I can has memories?

Forgive me, this is a little late.


On March 28th, I got a text message in return from my mother. I had asked how she was feeling, since she had the flu. The reply was

“Getting better slowly,-Hazel Kitty died”

When I was about 13 or 14, my kid sister was playing down the street with one of the neighbor kids. They both stormed into the house on a Saturday morning with a pillowcase that was mewling and bobbing around. I took it from them and reached into the bag and pulled out a under weight Russian Blue kitten of about 2 months old. She had brilliant blue eyes and was cute as could be. The story we were told was that someone’s dad was not only allergic to cats, he was also a hateful bastard, and was going to take the pillow kitty out to the creek and throw it in. My sister stepped forward, and asked for the cat. She was only 5 or 6, but knew right from wrong (then).

Hazel took to me and began sleeping in my room. She would lounge on my, and was pretty much my cat. She managed to survive my sister, who would dress her up in outfits, and pretty much make her miserable, and she survived an attack by the neighbor dog later in life.

When I left for the Marines, she would sit in my bedroom window, like she was waiting on me to get home.

Later in life, after I was married, she lived in my house for a while as my parents looked for work, but was nearly driven insane by the insane dog we had at the time.

Hazel loved turkey, chicken, and all things meat related. We would bring home scraps from restaurants, and she knew to check my mom’s purse. Her favorite meal was hotwings, even with the spicy sauce.

As she got older, she was not healthy looking, and having had cancer removed from her forepaw about 12 years ago, it may have not been the only cancer she had. But each time I saw her, she was quick to come say hi, and my son got to know her, and fed her chicken at times.

I have 2 cats now, Scout and Dewey, and they often remind me of Hazel. I hope they have long lives filled with snacks and snuggles like Hazel did, despite her rough start in life.

A Little EWWWW for your cheerios

So we have a puppy. His name is Logan, and he is a holy terror. Not only does he insist on chewing up anything and everything, he still acts less than housebroken. We have done every possible thing to break him of going in the house, including having him spend the majority of his time outside, but he hold it until he can get back in to pee in the house. Each morning we spend 20 minutes running around looking for spots, and cleaning them up. Which brings us to this morning.

Mikey woke up 45 minutes before the alarm, and was exceptionally hyper. I am sure the Frosty I let him have for breakfast was not helping, but when a picky eater asks for anything, you give in, especially with a pain killer brain.

So after "breakfast" I asked him to pick up his toys, because I did not want Logan to eat them for his breakfast. Mikey spent 5 minutes sprinting around the house, picking up his beloved Marvel mini figures. At one point, on a trip with the silver surfer, I heard a thud and crash, followed immediately by a wail and scream.

Mikey had slipped in one of Logan's "spots" and hit the wall with his toe as he came crashing down. He only had a little pee on his jammies, so I took them off of him, put them in the hamper and went to get some clothes. He informed me he could not go to school cause his toe was too "hurted".

As I was heading back to my bedroom where the injured was considering amputation, I heard the following one sided conversation.

M:" Logan no. Logan you pee too much. Its cause of you that I fell down and hurt myself. Logan, get away from me, you might pee on me!"

Trust me, its a fear we all have. Rest assured the foot is ok, and healing nicely.

And so it goes...

July 23rd, 2007 I had spinal fusion done on the L5/S1 vertebrae in my back. A few months later, after having a miracle-like recovery, I started noticing that I had pain in my hip causing my right leg to turn out, and some pain in my butt. The doctor put me on nerve pain drugs to assist, and kept my flow of pain killers coming.

After several months of testing including CT scans with dye injected into my spinal column (painful and not at all fun way to spend a few hours), MRIs, More CT scans, Nerve response testing (needles inserted into the muscles of my legs and back and then electronically charged) I had something this week called a discogram. This involves taking me (wide awake and no pain drugs or food for 6 hours before hand) into a room, inserting needles into my L2-3,3-4,4-5 discs, the applying pressure with dye and electrical stimulation. If I felt the pain I normally do, on a greater scale, I could tell the doctor and he makes the notes. I feel like the pain involved with that test is one of the most uncomfortable procedures a person should go through, and this was my second one in less than a year.

Yesterday, the back surgeon showed us the results of the tests, and the level above my previous surgery has blown out. On the film, a normal disc looks like a small barrel, sitting and holding my vertebrae apart and being stoic. The disc in question looked like a jelly donut (mmmm jelly donut) that someone has stepped on. All the insides were pushing out on both sides. Since the disc sits next to your nerve system, a herniated or bulging disc can put pressure on your nerves, that is what is causing the knife like pain in my butt, not just my kid sister. It explains why the nerves in my knees are close to dead, and why I can sit for 5-10 minutes in a chair or car seat before my feet go numb. Novocain numb. So with this information, the doctor gave me two options. One was to continue my life as it is, with pain killers and nerve drugs, and hope one day to feel normal, or two, have surgery.

My quality of life to this point is anything but. I cannot sleep well, since I toss and turn, twist wrong in the bed and wake up in a cold sweat with pain. I cannot function enough to go to work, so I have spent the last 10 months watching reruns and the Ellen show. My job was filled about 3 months ago, so I don’t really even have something to go back to. I cannot do much around the house, other than laundry, and even that is taxing with all the bending and stuff. I can not even play wiffle ball with the baby, as much as he loves the outdoors and sports in general.

So on the 19th of this month, in 18 days, I am having a pretty drastic surgery. They will go in the back and fuse the next level of my spine after removing the damaged disc. Then they flip me over and go in near my navel and do the rest of the work. So more hospital time, more recovery time, and more physical therapy are on the horizon. I just cannot wait.

I am going to stop here, but soon I am going to tell you, constant reader, about my journey into trying to get medication to help me through this. Its filled with laughter, tears, and psychotherapy.