My Aches and Pains and the Dogs Who Make Me Better

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Enjoying the Great Outdoors

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A Tale of Two Kitties

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Attack of the Red Velvet cake

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

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

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

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

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

Me and the technology revolution

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

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!

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.