Pasadena

J and I flew into Burbank last Thursday to meet up with his former coworker and friend A. She is originally from Burbank, and she invited us to join her for the Rose Parade, an item on her bucket list. Unfortunately, she’d fallen ill a few days before and then J woke up with a sore throat the day we were to fly down… None of this foiled our plans, but it just made the experience a little less enjoyable.

A is an executive assistant/chief of staff for a tech company, so she’s a planner. And oh boy was it nice to have everything all booked and researched before we got there! I just had to get our air ticket (Companion Pass FTW) and rental car, and then as soon as we touched down, A had already researched places for lunch. What a nice change of pace!

The AirBnb she booked was super adorbs… it was a renovated garage in a very cute part of town in Pasadena. The only thing was, it was a studio (murphy bed + pullout couch) which A didn’t realize and it was very cold inside. There was a hot tub and pool but the hot tub was drained and the pool was unheated. Otherwise, it was a great place… just with the unseasonably cold weather and rain, I was basically chilled to the bone for three days.

Still, we saw all kinds of things: drove through old town Pasadena, did a drive-by to CalTech, checked out Christmas Tree Lane in a wealthy part of town (classy, not obnoxious lights), hit up Huntington Gardens and Griffith Observatory. We saw a lot in just a few short days. And I really like southern California: it’s much more artsy/creative and socio-economically diverse… meaning there are so many more venues for art (I mean, I guess Hollywood is not far) and not EVERYONE is in software/tech like people disproportionately are in Silicon Valley. Housing is still pricey but less so (I had my realtor apps open the whole time), and food is like consistently good and cheaper! That’s right: I’m planting the seed now. LA is a possibility for future places to live!

Btw, A turned us on to an incredibly delicious drink: we hit up the BevMo and made this every. single. day. The Archer’s Peppermint Patty is no fucking joke. You gotta make it!

We attended the Rose Parade our final day in LA. Pretty cool experience, and I’m glad it was on A’s bucket list, bc it’s not something we would have otherwise done. Ever. Funny though: A is so much more gregarious and vocal than J and I are. For example, with every float, she was so excited and full of compliments and positivity. J and I were just quiet– like the shit was cool for sure, but there are similarities from float to float and more top of mind for me than anything, was that I was FREEZING my ass off.

Traveling with other people, you also realize just how different we all are. Like at the airport, one agent was handling inquiries from passengers at two different gates… she was really good about managing the queue and providing customer service: She would manage expectations by saying hold on: lemme get these passengers onto their flight departing now, and then I’ll help this couple, then this group, then you. Thank you for your patience.

She was super pleasant and nice the whole time. After she helped us, J and I said thanks and walked away. But A like REALLY thanked the agent: Thanks for processing all of us and you were so pleasant managing all those simultaneous requests… you are great at what you do!

And while me relaying what A said might sound too much or insincere, it was totally natural and genuine. I really took that as a reminder that you can never really acknowledge people enough. Gratitude is a beautiful thing and I hope that I can learn to express it more often.[FAG id=7500]

Recent Reads

The other day, I was sitting around feeling sorry for myself bc well, Martin. Then, I came across this article, and it reminded me of something my father has drilled into my brain from a very young age: life is unfair. I have grasped that concept very well, particularly from the perspective of being someone so privileged and realizing that my life really is a cakewalk compared to what else is happening in the world. That’s not to dismiss my emotions and my pain, but… shit, this is some goddamn perspective: Do you care more about a dog than a refugee?

On the lighter side of things, this fascinates me bc it feels like something I would do. I mean, not the bar/hookup part, but the blast from the past kinda thing… A Valentine’s Hey.

Anger and Contempt

After returning from the excessive family time over Christmas, I found myself feeling supremely irritable and cranky. John had thanked me for the dumpster day, but I was so frustrated by the mental strain of going through the motions with both families during the holidays. And considering the number of times I’ve gone to Taiwan solo, I didn’t feel acknowledged enough. I mean, every time I go back for the holidays, I come back and get sick. What does that say about the level of stress? Sure, there are things you have to endure. Life isn’t about having things your way all the time. I get that. I suppose, yet again, this will be a scenario where I’m supposed to adjust how I interact and react with the families. That’s the only thing I can control. Annoying, in and of itself.

Second, I’m feeling a little wedged about conflicting demands. While J’s off of work, we want to travel (and of course max out my Companion Pass), but if I really want to get a good start on my real estate job, I need to put in the saddle time. J just signed up for a leather working class that’s all day Tuesdays in SF. It’s an intensive class and I’m thrilled he’s doing it, bc he so rarely pursues his interests in a formal setting involving strangers. But that means we have Wednesday to Mondays for travels. I just found out that I have intensive real estate training starting up in January that’s Wednesday through Fridays. That leaves weekends, which in most industries would be fine, except that weekends are big days for real estate… so I dunno. I’m sure like in any relationship, these are scheduling kinks that you just have to work out… my situation isn’t unique and certainly, we don’t have kids’ schedules to throw into the mix. Still, when I think forward about the growing familial demands as both sides age and become more dependent on us, I really worry about fitting it all in.

And then I feel angry about my brother and how useless he is. I know my parents try not to ask too much of me, but between the dual country living, multiple properties, my mom being so dependent, and my parents being miserable, not physically robust people living far away from me, attending to their needs is kind of intense. If I think on it for too long, I fall into that horrible blaming mode. Like why do they continue to parent like tards and bc of that, Johnny is a mess. And bc of this and that, things are so much more complicated than they need to be. It gets me so pissed!

I mean, for people who are traditional planners, there’s just a little too much procrastination and inaction due to over-optimization. For example, this last trip with my parents… dad is wondering again about where he and mom are going to live after selling the family home. The original plan was Taiwan full time, but the recent political instability is possibly changing that. J and I have mentioned to them a few times that California makes a lot of sense: it’s closer to us, the weather is more moderate, there’s a vibrant Chinese community, and Taiwan is a direct flight. But my dad, always trying to over optimize his finances, doesn’t like:

  • the high costs of living (including real estate),
  • the liberal politics = inefficient/wasteful social programs that result in high taxes, and
  • the earthquake risk paired with expensive housing that’s really old construction.

At the end of the day, these are not factors he cannot afford to address, you know? Like he could live in new earthquake-friendly construction. He can afford the high taxes and cost of living, so ultimately, what he’s chosen is a path to optimize his finances to the detriment of his own preferences and enjoyment. In other words, of course in many cases you need to live within your means and be smart with your money, bc who knows what lies ahead. However, in his case, the choices don’t have to be so dire and irreversible. He has options: maybe not every single piece of property he owns has to be an investment-savvy decision. Sometimes, you pay a premium, bc that’s what it costs to live in a place with good weather, diversity, and big city access. Anyway, it’s a frustrating thing trying to reason with someone so OCD about his way of doing things. Several times on this trip, I commented to him that I don’t understand why he insists on being so rigid and inflexible. He just has to have things his way.

Family Matters

Whenever we’re in Maryland, our families insist that time passes very quickly. Not for me: every trip home seems to drag on forever. This past week has felt like an eternity. I’m glad to be going home tomorrow.

Overall, our annual holiday visit went ok. For me, the most important point was zero heated arguments or outbursts between me and my parents. On the advice of several friends, I decided to just take a break from Operation Downsize. For the last few months, I’d already been feeling like my parents were losing steam about the Taiwan Relocation anyway (plus Trump’s recent call to Taiwan pushed Taiwan/China tensions to the forefront), so why bother putting in effort when they’re just not ready.

The day after our outing to Great Falls and the National Harbor, we stayed in. I guess everyone, including myself, was drained from all the energy and effort it took to brave the cold and to battle the traffic. On Christmas Day, I drove my family to John’s eldest sister’s house. E is always so gracious, volunteering to cook and host like 25 people at her home. And she is the best cook I know– even fancier than my Bubbey. She is super serious about ingredients and recipes and such. To be honest, I think she should be a professional chef. Either way, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to cook for her and her family…

My parents were pretty good sports about showing up for E’s Christmas dinner this year. They’d turned E down the last few years, and finally, her persistence and their propensity for politeness won over. I appreciate that they made the effort: since they retired many years ago, they’ve become increasingly anti-social, so it takes a lot of effort, esp for them to socialize with non-Chinese people. But I dunno, their attendance always stresses me out a bit. I mean, the big family gatherings have always been very awkward and foreign for me (esp the gift giving part and just having SO many people hanging out for SO many hours), so to have my quiet, mild-mannered parents just compounds the awkwardness. I never have to baby them and I just let them fend for themselves, but I do have some anxiety about my mother and her conversational abilities, particularly with her suspected ADHD/dementia issues. The whole thing is just weird. Having my parents at a big holiday gathering is like having monks or Jehovah Witnesses at your celebration, you know? Like my parents just are not CHILL people: they are very strict with their diet and drinking and dessert and whatever… They’ll partake in it all, bc they don’t want to be rude, but their participation is still clearly awkward. Who knows. I’m probably just OCD hypersensitive about it. Maybe no one else noticed… Needless to say, by the time we headed home, my parents were super tired and totally conked out in the car.

This morning, I made plans to meet over breakfast with my BFF’s mom, who decided to drive up last minute to visit her friends in Frederick. Mrs. R and I go way back… her daughter N and I became friends in the 7th grade, so they’re practically the only people in the world who really know my entire history of family dysfunction. Yup, that family drama bullshit runs way back and way deep. SMH.

It was really good to see Mrs. R: I often see a lot of parallels with her style/role with her husband (now deceased) and N and my role with Bubbey and my parents and N. In so many ways, I feel like Mrs. R and I are worriers who sometimes feel overwhelmed being caretakers for people who are continually struggling with depression and health issues. I can see the frustration and exasperation on her face. We feel and think very similarly, and we are always trying to research ways to “fix things” for people we love. In the end though, more than anything, we seem to become helpless partners walking a fine line of trying to be patient and supportive even as the weight of waiting for change/action slowly crushes us.

But her strength always amazes me. At 72, she has suffered so many trials and yet, she continues to find joy through her friendships and through new travels and adventures. She was telling me how she spends a lot of time thinking about how to repair her relationship with her daughter. In the process, she had a recent epiphany where she sees so many mistakes she made as a mother. And she’s owning up to them now– quite a dramatic feat for someone who used to be so full of confidence and conviction with her words and actions (sound familiar?). I saw a noticeable difference in her today: she displayed newfound self-awareness and renewed determination to continue working on her relationships, no matter how dysfunctional or broken.

Anyway, seeing Mrs. R today just made me realize that maybe I should go back to therapy about my family. I feel like I spend so much time trying to “fix” that relationship; In the end, I never feel satisfied with our visits. I keep tweaking things here and there, but maybe I just need to stop overthinking, step back, and get the advice of an expert. Honestly, I feel like I have spent an entire lifetime trying to get this shit right.

And this trip, even though we avoided confrontations, I was def ready to throw in the towel two or three times in the last week. For example, after the casino day trip, I called J and said this is the last year I’m coming home for Christmas. J and I always end up splitting up, each staying with our respective families, so then I’m holed up with my parents most of the trip, and I mean, they aren’t celebratory! There’s really no reason for me to come home during the holidays. I can just see his family other times during the year when traffic/travel/holiday stress don’t culminate into this Perfect Storm. Like I used to explain to my hardcore hiking/backpacking friends, the holidays are just “not how my family recreates.”

It’s a hard scenario to describe, but in the end, I feel like the holidays worsen my parents’ usual funk. Like all the pressures of having to fake joy and festive moods… it’s too much. Already, my parents are kind of boring and wallowing in their misery. I think either having them come out to CA or me visiting when the temps are warmer will just work out better for everyone.

I know, I’m sure some of you are thinking I’m guilty of the same exact things that I accuse my parents of. You’re not wrong. J says that every time we visit with my parents, he really sees how I’m a milder version of all their extremes (No, I don’t take that as a compliment). What exactly is their crime? They can’t seem to relax and have fun. They can’t find joy in anything. And they always obsess over what’s wrong rather than what’s right in their lives. Add to that, the perpetual over-optimization of finances and the paralysis and hermetic lifestyle to avoid dangers of the world, and it’s just really difficult finding areas where we can connect! Seriously, why can’t they just be normal???

Maybe my commentary only highlights my own issues of self-acceptance. After all, I often ask myself, why can’t I just be normal? I dunno. The struggle is real. Thankfully though, my family is my biggest gripe. Otherwise, the other spheres of my life are consistently more good than bad. 🙂

What else. This afternoon, about seven of us went over to my in-laws’ house for another dumpster purge. It was pretty intense: about 5-6 hours wading through a house packed with 50 years of accumulated shit. As I filled bag after bag with dirty, dusty, dingy clothes/artificial flowers/bedding/blankets, I started feeling super stressed by the sheer volume of the job. Meanwhile, the whole time, J and his three other siblings continued to display patience and compassion as their mother insisted on giving her stamp of approval for each clothing item or pair of shoes…

For sure, I would NOT have asked my mother: instead, I would have trashed everything like a goddamn dictator. And if my mother were to get upset, I would only respond with anger and contempt. See? I’m a horrible daughter. It’s shameful that unlike every other person today, I am unable to treat my parents with more respect and kindness. Sigh. I really don’t know what I’m going to do when the rubber hits the road and my parents truly have to clear out their massive house.

Meanwhile, the job at my in-laws’ house is not even near done. We filled a second monster dumpster (the first one was last Christmas), and we made significant progress. But there is still A LOT of stuff left. We are all resting up before considering the next steps.

I’m just glad to be going home tomorrow. So pooped.

Traffic and Travels

In terms of getting along with my family, things are going ok so far. But the trip is still early. No explosions as of yet. Yesterday, I took my parents out of the house: we hit up Great Falls, MD (a national park where dad was pleased to get in free with his senior parks pass that we got years ago) then I drove through DC into Alexandria then to the National Harbor, some new area by the water where there’s a huge Gaylord Resort and brand-spanking new MGM Casino. My parents tried to be good sports about the park visit, but it was in the 50s and windy that day. Btw, my father totally babies my mom. She underdressed and then he gave her his vest and his gloves and he was freezing. Dunno why they don’t just keep a shit ton of freebie fleece blankets in the trunk. The good news is they had never been to any of the places, and I think in spring, they can revisit the places with friends or out-of-town visitors.

One thing though: the traffic in this area bites. Holy fuck. It was already super bad (always a crawl) when I lived here but shit… we must have been in the car yesterday for five hours. That shit is no joke. Not sure the juice is worth the squeeze.

When we got to the National Harbor, stuff was all decorated for Christmas. It was pretty but I mean, my parents aren’t into ANYthing, so we went through that in about ten minutes. I suggested sitting at the bar and getting drinks to soak up the view along the Potomac River, but my parents don’t know how to have fun and don’t know how to enjoy anything so they didn’t want to do that. We got back in the car and drove across the street to the casino. Walked around there for a bit. Sat around in the lobby while I charged my phone. The casino had just opened on December 8, so I think they were still working out some kinks: every single restaurant was booked and not taking walk-ins ,so we ate at the food court. Then, we went home. Of course, the whole time I’m driving us around using Waze, and dad is like trying to ask me what my route is or where are we now or what county is Alexandria in, or if Arlington is better than Alexandria… dude, I haven’t lived in the Mid-Atlantic since 2003. I don’t know. I’m just trying to follow the Waze directions: I dunno where it’s taking me, I just know it’ll route me to the destination. Then he’s like doing the backseat driver thing (and yes, both of them are sitting in the backseat… that’s how Chinese parents roll) that mom did in Taiwan but he’s not as bad. But I still had to keep explaining that I’m sure his way works but Waze factors in the TRAFFIC.

By the end of the day, I am wiped and I mean, like I’ve said before: my parents aren’t impressed by anything. So my conclusion is pretty much: we should have just stayed home. My mom tried to give me some crap like they are just home bodies; it’s not that they are NOT fun people. Um, ok. But you aren’t fun even when you are at home. Homebody and not fun are two different descriptors. In your case, they BOTH apply.

So today, I made plans to have lunch with my college bud M. Thankfully, he offered to drive down from Rockville to Frederick. It was good seeing him but I dunno: people with kids are just totally different. He’s pretty high up in IBM but I think he’s the sole provider and his wife is from Tokyo, so pretty much all their vacation is spent on going back every year to Japan. And their disposable income goes towards school, piano lessons, dance lessons, etc. He says they have had bad luck with baby sitters so they don’t go out much. He doesn’t do any of his hobbies from before… Meanwhile, John and I were both not working for a bit; we traveled like 15 times in the last year… I’m not saying one way is right or wrong: I’m saying, I didn’t really share things in common regarding interests, lifestyle, and priorities. I dunno. Some days I kind of struggle with how divergent our lives are bc of the kid factor. I’m sure the same could be argued (maybe) for my friends who are single… but sheesh, at least they still seem to do stuff.

I mean, is he just sparing me the details of their “stuff” bc it’s all kid-related and I can’t relate? Or I dunno: I feel like I’m being judged as more selfish or self indulgent bc I’m not doing the responsible thing of raising a family? I dunno. Maybe I’m just sensitive bc that’s how my family views me. I’m just out there doing everything from the “me, me, me” perspective. Which is actually not even an accurate impression… Whatever, why should I give a fuck what other people think anyway.

Yesterday at the casino, I saw someone walking a beautiful young black lab. He was so shiny and sprightly– he reminded me of Marty in his younger years. And I felt so sad and empty. I mean, Marty was certainly no Lassie: he never really comforted me when I was upset or crying. But his presence in and of itself offered me comfort when I was sad or upset or disappointed with people. He always accepted and appreciated me for who I was. Even when I would get into a zone and forget to feed him dinner, he never got upset. He just came over and tried to signal to me that he needed something. Oh Marty. such a sweet and patient and forgiving dog. I miss him still.

Sometimes I think all the family holiday crap is a good distraction. But goddamn, I really would just prefer to be home doing some work and planning ahead for 2017 in the peace and quiet of the Houseboat.

Scratchy Sheets

I swear, every time I go home to Maryland, I feel like a goddamn diva. I arrive at my parents’ house and I mean, it’s the usual, so I don’t know why I even bother writing about it. All the lights in the house are on timers. I know they travel back and forth multiple times a year, but Jesus Christ, if you’re going to be home for longer than a month, can you at least turn the switch on the timer to “live outlet”?? Without fail, evening approaches and the room gets dark as fuck, I go to turn on the lamp and no response. It’s not a HUGE deal to take that extra step of feeling around in the dark for the timer on the floor, but still. Kinda annoying.

Then, I sleep in the first floor suite bc it’s warmer, but for that part of the house (Don’t worry, we’re not in some kind of Aaron Spelling mansion), dad shuts off the water heater. So, rather than turning that shit on like the day I’m coming home, he just says, use the bathroom upstairs for hot water. Lovely. I suppose the ice cold water is good for washing my face, considering my face is still inflammed. Perpetually swollen bc 1) I have RBF (resting bitch face) 2) I’m still crying every day about Marty. And whatever, I can use the bathroom upstairs but the fucking drain has some kind of clog and by the time I’m done with my five-minute shower, I am standing in like 2 inches of dirty water! Argh!!!

The final straw regarding home accommodations is the sheets. You have now idea: my parents have a humongous hall closet upstairs stuffed to the brim with linens. I get to the bedroom where I have stayed the last several years and there’s a cheap polyester quilt on top of the mattress. They didn’t even bother to put fucking fitted sheets on the mattress. For reals. Am I being a big-time diva, or is it fair to expect them to put legit sheets on the bed when their progeny flies across the country to visit. WTF. Then, the comforter is another 100% polyester POS that they don’t even stuff into a duvet cover. Instead, they just put the duvet cover and the comforter on top. Thankfully, the cover is cotton (the only thing that is), so I have that against my skin. Here’s the deal. I have super sensitive skin: I mean, I might as well have a legit medical skin condition bc I get itchy really easily and am susceptible to rashes, hives, minor bug bites (that invariably turn into welts), shingles, acne, what have you…

So this cheap polyester shit makes me itch. And, I forgot to mention that I am still recovering from flea bites all over my ankles… I suppose some kind of parting gift from Marty. You see, the whole week before his passing, I was itching like hell and we had fleas once before, so I was telling John that I suspected fleas and he just kept dismissing it all as my usual skin sensitivities. Mind you, home boy NEVER gets bitten by bugs. Until one day, he spots a black speck on his foot: oh ok, high alert: we have fleas. Yeah asshole, that’s what I have been saying… whatevs. Same shit happened when I got the shingles years ago. I kept telling him the blisters around my trunk were super itchy and painful. Oh just go take a shower. Put on some lotion. Change into new PJs. Fuck you. I went to the doctor and had to get put on super serious prescription meds. And if you read up on shingles, that shit is no games: like neurological issues. Anyway… so I ask my mom where the good sheets are, like COTTON sheets. She comes back with another polyester blend comforter. WTF??? I went upstairs to the linen closet and it’s all towels. Where are the goddamn bedding sets? Forget it. Supremely annoyed, I just sleep on the scratchy shit.

As the night progresses, my skin gets drier (from the heat) and itchier. My bug bites flare up and by 5:30am, I still haven’t slept. I rip off the comforters and take the one cotton duvet cover and essentially put it on the mattress, lie on top and then fold the other half of it over me so I’m in a cotton burrito. The whole time, I am SMH. Why does it have to be like this?

The conclusion on my diva-like behavior? I gotta take things into my own hands. I am purchasing a 100% cotton travel sack from Amazon and this shit is coming with me anytime I visit Maryland again. Fucking A. The odd thing is, for my entire childhood, my grandmother was obsessed with BVD and cotton everything. Have we learned nothing???

 

Playing God

A few days have passed since we said goodbye to Marty. I have periods of functionality, and then suddenly, I’ll be overcome with emotion. I’ve been feeling really tired lately, and my eyes, even though they no longer appear swollen, feel tight and tired, like I can’t open them as widely and as alertly as I used to.

On Saturday, I met up with M and T for lunch. We met first at M’s house. As soon as she opened her front door, I started to cry. It’s weird bc I can be totally fine (although in this particular case, I had already melted down twice in the car on the way there) and then as soon as I share the news or someone acknowledges the news, I break down again. Anyway, we had a good time remembering Marty, talking through things, and such. M showed off her home’s latest additions– voice-activated lighting: that place needs to be featured in a home design magazine for reals! Everything is meticulously selected, arranged, and maintained. Whenever I get home after visiting her house and/or T’s house, I feel like our Houseboat is just kid’s play. Anyway, they both gave me gifts which cheered me up and then we headed off for lunch. After spending two days hidden from the world, it was good to get out and interact with people again.

Of course, as soon as I got home, poor Bubbey was a mess. He had culled every single photo of Marty into a single album. And it took him 90 minutes to go through picture by picture… blurry, shitty pics and all! Seeing Marty as a young pup really made him realize just how much our boy had aged and slowed down.

Tonight, Bubbey was telling me that losing Marty has been a lot harder than with Remy, in part bc the decision with her came so unexpectedly, with the vet advising it on what we thought was just another office visit. Also, she was in so much worse shape. With Marty, he really was looking and moving ok that day. There was almost an arbitrary nature to our decision… and in that sense, we really struggled with this responsibility of playing God. Some days, like when we look at how much he did as a young dog, we feel like we waited too late, that long ago, he had already stopped doing so many things he used to love: chasing critters at the park, running through the fields, sitting adroitly for treats… Other days though, we still hear him struggling to get up from his bed or climbing through the doggie door or rustling around in the yard. We wake up and think we’ll be taking him to the park for a walk that morning… J and I aren’t particularly great at creating and maintaining habits, but some of these elements have just become so ingrained after all these years.

Last night I was up late fidgeting around with photos. I wanted to print small square prints to include them in my thank you notes to people who contributed to the donation drive. Yesterday, J and I dropped off an entire trunk full of gifted items: food, towels, blankets, treats, collars, leashes, and coats… I was happy to gather a sizeable amount of stuff, but it was challenging pulling into the parking lot, where I came last year to pick up Marty after he’d gone to the elementary school.

I dunno: I guess I’m just rambling now. The bottom line is, the empty nest feels very quiet. With Remy’s passing, we still had to continue about our lives with Marty. Now, it’s just the two of us. Every day continues to be a struggle. I miss him so much, and it’s really hard to feel festive without our little buddy.

My thoughtful cousin AH, who visited two years ago right after Remy passed away, called me yesterday via FB Messenger.

A photo posted by Vicky Gou (@vickygou) on

Turns out, he’d been following my Instagram feed closely, bc he knew Marty was so fragile. And with every post, he was copying and pasting my English caption into Google translate to see in Chinese what I was saying. I was so touched to learn that he was keeping tabs on Marty. He said he was thinking about coming back to visit just to see Marty one last time.

After our call, I was curious about the translation, so I popped it in and listened to the Chinese audio over and over. The translation was surprisingly accurate. Google Translate, man. So freaking sophisticated.

The End of the Road


This week, John and I made the very difficult decision to say goodbye to Martin. Our beautiful, handsome, and gentle boy would have been 17 y/o in March. We used to joke that none of us ever expected him to be the longest living of the lot (Remy, Bodie, and Jake): Martin was a simple soul for whom we didn’t have high expectations for anything– intelligence, protection, achievement. But through the years, his steady, calm demeanor and easy-going nature captured our hearts quickly and wholeheartedly. I think he could have reached that 17 year milestone: he had a heart of gold, with a quiet yet persistent will to please. He would have given us every last ounce his feeble body could muster.

I used to complain that Martin prevented my Houseboat from being AirBnb ready. As he aged, we put covers over our white sofa, floor runners over our dark floors… I made those comments in jest, but today I take no joy in removing the sheathing to uncover the pristine sofa and gleaming floors. Even as my vacuum sucks up every last shred of fur and dirt, I sit here crying inconsolably. I wish I had expressed my love to Martin more clearly.

For a long time, his resilience and will to live fooled us. In the last two years, he battled multiple bladder infections, chronic kidney disease, deafness, dementia, anxiety, trembling, not to mention a pre-existing congenital heart murmur (the vet always said his heart whistled). About a year and a half ago, he was receiving daily subcutaneous injections to help his kidneys process his food. Since then, he endured several bouts of repeated vomiting and weight loss… We made incremental adjustments (e.g., home-cooked food, anxiety drops, supplements, shift/curtail his walk) and invariably, he would ALWAYS bounce back. More recently, there was the incontinence and his weak legs. This week, even the diapers could not keep him dry. Through all of this, Martin never complained. He cried sometimes when I poked him with the subq needle, but otherwise, even when he lay in his bed trembling on Tuesday night, he never once uttered a sound.

On Wednesday, I finally realized that even as his mind and body still mustered the strength to walk with us to the park, he was no longer enjoying the things that used to bring him joy. On the walk, he had to sit and rest more and more frequently.  I had thought earlier that Martin would be perfectly happy just being at home in our presence, getting our pets and hugs. But those were selfish reasons: I wanted to continue having his clear eyes watching me; I wanted to continue petting his soft fur. He was tired, and even though he was sleeping soundly now through the night, each step during the day got more and more tender.

With Remy, I remember that final day we went to the vet: She could no longer walk. In the yard, I held her up with towels on both ends. Naively, we thought the doctor would give her pain meds to regain her mobility. But the vet explained that dogs, as predators, always appear stronger than they truly are. I see now that perhaps we waited too long for Remy. I had asked too much of her, and I knew that with Martin, I didn’t want to do the same. And so on Wednesday morning, we decided it was time. My vet sent me a list of mobile euthanasia doctors. I did some research on Yelp, and we made the appointment for Thursday at 3pm. The following 24 hrs. felt both too long and too short. For the most part, I felt sure of our decision… until one hour before the doctor’s arrival. I looked at Martin, thinking that he still looked so good: bright eyes, shiny coat, he was walking around the house that day. I led him outside, but he just stood there. He didn’t smell. The sky was gray and cloudy and the winds started picking up. We came back in, and some tiny part of me still believed and wanted the vet to remark on how amazing he looked for his age. Maybe she would think it was too soon.

We heard the front gate, and I opened the door. By then, it had started to rain. She came in and took off her boots and drenched parka. He walked up to her, and she said she could see he was very frail and skinny. And his back legs were weak. My heart dropped, bc I knew then there would be no other option.

I feel very fortunate that we were able to have him home. Dr. Winnick was incredibly calm, patient, and compassionate. I don’t think Martin knew, but I do think he was surprised by the sudden access to so many forbidden foods. The process wasn’t perfect, but he was ok and didn’t feel pain. The first needle went through and punctured on the other side, so Dr. Winnick had to inject the sedative again. In a few minutes, Martin started sleeping deeply. Then, she shaved his back leg and set up the catheter. She seemed to have to apply a lot of pressure on the plunger for the drug to enter his vein. She got halfway and the pressure snapped the syringe off, so she had to go back, re-set, and inject the rest. Given the difficulties the techs had had with Remy, it was unnerving to witness complications again… But Dr. Winnick remained calm, and within seconds, I felt his breathing stop.

Medically, the experience was so much better than for Remy. But it was still unbearable and both of us were complete messes. She gave us a few minutes, came back to take a paw print, and then we moved him onto a stretcher. She set his head on a pillow and covered him in a blanket and then we put him in her car. She drove off and the rain poured out of the sky.

I am so sad he is gone. I thought I cried all the tears out of me. Last night, I even thought that I would still attend the company meeting and holiday party this morning… yeah, didn’t happen. Making the “right” decision didn’t make it any less painful.

I have periods of calm (like now). But the empty nest is quiet. For my entire adult life, I have never been without a dog. Today I feel pangs of regret. For so long, Martin was overshadowed by Remy. I didn’t see and acknowledge the beauty of his soul early enough. I wish I had cherished him more. Sigh. I hope he felt deeply loved.

Thank you for being our loyal buddy for all these years, Marty. Goodbye my beautiful precious boy.

Two Decades Later

An interesting thing happened the other day: after my neighbors L and S had us over for their small gathering, I was on the neighborhood social media site searching for the hosts’ email address. Have you been on NextDoor before? It’s kind of like FB but for your ‘hood. Anyway, I went to the Neighbors tab, where all the people who joined NextDoor in my area are listed alphabetically. I came across a name from my childhood: AB. Huh? I actually had a crush on this guy in middle school. His dad was my pediatrician. I thought, hmmm, could it be the same dude? I did a quick search on LinkedIn, and sure enough, this is the guy! Isn’t that crazy? From the same home town, same class even, to all the way across the country, two streets down. Pretty fricking coincidental.

So wth, I emailed him via NextDoor. The next day, he replied and we’re going to meet up in the new year after J and I get back from Frederick. Then I was telling my dad, bc he knows AB’s dad. And I mean, I suppose it’s not THAT surprising that the Bay Area attracts people from all over: dad has two friends whose daughters are also out here– one in SF and one in San Mateo. Anyway, it was kind of a cool thing. I’m trying to be confident and adult about it too, you know? Like the last time I saw AB, we were 18, just graduated from high school and ready for college. And as I’ve mentioned before, I wasn’t exactly the coolest. It’s one of those things, similar to like visiting my parents… I feel like I have to make a conscious effort not to fall into that box of who I used to be. I know, already I’m overthinking it. Welcome to my life.

In other news, my mother pissed me the fuck off yesterday. She made some comment about how Hillary’s behind the whole assertion that the Russians rigged the elections. That she’s being a sore loser. And OMFG, it became clear to me that she supported Trump. I corrected her, saying that there were multiple federal agencies that made the claim… and Jesus Christ, are you seriously ragging on Hillary when the person you support is a clear racist (and you are an immigrant!), misogynist, totally SKETCHY conman with minimal integrity? Puhleeze. Why must she always instigate me in this way? J even thinks my dad voted for Trump bc of the damn taxes. And then I totally lost it. I got off the phone and was FUMING. Seriously, this Trump dude could be your daughter’s boss, harassing her at work, and you’re going to vote for him bc of fucking taxes? I will concede that mom likely voted for Trump bc she’s a woman hater… one of those backstabbing, catty women. My dad? I am not sure but fuck, I hope to God his decisions are NOT solely about money. Ugh. Then J gets on my case, like why are you trying to control other people’s decisions? They are free to choose. Yes, they are but not with this. They supported Bush and Reagan and Bush again. I got over that. But Trump? It is unacceptable. But J just keeps saying it wouldn’t have made a difference and again, I need to work on how I react to shit. Why is it that among all the people I know, I am the ONLY one who is constantly having to control the way I respond to other people. Why aren’t other people controlling their dumbassery so as to not provoke me? Yeah, so clearly my “positive thinking” vow lasted all of like 24 hours.

Meanwhile, every day I am struggling more and more with the Martin decision. Do we leave him in this weakened state where he will possibly lose all mobility under the care of a stranger? Do we euthanize him before he gets to full paralysis. I just don’t know, and I’m so torn about it. He doesn’t seem to be in pain but he’s a dog. Dogs like to walk and smell new scents. Is he still having good quality of life? Would leaving him in the care of another be more for us than for him? I just can’t decide. I feel like he enjoys the company of all people… he has no fears with strangers. But the sitter works full time… argh. His eating and kidneys are stable again but those legs… J did his own WebMD research and thinks Martin has DM, some degenerative spinal condition that has no treatment. Just this morning, we made it to the park but he wasn’t strong enough to wander around like he used to. We just got there and came back. On the way back, a bicyclist slowed down and said, “He sure walks slow for a dog.” Yeah, he’s almost 17, I replied. “Oh, he looks really good for 17.”

Emotionally, I am also trying to control my feelings of anger and resentment. Like I know my parents are going to piss me off and the trip is going to frustrate me to no end. Honestly, I don’t even want to go. And if something happens to Martin while I am gone, there is the potential for some major rage and blame issues. I am trying to be adult about it all, but I’m just saying: my family really does bring out the worst in me and if my mental state is compromised and then I have to deal with bad news about Marty, things could get very ugly. Today I’m feeling again like I’m just not made for this world. Sigh. Where is that positive thinking I was just talking about?

White Party

So turns out the term “white party” is a thing. I had just interpreted it to mean a winter white themed party with regards to decorations, not attire. Ugh. I told you I’m not cool enough for that party shit. I ain’t about that life. Smh.