Moshi is soooo happy to be home!
Boo and Espressa, once again, are hissing/growling/hiding over his return - not sure who he is and/or reacting to his "vet smell".
Moshi has done little more than lay around. I wasn't concerned about that till the vet called, about an hour after we left. He apparently wanted to talk to me but the techs didn't know that and let me leave. He said that Moshi still hadn't eaten and there's still concern about his recovery (I learned that this is more often fatal in males than females). They released Moshi not so much because he's okay, as to let him get away from the stress of the vet's office. He wants me to call in the morning with a progress report.
Other than being extremely tired, and not moving around much, Moshi looks fine. I got him to eat a little - but very very little. Every now and again he lets out the saddest quietest little meow, which frustrates me because I've never heard it before and don't know what it means. We took a long (2 hrs) nap together. I got up, hoping he'd follow me to the living room, but he's staying on the bed
btw, you do not want to know what the bill came to. Or maybe that was just me. It was substantially higher than I expected.
So for the past several months, my XBox 360 has been out of commission thanks to the infamous "Red Ring of Death." It has happened to everyone I know, and I was the last to get it. Patrick's went out this winter, and it took him about two months to call it in. (The process is a hassle-you have to call it in and answer all these questions before they let you send it in. Or so I'm told, since I've never actually done it).
I got on Patrick's case. "What a procrastinator," I said (I know, it's the pot calling the kettle black). "I'm not going to do what he did."
Flash forward to several months later, and I still haven't called the repair in. Or as my brother kindly reminded me in the texts he sent me:
Intense Halo games =0. By the way, u haven't been online in 58 days. Fail.
And
Yah, i have a snack for you. It's a plate of YOUR WORDS "i won't procrastinate as long as Patrick did." Mmmmmm ur words must taste good.
I will call it in. Maybe tomorrow.
Thanks for everyone who guessed on my Lyrics meme! If I don't get any more answers by the end of this week, I'll post the answers to them. And by now, you all know that I still rock Will Smith on my iPod. Yeah, that's how I roll.
Work is getting busy again. It always happens that way before a vacation, right? But I'm glad, because it does give me a renewed vigor. I have three projects to finish tomorrow. If I am left alone throughout the day, I *should* have no problem with completing them. Today at work I was listening to music and using a scale when an engineer came into my cube, tapped on my shoulder, and exclaimed, "You're using a scale! That's awesome." ...Did I suddenly jump ahead two decades? Because last I checked, just about every engineer uses a scale. It's not like I was using a slide rule. It was certainly a random interruption.
Speaking of work, I finally pulled out some pictures to hang up in my cube. I got tired of the introverted, boring look. I put some up of me and the family at various events (my high school academic banquet, Christmas 2002...yeah, really old pictures), a picture of me, Andres, and a friend at Ring Day 2005, Meg and I standing outside the "Stop Global Warming" Tour Bus from last year (taken like six seconds after Sheryl Crow signed an autograph for me, so I have this really excited smile on my face), and the Got Milk? picture that Katherine and I took when we were in high school, where I am trying to go for the "rocker" look but end up looking silly in the process. It is a fun picture.
I stayed late to finish some tasks and hurried over to the running group. I made it just as everyone was taking off for the workout. A lot of the runners have races this weekend, so the run was, luckily, not as challenging-4 laps of the .5-.6 mile loop. I ran with Rowena, who was running it fast, so, naturally, I ran fast too. We did the first three at around 3:48, and did the last at 3:31! Then we did a slow cool-down lap, so it was roughly 3 miles total. My stomach was hurting by the end, which is always a sign that I pushed myself.
I found the funniest blog. It is called Cake Wrecks, and it's chock full of really badly decorated cakes. One of my Vox neighbors always posts these really exquisite cake decorations that she does, so I couldn't help thinking of her as I read some of these. It's hilarious and I know you will enjoy it.
I sometimes wonder if I let my imagination run away with me sometimes. Sometimes I wish I weren't so quicksilver and could just set my mind on something for good. Who knows what will happen? And that is my mysterious thought of the week :)
Thanks to everyone, by the way, who commented on my new profile picture. I have received nice comments here and on Facebook and my ego is like three times bigger.
She had been evaluated by a senior resident and transferred to me for further management. He had started her on an anti-depressant that she quit taking before she saw me.
It raised my blood pressure too much. My body is so damaged, I have to be very careful.
We talked about various medications. I would offer one, she would look it up in a Physician's Drug Reference, and refuse it, citing all the possible side effects.
I referred her for therapy. After a few unsuccessful appointments, I offered to terminate our med-checks. If she wasn't comfortable taking medications, why be billed for them?
Well, maybe I'll try this medicine. I trust you.
We made an elaborate plan. She started taking a small dose. It seemed to work.
Very slowly, I titrated up the dose. She became less worried about side effects. She started to smile. At her last visit, she told me she was getting back in touch with her family.
I upped the medicine to standard dose, and asked her to call me if she had any concerns.
Today, she came back after a missed appointment.
I've been taking a stimulant. It helps me take care of my family.
I mentioned concerns for her blood pressure, her history of drug problems, the possible effects of taking stimulants as needed. I wondered why she hadn't called me.
Oh, but you told me not to worry about it too much.
I had a sinking feeling in my stomach even before I asked her the next question. Was she still taking the anti-depressant?
No. It made me feel funny.
And just like that, we're back to square one.
*All identifiers have been changed to protect privacy.
That's all lI know. I called at 10a for a check up and was told, "The doctor said Moshi is ready to go home today."
YEEEAAAAAAAA!!!
I'm leaving work after my last meeting from hell, 3pm, to get him. Unless I can figure out a way to skip the meeting (it's just gonna piss me off and I'm liable to forget to keep my mouth shut), in which case I'll leave at 2.
did i mention... YEEEAAAAAAAA!!!
Thanks, everyone, for the good juju!
1. The cupcake bakery
2. my fave pizza joint
3. an antique mall
4. a dive bar
three I will have to work to not spend too much money at and one I will have to walk by with yoga pants on and I hope the leering will be a minimal thing.
My walk yesterday was no less interesting. I walked by Joan's house, snapped a few more shots of those amazing zinnia of hers and handed her a thank you card for the flowers she cut for me. Her daughter was there so she did not speak to me too long, that is okay I was out for a long time and wanted to go home. But that was not the plan, an old co-worker of mine, Pam, was driving by on her way back to work. She stopped and picked me up and was driving me home when she said I needed to see Catherine (another gal I worked with). She has something she needs to tell me. So I told her, just bring me to work with you. She did, I saw Catherine, her head was in one of those scarves, covering a newly shaved head. She has breast cancer. My heart sank in my chest. She is seriously one of the most passionate people I have ever met, she can describe a food dish with so much joy, I swear, Bon Appetite magazine is her pornography. Haha! She showed me her two scars, they hopefully got it all out (lumpectomy) She has just started her chemo treatment and is still strong as an ox. I hope that continues. She is thinking nothing but positive thoughts and I believe she is strong enough to beat this like so many of my brave neighbors here, you know who you are people.
I have been a slack ass about my home cleaning. I swear I can drag my feet better than anyone ever! I get up to do it, and my body gets so heavy and tired. I could lay down and nap after unloading the dishwasher!
When I was a kid, I lived in a house that should have been condemned. CPS should have swooped in and taken us out of there. Mother would tell me "clean the house" and that was my daily chore. But I had been raised with no tools to do this. She never kept the house clean, she never showed me a routine, she never showed me how to do a little at a time, she never showed me, just expected me to do it. When it was not done, each day she would yell and then spank me. I don't think she did this every day, but often enough that it seemed that way. I would look at the house, dirty dishes in the couch cushions, endless clutter, dust, papers, fleas, crust, broken, junk, mold, stinky stuff. I would see it all, lay down and actually sleep. Overwhelmed has always been my monster in the closet, my monkey on my back, my shadow through life. It is really really hard to shake it.
All that said, here is my to do list for the day
3. 15 minutes in the living room-vacuum-tables
5. 15 minutes in the bedroom- sewing machine area
only an hour and a half
I've been thinking a lot about my Aunt LaJuana these days. Nothing nostalgic or sentimental, but every time I hike up my pant leg or skirt to check on the progress of my bike-wreck scab, I can't help but think of her.
Aunt LaJuana was a scab picker. One of those people who love to scrape off the dead, battered skin of injuries. She didn't just pick her own scabs, though. She liked to pick other people's scabs. She loved to peel sunburns. As a child, this always frightened me. Like most kids, I was a walking scab factory. Always with a scraped elbow or knee. Some crusty half-healed contusion or abrasion. So there were few things as creepy and terrifying as going to Sunday dinner with a banged up knee. Invariably, someone said, "Oh, and little Redz took a spill on her bike/on the roof/on the monkey bars/on her own two stupid feet. Really banged herself up."
Then Aunt LaJuana descended upon me with her long, vicious claws extended, ready to pick. She didn't care if it hurt or bled or made you squirm, and she was big enough to hold you down if you tried to resist. Plenty big enough. She clocked in around 500 pounds when I was a child, so the only real chance of escape was to run. Unfortunately, my grandmother's house was small and filled with many ornery uncles and cousins who were happy to capture and return an escaped scabbee.
When I was very young, four or five years old, the worst part wasn't even the scab picking. The scariest part was the proximity of the Blood Ruby. Aunt LaJuana wore a ring with a large, dark, glossy, evil-looking ruby in it. She said that if you touched it without her permission, you would disappear. I was predisposed to believe, because my other grandmother had a ruby ring that she claimed had killed someone every time she wore it. Three times she'd worn it since her mother-in-law gave it to her and three times someone she loved died: her mother and two of her sisters. That ruby was remade into a ring for my grandfather, who as far as I know never killed anyone with it.
As for Aunt LaJuana's Bloody Ruby, I knew what she said was true, because I'd seen it happen.
My cousin, Stu, touched it once. Stu is eight years older than I am and he was one of the ornery cousins. So ornery he was dangerous. The kind of kid you wanted to keep your distance from. One Easter, he decided he was too old to believe in things like the Blood Ruby, so he marched up to Aunt LaJuana and touched it. Laid his finger right on it.
Aunt LaJuana let out this terrible moan. A sound of anguish and mourning that made my grandma run in from the kitchen. "Oh, he touched it! He touched the Blood Ruby!" Aunt LaJuana said and she put her head in her hands and sobbed.
Grandma took up the moaning and crying and pulled her apron up over her head. Stu, who'd been laughing and strutting until then, looked concerned. Everyone got involved, crying and carrying on about what a reckless fool he was. He never could obey and he was always in trouble, but they loved him! It broke their hearts what he'd done.
"That's bullshit! That's fucking bullshit!" Stu said, knowing he'd get smacked for that. Only nobody smacked him. Nobody said, "Watch your potty mouth!" Nobody but us other kids could hear him or see him, but none of the adults believed us.
When lunch time came, Grandma set the tables for 18 instead of 19, even though I told her, "I can see him, he's right there, Grandma."
"Don't you tease me, Redz, I know he's gone," she said. "If you try to pull my leg, why I'll pinch you."
That was no idle threat. The mothers of scab pickers are natural pinchers and vicious, to boot. The rest of the kids kept their mouth shut about being able to see Stu.
So while we ate fried chicken and mashed potatoes, with chocolate cake for dessert, Stu stood in the kitchen and cried. The adults just went on like he was invisible. They couldn't see him or hear him, and after a while they stopped talking like it was his funeral and just went on with their usual conversations.
Stu's disappearance lasted all day, until dusk fell and everyone got ready to go home. We packed up our leftovers and started out toward the cars. Some of us looked back at Stu, still huddled up in one corner, but after a moment, Uncle Jack got up from the sofa and put out his cigarette.
"Come on, Stu, let's go," he said.
"You can see me?" Stu said.
"Of course I can see you. The Blood Ruby wears off after a while. Have you been there all along?"
Oh, we wanted to believe it wasn't real. We wanted it to be a cruel prank the adults had played, but as we hurried across the gravel drive to our cars, Aunt LaJuana stood on the stoop and cackled like a witch. None of the rest of us ever touched the ruby, except perhaps the mortician who prepared her for burial. Yes, it was buried with her. Stu didn't learn his lesson. He went on being a disobedient, reckless fool, until adulthood snuck up on him, like the delayed effects of the Blood Ruby. In that sense, maybe we all touched it.
This is such a beautiful, beautiful post on marriage, friendship and partnership.
I stepped out of the office and my voicemail alert went off. The damn phone doesn't work in the damn office. Two new messages. I FUHRREEEAAKKED - worried that one was a call telling me Moshi had died. (paranoid? gee, ya thing?? you would be to if you had my history with pets!!) Fortunately, just an old msg and one from the vet, calling much earlier in the day - before I had called in.
1hr & 45min to drive 50 miles. I got to the vet's office with 15 min to visit, which wasn't too bad because no other patients or owners were there. There was only 1 other animal in medical boarding, so I had plenty of time with Mosh-Mosh. While visiting, the vet came by and the following transpired:
Me: Blahblahblah
Vet: Blahblahblah
Me: I know how serious this can be... but he's not gonna die... right?
Vet: I don't know.
WRONG WRONG WRONG WRONG WRONG!!!
The script CLEARLY states, "Oh, no chance of that! He's doing great, we just want to be extra safe!"
Apparently, the doc was extremely concerned about the spike in Moshi's temp this morning (up to 104). He was expecting him to be much better, not worse. He doubled Moshi's antibiotic dose and his temp was back to normal by the time I got there (personally, considering how large his bladder was when he went in, and the risk of fatality, I think he should have been on super-dose antibiotics from the start).
Moshi hadn't eaten and was hiding in the back of his cage. They thought the hiding was a sign of him still feeling like crap but I knew it was just that he's scared. All my cats are scared of everyone but me.
I petted and talked (in English & "cat") to Mosh and he eventually stood up, walked to the front of his cage, had a look around, and purred for me. He smelled the food but still wouldn't eat. The doc said he'd bring in some tuna and FancyFeast tomorrow. I don't know if Moshi will eat the tuna but he should scarf the FF. If I wake up early (hahahaha!), I might swing by with his food dish & preferred snackie food. Maybe if I go through our regular wet food ritual, he'll follow through with his part and scarf everything.
Overall, I think he's a LOT better. Even to the point of coming home - to reduce his stress. But better safe than sorry I didn't fight the vet's decision to keep him. To my surprise, I also didn't have a nervous breakdown. But I will. I can feel it.
I'm going in to work early again and leaving as soon as I can find out he's cleared to go home - I don't care if that's 10 min after I get in.
Keep sending the juju, please. This poor little kitty has had a rough damn year!
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