Memory Well: When Shadow Met Tawny

I went into the office again today - it was the first time since Mom went back to Utah.  Moose was naturally devastated (well, he was devastated between long naps), and he had his normal reaction to being parted from his Mama for more than 5 minutes (even if it's just in sleep) - my normally sedate (to the point of indolence) boy becomes a whirling dervish, determined to hump some body part - any body part.  He settles down fairly quickly, but it reminded me of Shadow.

Shadow in his "I rule this roost" pose - if you look up on Mom's lap, you get a glimpse of Tawny

Shadow was Mom's first dachshund, and I think the reason why we fixated on a) doxies and b) rescue dogs.  He had been found abandoned in a ditch as a tiny pup - half starved and with cracked ribs - and nursed back to health by a wonderful older couple, but they were taking off around the country in a motor home, and Shadow couldn't bring himself to trust the male half of the couple long enough to be lifted up into the home (and the female couldn't lift him.)  So, he came to Mom...  lucky, lucky dog.  Mom loved him like he was my brother - well, for all intents and purposes, he was.  In fact, he chewed up the seatbelts in the back of her new car, and got in less trouble for it than I did when I got into a car accident that was ABSOLUTELY not my fault.  But sibling rivalry issues aside...

Shadow normally was very comfortable living a sensible old man's life.  He had his rounds (the condo Mom lived in had a puppy happy hour every evening, where they would go visiting, collecting snacks from the neighbors), his comfy spots, his routine.  But then he met Tawny. 

I know - Frank from Men in Black, right?  But without the personality.

You know how sometimes they say that pugs are so ugly they are cute?  Tawny never quite made the cute stage.  But to Shadow, she was Botticelli's Venus, rising from the waves.  Apparently, she was in heat when they first met - about to be taken to the vet to take care of that sort of thing - and though Shadow had been... let's say de-interested in that sort of thing as a pup, she brought back species memories in him.  Boy did she bring back species memories.  The problem was that while his body was willing, his mind had no freaking clue about the whole process. 

He would spy Tawny from across the room, lumber over and commence to humping as though his life depended on it.  Now, I'm not saying that he was productively humping - 9 times out of 10, he would come in from the side, or the front, or the bottom, or anyway but standard doggy-style, but he was giving it the old college try.  For about 15 seconds.  Then he would forget what he was doing, wander off to get some kibble, or bask in the sun, or whatever, until 10 or 15 minutes later, he would notice her again, and the whole process repeated. For her part, Tawny mostly just seemed to regard him as a hazard that had to be dealt with in order to visit Mom, who had a superior level of treats.  I'm not sure what this says about the relationship between man and woman (or mutt and bitch, even).  But the memory can still make me giggle, so...

Placeholder/Bathroom Pron

Warning: Disgusting Medical Information Ahead

Time for the quarterly Hank the Tumor update:

So, for ULMS, he's being surprisingly polite - he has yet to start to redecorate any other major organ, and it looks like he hasn't grown much.  Unfortunately, having him hang around in the uterus is causing my cervix to start overgrowing again, which means it's only a matter of time until I recreate the whole Carrie paint-the-walls-red scenario that started this whole thing. Plus, it may help my whole "there's a rock leaning against my bladder" continence issue...

So, my doctor wants me to undergo vaginal surgery to remove the overgrowth, which I would be down with except:

a)  The whole sedation thing. Between the cancer, the diabetes, the apnea, the arthritis, the acne (ok, maybe not the acne), but as a whole, my body should have fallen apart 20 years back.  I'm nervous about not waking up, frankly.

b)  I'm two years in now, and the normal survival rate for ULMS is 50% at 2 years (that's with a total hysterectomy as soon as you're diagnosed.  The 5 year survival rate is 20%.)  As my doctor says, I'm atypical.  I'm nervous about poking Hank with a stick - it might wake him up, and I am enjoying the respite I've been given. 

So...  I'm going to go in and discuss it with her, see what she says.  Well, and go through the pre-surgical thing - I'm pretty sure they're going to tell me to go away and come back when I lose a couple of hundred pounds.  I'm ok with that.  But we'll see.

Mom's Left - Again

Since I was two (well, with a brief Bob interlude that we do not discuss), I've been an only child of a single mother.  Trust me, back in 1967 in Utah, we were bleeding edge.  I used to spend some time with Dad (not a lot), more time with Grandma and Grandpa... my point is, there was always leaving (and coming back), and I was generally the one doing the going. 

Then came my twenties and thirties - we lived together for a while, got to know each other as adults.  I learned to truly like her as well as love her - I'm lucky enough to be able to consider my mom one of my best friends, and I know and appreciate how rare that is.  At any rate, I would go visit her as often as we could manage - wherever she was, was home, but again, I'd always have to leave.

Now moving into my 40s - Mom started spending time at my house - at first it was just a couple of months each year, during the winter, but with the advent of Hank, she moved in to help me deal with cancer.  At first, we were afraid it was going to be a "help me die with dignity", but since Hank has been a courtly guest, taking his own time about things, it's kind of evolved into a Persephone-like 6 months with me, 6 months in Utah.  It's turned into her being the one who leaves.

Frankly, being the one left behind, sucks.  I hug her, watch her go, then immediately get dropped back into my life without her - a quieter life, one with less projects, less conversation, less shopping, blander food, less puppies... well, less Mom.  I'll get over it, readjust, get used to having more space - Moose has already gotten over it and is looking forward to being an only child again.  But it's easier to transition when there's movement, and being the one left behind just sucks. 

Guess I'll just have to look forward to November.

Back From The Beach

The family on our balcony

We had a really terrific time at the beach - managed to get four rooms all attached, so we had our own little hallway (which the puppies loved).  I really love going to Seaside - we parked the truck and then didn't see it again until we were ready to go.  Of course, Riley and Cassidy (and Ron) were more adventurous - they went zip lining and over to Fort Clatsop, but Roger and I were fine with just exploring the boardwalk and the beach.

The last night we were there, I was getting ready to go out for dinner, when everyone showed up at my room with a surprise party for me.  Such a wonderful surprise!  Well, for one thing, my birthday was back on April Fools Day, so it follows tradition, but also, I had no freaking idea they were planning anything like this.  We had purple forks, plates, a purple mardi gras boa for me... it was terrific!  Pizza and red velvet cake - you can't beat that.

Moose nervous someone is going to try to dress him in something

 

More tomorrow, but for tonight, I think my own bed is calling me - there's nothing like a hotel bed to make you really appreciate your own king size waterbed.

I Will Not Bow Down To My TurboTax Overlords!

Let's get this out of the way real quick - yes, Mother, I should have filed my taxes much sooner.  You taught me better than this.  I'll do better next year.  That being said...

I went to file my taxes using TurboTax - same as I have done for the past 20 years or so.  I typed in my username and password, same as always - when they come back with something like "For your safety, we need you to verify your identity by either using this old email address that you haven't used since 1995 (seriously, it was an @msn.com address) or answer this random set of questions about your life." 

Well, I didn't have access to the old email address (actually, it doesn't exist anymore - I think it was wiped out by Y2K), so I chose to go with the series of questions - and I failed.  Seriously - I don't know enough about my own freaking life to convince a computer that I'm me.  It doesn't help that I have this weird mental thingy where I can't remember events in my own life unless I'm reminded about them.  It also doesn't help that I've lived in way upwards of 30 different cities, most before I was 25.  I may have lived in Ventura briefly when I was 3 months old (actually, no - three months old, we were living a few blocks outside of Watts when the riots broke out - but I digress).  But mostly, do not try to check me on whether or not I'm related to a Delores Humphries.  Dad is one of 12, Mother is one of 4, they've both been married multiple times - last time I tried to count, I had more than 200 cousins... one of them is bound to be named Delores, I guess. 

So... I've lost my account - this would be the account that I had the username and password for.  I could get it back by putting in for a change of email, but considering that I've been using my work email with them for upwards of 20 years, and they aren't recognizing it - it's not worth it.  Way to waste 20 years of customer loyalty. 

Just A Quickie

It was a long day today, so Mom finally called it a night about half an hour ago and headed off to bed with Daisy, while Rog and I (and Moose and Dancer) stayed up to watch @Midnight.  (The thrills of being an old married couple never cease.)  Anyway, the MooseMan was acting restless, so I asked him (quietly) if he wanted an "outside".  By the time Roger had the door open, I saw this white flash of fur that I swore beat Moose outside by a good couple of feet - Daisy managed to get from the back of the house faster than Moose got off the couch.  She never passes up a good opportunity to give Roady (the dog next door who I swear has a head bigger than her entire body) a good barking to.  I would say she gets that from me, but let's face it - I come from a long line of mouthy broads. 

In other news, I'm feeling much better (fever finally broke), and I'm now learning how to make yarn baskets along with Mom and Daniel, so there's that.

Rough Day

It's storming, outside and in.  I've got one of those back of the head type headaches - not migraine level, just enough to make me hate most of humanity when I stop to think about it.  The low grade thunder is not helping any.  And while Moose and the girls are doing their best to help, this is more than their abilities can help with.

I've hit the wall when it comes to change. It's not that I can't deal with change - I spent most of my early life being marinated in it. But change can wear you out.  I'm down to the nub right now.  With both of my bosses leaving, and my family coming in to rip out my tub, and retirement heading my way...

Oh, hell.  It's not any of that.  Well, it's some of that.  But mostly, it's Hank.  I'm so damned tired of going around with this grenade inside me, wondering when it's going to burst.  Two years now of balancing between life and death, watching every footstep.  I'm already worn out, and any little thing can push me over the edge, both physically and mentally.  Sleep.  Maybe what I need is sleep.