is us since she and I have unusual names. I suppose that is OK since she passed away in June 2005 and I am tired of keeping secrets. My immediate family is aware of my secret past and know that I am now very open about it. Now I drop the other shoe--my sister and I were victims of sexual abuse at the hands of our father. He died in 1968 and the man that I now refer to as "my dad" is my stepfather (who has been my stepfather since 1972). I did not seek professional help dealing with this abuse until 1983 or '84. I was going through a divorce and seeing a therapist to help with that situation. At the end of one session, I very offhandedly said "Oh yeah by the way, my father sexually abused me". There was barely time for the therapist to react. She said we had a lot to cover in our next session and that she was not surprised because I exhibited behavior common to abuse survivors. I continued with this therapist for about another year and joined a therapy group for sex abuse survivors. It was amazing and frightening how much I had in common with the other women in the group. The most common thing about us was the lack of self-esteem. It was so bad for some that one member had attempted suicide several times and did kill herself after I had left the group.

Until I started dealing with the abuse with a therapist, I didn't realize how much it had affected my life. The fallout continues to this day. They say that admitting you have a problem is half the battle. I think it's really about 20% of the battle. I am still overweight, self-destructive and depressed. Knowing that my father's behavior contributed to my behavior helps, but it is still hard work to change things. I admit that although I am depressed and unhappy, it is comfortable in my little rut of a life. It's scary to change things, so here I wallow.

Back to my sister: she was also abused and greatly affected by it. Now for the disclaimer; anything I mention here about 'Z' is my opinion. She is dead now and can't rebut anything I say about her. I loved my sister and I miss her like crazy. But I also don't miss her because she made my life miserable. To say that she suffered from low self-esteem is like calling Hurricane Katrina a summer rain shower. My sister was a train wreck. She let everyone take advantage of her (me included). I loved her husband like a brother, but her relationship with him was toxic. They loved each other fiercely, but she never came first with him. He was physically and emotionally abused as a child and I think that was part of their attraction to each other. 'Z' and 'J' were verbally abusive to each other one minute and loving the next minute. (He passed away in 1989.) I have had other family members tell me that they stayed away because they could not stand being exposed to the battling. Their daughter has had behavior and emotional problems for years. She was also diagnosed as bipolar. My niece (I'll refer to her as 'T') has been into drugs and was recently paroled from one of the

Georgia

state prisons. She grew up watching her parents be disrespectful to each other loudly and with lots of profanity. She seems to always form relationships with men who are physically and verbally abusive to her. I am going to keep the rest about her for later. (Way to go father, the effect of your abuse keeps going!)

I had tried to talk to 'Z' about the abuse around 1984. I had a long talk with my mother after I had been in the therapy group for several months. Mom was not aware of the abuse when it was happening. I'm not sure she ever really understood the nature of abuse. Her reaction had been to profess that she thought that she and my father had a good sexual relationship. I explained to her that even though the abuse occurs as sexual activity, the real payoff to the abuser is the power they hold over the victim. 'Z' was totally bent out of shape that I had told Mom. In her mind, 'Z' was still the little girl our father had told she would be out of favor with Mom (maybe even hated) if she did not do what father insisted she do. I never wanted to talk about the details of what had happened to us. I wanted to talk to her about how it made me feel. I wanted to know her feelings. She very seldom spoke of it. The few times I was able to draw her out, she said that it was in the past, it was dead and she felt no need to talk about it. It seemed to become a larger barrier between us. My other sister 'B' had been abused as well. Her reaction to my revelations were very different and letting go of the secret has brought us closer.

I've gone all the way around the barn to explain why I loved my sister and yet she made me miserable. 'Z' moved into my house with me and my son in '95. She was disabled and not able to work because of Crohn's disease, a chronic illness of the digestive system. She had been living with our parents since some time in 1993. 'Z' had been a registered nurse/case manager. According to her version, she was moving in to take care of me and my chronic pain. I wanted her to move in because it got her out of our parent's house before they asked her to leave. I admit to feeling a little superior because I was the one with the house for her to move into. We never discussed how we would handle finances. Things just seemed to evolve that she paid for groceries, meals out, her car expenses and her medical care. The rest was mine.

'Z' took over the kitchen and began dictating our television viewing. Our mother gave me hell more than once about how I would sit on my ass and make my sister do all of the cooking. I felt very unwelcome in the kitchen. Still I would offer to fix meals. As time went by the Crohn's was destroying 'Z's joints and she had knee replacements. Still she insisted on doing all of the cooking. I would worry about the stove and counter tops because she would rest her weight, which was in excess of 300 pounds, on the counters and the oven handle. (I was over 300 pounds myself, so I understood why 'Z' was supporting herself on the furniture and I never complained.)

'Z' was desperate to lose weight, but not by diet and exercise (my opinion admittedly). She had heard of the gastric bypass surgery and was researching it. She had a laparoscopic Roux-en-Y gastric bypass in January 1998. I had mine in February. We appeared on a local news story about desperate measures taken to lose weight. They even followed up with us a year later. 'Z' lost weight at a phenomenal rate. About August 1998, 'Z' announced she wanted to move into her own apartment. I confess that I was hurt at first. She moved in September. I didn't see her frequently so I didn't realize how fast she was losing weight. In May 1999 'B' came to Georgia to get 'Z' to take her to Texas to help with the preparations for our niece's wedding. While in Texas, 'Z' would call me and tell me things that seemed odd to me. She claimed to be having seizures and hallucinations. When I arrived in Texas for the wedding (about 2 weeks after 'Z' had left Georgia) I was shocked by how much weight she had lost in those 2 weeks. She seemed to be disoriented. I did all of her driving because she could not seem to remember how to get to places she had been visiting for 2 weeks. This was a woman who would read 8 books a week and could remember the names, the authors, the plot and an amazing amount of story detail about every book. I was supposed to fly home (I had arrived by airline), but changed that when it was obvious that 'Z' was unable to drive. She had a strange episode the night after the wedding. She managed to call our brother's hotel room to tell him she had fallen out of bed and could not get up. By the time I was called, the paramedics had arrived and took her to the hospital. They treated her for dehydration and recommended a follow up concerning her nutrition. I moved to her hotel room to keep an eye on her. We left for home after another day in Texas with family. In Mississippi I had to enlist the help of a stranger to lift 'Z' off the toilet in a rest stop. She was so weak, she could not stand up on her own. When we finally got to her apartment, she fell in the parking lot. Even though she now only weighed 130 pounds, I could not get her up. She seemed totally unable to help. Thank heavens for the fire department. I ended up sleeping on her living room floor until I convinced her to move back in with me. I tried sleeping in her bed with her, but she would wake me during the night with hallucinations about people being in the apartment.

'Z' continued to be very weak and disoriented. I contacted the doctor who had performed the gastric bypasses because I had taken her to the local hospital once and they seemed at a loss to help her. The bypass doctor was great. He had her admitted to the hospital and ran a bunch of tests. She was malnourished so he ordered special liquid feedings that were used when her Crohn's disease flared-up. This is very special because the liquid is administered through a port-a-cath which is a device implanted in the patient's chest. I always heard of these feedings as TPN, I now know it means "total parenteral nutrition" which is used when a patient is unable to eat normally. He also ordered physical therapy to help her become ambulatory (able to walk) again.

'Z' would get better, but then get worse again as soon as the liquid feedings were discontinued. By December, the doctor recommended that he reverse her gastric bypass. She had her surgery on December 28 and spent her 50th birthday on 12/31/1999 in ICU. I was down the street in the Days Inn because the hospital was 50 miles from our home and I just can't drive that much with my back. 'Z' came home a few days later and began her recovery.

I have gotten verbose without intending to. The entire point of this is that my sister used her illness to control my behavior. She also treated me as handicapped. She even said to me "You do not realize how ill you are." It was her way to hold the power in our house. And I allowed it. My philosophy was "go along to get along". Any time there was conflict she would say "I know that any day now you are going to tell me to leave". Of course I would back off because it had been proven that she did not do well living apart from me. I would hear her tell people that she raised me, that my mother was too busy working to take care of us. She also claimed to have raised our brother who is a year older than her. I never would challenge her when she made these claims. I don't know if I was being gutless or noble.

Who am I?

2006-12-21T22:52:00.000-05:00

My name is Marta. From what I have been told, my name came from a woman my father dated. The story is that my sister 'Z' got her name the same way. I tell people I moved to the Atlanta area because it helps folks to get my name right. The transit system's name is Metropolitan Atlanta Regional Transit Authority. What a shock when I arrived in Atlanta for the first time in 1977 and every bus carried my name.

I am a middle-aged woman who is depressed and frustrated. Big deal you say, the grocery stores are full of them. I know that and it doesn't make me feel any better, in fact it makes me more frustrated.

Would anyone care about what I might publish in this blog? I don't know. I don't think I care if anyone is interested. I have tried talk therapy several times. It makes me feel better and then something happens that makes me feel crummy again. I guess that's the way it's supposed to work, but it would be nice to go to bed every night without wondering whether tomorrow will be better than today. I'm on Prozac too and it bothers me that I can feel so depressed when I am taking an antidepressant. Maybe I am expecting too much of the meds. Back to the question about blogging: I guess this is a place for me to get my thoughts out of my head and maybe get some feedback, even if that feedback is from me when I read my stuff.

I retired on disability in 1994. I blew out a disk in my back, had surgery, had complications and now live with chronic back pain. I used to be a systems analyst with a bank. It was a 20 year career that I enjoyed. I was good at it and actually loved the crisis's that would occur. It was early in the days of telecommuting. I not even sure I had heard the word "telecommuting" then. We could do emergency support through a dial-up connection. It was a life saver for me since I became a single mother when my son was 2 and would have to get my son out of bed to accompany me to the office at 3 a.m. It could be taxing to simultaneously deal with a major software problem and a toddler with a fascination with the restrooms at my office.

I tried returning to work in the office after almost a year of recovery and physical therapy. It just didn't work. I could not sit for more than 15 minutes in my office chair. (I think I tried 8 different chairs to find one that was comfortable. I even had one moved from the building I was working in before I injured my back.) Driving was dangerous because my right leg would go numb at times. I tried working 6:30 a.m. to 3:30 p.m. to avoid heavy traffic. The less I had to use the brake, the better. Anyone familiar with the Atlanta area knows that traffic problems can and do occur anytime of the day, any day of the week. I suggested the possibility of my working from home since I was absent from the office a lot due to my fear of driving and my pain level. I was actually working at home on those days when I didn't go to the office. It worked well for me. I could work for 15 to 20 minutes, then lie down for a while or move to my recliner to give my back a rest. I would get a full day's worth of work done by breaking up into chunks over a 24 hour period. My manager was not pleased; she was the type that needed to see faces in the office. It was not enough that I finished projects on time or early. When I broached the idea of formalizing my working from home, I was told that the "bank" would not open itself to the possible security exposure and that there was concern over their possible liability for any physical harm I might suffer while working. I put "bank" in quotes because I don't know who really made those decisions.

My trial return-to-work period lasted from October 1995 to December 1995. I was really sad on my last day at the office. It took months for me to get used to the fact that I was not going to my job everyday. It's boring being at home when you aren't used to it. My son was 10 by then, so he was pretty independent. My sister had moved in with me to help out and she pretty much took over my life. (There will be much, much more to cover on her.) I was seeing a pain management specialist and he put me on the Prozac. I still see the same specialist 12 years later. I'm on a bunch of medication. It helps as long as I don't over-exert myself. When I do and the pain becomes more intense, I get epidural injections of corticosteroids. I really hate those injections. I am squeamish about having someone put a long needle in my back. I have never seen one of the needles and never want to because I'm afraid I will freak out and not be able to tolerate getting an epidural when I really need one. I must have someone available to drive me to the doctor's office when I get the injections. The medicine causes hot flashes and I have to take it very easy for a couple of days.

Today was one of my bad days. I have been trying to come up with an outlet for my frustrations and suddenly the word "blog" appeared in front of my face. I guess I will pour out my stuff here. I tried writing a journal, but I have arthritis in my hands and writing is painful. (As if back pain weren't enough!) I could keep a journal on my own computer, but then it would not feel like the sharing that happens when you sit with a therapist. I could go back to my therapist, but it feels too soon to go back to her.

To the anyone that happens to find my blog, welcome. I'm not sure I will allow comments. I have had a couple of incidents in my life recently where I have taken comments and criticism too much to heart and it has caused me some really bad moments. I plan to pour my heart out here. I've lived through some stuff that some may not consider appropriate for publication. I don't plan to name names or give vivid and accurate descriptions. I want to be able to document how it has affected me. Who knows, maybe it will help someone else. I won't make it all about my problems and what is bothering me, I also want to document the things that make me happy and makes me laugh.

We'll see how this goes. I just wanted to start by introducing myself. There is lots more, but I figure this is like the part where you start with a therapist by telling them what is bothering you.