Dim Sum

Years ago my dear friend Sandi took me to a little Dim Sum restaurant in an Atlanta suburb.  It was a little square stand alone building.  I was not impressed from the outside.  To this day I can't tell you where we were.  It was my first time having Dim Sum, I didn't even know what it was, but Sandi said "trust me".  So, I did, and I absolutely loved it.  I was amazed with the experience.  Servers came by rolling carts, they told you what was on your cart, and if you wanted it, you took a plate and they marked it on your tab. 

Each plate had three small pieces of Dim Sum on it.   Pot stickers, dumplings, etc. 

That memory is one of my favorite memories, and I'm not just talking about the food.  It was the experience of doing something new, and better yet with my friend Sandi.

Sandi has been gone 12 years now, and I still miss her.  She was killed in a horrible car accident.  I always think about her this time of year, the accident was on December 18, 1998, a week before Christmas. 

By some twist of fate, and being in my office at 11 pm that night, the back line was ringing which was odd, so I answered it.  It was someone looking for my old boss, Sandi's ex-husband.  They were recently divorced, but still cared about one another.  He'd moved out of state, but he and I were in contact.  I told her they weren't married anymore.  She didn't tell me it had anything to do with Sandi.  After several questions, I finally realized it was about Sandi, so I told her that I was one of her best friends and I could get a message to the ex.  I thought she'd just been admitted to the hospital, nothing was clicking for me.  I asked to speak to her, that's when I heard the phrase, "I'm sorry, she didn't survive the accident."

I think I hit my knees.  I began shaking all over.  I don't remember much after that, other than having to pull myself together enough to call her ex and tell him.  I remember the silence on the other end of the line as the news hit him.

But I don't like to think about those memories of Sandi.  I have others of course, but Dim Sum stands out as one of my favorites.  I've only had it one other time since that day, but I was very disappointed with the food and the experience.

Why Dim Sum now, on a Sunday morning?  How do some memories get evoked?  Why does our mind go to a memory like that one which sparks a series of memories?  For me today, it was while looking at the Venetian website.  We're going to Las Vegas, and are staying at the Venetian.  I happened to see one of the restaurants in the Palazzo, next to the Venetian - Zine Noodles Dim Sum.  The memories flooded back.

The website says it is voted one of the top 10 Chinese restaurants in the U.S. in the Chinese Restaurant News. Chris hasn't ever had Dim Sum, so he just did some googling.  We may put this on our list of things to do while we're in Las Vegas.

Maybe I'll have a new Dim Sum memory, but if not, then I have just the one that means so much to me.  And you know what?  That one memory is just fine with me.

This post dedicated to Sandi, the fun times, the fond memories and one of the best friendships of my life.

Random things

There's been so much going on lately that I've neglected the blog, so I'm going to take a page out of my friend Ashley's book and do a bullet list:

• Decided I really don't need that Estee Lauder moisturizer for $60 a bottle after I spilled it on the floor mat, I must confess, I scooped up what was on the top and didn't actually touch the mat.  My wallet can't take my random clumsiness.
• Found out the hard way that having your brows done at "The Brow Line" is much more painful than having them ripped off with wax.  I really didn't want to cry right there in the mall with all of those people walking by, it was hard not to, but I managed.  Vowed to myself that it is wax for me.  Watching those women trimming brows with thread looks so innocent... take my word for it, keep right on walking.
• Pampered myself and bought a kindle.  Loving it!
• Feeling a tad bit old because my nephew turned 16.
• Had to buy a new laptop, my monitor was going out on my Gateway even though it wasn't quite two years old, our IT guy told me it'd cost nearly as much to fix it as it would be to get a new one.  I ended up getting a Toshiba with an extended 8 1/2 hour battery.  Feeling a little spoiled not having to keep it plugged up as much as I had to charge my Gateway.
• Thought I was going to get the go ahead to quit wearing my back brace, no such luck, although I don't have to wear it as much. 
• Feeling so very grateful to all of the people who have so generously supported our fund raising efforts.
• Taking better care of myself, will post more on it later, when I have so much more to post about.  But let's just say things are going well.
• Happy that the repair on the A/C at my rental property only set me back $300.  It could have been much worse.
• We took a long weekend trip to Florida to rally with other Ural owners.  Had a great time.
• Got to see my friend Dee while we were in Florida, good to get to spend a few hours with her.
• Took an airboat ride while in Florida - saw several gators.
• Boarded Gabby while we were gone.  I am really having a problem knowing that she was in a cage the entire time we were gone.  So... to get ready for our next trip, my Mom said she'll Gabby-sit.  I'm very grateful for that.  I took her for a playdate so she and Lucy (my mom's dog) could get to know each other.  It was going okay, until I was walking by and they both decided to run and I ended up stepping on Gabby's foot.  She thinks Lucy hurt her, and wouldn't come near her the rest of the night.  We had another play date last night when we went for Thanksgiving.  Gabby wound up in the back room and didn't venture out.  My two nieces were very good watching her and making sure she was okay while we were there.
• Went shopping today - my AmEx card is smokin'!
• Watching a very close GA/Ga Tech football game, so far, the Dawgs are winning! Go Dawgs!  Shocked to learn tonight that Chris pulls for Tech when they play GA, not sure how THAT slipped by me.  Oh crap, it's tied again!
• Tech missed the PAT, so UGA is winning again...

So, that pretty much catches me up.

Good hearts

I've been happy to see that my friend is blessed with so many friends who love and care about her.  We opened a community on Lotsa Helping Hands. We have 42 people signed up so far to help with various needs she has.

I have these thoughts of things I'd like to do for her.  Someone volunteered to take on the t-shirt project.   This is a relief to me!  She has contacts, she knows people. I was going to have to rely on the hope that I'd pick the right place, because I just don't have anyone in the t-shirt realm to call on.

We have a raffle in the planning stages and people have been stepping up and donating some great prizes.   There are several more things in the works.  We already have a great prize package due to the generosity of kindhearted people.

Thank you everyone, you know who you are.

Typical? Not really.

My day today was a typical day. I was running a little behind, but I don't have to punch a clock, and I'm never really "off". Work is a phone call away.

Even though the mechanics of the day are the same, I seem to be running on some high energy level. I think it was awareness. Awareness that my typical day is so unlike the day my very dear friend is having.

It's her first round of chemo. It's 8 years to the day when she was first diagnosed with breast cancer. It's back, chemo is back, fighting for her life again. I look at the clock, wondering if they've started the infusion yet, and if so, how much longer she has left to go today.

I wonder how she's doing. I get interrupted, again. Typical. My thoughts are diverted, but only for a short time. My mind instantly wanders back to my friend.

My work day is over, but my thoughts and my prayers are with my friend. I am hoping she is getting some rest after a grueling day.

Thinking of you my friend.

From the sidelines

One of my best friends is battling breast cancer - again!  It's not fair, she's 38, she's in fantastic shape.  She's one of the most determined people I know.  Her resolve is strong.

Human emotions were given to us by God. We experience them, it's part of being human.  Let me tell you, the emotions have been assaulting me, and I can't even begin to imagine what she's feeling.  I see her struggle, her fear, her anger, her tenacity, her humor,  and best of all, I see her faith, and her joy in knowing that she belongs to God.  It's a crazy mix.  We cry together, we get mad together, we have even started laughing together again.  "Get out of my way, I've got cancer."  "Can I use your phone? Cancer's not contagious." all said with her trademark style.  She has kept me laughing for the 13+ years I've known her.  She helps me get through the day.  I only hope I can do as much for her.  I know I'm going to give it my best shot.

She has an indomitable spirit.

8 years ago, I just didn't have a grasp on everything she was going through.  When chemo was done, surgery was done, radiation was done and her hair started growing back - she'd beaten it.  She survived!  And we all breathed a sigh of relief.  It wasn't over for her though, she was trapped in the emotions that accompany the disease.  The emotions we couldn't recognize because we didn't truly understand.  We were all safe in our cocoon of naivete.

I don't claim to understand them this time around, but I do know that I won't be so naive when she completes each stage.  I am in for the long haul.  And, I'm just bossy enough to make sure others who care about her are too.

I'm lucky to have support as I'm dealing with my emotions, my mom has cried with me on the phone and talked with me about God and healing.  Chris has talked through my emotions with me, and just hugged me and held me.  I hate cancer and it's cruelty.   I have friends who I've vented to, who care and listen to me, and are jumping in with both feet to help.

Thank goodness for the distractions of our day to day life, you just can't make up this stuff. 

Other than my prayer for the restoration of her health, I pray that God guides me in how to be what she needs me to be.

Game plan

Now we have the game plan.

Now it starts.

I can't do the hard part.

I wish she didn't have to experience it - again.

September 16th - she's ready, she's coming out swinging. 

Ok cancer, game ON!

Fear

Fear is a powerful thing. The unknown makes us fearful. Facing your fears is so much easier when you have a game plan and you know your opponent.

You are not alone.

You are loved.

You are our friend.

CCKMA

Gabby, Gabs, Gabalicious, Gabakins...

She has won our hearts, she brings laughter to a house that was saddened by the death of our beloved cat Willy.  She is still sick with her upper respiratory infection.  We had another vet visit on Saturday, and they took me into the room where Willy was put to sleep.  I almost asked them to take me to another room.  I sat there and cried when they left me in the room to take her to the back to be examined.  I got out my iPhone to distract myself.

Her URI is not better, so we are on new antibiotics now, and she got a shot of steroids.  I almost freaked about that.  Steroids were what caused the diabetes in Willy.  Steroids were what caused my blood sugar to spike after my back surgery, it's a good thing I was still on the PCA pump lying there in ICU when they gave me insulin, or I might have freaked.  Instead, I just pushed the button and let the morphine take over.  Her shot of steroids was to help her breathe, so I had to relax and let them give her an injection.  I mean, she needs to breathe.

Saturday night, she played and played and played.  We were just going to bed, and she jumped up to the foot of the bed, and she was open mouth breathing.  Again, I freaked.  That was what they told me Willy would do just before his death, and he did.  Thankfully, it went away after about a minute.  But that was a long minute for me.  I couldn't get to sleep, I worried about her.  I woke up during the night, and worried about her.

She didn't do it again.  Thank you Jesus.  Sunday, she got in the meatloaf position - that's the position cats get in to help them breathe easier.

My little girl is sick and I'm so worried about her.  This morning, when my alarm went off, she was asleep at the foot of the bed, but she didn't stir as quick as I thought she should, and my heart was pounding.  But she was just took her time in waking up.

I'm paranoid, but trying not to be.  The vet's office called to check on her this morning, and I told them about the open mouth breathing and the meatloaf position.  She told me she'd check with the vet and call me back.  She told me not to worry about the open mouth breathing unless it went on for greater than 10 minutes and the meatloaf position is a position that kittens often get in, they like to tuck their front feet under themselves, and to not worry.

So, I'm listening to what they are telling me, but with a dash of over-protectiveness.  She's my baby, and I can't help but worry.

It bears repeating

I've said it before and I'll say it again. Cancer sucks.

Thinking of you my friend, you beat it before and you will beat it again. Love you E.

Again?

It started with boogers.  Cute little Gabby was sporting these ugly black boogers.  We'd wipe her nose, a process she was not fond of, but they came back. 

Then the sneezing started, a little dainty sneeze, maybe once a day.  Nothing that really concerned me, I'd wait for the next one, and it might appear the next day, or not at all.

On Friday, she sneezed three times in a span of a few minutes.  So, I called the vet's office, they said bring her at 3:15.  This is the same vet's office where she lived for about 2 months while waiting to be adopted out and while being treated for a nasty case of coccidia.

I had a sense of deja vu walking through those doors with a cat carrier on my shoulder.  They were happy to see their little friend, the sweetest one, the most playful one.  She on the other hand, wasn't so wild about her visit, but despite that - she was a sweet girl.

A sweet girl with an upper respiratory infection, a mild one, but we have to start her on some treatment.  You'd never know by looking at her, except for the boogers.  She has not slowed down in the least.  She's full of energy, and into everything.

Liquid Clavamox twice a day - and let me tell you - that process is NOT fun.  There's power in those little legs when they are in fight or flight mode.

And then, because kittens can be a little pre-disposed to viruses, Lysine powder twice a day.  Memories instantly flooded back to me, and I had to bite back the tears.  I was giving Willy the Lysine powder twice a day to help keep the viruses away from his battered immune system.  I told her that I still had a jar, an almost full jar because the cancer was stronger than the viruses.

So, now I'm doling out Lysine powder to my little girl, with a jab in my heart each time I do.

Reality bites

This has been a tough week for my friends.

An ugly foe rearing its head in the form of fear, and the possibility of something so much worse. ~~~

Seeking a name for the culprit that is slowly taking mobility away, so we can fight it once we know what it is. ~~~

A shock to the very foundation of something ordained by God. ~~~

Something so difficult to talk to me about, from someone who can talk to me about anything. ~~~

I love each of these friends.  I hurt along with them.  I stand beside them offering what I can, which sometimes is only a hug, a word of support, sometimes something a little more practical.

I want each of you to know that I am so sorry these things are assaulting you, and to know that I am standing with you in prayer and faith.

Flat on my back

Another post I started but didn't finish, I did decide to finish this one up though, so it is a complete post.

I've known for a while that I was going to have to have back surgery, what I didn't know was that I was going to recover while lying flat on my back - no sitting up.

I have missed Willy so much, I am thankful that my family and friends have been with me round the clock because otherwise I couldn't stand being in this house without my little boy.

Tomorrow will be a month since he died, I can't believe he's been gone that long, and yet, at the same time, it seems like forever.  (it's been longer now, but I started this post on July 20th)

I've had a hard time trying to decide whether or not to get another cat.  I know there will never be a replacement for Willy, and I don't want a *replacement*.  I know my little boy wouldn't want me to be sad, he was always so in tune with me when something was wrong, either physically, or if I was upset.  Finally, it may sound silly, but I feel like Willy had a paw in picking out the new addition to our family.  For the last couple of weeks of his life, when I would take Willy to the vet, there was a cage with five kittens for adoption.  I was immediately drawn to one of them, but Willy needed all of my focus.  He was the most important to me.

Then there were 4, then 3, then 2 - and she was still available.  I walked away every time.

Then, Willy died.  My heart was so raw that I couldn't even think of adopting another cat.  Two weeks went by.  My surgery date was drawing near, and my emotions were running high.  Bless Chris, he put up with the rollercoaster ride I was on, and he just loved me through the tears.  We talked a lot about to adopt or not to adopt and when to adopt.

If I was going to adopt, I'd need to do it the very next day, a Saturday, it'd be the only chance I got to get out and find a kitten before my surgery.  I went back and forth with myself, the argument yes or no.  I finally decided no, that it just wasn't the right timing.  I didn't want to rush and just pick out any kitten even though I'd been checking out all of the local shelter websites.  Chris would have to worry about taking care of a new kitten while I was in the hospital and he was worried about me.  I would be away during what I thought would be some crucial bonding time.

I had to take Willy's sharps container with his used insulin syringes back to the vet's office for disposal.  I had some unused cans of prescription cat food that I wanted to return, along with a few other unused items.  So, instead of going out to find a kitten, I gathered up my courage and headed to the vet's office to return the stuff.  I told Chris when I left the house that if that kitten was still there, then I was bringing her home.  He said good.

I walked in the vet's office and was immediately deflated, the cage was gone.  The vet saw me from the back and came out right away to hug me and ask how I was doing.  Of course, I broke down right there, and all of the other girls hugged me.  I turned and was walking out the door and I stopped and turned around and asked if all of the kittens were adopted out.  The answer was no, they were in the back, because they'd caught a nasty case of coccidia and they were being treated.  I asked if the one I was interested was still available, and the answer was yes.  They brought her out to see me, and I fell in love.  I told them that I'd like to adopt her as long as she was going to be able to recover, because in my state, there was no way that I could care for a sick cat and I couldn't have my heart broken again.  The vet assured me it was a common condition and she would recover.

We made arrangements, she should be recovered and ready to come home when I got home from the hospital.  Her case proved to be a little difficult, she and the others infected were having a tough go of it.  She was finally adoption ready yesterday after being spayed on Monday.

I still can't drive, so Chris went before work and brought her home!  I'm so excited.  I know she is thrilled to be out of her e-collar, and out of the cage she's been living in for a couple of months, and am thrilled that she's here.

She's been a little skittish, but other than that, she's adapted really quickly.  It's nice to have life in the house again.  I want to go back and say that for my own silly reasons, I think Willy had a paw in helping pick her out, is because they were in the same place, at the same time, on several occasions - and that he passed the torch to her, along with instructions to take care of his Mama.  Like I said, silly, but that thought helps me get through the betrayal and guilt feelings I've been battling.

So, here she is, meet Gabby.  She is a dilute calico and is just adorable.  This is her, in action, playing with the mouse Willy left for her.  I'm sure this blog will see many pictures of Gabby in the future, but I posted this one so you can see her markings and her playfulness all in one photo.  I got lucky and caught her throwing the mouse in the air.

Welcome to the family Gabby, we already love you.

The worst waiting game ever...

I found this draft post that I never finished, and one that I don't think I CAN finish - but I decided to post it anyway.  Everyone knows the outcome of the story - but I think for me, I need to post this:

I've turned into a stalker.   I really don't have a choice.  I guess I do, everyone has choices.  But this one doesn't feel like a choice.  I'm a player in a waiting game.  A game I never wanted to play.

Just the other day, I posted on the milestone Willy had reached - 120 days.  I could see him adding another month and hopefully even more because of how good he's been doing.

Day 122 dawned, and he didn't seem to be feeling well, so I took him to the vet just for a check.  His blood work was all good, weight was stable.  He was a little dehydrated, so they gave him some fluids.  I could pick him up any time after 3:30 that afternoon.  He acted like he still wasn't feeling that great, but more than that, he seem to act like he was upset with me for taking him to the vet.  I can understand that, he's been poked and prodded A LOT during the past five months, and I'm sure he's tired of it.

Day 123 arrived, and he seemed better.  It was a crazy day for me, but I ended up having a late lunch and dashed home to check on him.  He was better, but still a little aloof.  I went to dinner with a friend and brought home leftovers.  He enjoyed the shrimp.

Day 124, as soon as I open my eyes, somethings not right.  It's 5:50 am and usually, when I wake up and start stirring around, he takes full advantage of that and demands his breakfast.  I couldn't find him.  I woke Chris up, and we both looked for him.  I was getting panicky.  And, true to form, we turned around and there he sits, and us with no idea where he came from.  But, he was in the meatloaf position.  A position that I've learned that cats assume when they aren't feeling well.  He did eat his breakfast, so I felt better about that.

I decided he was going to work with me.  So, I loaded him up, and off to work we went.  He wouldn't come out of his carrier for more than a minute.  Late morning, he ventured out and laid down in the litter pan and stayed there.  That of course concerned me.  I counted his respiration rate.  It was 86.  So, I called the vet.  It was the new vet, fresh out of school.  As a matter of fact, she was at the University while Willy was a patient there.  He wasn't on any of her services though.  She was familiar with him though when I called, my vet had given her his vital information.

She told me that he was critical, and he only had days, if not hours to live.  My mind knew it, but my heart couldn't wrap around it.  I took him home and the wait started.  I stalked his every moment, wherever he was, there I was.  Chris would relieve me so I could sleep some.  If Willy was in the closet, so was I, lying there right beside him.
*****
That's as far as I got, I assume it got too painful to complete.

The array of Willy's meds

I was straightening the cat food shelf and was amazed at all of the medications that I'd been using for Willy.  So, I put them all on the counter and took a picture.  This doesn't include the insulin, and insulin syringes and sharps container, I'd already taken them back to the vet's office.

Heart on the mend

My heart is raw with grief over the loss of Willy.  The two weeks since his death have been so very difficult.  The tears have been either free flowing, or just under the surface ready to start running, which they do more often than not.  I am able to control them a little better though when I'm somewhere other than at home.

My routines have been shaken. Willy isn't there to wake me up in the morning by stepping on my hair until I give in and get up.  When I do get up, there's no need to get his breakfast ready, the house is silent, and still.  Too still.  Chris is still sleeping and I'm so alone, so very alone, missing my baby boy.  I try to stay on my loose schedule for getting ready for work.  10 - 15 minutes are cut off my time, there's no litter box to scoop, no water bowls to fill, no hair ball paste to give, no treats to give, no medication to give, no little boy to pick up and love on before I head out the door to work.  There's only a spot beneath the trees in the back yard to look at, and to tell my little boy that Mama loves him and to be a sweet boy.  That's what I told him every time I left the house.

When I come home, there's no supper to feed my little boy.  When I go to bed, he's not there to go with me and make biscuits at the foot of the bed, or lie on my side, or my chest.

I miss those things.  I miss watching Willy enjoying the back porch, and getting out there through the cat door Chris installed.  I miss seeing him sitting at the big door waiting for someone to open it for him because he didn't want to be bothered to use the cat door. I bought this house so Willy could have a screened in porch.

The lizards are safe now without Willy on the prowl.

I miss the way he'd come stand on my lap top when he wanted attention.

I miss the way he'd be waiting for me when I'd come out of the bathroom.

I miss giving him catnip, and watching him enjoy it.

I miss watching him sharpen his claws on the scratcher.

I miss watching him play with his toys, that boy loved his toys.

I miss seeing him stretched out on the floor.

I miss seeing him enjoying the swing.

I miss seeing him lying on the bench, or in the sunlight.

I miss seeing him go to a sunny spot in front of the window in the mornings after he'd eat his breakfast.

I miss catching him on the counter top or on the table, where he knew he wasn't supposed to be.  I miss the expression on his face when I'd catch him.

I miss his purr.

I miss scooping him up and giving him kisses.

I miss the feel of his fur.

I miss him running to the pantry every time I would walk through the house, and him talking to me as he ran ahead of me.

I miss giving in and giving him a treat most times he "asked".

I miss him showing up just as we are about to sit down at the dinner table, his timing impeccable.

I miss how he used to sit right next to me, in his chair, waiting patiently on the next morsel.

I miss his meow.

I miss him, I miss Willy, my little boy who I loved for 12 years and 2 months, who I continue to love even though his body isn't here.

I miss so much more.

I'm glad to say that there are some things that I don't miss.  I don't miss hemobartonellis, I don't miss chondrosarcoma, I don't miss diabetes,  and most of all, I don't miss hemangiosarcoma.

I am glad that Willy is at peace, free of pain, free of suffering, free of feeling badly.  I am glad that we had 129 days after the tumor was first seen on x-ray to love him.  I know that I did everything I possibly could to give him as much good quality of life possible.  I know that Chris did everything he could.

I felt, and I do still feel so helpless against those tiny microorganisms that wreaked havoc on his small body.  I'm so angry that Willy was dealt such an awful hand.  I think he handled everything that was thrown at him like a champ.  Everyone at every vet appointment we took him to, talked about how sweet and lovable he is.  It warms my heart to know that others feel the same way I do about him.  I am so lucky to have so many people who care about Willy, and about me and Chris, and about what we've been through.  We have an amazing support system.

My heart is slowing mending, although it will never be complete.  Someone said to me that I have a Willy shaped spot in my heart, that only he can fill. 

Grief is a horrible thing, it is overwhelming.  I don't ever want to experience it again.

Willy......... April 23, 1998 - June 21, 2010

Day 129, that's how far we got.  129 days, I feel robbed.  Willy and I had a 20 year plan.  Damn that hemangiosarcoma., 12 years and 2 months, and I had to let my little boy go.  Mama loves you.  You be a sweet boy.

Milestone

We made it to another milestone yesterday.  It was day 120, or in other words 4 months since Willy's tumor was detected.  Now we're on our way to our next milestone, 1 day in and counting. He's already beat the 80 days by 21.  He is doing so well.  His hair is growing back at a pretty good pace.  I'll be glad when it is back.  I'd say it's about 1/3 of the way there, maybe a little more.

This morning, I spent some time tossing out some of his toys that have seen better days and kept his favorites.  Of course, that sparked some interest in what was put back in the box.  He has a mat for scratching that he used to lay on all of the time.  He hasn't been interested in it for months.  I sat down with a brush and got all of the cat hair off of it. and noticed a zipper on the back.  I unzipped it and pulled out a bag of catnip, one I'm assuming has lost it's zip - therefore, the loss of interest in the mat. 

I got up to go get some catnip to refresh it, and came back to find him lying on the mat, (curiosity & cat... what can you say?)  I got out my camera to take a few photos.  I changed it to record when he started chasing his tail.  I've always wanted a video of him chasing his tail, but never could seem to get one.  So, catching that on tape made me happy.  I'll try to get it uploaded soon.

Thanking God every day for the fact that Willy is doing so well.  Believing for many more of those good days.

In public? Seriously?

If I EVER somehow go out of my house and to the store with my dark unmentionables showing through my thin pajama pants that have a big split running down the back, PLEASE tell me and don't just laugh and blog about it while you're standing in the checkout line behind me.

Perfect

Beautiful weather, a screened in back porch, Chris relaxing reading a book, me and Willy on the porch swing... Yep, perfect.

Triggers

Yesterday afternoon, I came home from work to check on Willy.  I ended up taking him back to the office with me.  I wanted to weigh him.  Eight days before, I had taken him to the vet for a weight check, and he was 12.5 lbs.  Yesterday, he weighed in at 12.5 lbs.  I'm so happy that he is maintaining his weight!

He's still eating well, sleeping well, playing, socializing, being affectionate.  By all outward appearances, he looks great.  I think he is doing great.  We're on day 111 now.  I love watching that number go higher.  Things are going well.  I'm really encouraged.  I think the ES Clear is helping a lot.

But, my emotions are still raw underneath the surface, waiting for a trigger.  Last night, I encountered one of those triggers and I couldn't cap the emotions.  We were at the dinner table, and Chris said something that caught me off guard, something about Willy's future.  I almost choked on the bite of food in my mouth, I couldn't get it down.  I tried to hold back the tears, but I couldn't.  It wasn't anything he said that I hadn't already thought about myself, so the content of his comment wasn't what upset me.  I think it was that I was caught off guard, there was no prep for the statement.  I couldn't stay at the table.

Willy was in his customary place next to me.  I pull a chair over next to me and feed him small bites of people food as he sits there and waits. (most of the time, patiently, and others, well, not so much)  Always have and will continue to do so as long as I can.  I got up and headed toward the bedroom, grabbing a tissue as I went.  All I wanted was to curl up and cry.  I kept going, the walk in closet was dark, I went it and sat on the floor and just sobbed.  I couldn't stop it.

I was only there a minute when Willy came to join me. He actually got up and left the table with food still sitting on a plate.   He has always had an instinct for my feelings.  He was very adamant about loving on me.  He was purring very loudly and pacing back and forth.  I kept crying.  I didn't want to upset him, but I couldn't stop it.

Chris came back to check on me, he said "I'm sorry Blondie".  I couldn't even convey to him that I wasn't upset with him, or even what he said.  He'd never seen me like that, hiding in the dark on the floor in the closet, bawling my eyes out.  I've never seen me like that.  I was trying to will myself to stop crying.  It wasn't working.

Finally after about 20 minutes, the tears let up some.  My phone rang.  Chris had brought it to me when he came to check on me.  A diversion, a welcome diversion.  It was a dear friend of mine who has been sick.  He is back in the hospital.  He wanted to know if I was okay, all I could say was that I was sad, so sad.  But the diversion worked.  I stopped crying.  After we got off the phone.  I went and laid on the bed, picked up a book and started reading. I was already about 2/3 of the way finished with the book, so it worked pretty well as a diversion too.

Chris came in to check on me again, and curled up behind me.  And we talked for a long time.  I enjoyed lying there with him, putting things in perspective.  Assuring him that I wasn't upset with him.  Willy came to join us.

All was right with my world at that moment in time, lying there with the man I love, and the cat I love.  And, best of all, they love me back.

Day by day

Numbers - I've never particularly cared for numbers.  But, my sister on the other hand has made numbers her career.

Numbers can signify how much weight you need to loose, what your various lab values in your bloodwork are, your birthday, how old you are,  how many siblings you have, your number of friends on Facebook, miles per gallon your car gets or how many miles you've traveled, and how many frequent flyer miles you get for those you actually traveled.  Numbers show your bank balance or lack thereof or even how much sugar to put in cookie batter.  You get the idea, numbers are everywhere.  Numbers can mean so many things.

Right now, my world is centered around numbers.  As in, number of days.  The type of cancer Willy has gives 20 - 80 days as the average survival rate after detection of tumor.

Our clock started on February 13, 2010.  That is the first time that we have evidence that there was a tumor.  It was over two months before we were able to put a name to the tumor, but detection of the tumor clock started on 2/13/10.

I went to the calendar that hangs by the back door, and I flipped back to Feb 13th and I started numbering.  Today I wrote his number on today's date. 

He's eating, he's sleeping, cat-napping, playing, being social, affectionate.  He spent part of the morning torturing another poor lizard who ventured into Willy's territory.   I was sitting on the sofa and Willy was in my lap when all of the sudden, he was off like he was shot out of a cannon, across the room, through the door, onto the porch, and in a matter of seconds he wandered back into the living room with his prize. I have to confess that I got out my camera and shot some video of the events following the capture.  I felt sorry for the lizard, I truly did, but for me, it was the joy of seeing my little boy active, feeling good, enjoying his life.  I can rewind and watch it as many times as I want to.

It's the times like this that I am glad that I opted for not giving him chemo.  I would not want him lying sick for days at a time, only to start feeling better and then us starting the cycle all over again with another dose of chemical in an IV. 

The increasing number on the calendar everyday lends to the feeling that I, that we, made the right decision.

I have added ES Clear to his daily regimen.  It's a combination of several herbs and it's made for cats with cancer.  I've read testimonials singing its praises.  I have to say, I was a little hesitant at first, especially when he threw up 3 different times after I started it.  But, I kept at it because he'd really just upchucked hair balls.  It is supposed to help rid the body of toxins, and I guess all that hair hanging around can't be a good thing. 

So, back to numbers - he'd gained a tad bit of weight when I took him in for a quick check earlier in the week,  all of the numbers on his last bloodwork looked good, and today, well, today - we made it to day 106.  Willy has already beaten the odds, and I can't help but feel good about that.

Unintended joy

For Christmas, Chris got me a porch swing.  He installed it on the back porch, the screened in porch.  I loved it and looked so forward to the weather getting warm enough so I could enjoy the swing.

Finally, that day arrived and very soon, Willy and I started spending part of the evening on the swing together while Chris sat in his chair on the other end of the porch, and we talked, and enjoyed each other's company.

The unintended joy has been watching Willy enjoy the swing by himself, especially since he's been sick.  More often than not, that's where he is.  I'll go out there and give him a push.  I stand in the house and look out the window, just to watch him in the swing.  It warms my heart, and gives me joy.  I know Chris got it for me to enjoy, but I don't think he realized that it would bring me so much joy in more than one way.  Thank you Chris.

What's behind door #1?

Have you ever been going somewhere, and just looked at the houses, and wonder about the people that live there? Wonder about the events that have happened in that house, in their lives?  The happiness, the fun, the laughter and the tears?  The sadness, the despair that can be masked behind a manicured lawn and a picket fence?

I always tend to lean to the happy, because that is my basic nature.

Right now, I'm so sad because of Willy's situation, that now, I look at the houses and wonder most about the sadness that the occupants have had to deal with.  I know that my mood is temporary.  I know I'll get my feet back under me.

The Cat Chronicles (reads more like a novel than a blog post)

I realize that some of you reading my blog may wonder at my attachment to my cat Willy.  Those of you who are cat people know.

We (my ex and I) went to the Animal Rescue a few weeks prior to getting Willy because the cat ex's father gave us had disappeared due to a series of unfortunate events.  We were so sad that Woody was gone.  Woody was solid gray, a beautiful indoor/outdoor cat.

At the Animal Rescue, we found a solid gray female cat who I fell in love with.  We'd gone to get one cat, but ex saw a Manx named Max that he just had to have.  So, we left with two cats.  Max had been a resident of the AR for 5 months.  The female cat who we named Milly had just arrived and had been spayed the day before.

One week after bringing Max and Milly home, Max got sick.  Off to the vet we go.  One week later, he is sick again.   Three weeks to the day we brought him home, he is very sick.  He was diagnosed with feline leukemia.  He had been tested at AR and tested negative, but he must have been tested in the window between being infected and it showing up in his blood work.  We had to have him put to sleep on the 3rd trip to the vet, and several hundred dollars spent.


Of course, the fact that he tested positive for feline leukemia put the AR into a panic, because every cat who'd been there for the 5 months he was a resident had been exposed - including Milly obviously.  They assumed the stress of changing environments was what cause Max to come out of remission (not sure remission is the right word, but you get the idea).  We waited anxiously, but Milly never got sick.

AR felt bad that we'd lost our cat and not only paid the adoption fee for Max, but had spent those several (read $300) dollars at the vet, they told us we could have our pick of kittens at no cost to us.  These kittens were in the overflow shelter and had never been exposed to Max.  So, ex went out to choose his kitten, since Max was really his cat.

He brought home an adorable solid gray cat (see the theme here?) who could fit in the palms of our hands.  He was adorable.  He had an elongated face and big ears, he looked like a cross between an alien and Yoda.  I fell in love the minute I saw him.  He grew up to be a very handsome boy.

For whatever reason, Milly and our new kitten named Willy to rhyme (cheesy I know), chose their "person".  Quite contrary to what we had decided, Milly chose ex, and Willy chose me.

Right from the start, he started sleeping on top of me, and 12 years later, he still does it.  He was always social, LOVED playing and would leap 3 feet in the air and do a flip at the same time while trying to capture that feather on the end of a stick.  Milly, well, she was affectionate too, but only on her terms.  She wanted to be near you more often than not, but if she decided she wanted in your lap - she was insistent until you accommodated her.

Two years after bringing Willy and Milly into our home, I happened to be looking at the AR website.  I don't know why I was, but I saw the cutest kittens named Ping and Pong.  They were black and white, brother and sister.  I called ex to look at them.  For me, the looking was just the "awww" factor.  Ex must have had a different read.  The next day, he called me from AR and wanted me to come see Ping and Pong.  I protested, but he was adamant that I come down.  So, I did.  Guess who we made arrangements to adopt and bring home a few days later after the spaying and neutering?

Oh, and here's the point where I should mention that along the same time as the "awww" turned into adoption, ex had come upon a cat in the middle of the road who'd been hit by a car.  He took him to the vet.  Un-named cat was a solid black cat.  A few days later, on a Saturday morning in December of 2000.  We brought Ping and Pong who we renamed Oreo and Cookie, and black cat home.

We kept black cat in the shop in the garage, he was injured, and we didn't want to have the new cat hissing and slapping that is associated with introducing new cats (this behavior can go on for weeks).  We were able to doctor on black cat without having to worry about the other cats.

There was a lot of hissing and spitting and general unrest inside the house.  Willy adapted the quickest.  Like I said before, he was social.  He got along well with Oreo and Cookie and was happy to have new playmates.  Milly on the other hand was not (and still is not to this day) happy about the interlopers.  She tolerated them, but that was all.  There was a constant struggle between her and Oreo (the greedy piglet when it came to feeding time).  Willy got along well with Milly too.

Eventually, black cat wormed his way inside, and Willy got along well with him too.  I turned out to be allergic to black cat.  Every time I held him, I broke out in hives.  We had a cat friendly friend who agreed to take him.  She named him Nicholas because he was found around Christmas time.  He had a great life with her until a year or so ago when he got out and was killed by some animal bigger than he was.

Right from the start, I was obsessive about the cats not going outdoors.  Cats are curious though, and every time that door would open, 3 or 4 cats would try to get out.  You can imagine the difficulty, esp if you had something in your hands.  Early on, I had protested to the smell of the litter box, and I asked if there was some way we could make an enclosure for them to go to in the garage to do their business.  A little engineering and a well placed kitty cat door behind the washer and dryer and the cats were able to get to a cage for lack of a better word, that housed their litter box.

Ex decided to add a penthouse, then a cat walk to the other side of the garage, with a kitty cat loft.  Then came the cat walk across the shop, and finally, a huge outside covered and enclosed space for them.  It was referred to as the Taj Mahal.  The cats loved it!  They spent hours upon hours out there, running, playing, relaxing, napping.  Sometimes it was quite a task to get them inside when you wanted to account for them all.

I developed a compulsion to SEE all cats before I left the house.  To make sure none got out, therefore, unable to disappear.  Willy was the most determined about getting to the outdoors.  Luckily, he usually stopped at the first patch of grass he saw for a little snack and we could scoop him up and return him to the safe confines of the house.

Milly got out one time, and much to my horror, the redneck neighbor's vicious Rottweiler was loose.  He took off after Milly, and I took off behind them.  I didn't get very far, when just like a cartoon, here comes the Rotty with Milly chasing HIM!

One day, I came home after work, and couldn't find Willy.  Ex had left the house after me.  I went back and forth through the house, searching the Taj Mahal, and he just wasn't there.  The only possible scenario was that he got past ex, who didn't notice.  We lived on 5 acres of land, about 2.5 acres of it were wooded.  All I could think of was that Rotty, or some other animal bigger than Willy hurting him (or worse).  I made fliers, I walked the acreage, I called, I begged, I pleaded for my baby to come home.  Friends came and helped me.  I was distraught to say the least.  I couldn't work, all I could think about was my baby boy alone, out in the big bad world.

Two days later, ex called to tell me a hungry Willy had shown back up and was in the garage when he got home.  You only thought my obsession with seeing all of the kitties before leaving was bad before -- now it was a full blown, neurotic obsession.

There was the time Cookie began having seizures, and we found a black widow dead on the floor.  We rushed her to the vet for a very expensive stay in ICU.  The vet couldn't locate a bite site and was skeptical.  We went back home and got the spider to show her.  She eventually found the bite inside Cookie's mouth!  Bad things reside in the big bad world outside of the safe indoors. 

Mostly the cats were all 4 healthy, thankfully.

In 2005, ex and I separated and divorced.  About 5 months later, we sold the house, which I'd been living in.  I was moving closer to work which was an hour commute one way.  I was having a hard time finding an apartment that would allow pets.  I finally found a duplex, and the landlord agreed to let me bring one cat.  There was never any question in my mind - it was Willy, hands down.  Ex agreed to take the other 3.  It broke my heart, I loved them, and to this day I miss them and get teary eyed when I think of them.  Luckily ex and I remained friends, and for a while, I went to his house to visit them.  He kept Willy for a few days while I went out of town.

On moving day, I finally let Willy out of the bathroom in the apartment, and only a few minutes after he was out of the bathroom where I'd kept him confined, someone opened the door and he bolted.  We chased him and finally cornered him and brought him inside.

I hated living in that duplex, and soon started looking for a house.  I felt so bad that Willy had previously had a Taj Mahal and now all he has was a spot in the window (which became his favorite location).  One of my requirements for a house was a screened in porch.  No screened in porch, and I wasn't even interested in looking at the house, unless there was a way one could be added.  I had a few other things I *wanted*, but the porch was a deal-breaker.

One day while riding through a subdivision that we happened upon, we rounded a curve and I found my house, complete with screened in porch.  Moving day couldn't get here fast enough.

Willy loves the porch.  Chris put in a kitty cat door for him so he can come and go at will.  He has taken over my swing as his personal spot (he does let me join him from time to time).  He chases the lizards that wander onto the porch, and he wins most of the time - poor lizards.  He watches the birds, the rabbits, the squirrels and the ducks.

Every time I leave the house, I have to find him, know where he is, kiss him on the head, and tell him to be a sweet boy and that Mama loves him.  Call it obsessive compulsive, a ritual, neurotic behavior, whatever, I don't care, I'm fine with the label.

12 years of love - both given and received, and I'm so distraught about the cancer that has invaded his body.  I was so busy looking out for the things in the big bad outside world, that the microscopic things took us all by surprise.

I am so thankful for all of the photos and the videos I have of Willy, I enjoy them now, and I will enjoy them always, just like I enjoy the photos of Milly, Oreo, Cookie, Woody and Nicholas.  I suspect I will enjoy the ones of Willy the most, heck, I don't suspect, I know.

R.I.P. Patches 1989 - 2010

Patches was the lovable grouch of a cat who belonged to my friend Liz.  Patches passed away this morning at the age of 21 from renal failure.  Liz told me not to cry for Patches, so I'm trying.  I know that like Liz said, she is feeling 100% better.

Happy Birthday Hassel

Happy Birthday Hassel! Love ya.

Hopes dashed

Falling from the top of the world hurts. UGA called back, on further examination, it is cancer. Hemangiosarcoma which has spread to the liver. We're devastated. He apologized for having to call back and give me a different diagnosis. I think I'm most upset about the liver. We have an appointment on Tuesday with the oncologist. I still believe in God's power and mercy. I need, we need the strength and the wisdom to handle this.

God is good! & Willy's results are too!

It's day 12, biopsy results were supposed to be back within 3-5 days.  I'm getting anxious, but ignorance is bliss.  I have prayed and have asked everyone I know and even strangers to pray for Willy, my 12 year old cat.

1 mass the size of an orange, with a smaller mass attached to it
1 small mass in the omentum
2 spots on his liver
2 skin lesions

... and one known chondrosarcoma on his toe. 

He has been recovering well, I'm happy with his progress.  I have prayed and prayed, and prayed some more.  I told a co-worker (who has a strong faith) just yesterday that it must be taking so long  because it must be something odd.  We laughed and agreed that it would have to be something odd because he was *my* cat. 

The phone rang today, the caller ID said blocked - which is what it says when they call me from UGA.  My stomach tightened up in a knot.  It was the surgeon.  He was calling to give me results.

The big mass, the one the size of a softball he calls it today - is odd.  Yep, he said it, odd.  He said they can't classify it.  That it is mostly necrosis.  They surmise that it was a previous mass of some sort that had a blood supply and lost that supply.  He said, we can't call it cancer, so we have to call it benign.  Thank you Jesus!

He said he the margins are clean and that they completely removed the mass.  They will continue to try to classify and identify the mass, and will update me if they come up with anything, but consider it benign.  It seems we stumped 'em.

1 small mass in the omentum -- a blood clot, benign.

2 spots on the liver -- benign

2 skin lesions -- benign, ulcerated skin resulting from clipper burn when they shaved him for the ultrasound.

Our God is a God of mercy, and I am so thankful to be one of his children. 

The diabetes turned out to be transient, and is now gone.

His anemia is gone.

He's on the road to recovery.

We still have the toe to deal with, and while I hate that he has to go through one more thing, I know it is the right thing to do for him. 

The thoughts that kept recurring during the waiting of the past 12 days were that we got him to the vet minutes before he would have died on April 19th.  We again got him to the vet minutes before he would have died on April 23rd.  That's the day we found out about the mass.  That was also his 12th birthday.

The week he was at UGA, God blessed me with the funds to cover the vet bill, so treatment costs weren't a factor.  I was able to cover the bill in full with some left over.

So, back to the thoughts -- why would he have survived those two very close brushes with death just the week before to have to battle a horrible disease?  Why would the funds just appear for me to be able to get him the care he needed without having to worry about the cost only to find out it was something bad?

Those thoughts gave me reason for hope.  My hope turned into joy today.  Again, thank you God, and thank you to everyone who prayed for my little boy. 

Willy photos

How many ways can you lie on a bench?

According to Willy, at least 3...

All of the above shots were pre-surgery.

This is Willy's first post op day, I was amazed at how good he looked and was getting around, and I was a bit shocked by his new hair style.

This next one is on post op day 2.  Chris went with me.  I love the way Willy is looking up at him.  (Hey Dude, can you get me outta here?)

Another one of his rock star hair style

First day home from the UGA Small Animal Teaching Hospital.

Feeling better... enjoying the swing on the screened in back porch.

Happy Birthday Boris

Happy 50th Boris!

Willy's story

So, we've been having quite a time with Willy on a medical front.  I've had Willy since he was only a few weeks old.  He fit in the palm of my hand.  Right from the start, he was my baby.  My baby is 12 years old now, and he weighs 14 lbs.

He's currently in ICU at the University of Georgia Small Animal Teaching Hospital. 

He had surgery on Thursday to remove a mass the size of an orange out of his abdomen.  They had to remove part of his colon, and they removed two other masses and took some biopsies of his liver.  We are waiting on pathology results.  We are praying, we are believing, we know that healing is available.  I am claiming healing for Willy.  

The skill of those caring for him at the hospital has been nothing short of excellent. We have been very pleased with their care.  I thank God for giving those skills, and caring hearts and hands.

Thank you to the staff of the UGA Small Animal Teaching Hospital for taking such good care of my little boy.  Thank you for being so kind to me and letting me visit.

Willy 1st post-op day

Willy's outdoor adventure

Chris said something that got me to thinking, it was about enjoyment, doing the things you enjoy.  So, I decided that all Willy's life, he has tried to escape to the outdoors - he would get as far as the nearest patch of grass and stop to eat.  We have a big dog pen in the back yard that does not have a dog - so I picked him up, and Willy, Chris and I walked out to the pen.

Chris thoughtfully brought the camera.  We let Willy down for a little while.

He started chewing on the nearest grass right away.

He got up and explored a little, I was nervous that he would climb up one of the trees and we'd be in a mess then, so I was 1 step behind him.

It came time to pick him up and head back inside, Chris said for me to be still.  I didn't know why until I saw this photo:

Yeah, so Willy had an outdoor adventure today, and I think he really enjoyed it.

All sorts of things suck this week

As if chondrosarcoma wasn't enough, we finally got good news on Willy's PCV so we could schedule his toe amputation. That was a Saturday, by the time Monday rolled around, I was getting ready for work and could tell something was wrong. I thought it was the hemobart again. I could see him going downhill fast.

I had to be at work for something I couldn't get out of, so we scooped him up and Chris took him to the vet, which thank goodness is only 5 minutes away. The vet called me and told me that when he arrived, he was open mouth breathing which apparently signals that cats are minutes from dying. I asked her to repeat that sentence, I couldn't have heart it correctly. But, I did. His blood sugar was 609 and he was hypothermic with a body temp of 95. Willy had quickly slipped into critical condition. The body temp could cause him to go into shock and his body systems could start shutting down.

I worked as long as I could and went to visit him and held him. His body temp had fallen to 93. I like to think my body heat helped. Finally, at 7:45, I got a call from the vet that his temp was up to 98.9.

She told me that the next 24 - 48 hours would be critical for him. He made it. I brought him home Thursday afternoon with insulin and instructions and new food and urine tests and a stomach full of nerves.

Giving the shot was easy, I'd given many to humans. A short time later, he was crashing again. We rubbed maple syrup on his gums as instructed. He peed on the rug, which he has never done in 12 years. A call to the vet, and more instructions and a diagnosis of what she thinks is a UTI.

I went to pick up new antibiotics and pain medication, and was happy to report that he was playful when I left. Shortly after getting home, I could tell he was crashing again.

Scoop and run again after another maple syrup gum rub. Upon arrival, his blood sugar was 26. (150 for a cat is normal). Insulin dose needs to come down from 3 units to 2. I can handle that.

The really sucky part? In the course of tests for the UTI, it was discovered that he has a plum sized bladder tumor. Talk about a punch in the stomach! Options, we're talking options now. I called Chris, who dropped everything and rushed to be with us. I needed him to hear the options, I didn't know if I was going to be able to talk, much less relay the information that was swimming in my head. I could see the devastation on Chris's face, it was palpable in that room.

If we decided by 4 pm that day, we could get a referral to the veterinary oncology department at UGA was one of the options. We decided we would take him home because he was so much better and would consider all of the options and let her know on Monday.

Chondrosarcoma still sucks.
Hemobartonellis still sucks.
Diabetes you suck.
Bladder tumor, you really suck.

Willy has the distinction of being the first cat in 9 years of the vet's practice to have a bladder tumor, and the first cat to have 4 concurrent deadly problems. That's a distinction we could live without.

We decided that we are going to take him to UGA for a non-invasive consult and see what they tell us. I can barely stand the pain in my heart.

With riding, comes camping

With riding, camping is almost a given. Something about freedom. Now, I get the concept, but those who know me know that I like my comforts. I'm getting a tad nervous, because apparently Chris is serious about the camping.

We made a trip to Wal-Mart, and he found the tent he wanted. I walked over to the air mattresses. He asked me if I was serious. I said, yes, if I'm going to camp, then there will be an air mattress involved.

I asked about the handy dandy pump that they were selling so conveniently next to the mattresses, and I was told that the Ural came with a bicycle pump. I asked how long it would take to get it pumped up with that. I received a vague answer, but okay - he knows what's what.

So, after we get back from the ride, he decides to pitch the tent. An hour and a half later, he comes back inside. He said "Tent, 10 minutes, air mattress an hour, plus". He was planning to camp in the backyard. He asked if I was going to join him. I told him, nope, it still wasn't warm enough in my book for camping.

This morning, he was grateful for the air mattress, is planning on buying that pump we discussed and thoroughly enjoyed sleeping outside.

He's been researching state parks and campgrounds. Did my life just change?

The Simple Life

Chris was bound, bent and determined that we were going to take a ride on the Ural. It was a beautiful day and he wasn't going to just sit at home. Mind you, I could if I wanted to, but he was striking out. After pouring over possible routes and places to visit on a day trip. He finally decided on Mennonite Country in Montezuma, GA.

His route included dirt roads, and twisted and turned and eventually, we wound up at our destination - 4 hours after we headed out. It was worth the drive. It is beautiful country. We were planning on eating at the restaurant, but arrived 15 minutes too late. It was 2:15 and they didn't open back up until 4:30 and we were starving. One of the ladies pointed us several restaurants - they all closed at 2:30 though... So, a 4 hour drive and we ate at Huddle House. It was the only place we could find open. We were so hungry though, that we thoroughly enjoyed it.

These are some random photos from the trip.

Martha the Goat

Our ride (the motorcycle, not Martha)

Beautiful day in a beautiful place.

Cherry Blossoms

I almost waited too long to get a picture of the cherry blossoms in the front yard.

The pollen is as bad as I can remember seeing it in a long, long time. Last weekend, I heard the wind really pick up and Chris came in off the back porch and shut the door behind him. We'd had it open all morning to enjoy the beautiful day. I asked him why he closed the door and he said there was a yellow cloud coming. Boy, was he right. In just a few minutes, everything was coated with pollen.

After taking this photo, I had to wipe my shoes off and throw my pants in the washing machine because they were dusted with pollen from just walking in the yard. They say it's going to be like this most of the summer.

Luckily, it doesn't bother either of us too badly.

Holding pattern

So, Monday rolled around, after a bad day on Sunday. As soon as I opened my eyes, I knew something was wrong. I didn't see Willy, but still, I knew. I found him on the floor at the end of the bed. One glance and I knew he'd had a relapse. So, the entire day was spent with me hovering and trying to maintain a balance between trying to get him to eat and drink and to let him rest.

He would eat some, he drank some. He'd get up and go to his water bowl and just sort of tip it and end up kinda lying in it. His breathing was labored, and his eyes showed just how crappy he was feeling.

Finally, in the evening, he started to perk up a little.

I fed him at 11, and we picked up all of the food at midnight.

We loaded him up and I dropped him off at the vet at 7:30 for his surgery. A couple of hours later, I got a call from the vet's office. I was expecting the "he did great" speech, but got the "we couldn't do his surgery because his PCV level was too low" speech.

So, we're in a holding pattern. He's on Doxycycline and Prednisone for two weeks. He gets a blood level drawn on the 19th and if it's good then we will schedule the surgery for a few days later. He has to be off the Prednisone a few days before he can have anesthesia.

He's responded great to the medications. One more week and we see where we stand.

Happy Birthday Ella

Happy Birthday to my Goddaughter Ella.

Chondroyousucksarcoma

So, we got the results on Willy's pathology. It came back as malignant, a chondrosarcoma. So, the toe has to be amputated. It was scheduled to be done yesterday, but the Vet had some medical problems of her own and was in the hospital.

We have rescheduled it for Monday.

Chris has been so wonderful and supportive through all of this.

I have been such an emotional basket case about this. My brain tells me that the amputation is the right thing, the only thing to do. I know this, and that is the route we are going. On the other hand, my heart is so heavy about it all. The thought of him losing his toe is so hard to think about, but if it gets rid of the cancer, it will be worth it. I feel so badly because I can't explain to him what is happening to him. He has always picked up on my moods - when I am sick, or hurting, he is right there next to me, or lying on me, taking care of me. I'm trying hard to stay positive because the day I got the diagnosis, I lost it at home, and he picked up on it and got upset himself. Today, I had a migraine, and there he was, right beside me. He knew I wasn't feeling well.

At least he is going into the surgery on Monday so much better than he was on Thursday. He'd had a rough few days, so at least we had a little extra time for him to get stronger. A few more days for the vet to get stronger and feeling better, and a few more days for me to feel better emotionally about all of this. I've enjoyed seeing my little guy back to being his usual self. I needed that.

And yeah, chondroyousucksarcoma... but we're going to beat you.

Catching up

Chris pointed out to me that I've been neglecting my blog. So, here's my catch up post.

Last post, I was recovering from my right hand surgery. I had my left hand done on Feb 17th. At least I knew what to expect. It was a little easier in the respect that wasn't my dominant hand. It was a bit harder otherwise... one reason, I stumbled and caught myself, using my left hand... ouch! It's over a month later and it's still swollen. They are both somewhat tender, but not too bad.

We had snow on Feb 12th. It was beautiful. It came in quickly. We got several inches at our house.

When I got home after work just as the snow was starting, I went inside only to find Willy in distress. I couldn't figure out what was wrong. Finally, I figured out that his toe was swollen and seemed to be causing him pain. Got him comfortable and he calmed down.

Chris wanted to go for a ride on his motorcycle while it was snowing, so we put on our new cold weather motorcycle jackets and loaded up and off we went.

The next morning, I got up and loaded Willy up in his carrier to take him to the vet. It took me 30 minutes to clean the windshield on my car. There was a layer of ice underneath the snow.

The vet told me he had an infected nail bed, but of more concern was that he was jaundiced. Some bloodwork was done, long story shortened... he was diagnosed with hemobartonellis. A parasite that attaches to the red blood cells. He was severly anemic. So, we had to treat him with antibiotics for the parasite and the nailbed along with Prednisone for two weeks.

When I took him back for a follow up, he was better, but still needed treatment. So, he got an Imidocarb injection. She had told me two weeks before that he was so badly infected that the injection would kill him. His blood work had improved, but she wanted to go ahead with the shot. I was a nervous wreck all night. But, he did fine and got to come home the next morning. She only kept him overnight because he was 'critical'.

Two weeks rocked by and it was time for his second injection. I was feeling better about it because he did pretty good with the first one. I asked her to take a look at his toe again because it was still swollen, but he didn't seem to be in any pain.

When I picked him up, she had bad news about his toe. She had done a needle aspiration on it and it wasn't an infection. It was a tumor. I was about knocked off my feet. We scheduled him for 10 days later to come back and have it surgically removed and sent off for pathology.

I was able to take him home after work. By the time I got him home, he was in a full blown reacation to the second shot. A call to the vet, and I got advice to get us through the night, with the promise that if he got worse, she would meet me at the clinic and admit him. I set a clock and got up every hour throughout the night to check on him. We made it. It took him until Sunday night to really feel better.

His toe is still causing us some anxiety. He had the surgery, the tumor was attached to the bone, so she wasn't able to get it all. We have to wait 10 days for the pathology to come back. If it's good, then we are done. If it's not, then he has to have the toe amputated. They put an e-collar on him so he wouldn't mess with his toe... that lasted about a minute. The collar that is. He managed to get out of it every time we put it on.

Finally, we just let it stay off. He seemed totally uninterested in the toe and didn't bother it. Prayers are still being said for good results on his pathology.

Tomorrow is Chris's grandmother's 90th birthday. His family is throwing her a huge birthday bash. So, last weekend, I made four batches of cookie down and froze it. Today, I've been baking up a storm. Approximately 500 cookies, 200 turtle pretzels, 2 Crack Bars (mmmm... good! They are adictive!), and a batch of toffee. Throw into that mix that I stopped to cook supper. I'm tired.

My nephew Tyler competed in the State Championship for Drill Team today. I'm so proud of him!

KB had her 6th birthday.

Bebe and I entered an amateur photo contest. I did not even place, but Bebe won BEST IN SHOW! I'm so proud of her. The photo was one she took of her mother watching AG eat an ice cream cone. It is a great photo. Way to go Bebe! The photo is even more special because of the people who are in the photograph. I hear that I did win the KB award though. After going through the exhibit and looking at the 362 entries, KB picked her favorite. It was one I entered. It was of a kitten looking at a grasshopper perched on a blade of grass. She had no idea that I took the photo when she decided it was her favorite. Thanks KB! Bebe won a $250 prize for best in show, she donated it to a local charity. Her photo will be on display for the next year and will be one of the photos featured in the calendar that is being done highlighting all of the winners.

But, I'm also now caught up on my blog. At least I think so. Those are the highlights.

Happy Birthday KB

Happy Birthday Katie Beth!

Happy Birthday Bene'

Happy Birthday Bene'

Happy Birthday Jess

Happy Birthday Jessica

Update on my hand

I'm making good progress in my recovery. Most days, the palm isn't tender. The strength is coming back smidges at a time. I was gauging the improvement by when I could open a water bottle by myself. I managed that feat last Tuesday, at about 3 weeks post op. It's a struggle, but I'm doing it!

The scar looks good. It's itching some, which is part in parcel during the healing process. I'm using the memory foam block he gave me to strengthen the hand. I'm trying to use it on the left hand to so it will be stronger before the surgery on it.

I go back for my next post op on Thursday this week. We will schedule the left hand at that time.

So, all in all, it hasn't been a bad experience.

I'm ready...

So, I had the surgery on my right hand. The surgery itself wasn't bad. The surgery center was great, really wonderful staff, everything moved right on along. I arrived at 11:3o, and I think I was home by 3, if not sooner.

I woke up with my hand in a pretty stiff bandage. I could feel, but it was mostly numbness. At home, I went straight to bed, and elevated my hand as instructed. And took the pain pills right on schedule. Doc told Chris to make sure that I kept them in my system. I haven't had a pain pill since Thursday morning at 6:30 am. So, that has been a good thing.

Very quickly I learned that there are so many limitations with only having one hand, esp when it is your dominant hand. Chris has been great, right there helping me with everything. As the days have gone by (I'm 4 days post op now), I'm able to do so much more. I'm learning to be creative. I am able to type now.

I went to work on Friday, but was only able to type left handed, writing wasn't happening at all, so I spent some time returning some phone calls. I'm really glad that I can type now, that should make next week at work easier.

Just to think, I have to do this again on the other hand in the not so distant future. At least I'll be a little more prepared.

But for now... I'm ready... to have the bandage off, the stitches out, and start the next phase of recovery.

Happy Birthday Pops & Anna

Happy Birthday to Pops and Anna!