"That was a hot mess, inside a dumpster fire, inside a train wreck" -OR- 2020 so far

Thanks to Jake Tapper for the perfect quote to describe not only the recent "presidential debate," but most of this year. Let's see, where to start... Mom & I both got sick in the early part of the year. I had my quarterly ear/nose/throat infection; she had an assortment of colds & diabetic incidents. And what we thought was a heart attack. Dr A (the family cardiologist) says it was a warning, and he's glad that *I* insisted she go see him. Turns out that she had several blockages and wound up needing a stent. (Daddy all over again...oy) This involved her being hospitalized for several days while they tried to get it placed without doing too much damage to her kidneys. (something to do with the contrast dye that they use) Dr A promised me he wasn't going to see me an orphan anytime soon. Everything turned out ok. I got the joys of a colonoscopy in February, and a colossal fight with Mom coming & going to the appointment. We absolutely should not be in a car together, EVER. At least not if SHE'S driving. Breonna Taylor was accidentally killed during the serving of a search warrant- more on that in a minute. COVID-19! ARRRRRGH! Actually, the only real change it made in my life was a distinct lack of library & bookstore visits. Amazon, however, really LOVES me now. So does Grubhub. Mask wearing is a bit of an issue. Remember that problem I had with the hospital masks? Yeah. After passing out several times due to panic attacks, my sort-of-BF bought me some tie dyed bandanas. Followed by neck gaiters in various colors & patterns. They still cause SOME issues, but I'm good for about 30 minutes, which makes grocery shopping quick! Boo is still sweet & cuddly. George Floyd was murdered by a police officer & all hell broke loose in the US. Then a shyster lawyer dug up Breonna Taylor's case and convinced her family to help stir up more shit. Louisville is in month 5 of riots/protests/looting. I could write a book on this subject alone, but I'm going to just say FUCK ALL THAT SHIT and move on. What else? Had the usual wretched birthday. Sent Mom to Iowa for 2 weeks. Was reminded how much I miss living alone. I love her, I just hate living with her! The anus-mouthed Cheeto-in-chief who said Covid-19 wasn't a serious issue & a cure for it will be ready before the election, now has it. Bwahahahaha Trying to post from my my phone is getting to me, so I'll try on the tablet later.

Goodbye & Good Riddance to 2019

So, yeah, that tablet wasn't worth squat. I take that back- it was great for all kinds of games that I wasted far too much time on.

So, 2 years later, here I am again. What's gone on?

Lost several aunts and uncles.

Lost a couple of officers.

Lost my beloved Nightshade kitty.

Worst of all, I lost my Daddy 2 days before his 86th birthday.

2 days after his Louisville memorial service, I had my left knee replaced.


Ok, so that last item is a positive thing, although it didn't feel like it at the time. The first week was agony and I thought I had made a terrible mistake. Then, amazingly, I started seeing progress EVERY SINGLE DAY and now I'm nearly pain free for the first time in YEARS. (we're doing my right knee in another year or two. My left HAD to be done when it was because I had taken a nasty fall and shattered my kneecap) A series of visits to a chiropractor in 2018 fixed my back problems. I now don't know how to handle not being in constant pain. #firstworldproblems?

Still working on the diet/weight loss issues. It's getting better now that I can actually move without hurting myself.

Boo kitty has turned into my new cuddlebug. He's in disgustingly good health for his age and the vet tells me that I will probably have many more years with him. Which is good, because I'm not ready for any more losses. Mom has been put on notice too- She's not allowed to die unless it's because I've snapped and killed her. LOL

And that's where we are now. There's plenty more drama, but I'm going to ease my way back into blogging and save some of it for later.

I seem to have missed April...

If anyone is out there reading this, I apologize for the lack of updates. I can no longer update the blog from work, and the tablet is a pain to post from. Semi-regular posting & Foodie Fridays will return when I have time to go sit at the library.

So, what have I been doing in the 6 or so weeks since my last post?

Well, the thyroid saga is FINALLY over. The last ultrasound showed the tumor had literally tripled in size and Dr. M said it had to come out. The surgery was April 18th. The good news is that he got it all out and it wasn't cancerous enough for me to need radiation treatment. The scary news is that it was pressing into my windpipe & vocal cord. They don't think I would have lived until the next ultrasound as it was growing so rapidly. I would have probably just fallen asleep & not woken up due to lack of air.

Anyway, I had 2 weeks off work, which my bosses acted like I'd done solely to inconvenience them. I pointed out that I could have scheduled it for Derby Week & they still would have had to give it to me per FMLA. The 29th was my first shift back, and it wiped me out. I was told to expect this for the next 6 weeks or so until the doctors get my hormone levels balanced out.

Back to the surgery for a moment. I've posted before about the panic attacks induced by having a mask on my face. I warned the nurses ahead of time, and the anaesthesiologist came in to talk to me. He said they couldn't totally knock me out beforehand, but they gave me a heavy sedative. They also had me bite this tube (it was what they hold your mouth open with to run oxygen tubes in once you're unconscious) and ran the knockout gas through that instead of a mask. Honestly, the last thing I remember is being told to "bite this and breathe deep!" It was great! No blood pressure issues, no blood sugar spikes, nothing!

Yeah, so that's pretty much been it for me. I still hate the people I work for & with. I've decided that life is too short to keep dealing with the stress from that office, so have resumed active job hunting. At this point I don't even care if I have to take pay cuts- it will be worth it to be free of those assholes & away from that toxic building.

More when I can post again...

Welcome To The New Year.

No, there won't be any of that "New Year, New Me" crap here. I'm not making resolutions, I'm not embarking on any drastic lifestyle changes. I'm just going to try to survive day by day and hope that this year is better than the last one.

So how did I ring in the new year? Not at work! Chuck got to take Christmas Eve off, so the bosses gave me NYE off instead. Not that it mattered- it's not like I was going to go out and whoop it up at a party or in a bar. I spent the night ensconced on the couch, watching the Inspector Cartoons from the Pink Panther series, and catching occasional cat sightings.

Oh yeah, I have two new cats. My friend Scott needed to rehome his 10 year old boys, Remy & Boo, as his girlfriend is highly allergic to them. Personally, I'd have gotten rid of her, but that may partly explain why I'm still single. Anyway, he delivered them to me at work as I was leaving that morning. They sang me the song of their people (Who The Hell Are You And Where The Hell Are We Going And Let Me Out Of This Damned Box!) on the 10 minute ride to my house, and were hesitant to come out of their travel crates once I got them inside. I took them out one at a time and showed them where the litter box was, and then they each took off for parts unknown. Since the house is still an audition tape for Hoarders, there's lots of place for them to hide. Anyway, both boys are still hiding, but have ventured out once or twice. Remy growled at me and went back behind the couch. Boo has been a bit more adventurous and even sat in my lap for a minute. So far, Nightshade is ignoring them. Good thing, too. Scott didn't tell me that they were such chunkbutts. I swear they weigh 30 lbs each, so they're easily 2-3 times Shady's size. They're declawed, but all they have to do is lie down on her and any fight that may start will be over.


First meal of the new year: Sausage & Kale stir fry w/peppers & onions over rice

First drink of the new year: Iced English Breakfast tea

First read: a chapter of Bill Bryson's The Road To Little Dribbling: More Notes From A Small Island before I dozed off on the couch.


I had bought a bottle of hard cider from Trader Joe's to toast the new year with, but forgot all about it. So I'm going to drink it tonight on my regular night off instead. At least I remembered to take the croissants I'd bought out of the freezer and put them out to rise. Breakfast was quite tasty.

While I was waiting for the croissants to bake, I stripped my bed and put on fresh flannel sheets. (oh yeah, we finally got winter temperature weather) And discovered that my bedroom walls seem to have developed rising damp. I had to go get the paper towels and bleach spray to clean up the mildew that's grown along the walls by my bed. Moving the bed out from the wall to get at it flushed out poor Boo, who had chosen that spot to hide for a while. The heating vent by the foot of the bed is quite alluring- Malkin used to like to lie there too.

Well, by the time I was done with all that, breakfast was done. I ate my croissants and watched At Last The 1948 Show for the umpteenth time. I couldn't crawl into my nice clean 2016 bed with my 2015 dirty body, so I took a long shower and scrubbed & shampooed myself silly. By the time I was done drying my hair and applying all of my lotions & potions, I was ready to call in a day/night. The cats had all disappeared again, so I closed me door and slept fairly soundly.

Last highlight of my day before I call it quits for this post. The one tradition I uphold is my Southern Good Luck dinner on New Years Day. Black eyed Peas (I prefer field peas), greens, and cornbread. I diced some country ham pieces and fried them a bit before dividing them to simmer into the peas & greens while the cornbread baked. It was quite tasty. Nightshade surprised me by going for the buttery cornbread instead of the bits of ham. She didn't get any of either, but she tried!


Anyway, I'm taking a couple of days off next week to recharge my brain and try to do something about the mess that is my house. Wish me luck!

Not the greatest week- I hate having blood drawn

So, I went to the lab a week ago to have blood drawn for my doctor's appointment. I got a new-to-me tech who I never want to see again. Actually, I *DO* want to see her, preferably across a courtroom when I sue her incompetent ass. This idiot picked up a needle that was a cross between a darning needle and a railroad spike and jabbed it into my arm so hard that I expected to see it come out the other side. Now, I admit to being a wimp when it comes to needles, but this was ridiculous! Then I got a fresh wave of pain when she jerked it back out after collecting the umpteen vials of blood needed for my tests. I've never had one hurt coming out. EVER.

By the end of the night, I had a huge bruise on the inside of my arm and the needle hole was still visible. There were also red streaks extending up toward my wrists. Sunday, the hole was STILL visible, although the bruise and red streaks had faded. I had, however, developed random shooting pains and muscle spasms. And a lump about 3 inches down from the needle hole. Then I found out that she'd done the same thing to my father on Friday, only he didn't have the same side effects. Luckily for her.

My appointment with Dr. B was on Monday. He looked at my arm after I told him what happened, and shook his head. He thinks the lump is an internal bruise. The pain & spasms are because that cow most likely nicked a nerve. He had his office manager call down to the lab to find out who we needed to complain to and was told that the cow's last day was Friday (the day after she abused me & the day she hurt Daddy) and they were very sorry to hear what had happened. That's great, but what about the damage done to my arm?!? Dr B said it should lessen by the end of the week, and to call him on Monday if it hasn't. I'm here to tell you, it hasn't.

Just to add to the fun, I got my flu shot. In the same f'ing arm. So now I have a stiff achy shoulder (I always have the worst reaction) as well as the shooting pains & spasms in my lower arm. Did I mention that this is my left arm and I'm left handed?!? Not fun.

Oh yeah, and my recurring sinus infection is awake with a vengeance. Love the changing of the seasons.

So, there's my WAAAH post for the week. I'm not even going to start on the general stupidity of my workplace. Instead, here are some pretty boys to look at!

The New Kids At Work Aren't Getting Any Smarter

The following conversation took place a few days ago:

Conversation with me and Officer Dimwit

Me: What do you have?

OD: *deer in the headlights look*

M: *slowly* What. Do. You. Have?

OD: (clutching citation & duffle bag) Um, a bag?

M: (resisting urge to slap him) Is it evidence or personal property?

OD: Ummmmm

M: You have to pick one.

OD: *hesitantly* Well, they wouldn’t take it at the jail…

M: So, it’s personal property then?

OD: Ummm, no it’s for safekeeping.

M: *barely resisting the urge to facepalm in front of him* Yes, that’s what personal property means.

OD: *blank look*

M: Does it contain any food, money, or medication?

OD: *blank look*

M: *repeats question*

OD: Ummm, no there’s no food or money.

M: What about medication?

OD: *Another blank look*

M: *wearily* Dude, work with me. Is there any medication in the bag?

OD: *suddenly brightly* Oh, you mean drugs?!?

M: *weeping silently inside my head* Yes. Got any?!?

OD: Um, gee, I don’t think so…

We repeated this process when I asked about electronics like cell phones or e-readers. It took 20 minutes just to get that much out of him. Then I had to all but beg for the citation. He had a death grip on the bag and the paperwork and it was like he wasn’t actually going to give me either of them.

Where are they getting these people?!?

How I feel at work most nights

Another comic I have come to love

This is hysterical. It only updates twice a week, but I can't wait to read each new installment.

This is totally me whenever I have an itch. I have long arms, but the itch always finds it's way to the middle of my back and i just can't contort myself enough to reach it.

Banging my head into the wall on a near daily basis...

So, my brother in law, Eddie, passed away last weekend. The funeral is this coming weekend, in NC. We're leaving around 6 tomorrow night. 12-16 hours, each way, in the car with my parents. To top it off, I get to share a hotel room with them for the weekend. FML

On the plus side, I'll be away from the office for almost a week. Speaking of which...

The newest crop of department rookies has hit the street, and they are dumber than dirt. Seriously. We've already nominated them "the class most likely to have it's members accidentally shoot themselves or be shot with their own weapons." My friend Dave is training one that got a call for them to respond to an accident. He asked her how long she thought it would take them to get from their current location to the accident scene. (it was less than a mile away) She told him, "About 15 minutes," and then proceeded to get lost. It took them an hour to get there. This is with a GPS, an MDT with internet connection, and 2 smartphones in the car. Dave started texting their Sgt after the 3rd wrong turn she took and asked him to meet them at the scene. He tried to gently steer her in the right direction, but she snapped at him that she was doing fine and he let it go. When they finally arrived, the unamused Sgt told Dave to write her up. She told the Sgt that she didn't know why they were taking the call anyway since it wasn't their beat. (Dave went face down into the dashboard at that point) It WAS their beat, BTW.

Well today, the girl got lost on the third call. Dave took over driving, took her back to the division and told her to get out of the car and go buy herself a Mapsco guide to Louisville. Her instructions included "Come back to the division after you get the book and let me know to come pick you up." That was at 4:30. He came to see me at 5:45 and was here for almost an hour. He texted me at 7:04 to say that she'd finally found her way back to the division.

Somehow it makes me feel better to know that it's not just me...

Damn Fools.

I swear, one of these days I'm going to learn not to work double shifts! Anyway, here's the highlight of my night so far:

Division beat officers had to serve mental inquest warrant on an elderly Bosnian lady who barely speaks English. When they got her to the hospital, the staff discovered a grocery bag in her purse that was stuffed with money…which they refused to be responsible for. Instead of taking back to her home or giving it to her social worker, they brought it here for safekeeping.

Mentally ill or not, that woman needed a whack upside the head. So did her damn social worker. I counted 86,740 frikking dollars in that bag! The officer who brought it down kept apologizing- her beat partner was too chickenshit to come down with it and pawned it off on her. She had NO idea it was that much.

That was 7:30-8:00. Around midnight, the jackass who sent it down called and wanted to know if he could come get it out and take it back to the social worker & husband who were worried about where it was. I called that fool every damned thing I could think of and may have invented a few new words.

I don't love my job anymore, but I *DO* need the flipping insurance...

Here We Are Again

So my weekend started out well- I got to sleep in and was thinking about taking a nap when it occurred to me that I hadn't looked at my phone. I usually turn the ringer off on weekends. Lo and behold, 5 frantic text messages from Mom.

Dad is in the hospital AGAIN. He woke her up about 2 hours after I'd left Saturday morning saying that he was having trouble breathing.
One trip to the ER later and a transfer to the main hospital downtown, we were told he was having congestive heart failure.

Mom is still having vision problems, so she has to leave him before it gets dark, and can't get back down to the hospital before sunrise. Dad, of course, is having fits because that means he has to be by himself and doesn't think her vision problems are that bad. Guess who got to the spend the weekend up all night in a chair at his bedside?

It's not like I had anything better to do. I don't have a life anymore. I did get some reading done. Hit a new level on Candy Crush. And slept like a rock once I got to go home and crawl into bed. And it did seem to make Dad feel better to have me sitting there, even if he slept most of the time.

Today we've been told that he seems to have a recurrence of his COPD, some congestive failure (but his heart is functioning fine), and a UTI with possible kidney stones forming. Yay. They're treating him with all kinds of diuretics, BP meds, and other meds. Not sure how long he's going to be in this time, but at least we know he's not in danger at the moment!

Pokes & Prods

Welcome back to the medical soap opera that is my life. Last Monday I had the treat of literally being scoped out from top to bottom by the GI doctor.

Good news: I apparently have a beautiful colon.

Bad news: The acid reflux that I was told was all in my head has severely burned my esophagus and I am now having a Rx strength antacid
added to my medication. If the insurance company approves it. They want Dr. H to submit something in writing telling them why I need it before they'll pay for it. And of course it's too expensive for me to just pay for it outright. I'm trying to make do with OTC meds for now. They don't do a lot, but it's better than nothing.

Worse news: I have to give up my beloved iced coffee. The acid in it isn't helping. Luckily enough, I'm still allowed my teas.


Then on Wednesday, I went back to see Dr. M about my damned thyroid. He looked at the ultrasound pictures and said, "Well, the tumor's only grown a little bit." Yeah, but that little bit now makes it half the size of what's left of the kaza-flatching gland. "Hmmm, this isn't good. It's feeling firm." So what does that mean? Well, it's not likely to shrink, and it's apparently trying to calcify which means it's about to do something really icky. But again, the insurance company wants a biopsy before it gets removed. Dr. M did promise me though that if we don't get that sucker out by the end of March, it'll be coming out in the next 6-12 months. Fine by me. I'm not looking forward to the anesthesia mask- hello, flight or fight instinct!- but I want at least one thing to be finished and done with.

Don't get too excited- I probably won't keep posting this frequently! :-)

So, I got home form work Monday night to discover that my heat had gone out. This was an issue because A: The Landlord had just put a new furnace in a couple of years ago, and B: It was too bloody cold out to not have heat! I wasn't about to pay for an after hours service call, so I piled every blanket in the house on my bed, trained the space heater on the foot, and hoped for the best. It was the best night sleep I've had in FOREVER. Nightshade was so cold that she burrowed in under the blankets with me- I woke up to find her lying along my chest with her head tucked under my chin on the pillow.

Got up, called the HVAC company, and the office to let them know I'd probably be late, and then started the waiting game. They told me that because I'm in a rental, I have to get HIM to call and give them permission to work on the heater. This also stuck HIM with the bill, so I was fine with that. It took a little while to track HIM down, since all we had was his home number and he's changed jobs several times over the last few years. I finally remembered what I thought was the most recent one, called them, and got HIM!

Cutting the story short, after numerous phone calls back and forth and a trip on the slow boat to China to pick up the needed part, I finally got heat again at 8:30 Tuesday night. YAY!

Anyway, the day wasn't entirely a waste, even though I'm not thrilled that I had to burn another vacation day for that crap. I started cleaning up the piles that have accumulated in my living room since last year's big clean. Seven grocery bags of junk made it out to the trash can. It's still a mess, but at least I got started.

Today I got up and made myself sit down and make arrangements to get caught up on all the bills that are past due. I already feel better now that I'm not stressing about dealing with them. Then the GI doctor FINALLY called to schedule my scopes and wanted to know if I could be there TOMORROW. Um, no. Since I'd have to spend a day (today) taking laxatives and living in the bathroom, taking today & tomorrow off with no notice after being off for yesterday's drama was NOT an option. But I did schedule it for Monday...lord help me. (don't expect a post on Monday)

I brought a bag of assorted flosses to work with me tonight and got them all wound onto bobbins. I am going to try not to buy much stitch stuff this year (especially since I didn't stitch an inch last year) and start working on projects from my stash. I have Star Trek, Avengers, and Doctor Who things to do for myself and some friends, and I want to work on Christmas ornaments for friends & family. I suspect that I'll still buy some stuff- Ink Circles has several new designs scheduled for release this year that I am not going to be able to resist, and I'm still a floss junkie- but I think I can do it.

So there's the latest. A little drama, but I'm proud of myself for getting things done instead of falling apart!

Is this year over yet?

Yeah, I know it's only the beginning of the year, but I'm ready for it to be over. Why?

1. I'm still waiting for the specialist my doctor referred me to. After my last post RE: medical crap, Dr B. called to tell me that my blood count was abnormally low and I needed a stomach scope as well as the colonoscopy because I appear to be bleeding internally. He's concerned, I'm concerned, apparently the internist doesn't care.

2. I also have to go to the gyno (something I've avoided for years because it's painful & humiliating) because I may have fibroids. (another possibility for my blood loss) Turns out 3 of my four sisters had them, very badly, and had to have hysterectomies. Yay.

3. My mom's favorite cousin passed away New Year's Day and was buried on Mom & Dad's 45th anniversary. We couldn't get to the funeral.

4. Dad & Uncle John have both decided to discontinue their physical therapy. Uncle John can get away with it because he'd been going for 5 months. Dad has gone twice. We're not letting him get away with quitting now. I told him that he has to go at least 2 more sessions.

5. My sister Sandra's husband, who was hospitalized for congestive lung failure the day Daddy had his surgery, is dying. His doctors have told him to go ahead and get his affairs in order and say he can go at any time.

Add the usual work follies to the mess and I'm done.

Happy (?) New Year

I may as well start the year out complaining. 2014 couldn't leave without a few parting shots to remind me that it sucked ass.

1. Mom developed a problem with the eye she had cataract surgery on. The panicky eye doctor sent her for a MRI to make sure she wasn't having a stroke or anything like that. Luckily, she wasn't, so now she's being sent back to Dr B to be tested for a sinus infection or to see if it's some sudden diabetes complication.

2. Dad, who objects to going to PT to build his strength up, keeps trying to do things on his own and falling. Luckily he hasn't hurt himself yet.

3. I ruined the ham we had for Christmas dinner. It was mostly edible, but NOT the delicious feast we were planning on.

4. The thyroid tumor is now exactly half the size of what's left of the thyroid. I get to go see the surgeon again and we get to fight with the insurance company over whether or not we can just remove the damned thing or if I get to have a needle jammed into it again first. Dr B. decided that wasn't enough to deal with, so I also have appointments to have my boobs mashed and a camera shoved up my ass. And I'm still too fat for his taste.

5. My car started doing all kinds of not-so-neat tricks. Two days at the mechanic for them to do the repairs that it turned out were part of the recalls on my vehicle and for them to come up with enough time to find something wrong that I'd have to pay for. Bob needs a $250 part (not including labor, of course) that I just can't do until later this month. The kicker is, of course, that the longer I go before I can afford the part, the more likely it will go from the $250 repair to a $1500 one.

6. The cousin my mom was closest to, Aunt Georgia, died yesterday. There's a winter weather front moving into the Iowa area (hoping it blows itself out before it gets here) and with Daddy's shakiness and needs, there is NO WAY we are driving into a snowstorm to go to the funeral.



On the plus side:

1. I still have a job even if I hate it most days.

2. I still have both my parents, even if they drive me crazy.

3. I still have my Shady-cat, who is very cuddly in winter weather.

4. I have a ton of new books to read.

5. I have a ton of new DVD's to watch.



Let's see what this year does to me...

This sums up my job

This site requires Adobe Flash, please click here to get it.

ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!

So, 5 days before he was supposed to go home, Daddy was re-diagnosed with pneumonia and sent back to ICU. Due to the usual incompetence issues with the staff, we've been spending nights there to INSURE he's being treated properly. 2 of my sisters came up to help out with this.


He's been doing well, so we left him alone for about 4 hours this morning. Angie was at her hotel, I was at home, and Mom left him at about 3:30 a.m. At 7 we all got called and told he was having seizures & "coding" and we should come ASAP.

We got there, damn near kicked in the ICU door, and rushed into Daddy's room only to find him snoozing peacefully and thoroughly startled when we all started crying and hugging him.

Turns out there was a bit of a mistake. The patient in room 548 was the one coding/seizing. Dad is in room 584. Guess which family was mistakenly notified?

The idiot who called us is not having a good day. I raised hell, Angie (the most peaceful, calm, non-violent one of my sisters) raised hell, the correct patient's family raised hell, and the nursing supervisor raised hell after we all got through chewing on her.

Daddy? After the ruckus died down a bit, all he wanted was some breakfast and a nap. And then the doctor told us they might move him out of ICU today. We're still waiting for that to happen.


I dare these morons to send us anything resembling a bill for "services rendered." So far, all they've done is further endanger my father's health, stress the entire family out, and PISS ME OFF...

The Surgery Story (may be long & rambling- my brain is not totally functional right now)

So Daddy's heart surgery was on Friday. The planned procedures were: replacing 2 heart valves, doing one bypass, and scarring on a chamber to alleviate his A-fib.

My sisters arrived on Thursday. All four of them. This was a surprise to us, because we were told only one would be able to come after it had been re-scheduled. Only 2 of my BILs were brave enough to come along for this adventure. To be fair, Sandra's husband Eddie was in the hospital with congestive respiratory failure himself, but he insisted she come be with Dad.

We met at the hospital at 5 a.m. Friday. They took Dad back almost immediately, and we were allowed to come back for hugs/kisses/prayers before they took him off to surgery. The nurse took one look at us and asked "Is this ALL of them?" The look on her face when we said no was priceless.

Waiting is the worst. Around 7-8, we went to the cafeteria for breakfast. I'm a nervous eater and apparently so are my sisters. That place made a lot of money on us that morning! I took coffee & a danish back to Mom and we all sat around playing the waiting game. Sandra called the hospital back home to get an update on Eddie and scared us all to death when she burst into tears. It turned out to be a good cry though- they told her that he was off the breathing tubes and doing just fine. In fact he was fussing about wanting something to eat.

Sometime around 11-12, the surgeon came out to talk to us. He said Daddy had made it through the surgery like a champ! They wound up being able to replace the leaky heart valves instead of having to replace them, so the operation was less invasive/involved than they expected. (YAY) He also said that Daddy should be good for at least 10 more years now. (oh boy) It was going to be at least 2 hours before we could go back and see him, so we opted to go get lunch.

On the way to the parking garage, everything just hit me at once. I started bawling, much to the horror of my brothers. JR is normally a smart ass, but he was the first one to hug me and THEN he started picking on me to get me to stop crying. Roy started crying when I did, much to Audrey's disgust. Anyway, we all dried up after a minute or two and headed out.

We went to a Mexican restaurant near their hotel for lunch. They'd stopped in for Margaritas the night before and the host remembered them. (not entirely a surprise, given our family) Apparently he was so taken with the pack of us that he started pulling the staff out of the kitchen to gawk at us. The food was really good, though.

Saturday is kind of a blur. Daddy was still heavily drugged, so we took turns going in to sit with him. He did blink at us and squeeze our hands, so we knew it was really him in there. The ICU would only let us in 2 at a time for 10 minutes per pair. At the end of afternoon visiting hours, Sandra & I went shopping while the others went back to the hotel to pack up and move to a new one. Because the PGA championship was in town, hotel rooms were hard to come by and the 6 of them wound up having to share one room for Saturday night. I won't go into details about the dance off that took place before I left them for the night other than to say that Sandra & Audrey are wild women and should know better than to twerk.

Audrey, Roy, & Sandra had to leave Sunday morning. Daddy was still pretty out of it, but was fussing about his breathing tubes. The rest of us spent the day in and out.

Brenda, Angie, & JR left early Monday morning. Shortly after that, Dad managed to pull out his breathing tubes. Mom & I flew down to the hospital and were told that he'd thrown up while they were examining him to see how much damage he'd done to himself and aspirated some of it into his lungs. They were afraid they'd have to cut him open again to clean out his lungs, but were eventually able to flush everything out. He kept fighting the oxygen and other masks they tried to put on him in place of the breathing tubes, so they had to drug him senseless again and put him in restraints. And put the breathing tube back in. Needless to say, I didn't make it to work yesterday.

Today, after a night under sedation and lots of oxygen forced into him, Dad is MUCH improved. The doctors are optimistic that he'll be off the vents by Thursday, and if so, he can be moved into regular recovery. He waved at me when I stopped in to visit before work, and winked at me when I told him that I'd bought his lottery tickets for the weekend.

Then I made the mistake of coming to work. Psycho is giving me the silent treatment because I had the nerve to put my Dad before this hell hole, and if she rolls her eyes one more time when one of my friends drops in to hug me and ask about Dad, I am going to roll her head across the floor.

Yeah, life is getting back to normal.

My Heart Has Been Broken Once Again

So, toward the end of June, both Greymalkin & Nightshade had managed to escape the house by breaking out the side panels to the window unit A/C. I couldn't get wither of them back into the house for love or money. Nightshade would just stay out of reach. Malkin would come up to me for cuddles, but fight to get loose when I tried to take him back inside and then run away again.

After 2 weeks of this, I gave up. They were both coming back to the house to eat/drink from the bowls that the feral kitties were using, so I knew they weren't starving. The weather was uncomfortable to me, but not nearly as horrible as it had been for the last few years, so they were ok that way. Both of them were smart enough to go under my car, or under the house, or onto the neighbor's shaded porch if they got too hot or it was raining.

Then we left for the reunion in NC and poor Malkin lost his mind. I had made sure that Helen next door AND 2 officers knew my cats were outside and had them check on their food/water supplies for the 4 days we were gone. Helen said Malk would meow at her, but not come eat.

We got home and I went looking for the little nimrod. Nightshade had started coming and doing figure eights around my ankles, but still wasn't ready to come in. Finally, after walking up/down the street and calling for 20 minutes, my sweet boy appeared. He looked awful. He's been a fat little butterball for so many years, and now he was MARKEDLY thinner. I tried to pick him up for a cuddle and he hissed at me and ran away.

He spent most of July in hiding and looked thinner every time I saw him. He occasionally came out when I put out fresh food & water, but wouldn't eat or drink. And wouldn't let me touch him. I think he felt that I'd abandoned him and he wasn't willing to let me make it up to him. Nightshade, on the other hand, was finally showing signs of wanting to come inside.


Two weeks ago, Malkin was lying in the driveway when I came home from a Saturday lunch with a friend. He meowed at me when I got out of the car, and it was the most pitiful little sound I've ever heard. I knelt down beside him and was shocked to see that I could count his ribs. I picked him up- he let me- and cuddled him and he began to purr for me. I tried to carry him inside, and he jumped out of my arms and nearly knocked himself silly when he landed on the concrete. I picked him up again and sat on the porch with him for a long time, cradling him against me and listening to him purr. He drank some water when I held the bowl up to him, but wouldn't eat. I put him down to go in and get the cat carrier, because I decided he was going to the vet.

I was in the house maybe 2 minutes. He vanished in that time and I haven't seen him since. I've spent hours walking through my neighborhood & calling to him with no luck. I've called the animal shelters to see if someone turned him in, and they don't have him. Nightshade started staying in the front yard the day he disappeared, instead of roaming like she had been. Last weekend, she allowed me to pick her up, take her inside, and she's been indoors since then.


I think I've lost my sweet grey boy, and it's killing me. I should never have let him stay outside in the first place, so I have no one to blame but myself. I honestly think that last afternoon was his way of saying goodbye to me. I hope wherever he is, his beautiful soul is at peace and he knows how much I truly loved him.

Oy Vey

So, we're leaving for NC. At the same time a tropical storm is supposed to wash ashore. Can't reach the cousin who planned the reunion to find out if there is a contingency plan and my insane parents think we should go anyway. I'm going, but I refuse to be happy about it.