Category Archives: Pups

Holding Down the Fort

So Bubbey’s been on the road now for about ten days. I’m doing well: getting the hang of things. I’ve had Marty on a special homemade diet of chicken, sweet potatoes, cheerios, and cottage cheese (thank goodness for the pressure cooker!), and along with the daily fluids and supplements, he seems to be doing well. His coat is back to a shine, and he is pretty energetic at the park. What a relief, bc that has really been my biggest stressor. Fortunately, his current state gives me some breathing room, so I’m trying to get my own anxiety back in check: I’m going to the gym once a week with my office bud K, and slowly but surely, I’m just trying to move more. Exercise always helps stem the neuroses.

In other news, the chatterbox colleague at work got pissed at me. A few weeks ago, I was meeting with my boss in my boss’ office, and we were talking about work (not that it really matters). In her usual m.o., T just walked right into the room and asked what we were talking about. I mean, who interrupts two people who are clearly having a private conversation in a private office? The thing is, she knows exactly what she’s doing too, bc she made a comment that she “barged” in on us. I then promptly agreed, saying “Yeah, you did.” She essentially took over the conversation, so then I left. A few minutes later, she came into my office and said she was mad at me. I was like, “What are you talking about?” She was mad that I had agreed with her comment!! Ugh, are you fucking kidding me? I mean, SHE made the observation; SHE committed the act; I just agreed and what, I wasn’t supposed to? Fucking annoying bullshit drama. Whatever though. I wasn’t about to apologize for that shit. The nerve.

A few days after that, two people were in my office with the door closed. We were having a conversation, shooting the shit, whatever. T comes by and tries to open the door. I look up and don’t do anything, bc there are two people in my office and the door is closed. Like, hello, I’m busy: come back later. So then she makes eye contact with H, points to him and then points to herself, which I read as “come see me when you’re done.” She left, and we resumed. Well, as soon as H got out of my office, she went to him and was all like, “Why don’t people like me?” And she was pissed that I was mean to her. Meanwhile, did she approach me about any of this? Nope. Didn’t even have the nerve to tell me to my face. Seriously, I don’t have time for middle school drama like that. Be a fucking adult. Behave like you have professional awareness and courtesy. Don’t just insert yourself with every instance. After that, she was out of the office for a week. Thankfully, since returning, she’s mostly left me alone. I mean, had she come to complain to me, I would have told her: please don’t barge in every time I’m in a conversation with someone: it’s rude and immature. But I suppose now she doesn’t like me, so same end but different means. Whatever. I’m not trying to be snobby, but most people who reach their 40s have dealt with being unpopular at some point in their lives. I would hope that by now, working adults like T could handle NOT being included in every single conversation or social activity. Hello, life skills.

Speaking of friends, I received an email recently from my former coworker J. Yes, the dude who pissed me off at the end of March (I’m good with dates) when he bailed last minute on lunch plans. Interestingly, his email asked 1) if we were still friends and 2) was it something he said? the lack of response with email? the bailing on lunch? Clearly, the dude has legit social awareness. The thing is, my last workplace was a really important time and place in my life. Even though I left by choice, I felt a lot of grief leaving the place and the people. And already, I’d been feeling disappointed about all the friendships there that pretty much died due to lack of effort. Yes, like father, like daughter: I had expectations that people were going to stay in touch. I’m still in touch with my closest friends there, but even for the friends one circle out, I expected SOMEthing. Instead, I got nada. My thing about relationships and effort: I do feel like some things aren’t supposed to be demanded: some things should just be given by the other person out of their love for you. I believe this to be true in marriage and in friendship. Maybe that’s unfair. My therapist used to tell me that people aren’t mind readers. Still, I feel like if there is ever any one quality/characteristic that draws me to another person, fundamentally, it is SOME base level of awareness and consideration.

As a child, my grandmother and mother always favored my brother, and so many times, I pointed out the imbalance of attention, but ultimately, being petulant never changed their behavior. Eventually, I just learned to not rely or even care about their attention. In retrospect, that’s one thing that’s made me fiercely independent. And extrapolating that a bit into adulthood, I think with adult relationships, there’s more clarity on what’s at stake. I’m not comfortable clamoring for someone to “spend time with me.” We’re married or we’re friends, and I have my limits. I’m not the goddamned Giving Tree. You gotta pay to play. But I digress… So anyway, J reached out. His email showed that he already had a sense for what was up. I confirmed his suspicions replying, “all of the above.” Yeah, I had stopped investing, bc I wasn’t getting anything in return and that hurt my feelings. I get it: life is busy and complicated with lots of responsibilities and schedule demands. I try really hard to give people the benefit of the doubt, but in this case, the repeated rejection and lack of reciprocity just finally got to me. And the disappointment compounded with all the other disappointment made me very sad. That said, this is life. Relationships evolve, and it is what it is. By now, I’ve processed the loss. He replied with an apology and said he was trying… I’m not holding my breath. Friends for a reason; friends for a season; friends for a lifetime. Or as Bubbey likes to put it: active vs. dormant. I’m glad J reached out, bc I value the radical honesty, but… we’ll see what’s next.

Meanwhile, my bud M is a fitness nut. She’s obsessed with that show, American Ninja Warrior. Homegirl researched a legit ninja gym and discovered that the closest one with the obstacles is in Concord. On Sunday, I’d gotten up early. I was in power pill mode, so by 11 am, I had done laundry, made a fresh batch of food for Marty, swept, vacuumed, and mopped. M emailed me at noon, saying the gym ran classes and open gym on Sunday. We decided to just go spur of the moment. Yup, I scooped her up in San Mateo and off we went. The class wasn’t too bad: we just did some warm up drills and then the teacher (owner/ANW competitor) showed us a few stations. In all, we were there for THREE hours. Yup, like serious meatheads. Indeed, I saw a lot of buff bods there. Holy fuck, these parkour/ninja people are intense. I sweated my brains out, but it was fun. If anything, we captured some awesome pics and videos that are great for laughs. M is a beast. She made it to the top of the wall like 4 times. I got stuck, squirming and dangling for an eternity until a helpful gent gave me a boost. Holy fuck, the ninjas have crazy finger/arm strength. We had a great time, but at the end, we concluded that we needed to train up on our own and achieve a base level of fitness before hitting up more of those obstacles. I’m sure M will get there soon. On the other hand, I’m happy just to clock in a few thousand steps a day. Manage those expectations, goddamnit.[FAG id=7441]

The Pointlessness of Worrying

I had another epiphany this week. I learned from my father that my mother’s parents are selling their townhome back East. Remember how I was super irritated with my mother several weeks ago, bc she kept insisting that my grandparents would eventually return to living on their own? That convo was followed by several weeks of debate where my father basically tried to tell the grandparents and mom that the best next move was to sell the house. My father was exasperated, bc the other three just kept insisting that the decrepit, rat poop-infested place was a “treasure.” So I called my grandparents to broach the difficult subject. I tried to ask them why they were hesitating with moving back to Taiwan… I don’t know if my conversation had any sway or if they just got sick of debating with my father, but now we are finally at the point of getting reno bids, and the tenants have been notified. My father’s plan is to move Yeb and Nai to Taiwan before September. Anyway, at some point in the last month, I made a choice to just let go of all the excessive worrying. And now, thankfully, there is some unexpected progress and movement.

At home, Marty’s been super on and off in the last week. Then on Friday, J and his brother-in-law started their cross-country adventure. Previously, I had been stressing out big time thinking about how I was going to administer Marty’s daily fluids solo (he squirms a lot), how I was going to get him to eat, and what I would do if things got worse, yada, yada. I mean, I AM a worry wart. In my defense, I think it’s part and parcel with being a planner. In order to have a solid plan, you have to anticipate the future. Needless to say, I was seriously wearing myself down with all the catastrophic over-thinking. One boil on my face suddenly turned into three, I couldn’t sleep, I was crying every day, and I just felt my mind spiraling. That’s when I knew I had to save myself. I was falling into an abyss, and this shit was getting out of control.

So J and I talked about Marty. He said he trusted me to make the call when it was necessary. I don’t think a decision like that can ever be 100% clear, but I do have confidence that I will throw in the towel when I need to. I will be completely heartbroken, but I can and have made the decision in the past. Next, I need to really focus on staying calm and testing out a few other food options for Marty. Previously, J had been doing all the cooking (Marty no longer eats commercial foods), but there were a few other items I’d read about that I wanted to try. I dedicated this first weekend alone to gathering all the supplies.

The third area is work. I know I’m not happy enough at work to stay on super long term (social media is exhausting), so I want to start getting back on the networking wagon… time to tap into my exroverted, social self and refresh those old contacts again. Gotta do what you gotta do!

So yeah, the key note to self this week? I need to stop letting myself feel overwhelmed by everything. All that worry about my grandparents: my parents are handling it, and extra worry doesn’t do anything, so I have to stop. Help where I can and then focus on other things I have to do. And Marty is going to have good days and bad days. I have to be better about rolling with the punches and riding out the waves. Thankfully, since Friday, Marty has been doing amazing. The daily sub-q fluids plus appetite stimulant seem to help. Maybe the antibiotics are also aiding to kill that bladder infection, and he is feeling better? I tried some new foods: baby food, chicken thigh, red potatoes, cottage cheese, applesauce… some work, some don’t. I have also added fish oil and B-50 complex to his meals. In the last two days, he has been running at the park even. 

I also caught a break with Martin’s lactated ringer fluids. I talked to the pharm tech about my troubles getting the supplies online (vet charges $30/bag vs. $10/bag online), and her manager actually offered to price match six bags!! So for the time being, that buys me another 24 days and then I can deal with the online shop later. What a welcome relief and a very nice customer servicey thing to do!

Beyond all that, I’m trying to get back with the self-care: nails, teeth-whitening, skincare, diet, SLEEP. That’s the good thing about Bubbey being away: I can spend some time and energy getting myself back on track.

Managing Sadness

Holy shit, another week is over already. It’s Ramadan, Father’s Day, and Summer Solstice. Yup, I only keep up with those holidays bc well, I’m still saving lives with social media and all. Haha.

Last week was mostly good for Marty. J made him chicken soup and with the daily sub-cutaneous fluids therapy, his appetite started coming back. Mind you, he’s still been picky as fuck, but at least he was ingesting stuff. Because of his progress, we decided to skip ONE day (Wednesday) with the fluids. OMFG, I thought he was going to die the next day. On Thursday, he was so lethargic, he barely even got up. By evening, J and I started panicking and I had another cryfest meltdown. We immediately resumed the fluids, and thankfully, the next day (Friday), things began looking up again. I was still feeling really sad though, just wondering about the fluids management and stressing about J being away for his cross-country trip. Goddamn that catastrophic thinking; it’s enough to KILL me. On Friday late morning, my boss came into my office to tell me about some new data visualization software. I had been crying. Thirty seconds in, with her blurting out a bunch of stuff, she stopped to ask, “Is everything ok? What’s wrong?” And just like that, I lost it again. Fucking emotions, man. Fortunately, she was very kind. Later, J sent me a pic of Marty mid-day and he looked so much better, so I felt better. I swear I need to gain some frickin’ emotional stability.

I was so glad for this weekend. I caught up on some sleep and pulled myself together a little. J made a new batch of food for Marty; we also went to the vet to get more fluids supplies plus some appetite stimulant meds N recommended. I also purchased some additional brands of dry and wet kidney diet foods. I swear, I feel so stressed when Marty doesn’t eat. He’s always been super food driven, so to see him have zero interest or to see him just spit everything out all over the floor is exasperating. But yesterday, we started with the new drug and holy crap, I haven’t seen him eat like this in forever. He even chowed down on the new kidney food. I dunno. I’m relieved that the drug is getting him to eat again, but I’m still wary about overworking his system and kidneys with TOO much food. It’s a weird balance with way more trial and error than I’m used to.

Yesterday, Bubbey and I tried to do something “fun” for the weekend. We went to see Inside Out. Pixar is always brilliant. I really identified with the Sadness character. But I also was reminded of just how dangerous sadness can be. It has the power to negate and erode all good memories. It’s like a fucking contagion.

This morning, I called my father for Father’s Day. Ho hum, woe is I, blah, blah, sigh, sigh. It’s exhausting. My whole family: they don’t do anything; just stay at home and watch tv. I mean, my father stays somewhat busy managing his properties and dealing with tenant demands and chores and errands (he even tries to do minor handyman shit himself), but Jesus Christ: no fucking joy. His life is joyless. I really don’t know what to do. It takes all the energy in the world NOT to blow up at him and just say, “Do SOMEthing.” Stop being depressed. Stop thinking about ALL the things in your life that disappoint you. For fuck’s sake, save yourself. That’s what I feel and think, but that’s NOT what I say bc well, depression is some real shit. And not everyone responds to that whole “Pull yourself up by the bootstraps” kind of messaging. But goddamn, that’s what I want to say to so many people around me, including myself. Save yourself, people. Please.

In other news, I’m developing a monster boil on my chin. Maybe I’ll just give myself zinc poisoning again with all this desperation. On the bright side, Martin IS eating again. This appetite stimulant mirtazapine is some crazy ass shit. We’re taking a super small dosage too, like 8 mg, and he is eating like a football player. Sigh. Focus on the good. Focus on the things I can change.

sadness

Birthday Bash + Marty Update

So I neglected to mention my bday party last weekend. Too much going on these days. We had a good time: I changed up the guest list a bit due to limited space on the Houseboat. As usual, J and I were up super early cleaning and getting the smoker going, so by the time the party started at 4p, we were kinda already pooped. I know, we never learn. Still, we had a blast. I had a big contingent from my last workplace and then a dabbling of reps from the fuel cell startup and my current gig. Yes, I like to throw my buds into a big mix and see what comes. Haha. I think it works out fine; I never really ask them, bc frankly, I wouldn’t change the lineup anyway. That’s right: unapologetic, as usual. Hee hee.

My friend J, she’s about my dad’s age. She was so sorry that I was throwing my own bday party… even down to buying my own cake! She’s funny. On one hand, the modest Chinese in me does feel like, “Wow, you’re going to celebrate yourself?? Aren’t other people supposed to celebrate you?” On the other hand, I know that parties are a ton of work and well, I’m an ESTJ after all. If I want shit to happen, I pretty much gotta do it myself. Shrug. I have to say though, it was super helpful having my friend K attend. She has a master’s degree in counseling, so home girl is all up on Myers-Briggs and the love languages and psychological “conditions”, etc. In other words, she’s super keyed in. First time aboard the Houseboat, and she stayed late to wash dishes after everyone else went home. It was totally unnecessary, but at the same time, really thoughtful. A huge help. Fuck man, we had so many dirty dishes. So much so that J thinks we ought to consider disposable plates next time, esp since CA is in a drought and all. We’ll see.

Overall, the bash had a little bit of everything. Some people came early to watch the Belmont Stakes. We witnessed the first Triple Crown winner since Secretariat in the 1970s!! Later, we hung out, chatted, played a little bit of Jenga, and we even busted out the karaoke system. My bad: apparently, I was logged into my “work” YouTube account on this new phone, so I didn’t have my ktv playlist. So yes, my poor guests were subjected to “Unbreak My Heart” and then like three “do over” versions of “Kiss Me” bc I couldn’t find the right file. Haha. Unapologetic, again. Of course, later on K and her beau showed us all up with some rap song by NWA (I only remember this group, bc I think of Northwest Airlines). Anyway, they were damn good and frickin’ spot on with the beats and rhythm. Sigh. Rhythm is THE fucking bane of my existence. The good news though? I think I found some new KTV fans.

What else. On the actual day of my bday (Monday), I went to work bc well, wtf else am I gonna do? J drove down for lunch, and we tried a new pizza spot by Avaya Stadium. Then, he took me to the Rose Garden in SJ. Beautiful spot despite the heat wave that day. Good for me, but bad for him. For dinner, I left work early bc we had fucking old people reservations at 5p. Great meal, then back home for leftover ice cream cake. Yup, living it up while I can!

The rest of the week was pretty up and down. My buds took me out to dinner and a play (Urinetown) on Wednesday night. The play was so different than any other: a bit over the top with the narrator frequently talking to the audience. It was a long day and late night, but well worth it. Beyond that, Marty’s condition is still really touch and go. He had a few days where he looked really bad, so there was another trip to the vet, changes in medication, and back and forth phone tag. He’s now in Stage 3 of 4 for chronic kidney disease. We ordered some lactated ringer bags (sugar water + electrolytes) to start administering subcutaneous fluids at home. The whole ordeal is super stressful, handling the logistics of home care, getting Marty to eat/drink (cooking and prepping a bunch of different foods), tracking all the meds and symptoms, plus of course, mentally preparing for end of life stuff. Bottom line: it’s hard to have a good day when Martin isn’t doing well. Our latest plan is to give him fluids daily (instead of every few days) and see if that improves his appetite. Until now, his appetite and lethargy have been frustrating. With the fluids, J cannot handle needles so I poke and he holds Marty still. The tricky thing with kidney disease is that the kidneys remove toxins from the body. We’ve had Marty on a low protein, low sodium canned food diet since fall, when we first learned of his renal failure, but with this latest bout, he just WILL NOT EAT much or anything at all. And bc his weight is already trim, he can’t exactly afford to have him skipping meals. And he’s so finicky now, he won’t eat the special kidney diet food, so we’re trying to weigh feeding him foods he’ll eat (right now: chicken, beef, cheese) knowing that those foods are also high in protein and hard for his body to process. I’m hoping he’ll show some consistent improvement this week. Fingers crossed.

Desperate Times, Desperate Measures

I’ve always been pretty straight up about my life of privilege. Life has blessed me in so many ways. Still, there are times when I feel overcome with desperation. Desperation is a weird emotion: I’m generally a very logical and practical person, but every now and then, emotion overtakes my good sense and I find myself wanting to believe what I want to believe. After John and I returned from our wonderful getaway last weekend in Santa Barbara, Martin started acting a little off. For the last six months, Marty’s issue-free living somehow fooled me in to thinking I no longer needed to worry about him. Wrong. The day we got back to town, he drank some puddle water at the park (he never does this), and the next morning, he had no appetite. His tummy started gurgling like crazy. Maybe he ate something? We gave him some Pepcid, and by evening, he was eating again. But the rest of the week, things were very touch and go: one day lethargic with low appetite; the next day seemingly better. By Thursday, we figured another vet visit was in order. Back to the drill: blood draw, urine draw, meds, pokes, etc. We gave him sub-q fluids plus anti-nausea and IV Pepcid. The blood work once again showed elevated creatine and BUN levels, indicative of dogs with chronic kidney disease. After I got home, I started researching kidney disease again. The thing is, we’ve known about his kidney disease since last fall, and yet, when he’s well, my mind just conveniently forgets that his kidneys are FAILING over time. It’s as if my brain deliberately denies the inevitable.

A few days ago, I came across a website with some homeopathic treatment plans for dogs with kidney disease. There were various recipes for the homemade raw food diet, plus anti-nausea foods, plus a kit of supplements and powders. I read the testimonials, and just like that I was ready to blow like $150 on the kit. I mentioned this to John, and he said we should try the diet first, but he cautioned that the testimonials might be fake, considering they are posted on the product’s website. And then it hit me: I know better. I know about online scams. I know how easy it is to post fake reviews and fake testimonials. And yet, I was so stressed and desperate to find SOMETHING or ANYTHING to heal Marty, that all my logic and common sense went out the window. Yesterday, I revisited that site and then decided to check some external forums. No one seemed convinced that the kit worked; at best, they just said it didn’t hurt. Some people said they emailed the owner and never received replies. Then I read a post about kidney disease: the organs don’t regenerate: they are on a one-way, irreversible decline. And then I just started to cry. I thought about my friend Chuck, who passed away two years ago from colon cancer. When he was first diagnosed with Stage IV, I remember how his wife researched all these things online about a juice diet or this and that to make the cancer go away. There’s hope and optimism, and then there’s denial. Here I am angry at my mother for so foolishly thinking that her parents will ever live independently again. And just a few weeks later, I’m on some website researching diets and ingredients to miraculously CURE Martin of kidney failure. The mind wants to believe what it wants to believe.

Yesterday morning, Martin ate like a champ. Today, all day he was lethargic and refusing to eat or drink. My mind started going down that all-too-familiar path of catastrophic thinking: what if he doesn’t eat; how can I give him the antibiotics if he won’t eat/drink; what exactly happens when a dog has full blown kidney failure? In the afternoon, J and I went to the movies in hopes breaking my cycle of worry. We went to see Entourage. At first, I was going to just go and watch in my sweat pants without any makeup on. Yes, I was that bummed about Marty. I didn’t even have the energy to be “presentable” when leaving the house. Then, I thought of Stacy Clinton and all her What Not to Wear wisdom (NEVER leave the house in workout clothes unless you are actually going to the gym). I knew too that I would be watching Emmanuelle Chriqui (Sloan) in the movie, and fuck, I cannot watch THE hottest woman on Earth while looking like a total schlump. Not that I’m trying to compete with her, but shit, looking good takes effort, and today just was not the day to wallow in self pity. So I actually changed and did my makeup and shit… all to watch the movie in a dark theater. Fucking mental games with myself. Anyway, after the movie (decent but predictable), we went back home and Martin was the same: seemingly weaker and disoriented. I started freaking out. I called the vet for more info.

So we went back to the vet this evening to pick up a bag of fluid and some IV meds. The tech gave us a demo, and we’re going to try administering fluids for Marty at home. In the waiting room, we saw an old yellow labbie. Her owner had her in a special lifting harness, bc her back end had zero strength. I was reminded of Remy: I’d purchased a very similar harness for when she had started to lose mobility. I wondered how much longer the lab would be around. Putting Remy down was truly one of the saddest days of my life. I still lose my shit when I think about how hard it was to say goodbye. She had bounced back from the edge so many damn times that it became hard for me to realize that one day she wouldn’t bounce back. So just like I tell my mother that my grandparents are in their 90s, I now tell myself that Martin is 15. Like my grandfather, he might be unusually strong and healthy, especially for his age. But in the end, immortality is a fantasy. And so we move forward keeping reality in check. Hopefully, the electrolytes will make Marty feel better, and they’ll bring back his appetite, but ultimately, he IS 15.

Of course, ten minutes before we headed out for the vet appointment, Martin started eating the bowl of chicken and rice and drinking his water. Keep plugging, Marty man!

Doggie Daycare

Last Saturday, I received a text message from my realtor friend. D and I were in close contact five years ago when we bought our house, but since then, she herself moved, had two kids, adopted a dog, and got preggers with her third child. After she had her two boys, we kinda just fell out of touch. As I mentioned in an earlier post, she frequently hosted big parties and sometimes invited me over for family/kiddie time, but it just didn’t feel like the right “season” for our friendship. Whatever.

So her text last week basically told me she was due the next day with her third child, and her dog sitter had bailed due to a medical issue in her family. Could I take her 85-lb, 3 y/o lab for a week or two while she gave birth and had time to bond with the family? First of all, to be honest, I have a slight bad taste in my mouth bc in the three years that they have had the dog, they have tried at least twice to give him away. Annoying. I mean, everyone knows labs are a crazy amount of work. Sure, there’s the whole glorified Old Yeller scenario: how cute would it be to have a puppy and my child grow up together, blah, blah, blah. Yeah, maybe I feel like them adopting him in the first place was a bit irresponsible. Like, have a better understanding of what you’re getting yourself into regarding parenting (multiple kids) and pet adoption. But whatever. Not everything can be fully anticipated. That’s life. So long story short, I replied that John just returned (two days prior) from a month away dealing with elder care issues, and we were already dogsitting his sister’s dog. We could possibly do Wednesday after that dog went home and then see. I had a dog sitter recommendation for her, but minutes later, I felt like that wasn’t a viable option due to my sitter having three dogs of her own plus living in a 500 sf apartment.

So for some illogical, emotional reason, I thought back to last fall when Martin was having all his kidney and bladder issues, and I had to ask like ten people about dog sitting for our trip to Taiwan. It was so stressful worrying about finding him a place. So I said to D that we could have the three dogs meet that afternoon and then see. So they came over, the non-Martin dogs were a bit growly. We all walked over to the park to get them acclimated, and the lab was HYPERSPAZ. Panting so loudly I couldn’t even hear the conversation, and just super energetic. Like thinking back to Remy and Martin’s younger years, I can’t even remember seeing a dog with so much energy and strength. Thirty minutes later, despite realizing that he’s going to be a ton of work, J and I agreed to take him. Then they schlepped in all his shit: a huge bag of dog food, a monster tote of supplies and toys, and then a 4 x 2 crate (formerly Martin’s airline crate). All plopped in my small family room. And yes, I had just deep cleaned my house that morning– mopped, vacuumed, everything. Fucking A. It’s one of those moments where you kinda don’t want to do something, but you do it bc you feel it needs to be done. Afterwards, there’s a tinge of regret. But whatever. We agreed and that’s that.

Now it’s one week later. B is a very sweet dog. John’s sister’s dog went home on Wednesday, and we’re down to two again. B and Martin are fine together. With J now on leave of absence from work, having B is helpful for giving us routine: up early to walk them and play fetch, etc. He slobbers and drools all over our wood floors when he drinks, and he sheds like crazy, but he’s really growing on me. He is eager to please, and the panting is subsiding somewhat. Maybe he is feeling more settled now. But the thing that really bugs me is, he’s been with us for a week. Not ONCE have we heard from the family. No text checking in 24 hrs later to see if the THREE dogs were doing ok together. No text asking if B is ok, if WE are ok, if the arrangement is still acceptable for us. I mean, no, we don’t have kids, but hell, there is a LOT going on in our lives right now. The elder care shit, even if we aren’t there in MD, is a huge mental worry. J not working, though financially feasible, is still something we are trying to figure out. We have decided to sell our house in Virginia bc the property management company SUCKS. I had to get our current roof here in MV repaired, and the work didn’t resolve the issue. Meanwhile, work is busy. I had a dream last night that my father died. I mean, there’s a lot emotionally and mentally that is going on. And all this time, while there is no inquiry with her dog, on FB, there are all these posts about winning recognition awards, the baby being late, the baby finally coming, and then the baby is here (but please, no visitors), photo shoot day, etc. WTF, people? Congrats on your baby. I get that parenthood is intense, but please, spare me the entitlement:

Thanks for calls and messages. I cannot get to them just yet. Lots of after pains for mommy… But baby is doing well. Please no visitors yet… Road to recovery has no shortcuts. Feel free to drop off a meal or pick up boys, especially B, to spend a couple of hours in the park. We cannot wait to share our new bundle of joy and her story with you all soon. Please keep sending your healing energy and prayers…

I can’t help but feel disappointed. Maybe I would give some more slack if these words were for close friends only, but for all? It’s a bit much, and frankly, pretty self-centered. In the end, I got sucked in. I responded to a perceived urgency. It’s my own damn fault. And to be clear, the scenario wasn’t the same as J and me leaving the country and needing dog care. The baby wasn’t even born yet! Whatever. I’m not going to use B like some pawn that gets shuttled back and forth from sitter to sitter. He’s already an anxious dog.

Oh well. My Peruvian posse is visiting for Memorial Day: four adults and one baby plus J, Martin, and me. It’s gonna be a full house on the houseboat. We’ll have B until then, and then he’ll have to go back. Hopefully, ten days will be sufficient for baby bonding and re-acclimation. [FAG id=7435]

Beginner Shred

Wow, a week later and I am still doing the Beginner Shred. Sure, Jillian Michaels’ plan calls for ten days straight on workout 1. I’ve stuck to the workout, but on a “modified” schedule, which is fine with me. I’m not aiming for buns of steel or anything. Of course, last night I did the workout, and this morning I awoke fucking paralyzed. WTF. Ok, not paralyzed but definitely “temporarily disabled.” Somehow, I managed to pull a muscle between my shoulder blade and spine. I didn’t really feel anything yesterday, although I suspect it’s that damn Superman exercise where you get on your belly and lift the front and back ends off the floor. I hate that shit. So uncomfortable, and now my head-neck mobility is totally fucked. Oh well, another day of rest for me!

Last week was pretty much a blur. Can I just say, I am so damn sick of home repair! On Superbowl weekend, I had a handyman over to fix a leaking toilet (among other tasks). Overall, he did a great job. The new latch on our gate works like a charm, and the guest bath can finally run the shower without all the water spewing out the tub faucet. And for the leaky toilet, he replaced the flap and made all the adjustments. All seemed good but then a few days later, I heard the toilet refilling with water again. So while the toilet doesn’t leak like it used to, it’s still leaking very slowly. Sometimes I wish J could just fix the damn thing, but he lifted the lid and poked around. No solution. I know, being all feminist and shit, I should just take care of it myself but goddamnit, I really don’t need one more thing added to my list of to dos. So I’m pretty fucking cranky about the leaky toilet. It really is a conservationist’s nightmare, and if this continues, that valve is just getting shut off. No more bullshit, man. Meanwhile, on Wednesday, we had a legit plumber onsite to rework the gas valve for our new double-oven range in the kitchen. Of course, as our timing would have it, we didn’t realize the toilet was leaking until after he had gone. And for his task, he said he was going to recess the electrical outlet in addition to modifying the valve. Well, he recessed the outlet like 1/2 an inch, so the range STILL protrudes an inch out of line with the cabinets. WTF? Another trip is required, because he says he needs a different receptacle box or whatever. I text him to ask if he can come next week. No reply. Fucking A.

In other news, Marty is getting me up in the middle of the night again. Last week, he started panting crazy at like 2a. I could not calm him down. I don’t even remember how he finally settled in the end. Maybe he wore himself down and knocked out. The day prior, my bud K gave me some calming droplets to add to his food or water. I tried it that evening, and he calmed down pretty soon after. But man, on Thursday, nothing worked. Every time I feel sleep deprived, I think about my new mom friends and I try to conjure strength and patience. But shit, I get so dang cranky and irritable. Whatever though, at least I don’t take it out on poor Marty. (I just take it out on others!)

So a storm moved in late Thursday. Wind gusts and lots of rain. I had J put in a rain chain (we wanted to try using that instead of the decrepit downspout). When he got up on the ladder, he discovered a bunch of ponded water on the front left of the house. Ponding over the eaves portion (not main portion) of the roof. Uh duh. That’s why we have all those dryrotted beams. What a fucking pain. It’s really stressing me out. I had the handyman take a look last month, and he turned down that work saying it was beyond his skillset. Then, a construction crew who worked on my neighbor’s beams said they were interested. I asked for a quote and the journeyman said he wanted to meet the following weekend. Well, he never got back to me. Flakes!!! Now I have emailed my other neighbor’s contractor, and hopefully that guy can come out and take a look. At this point, I just want shit fixed. I don’t even care about price (desperate times, desperate measures)… No more goddamn dilly dallying. For realz. On Monday, I’m also going to call the Day Worker Center. Last year I saw some flier from the Center, saying they have skilled and trained workers available for all kinds of home repair, gardening, cooking, cleaning, painting, etc. Time for action.

Keeping Me on My Toes

Monday evening, after I got home from work, I started sneezing up a storm. I suspected something was coming on, so I went to the hot tub to “burn it off.” Burn off what? I dunno exactly, the shivers, the sniffles, the germs… whatever. The hot tub usually works wonders for me, as you know my body loves super hot heat. Unfortunately though, the next morning my throat hurt really badly. I guess in this particular case, the hot tub didn’t work for warding off sickness, but hey, at least it was ONLY the throat and nothing else. Anyway, I was in bed most of the day, working online. You see, now that my coworker has left to start a new job and my second coworker has been out sick, I get to manage two additional interns. Yep, I’m up to FOUR now. Thankfully, the two additionals are pretty damn solid. Who the fuck knew? They are full of ideas, initiative, and motivation. Thank fucking god. Needless to say, I was busy online most of yesterday lining up work for them. Social media never rests.

I wrote earlier this week about Martin’s condition of dementia and me finding a solution to give him (and me) comfort and security through the night. Yesterday, I was looking forward to a good night’s rest so I could return from my sick day and hit the ground running on Wednesday. Well, I definitely spoke too damn soon about solving the sundown syndrome problem. Last night was one of THE worst nights of rest. We brought his big Costco pillow back in the bedroom (not sure why), and Marty started digging frantically at it in the middle of the night (J had already knocked out like a rock). Then the pacing, from one side of the bed to the other. WTF? True to my word, I kept my cool, but shit. For some reason, he wasn’t interested in the under-bed den. Why goddamnit?? Ugh.

Tonight, J is away on business, and I did some vacuuming and reorganizing. I also moved the Costco pillow out of the room again. Now, Martin just has one option on where to sleep. I got the heating pad turned on, the draped towel over the opening under the bed, and right at this moment, Marty is sleeping without incident. I really need to rest tonight, because tomorrow I’m going to be stuck in an all-day HR orientation class (aka Jesuit indoctrination) and then I’ll have to hustle home and head into the city for J’s company holiday party. See this is the thing about holidays. Why can’t everyone be this damn practical? I mean, so many vendors (restaurants, airlines, services) jack up prices for the holidays. It’s such a ripoff. Like his company just says, nope. We’ll do it after the holidays. Done. No debate. I kinda like that.

But back to tonight: I’m winding down and intending to get to bed early. So what happens? I go on Pinterest and start seeing all this food. Shit, now I am starving, because I ate about five measly spoonfuls of fried rice left over from lunch and then I just now forced myself to do the 7-min workout. Yeah, only seven minutes but when you’re majorly fucking out of shape, that shit knocks the wind out of you. And you know, I got that metabolism churning, so now I’m hungry. Well, without the NuWave, I dunno how to do jackshit. Guess tonight I’m just going to bed hungry. Oh well, my system needs recalibrating anyway. One ignored hunger pang is not gonna kill me.

In other news, I might be meeting up with my mentor L. Man, now that I work near San Jose, lunches or events in the city are EXTRA far. Coincidentally, he has a client meeting in San Jose so I might hitch a ride on his way back north and then make it for J’s company party. Lots of coordinating, but it’ll be nice to catch up. I haven’t seen L since Aug or September I think.

Ok, I need to hit the sack. But now that I think of it, there is some cheese in the fridge. Haha, the hunger pang might be answered after all!

Doggie Dementia

I had another reality check recently. Last week, I was having a lot of trouble again with sleeping, because Marty was digging at his bed in the middle of the night and pacing a lot. I got him a new bed lifted off the ground and tried a number of different arrangements, but nothing worked. I was really kind of exhausted by it all.

Finally, I dunno how this came to me, but I took the foam cushion out of his existing bed and put it in the cavernous space under our bed. Yeah, both Remy and Martin used to love sleeping under the bed and then they abruptly stopped a year or two ago. Not sure why. So I took the cushion, added a heated pad on top of the cushion, and then covered with an old blanket. OMFG, that worked!! Now, every night, Martin crawls under the bed. I also added some towels draped over the opening, so he has more privacy (actually, I was wanting to retain the heat) in his little den. He still wakes up in the middle of the night to go outside and pee, but for the most part, there is no more frantic digging… maybe because the space is too tight and too short. I hope too that the cozy quarters make him feel more secure and safe.

The thing is, even as I have seemingly found something that works in the short term, I still need to confront the reality that Martin has doggie dementia. Sure, the vet had mentioned it on occasion when I complained about space cadet behavior, with him staring into the space and the bizarre trembling, especially at night. Well, this article spelled it out further. In humans, there is even something called “sunset syndrome” where the dementia exacerbates at night and the person gets disoriented and confused which in turns causes all the anxiety and trembling and confusion. In normal dogs, they have the cognition to deal with confusion or uncertainty, but with older dogs, that ability to self-soothe and cope diminishes. Poor Marty. In my sleep deprivation, I’d started to get so impatient with him. I should really know better: He has always been a dog who is very eager to please, and I’m sure that my frustration only made things worse. I am trying to be better. At least, now I’m more informed about what is going on.

Worry Wart

Since when did I become such a goddamn worry wart? Seriously. Ok fine, don’t answer that, because yes, I know I have always suffered from some bit of neuroses. I am my mother’s daughter after all…

To come clean, these last few weeks have been an ongoing struggle. I suppose when I go into quiet mode, it’s usually fair indication that shit is going down. Ok, maybe that’s sounding a bit too dramatic. But I’ve definitely been feeling very troubled by the world. Now more than ever, I need to follow news as part of my job– you know, being all up on stuff, but shit. Some days the weight almost prevents me from getting out of bed. I know, red flag right? Ugh. I need to give EAP a call. First, it’s just news all over, riddled with violence, manipulation, annoying self-righteous people who inflict harm on others. Then I just can’t seem to get myself into a groove. Work-life balance has totally gone to shit. The other day, I was so thrilled to take my scooter for a spin onto campus. I was meeting someone in the arts and sciences building, and seriously, I arrived all huffing and puffing. For like less than a mile’s distance. Maybe 1 1/2 miles max. I’m not sleeping well, I’m not exercising, I’m not blogging, I’m not doing friend stuff… I’ve seriously fallen off the wagon. And then Martin is having issues again. WTF. Fussy eating again plus nighttime anxiety. PLUS, I am having trouble securing doggie care for the winter break. Fuck me. I have asked SIX people. He’s muddying his nose all the damn time. He hops on and off the bed and cannot seem to get comfortable. Sometimes I think to myself, “When am I going to catch a fucking break?” And then I feel absolutely ridiculous for thinking such a thing… in my secure life of privilege.

Job-wise, I think my boss is happy with me so far, but I worry daily about performing, about accomplishing and achieving to the level I’m used to. Some part of me feels like my cultural illiteracy is a huge detriment to curating content that jives with college kids. I don’t watch much tv, and I’m not a fan of memes. WTF? The other part of me doesn’t even give a fuck about meshing with millennials. Dealing with seasoned, experienced adults seems so much more worthwhile. And I struggle with the larger theme about society’s evolution towards binge info consumption… people are processing and filtering info without even consciously registering much if it. The young brains work in different ways these days. Maybe I’m just feeling old and stubborn and resistant. On top of all this, one of the cool coworkers on my team announced Friday that she is leaving. I’m really happy for her, and maybe none of it is really that surprising. Still, I’m pretty damn bummed.

Of course, all of that said, I am still trying. I’m putting in after hours to try and understand more. And my boss is really supportive.

Well, no choice but to keep it together.