Friday, March 30, 2012
2. She donated 3 HUGE ferns to me and our building last winter
3. She bought me this laptop with her Christmas gift to me.
4. She OFFERED to come to my house for my colonoscopy. I declined.
5. She told me she loved me everytime I talk to her on the phone, even though I don't seem to be able to respond. I don't understand why she does it because she never did it before. That sounds like it's my problem...not hers.
6. She puts smileys at the bottom of my cards
7. She returns my calls
8. She wants to give me one of her stray cats but can't seem to manage to catch one even though she bought a live animal trap. (I wish she would let me help with that one but she won't)
9. She bought me my fall wardrobe collection with my birthday present. It also paid for a trip to the dentist.
10. several nice visits since I don't make it to Logan much anymore because of the price of gas.
Thursday, March 29, 2012
I took care of my dad for 2 1/2 years before he died. They had given him about 10 days to live when I took him home. He had two bedsores when I took him home from the hospital that I worked diligently to clear up. At least one of them I did. The one on his rear was tended to several times a day for months until it finally cleared up. However the one on the his heel I was instructed to leave alone.
I thought this was strange but I did what I was told. (turns out there is a kind of bedsore that is best left alone, I have seen them since) However whenever we had a visit from the home nurse or I took him to ANY doctor I would ask about it. I was told every single time to leave it alone or to let them know if I saw signs of infection.
When I noticed signs of infection I called his home nurse and the his doctor to leave a message and I was still instructed to leave it alone. Then one day I looked down at his foot and I saw a fly there. Next to the fly was a little white speck. My heart sunk. I knew exactly what I was looking at. A fly had lain eggs on my dad's bedsore! I also knew, because of Piggy, that this was an emergency medical situation.
I loaded my dad up and took him to the VA hospital 2 hours away. This was over my uncles objections because they were supposed to have a poker game with my dad that night. They thought I was being overly protective but I took my dad to the hospital anyway. I went into the outpatient clinic with him and when they opened the wound what I saw sickened me. There were no little white specks of maggot eggs in the wound. THERE WERE FULL GROWN WRITHING, SQUIRMING MAGGOTS LIVING IN THE WOUND! It was the one of the most disgusting things I had ever seen.
They immediately called the Podiatrist that was on call for the emergency room. He came out and when he saw it he said he had never seen such a thing. He debated for a few minutes as to whether to actually leave them in the wound because he said there was one theory that they would eat the dead tissue and actually promote healing. He wanted to know how I knew that the maggots were in there so I told him about Piggy and how I had seen the little white speck on the outside of the wound. I also told him and anybody that would listen that the doctors had told me to leave the wound alone that cleaning it would actually hamper the healing process.
He told me that "yes, I had done what I was supposed to by not cleaning it". He also told me that my vigilance had paid off because there is no telling how much damage those maggots would have done to my dad if left unchecked. He cleaned out the wound and gave me a whole new treatment regimen. I spent the next 2 1/2 years cleaning that wound sometimes 3 times a day. Occasionally it would be on the verge of being healed but it never quite got there. Once we started seeing the podiatrist on a regular basis he actually apologized to me in a round about way. He couldn't admit that they had let my dad slip under the radar but he very nicely told me that "maybe we didn't do all we could for him in the beginning."
They did spend the next few years taking extraordinary measures to save his one remaining foot. It was hard enough taking care of my dad. (he was a total care patient with a MRSA infection) without the added burden of someone so weak trying to function without any feet. That one foot made all the difference when doing transfers from the bed to the wheelchair and back.
When I went home from the emergency room that night and informed my uncles of what was wrong I could see the disappointment and blame in their eyes. Also a later dates both my grandma and one of my aunts went out of their way to berate me for what they saw as the pitiful treatment of my dad. There was no defense in their eyes for my dad having maggots in that wound.
I did my best with him in every situation. I told him once that I may do things that would hurt him but never intentionally. I told him I would do my best no matter what and that is exactly what I did.
I used to have a guinea pig named Piggy. Piggy was 12 inches long and 12 inches round. He was a gentle creature who loved his carrot tops and celery leaves and led a relatively charmed life for a guinea pig.
One beautiful spring day I had the brilliant idea of putting piggy out in the yard to graze in the grass. I took his cage outside and turned it upside down so he could roam in his own little corral for awhile and glory in the grass and the sun.
When I went outside to get him he was covered in about an inch of little white eggs. I didn't know what they were and I spent hours combing them out of his fur and I had to bathe him - a process he did not enjoy. The next day he was sick. When he wasn't better the next day I called the vet. He told me those little white eggs were fly eggs. Fly eggs are maggots. He told me that if any of them got inside of Piggy (and they probably did) that there was nothing he could do - Piggy would die.
In trying to be nice to my lovely guinea pig, I had essentially killed him. I observed him for 2 more days. It was obvious his condition was deteriorating. I woke up the next day to what I would call "death rattles". His every breath was labored. I decided he had suffered enough. I had never taken a pet to the vet to be put to sleep and I wanted to be with Piggy when the end came so I decided to put him to sleep myself.
I had a sleeping pill that if I took it then I would not wake up for about 24 hours. I thought if it was strong enough to make me sleep that long then it would surely kill Piggy. I crushed the pill, added some water and squirted the solution down his throat. I picked him up and put him in my lap and started to pet him. He lay there quietly as I waited for him to die peacefully in my arms.
He didn't die. Within half an hour he was racing around his cage and eating and drinking like I had never seen him doing ever in his life. He was obviously in no pain whatsoever and I couldn't believe that he wasn't dead. He was fine the rest of the day. The next morning he was in bad shape again. I had to leave for school.
On my way out the door I looked at Bobby and said, "Bury Piggy under the apple tree."
Bobby looked at me with distress in his eyes and replied,"But Piggy isn't dead." I looked him in the eye and repeated myself and he knew what I meant. When I came home that night Piggy was buried under the apple tree.
In 2011, 26 died and 245 were injured as a result of being struck by lightning across the nation.
Usually Mega Millions mints around 10-15 new millionaires a year and Powerball creates 9-16 new millionaires a year. This doesn't count other lottery wins in other states and people who win a piddly million here and there in lotteries and contests!
On the third afternoon I decided to take a short walk (part of my rehab). I knew I couldn't go far but I had to do something. I was about a hundred yards from our trailer and I had been yelling for Queenie the whole way when I happened to look up on the mountain and I saw her head drop. That's all I saw but at least I knew where she was.
I made my way to her and she looked terrible. She was lying on her side and the her upper body from the base of her ribcage up was swollen to at least triple her size. I saw immediately what had caused it. She had gashes sliced through her front legs and chest. From the looks of it I would say that she ran straight through a barbed wire fence at about 30 mph or so. She was weak but she also knew I was beside her now and I wouldn't leave her.
I couldn't carry her down the hill and I couldn't walk good enough to even go home to get medical supplies to help her. All I could do was wait for Bobby to come home from work which was several hours away. We sat there together in the woods and I talked to my baby so she knew that everything would be okay.
Finally just at dusk, Bobby pulled into the driveway. I yelled and told him that I found Queenie. I let him know where we were and that we couldn't get back home. He came straight to us and I told him to get Queenie home first and make her comfortable and then come back for me. There was no way I could get back down that steep hill on my own. It was too much of a struggle with my foot swollen bigger than a football.
He carried Queenie off the mountain and then he came back and carried me off the hill as well. When we got back I went straight to work cleaning her wounds and administering combiotic. Combiotic was some wonderful stuff. It was a high powered antibiotic with a local anesthetic in it. I injected it straight into her wounds.
It took days for the swelling to come down and for her to start eating again. It took weeks for the cuts to heal but they did and Bobby and Queenie and I enjoyed many happy years together.
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
One time I was coming home from visiting my mom in Logan. It was a long day and I was worn out. I was just getting out of my truck which I had to park in the street in front of my apartment when a man walked up asking for money. I told him I didn't have any.
He persisted to tell me he needed it for cab fare to the hospital to see a sick friend and that he was hungry. I manuevered my way to my sidewalk which gave me an upward advantage to him but I couldn't go on to my house without turning my back to him which I wasn't about to do. I repeated I didn't have any money but I did have a hotdog and pepsi in my hand which when he told me he was hungry I offerred to give it to him.
He declined. Most politely I might add. But he continued to thank me and the further I backed toward my porch the more he manuevered closer to me. Finally he told me he wanted to thank me for being so sweet and he stretched out his arms and actually moved to hug me! It was at this point I started to loudly and forcefully tell him to step away from me with my palms held upwards to halt him. He started to back away and repeatedly apologize as he looked around to see if any of my neighbors could hear which was exactly what I wanted to happen because I had good neighbors.
At this point I was also standing beside my lighted nativity set. It was not one of those plastic ones. It was one of those lighted rope light ones that is mounted on a heavy iron frame. He did not know it but I was a hair of ripping the baby Jesus out of the ground and whacking him over the head with it. I guarantee you that the Christ Child would have done some heavy duty damage to the man by the time I got done with him! The irony of it all doesn't escape me either.
As I continued backing toward my porch once he was out of arms length and hightailing down the sidewalk I opened my door as fast as I could and locked it behind me. I didn't have a phone so I couldn't call the police but I did have a most excellent neighbor in the apartment behind me and we had prearranged with each other that if there was trouble to bang on the wall and we would come running.
I banged on his wall and yelled to him that I needed help and he yelled that he would be right over. I went to look out my window and that is when I saw the man who had accosted me going up the sidewalk behind my house! Then I was really scared because I thought he was trying to figure out how to get to me and I knew he would meet my neighbor coming around the house to check on me.
I waited by my door and my neighbor knocked in minutes. I made him identify himself because I couldn't see who was on the other side of the door. When I opened the door I almost flipped out of my mind! Standing beside my neighbor was the man who had just created the whole problem.
I turned 40 shades of red as I started to squall and my neighbor immediately got between us and told me to tell him what happened. I did. The man stood beside him denying everything of course. When I finished my neighbor told me not to worry that he would handle everything and told me to go back in the house until he came back for me.
When he came back he told me that he knew the man from barbor school. (he was in school which is why he was living in Charleston at the time) He told me that the guy was a trouble maker at school and they were threatening to kick him out. He said he knew from my reaction when I saw the guy that the guy was lying. He said he used to be an MP in the military so he had dealt with these kinds of situations in the past.
He said he met the guy coming up the sidewalk to his apartment. The guy told him he was coming to visit him but my neighbor told him he would have to wait while he checked on me. Little did he know that he was bringing the problem right to my front door! He apologized. He figured that the guy was going to hide in his apartment pretending to visit because he thought I had called the police on him. He told him to never come back and to never bother me again or he would report him to the police himself.
I never saw the man again. My neighbor and I had a strong friendship until he finished school and moved back home. I should mention that he also installed a sideview mirror on my truck for free when I accidentally knocked it off one time. The only thing he took as payment was a homemade lasagna which I was happy to make.
Monday, March 26, 2012
THIS IS JUST ABOUT THE BEST THING I EVER DID FOR MYSELF: IT IS WRITTEN TO SOMEONE I LOVE:
I'm giving you permission to feel what you need to feel
I'm giving myself permission not to feel what you feel
I'm giving us both
One time I worked at Pizza Hut. It was a gawd awful job that I absolutely hated. I am not good at taking orders and apparently I am even worse at filling them. One day I was walking a tray full of drinks to a table. As I passed by a man at the salad bar, all of the sudden my tray tipped over and spilled all down his back. Of course I apologized profusely (sincerely too - I must add) He was amazingly nice about the whole thing.
As I went about serving my customers in my most incompetent way, he finished his dinner. (he was not one of my customers) On his way out the door he stopped me and gave me a $2 tip (big tip back in the eighties at a Pizza Hut in WV). When I objected, first because of what had happened and second because he wasn't even my customer. He kindly patted my arm and said, "Honey, take it. You're going to need it." Then he smiled and left the store.
I can top that if I need to but I like that story. That nice man deserves to be recognized.
Sunday, March 25, 2012
We used to have dogs that would eat shit when I was in the greyhound business. There would usually be one or two in every kennel. I never could figure out why they did it although some say it is a vitamin deficiency but with all the supplements those dogs get I can't imagine that is the cause. I would have to constantly stay in the pens to scoop poop as soon as it hit the ground or the one or two shiteaters would have at it and nothing would stop them either.
If they did bury their faces into a big pile then it would be stuck to the front of their muzzles and on their faces as well. I would have to clean it up before they wiped the muzzle on other dogs or walls or whatever. Some dogs learned that you would pick it up fast so they would stand at attention at another dog's butt and try to catch it before it fell to the ground.
I had a trainer tell me once he had a dog that loved to eat shit more than actual feed (which looks like cabbage roll stuffing once it's mixed by the way). He said he took a feed pan full of food and a feed pan full of poop and put them both in front of his dog and the dog ate the poop!
I remember a AA 3/8's dog (very good grade) whose name was Poopieotzie. They named him Poopieotzie because he loved to eat shit and he also liked to roll in it. The trainer laughed when I asked him about it one day. He said as long as Poopieotzie continued to earn money like he did he would gladly give him a bath everyday as long as "rolling in the poop kept him running.