Proper pet people

Our dog, Jarvis, had a lot of issues his first year or more. He has one issue that we will be taking care of for his entire life. I'm not sure of the name. He has a small penis. It is too short to push out of his sheath which causes some urine to stay in the sheath. This urine builds up and he has a kind of pus buildup. So, we have to flush it out regularly with a solution.

During one of our vet visits for vaccinations (Shawn told me because I don't remember it. Of course, it was during ECT shit) the vet told us about another dog with this issue that she recently saw. She told the owner what he was going to need to do. He told her there was no way he would do it. Maybe he would do it once. He said to her that no one would do that. She told him about us.

Sometimes, pets have special needs. They have health issues that are minor. Others have more serious problems. If you aren't prepared to take care of your pet with those kinds of things, maybe you should reconsider being a pet parent. Rescues will take them and find a match for them.

Yeah, he's going to be so embarrassed. 

Good Times

Okay, I called this "Good Times", but, actually, it's not. There's nothing "Dy-no-mite!" going on here.

I had my monthly, "What's Happening!!" (again, not the sitcom type of happenings) appointment with my PsychNP. You know, the one during which we talk about what level of mess I currently am and what med changes may or may not need to be made.

Well, during my appointment a couple days ago, we went over lab results from my bloodwork I had done at the end of January. Yeah, this was some awesome information to behold. That great moment when you are at an appointment for your mental health and then find out some of your physical health is less than "Dy-no-mite!"

My triglycerides are pretty great. By "great", I mean the number is high, not that the number is good. It seems I may have a trifecta going on that is a mix of my fabulous diet, the meds I take, and possibly some heredity. So, I need to start looking at my diet and pretty much get rid of everything I actually like to eat. YES! Again, don't confuse my use of "YES!" as me having a cheerful outlook.

The other issue is my liver. It looks like I'm getting all the crappy liver problems without the fun of being a drinker. Liver issues weren't a complete surprise. I've had some liver enzyme shit for a while. The Red Cross actually blacklisted me because of my liver a good 15 years or more ago. I donated blood and they sent me a letter saying they couldn't use it, I had elevated liver enzymes, and they never wanted my blood again. They came crawling back awhile later with another letter saying they totally wanted me back and they had better ways of ruling out the issues they had with me.

Anyway, getting back to now. My liver numbers have increased enough that my PsychNP wants my liver checked out with a sonogram. She wants to see if it's fatty liver or if something else shows up. This again, was kind of a combo platter of heredity and meds. So, at some point soon, I will probably getting this checked out further.

Then, I asked her if she checked hormone levels. She said that she did not and asked why I wanted to know. I told her that I've had some abdominal cramps and lower back pain on my right side, which is where my remaining ovary, my last female bit is located. So now I have to add a gyno visit to the list of things I'm supposed to be doing; appointments I should be making. Won't it be awesome if this last, little remnant of my femininity is wreaking havoc on me? Right, little ovary saying, "HEY!  HEY! OVER HERE!  REMEMBER ME? I'M NOT GOING TO BE IGNORED!"

Well, there you go. Shit is certainly happening (not only because my colon is still functioning).

What a year

I was looking at last year's posts from this time and times were tough (Hanging On & Exiting Crazy Town). It probably kicked off the worst part of my mental health journey.

My "Valentine" carried me through that whole, months long journey. His life was pretty much consumed by taking care of me. He took me to every ECT appointment which also meant putting me to bed after getting home from the treatment. He worked from home through the course of my treatments. In the beginning, he was home all five days of the week. He had to do all the driving until some point in October, I think. Jarvis was almost his entire responsibility. Because of the intensity of my memory fucked-uped-ness for several months, I couldn't walk Jarvis for fear of me getting lost. Most of all of that time, he was my everything in a different way than he was before in our relationship. There have been terrible moments since finishing ECT. Those moments are more examples of his amazing love and strength. Moments of darkness; moments of talking me down; moments of considering having me committed; moments of my being an asshole. Through it all, he has endured.

Yes, this is another blog post about Shawn and how fortunate I am to have him in my life. "Our song" is Power Of Two by the Indigo Girls. It's probably more accurate to say "Power Of One".

How did we get here?

The story of this blog post has been with me for awhile. It's an example of how relationships can change. There can be an ebb and flow between friends. Then, unbeknownst to one, the entire relationship ends. It boggles my mind, but it is reality.

I had a person in my life for as long as I can remember. We didn't really have much of a relationship when we were young. Our relationship developed much more as we grew into adulthood. The bigger events of life seemed to bring us closer.

When she got married, I wasn't only a bridesmaid, but I helped make centerpieces and that kind of thing. I was at the hospital for the births of her children. Well, I was getting ready to head out to get there for one of them and got a call that she already arrived. Anyway, I was there from the beginning. Actually, for one of them I was possibly going to be in the delivery room in case her husband was sitting for a certification exam for work. That didn't happen, but could have.

I was active in her family's life. For one of the kids, I was godmother. Different activities the kids were involved with, I made an effort to be there. We joked around together. A couple of times, I was the wingman for candle parties and that kind of thing when she was invited to them. 

When I moved to Colorado, texted was very important to us. She would also call me when needing to say more than she could in a text. She vented to me and that kind of thing. The kids were also keeping in touch with texts and social media. 

One time, one of the kids had a SnapChat of a very teenage kind of picture, but still should have been thought through before posting. So, I simply sent a message to say that she may want to think about what she's posting and that her mom might see it. Then, there was a Facebook post (may have been Twitter) that said something about not being able to be reached by phone. I jokingly said something like, "Uh-oh, did your mom see the SnapChat?" I'm not 100% sure of the exact details since it is going to be 3 years since this happened. After I made that joking comment I was completely blocked on every form of social media with which we were connected. 

This was a few months before my hysterectomy. I tried calling and texting to ask her to explain what happened. When I was getting closer to my surgery date, I decided to write a handwritten letter. Since any surgery has elements of risk, I wanted to make one more attempt to clear things up. I just wanted a sense of peace heading into my procedure. No response whatsoever. 

I tried checking in with her mom, my friend. Nothing was said about it. She didn't give me any thoughts of her own about it. It was like everything in our lives, except for this, was fine. Then....

She stopped communicating with me completely. All was done. I was left with no idea why things changed with either of them.

I had gotten to a place of acceptance for quite some time, but ever since around Christmas, it's been eating away at me.

One thing I have to remind myself of is that even if I get some kind of resolution, there is no way to get things back to what they once were. That is sad.

  

The sweetest thing

I have to say that my moments of infertility/hysterectomy mourning have been fewer and further between. Pictures of newborns in my Facebook feed don't choke me up everytime. I can congratulate someone on a pregnancy with a much smaller feeling of a gut punch.

The other day, however, I couldn't hold back. 

Shawn and I have nieces and nephews back in Cleveland, where I'm from. We stay with my brother and sister-in-law and their 3 girls, the youngest of the nieces and nephews. We're usually in CLE at least once a year.

Anyway, I was looking through pictures from our various trips to see my family. There were quite a few of Shawn with the girls. The girls were at all different ages as I scrolled through. The pictures prove him to be very sweet. There are pictures of him with one of the girls cuddled up on his chest, asleep with a blanket. Another shows him walking while holding one niece as a toddler and she has her arms around his neck and her head resting on his shoulder. One shot shows him holding a bubble wand for one of the girls so she can try to blow a bubble. And, of course, there are plenty of the make-silly-faces pictures. 

As I looked at the pictures, I choked up, then teared up, then cried. I love those pictures. I love watching him with the girls when we visit. I love Shawn. I love the girls.

I don't cry because those things happened. I cry because those things won't happen with children of our own.

Learn how the game is played

I've been watching "Family Feud" lately, despite it being hosted by a complete ass. The ridiculousness of the answers people give just amazes and entertains me. And, I'll admit, it makes me concerned for the state of things in the U.S. in a little different way than the motherfucker we call President.

Anyway, playing the game well can require you to guess answers that you don't necessarily agree with, but what the majority of people surveyed think. Sometimes, if you are conservative, you may need to think like a liberal and vice versa.

The other day one of the families was Muslim-American of Egyptian descent. It consisted of three sisters wearing Hijabs, their brother, and one sister's husband. Steve Harvey was kind of awkward toward them. He made comments about how he probably wouldn't pronounce their name correctly after the first time. When he called over the first person from each family, he didn't call the Muslim woman by her name. I have watched the show and I've seen other episodes where a person has an unusual name, but I've never seen him not even try.

Then he does another thing that he hasn't really done to others, except maybe an old woman. The question was something about what's a reason a woman would stay with a man if he didn't have any money. The other family ended up with 3 strikes, so it went to the Muslim family. The woman answered with the guy would be good in bed. Steve Harvey looked at her and said something about how he couldn't believe that would come out of her mouth. The whole family said that it was about winning, so they said it for the win, which is the point. Her saying that wasn't like she was admitting to sleeping around, it shows that she understands the society in which she lives.

So, lesson learned: A Hijab doesn't make you ignorant to what the rest of the world does and doesn't do.