The skin reaction from hell is taking over.
I've gone to the dermatologist. He did a biopsy (YOWCH - the stitches come out in a week) and we are waiting.
And I am shredding my skin because NOTHING IS STOPPING THE ITCHIES!
That and stuff going on at work and the fact that a couple of things I was supposed to get in the mail haven't arrived yet, maybe haven't even been sent yet are NOT AT MY HOUSE.
And I want a new script for Triamcinolone Acetonide Cream.
And while I'm dreaming I still want a pony, a bright yellow Smart Car, a baby, and someone to make me something hand knit for a change.
PS The next post will be better. We got new furniture. Now to keep the cats from shredding it.
Showing posts with label pain. Show all posts
Showing posts with label pain. Show all posts
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Good Bye McGee
This is somewhat graphic, and very sad, so I'd stop reading now if I were you and you cannot handle that right now.
Sunday started off okay, then I left the house (first mistake) to take Mom to church.
Driving down Fulton road, we are getting close to our turn and there is a dog in the other lane running AGAINST opposing traffic. And there was some traffic.
I tell Mom we will be late for church because I will try to catch the dog and I have a barricade in the back of my car to hold him.
Then a truck is turning into the same lane as the dog, as the dog runs up to it. The truck tried to stop. He really did try. But his back tires went over the dog anyway. I am not happy the truck driver didn't stop though.
The dog did manage to get up and run down the street I was headed for. I just had to get the guy in front of me in the turn lane to get out of my way (he was tracking the dog too).
I made the turn and could see where the dog had collapsed (thankfully on the sidewalk). Another vehicle pulled off from the other direction and was calling animal services (I think). I pulled off to a side street by the same lady, told Mom to stay in the car and ran to the dog.
He had a tag on (thank goodness). His name was McGee. I called his owner and told him what happened and where we were and that I would wait for him. McGee kept trying to get up. I kept holding him down.
I think he was a pit bull cross. Beautiful dog. Young dog.
Every breathe brought more blood down the sidewalk and there wasn't anything I could for him other than keep him calm. I still don't know how I ended up without blood all over me.
The female half of his owner walked up about then with their other dog. McGee had gotten away from her. I could see how that happened. You have a strong dog, that wants to chase cars, being walked by a very small older lady that probably couldn't handle him.
I told her what had happened and that I'd already called her husband and that she needs to call the 24 hour vet clinic down the street and let them know they were on their way with the dog.
McGee started bleeding more heavily and all I could do was tell him it would be okay and that his owner was there and everything would be all right really soon.
The husband showed up and I asked the other lady that stopped to go to my truck and get a blanket out of the back (a Winnie the Pooh blanket I had made that my furbabies loved because it's fleece) so we could wrap McGee up for the ride to the clinic.
We got him into their truck. I said of course I don't need the blanket back. It's gone to a good cause.
I went back to my car and wiped the blood off of my hands and thanked the other lady for her help.
Mom and I went on to church. We actually made it on time, not that Mom was worried about it.
I went by the vet clinic on the way home. Their car wasn't there anymore which didn't bode well. I took Mom grocery shopping. We got the Christmas tree taken down and the living room put back together and I called the owner back since I still had their number in my phone.
His female owner answered the phone and thanked me again for stopping and for following up with the call.
McGee did not make it, which was not really a surprise. But I was crying anyway. A death of a beautiful animal never makes sense.
Good bye McGee. Your owners loved you dearly and miss you terribly.
Sunday started off okay, then I left the house (first mistake) to take Mom to church.
Driving down Fulton road, we are getting close to our turn and there is a dog in the other lane running AGAINST opposing traffic. And there was some traffic.
I tell Mom we will be late for church because I will try to catch the dog and I have a barricade in the back of my car to hold him.
Then a truck is turning into the same lane as the dog, as the dog runs up to it. The truck tried to stop. He really did try. But his back tires went over the dog anyway. I am not happy the truck driver didn't stop though.
The dog did manage to get up and run down the street I was headed for. I just had to get the guy in front of me in the turn lane to get out of my way (he was tracking the dog too).
I made the turn and could see where the dog had collapsed (thankfully on the sidewalk). Another vehicle pulled off from the other direction and was calling animal services (I think). I pulled off to a side street by the same lady, told Mom to stay in the car and ran to the dog.
He had a tag on (thank goodness). His name was McGee. I called his owner and told him what happened and where we were and that I would wait for him. McGee kept trying to get up. I kept holding him down.
I think he was a pit bull cross. Beautiful dog. Young dog.
Every breathe brought more blood down the sidewalk and there wasn't anything I could for him other than keep him calm. I still don't know how I ended up without blood all over me.
The female half of his owner walked up about then with their other dog. McGee had gotten away from her. I could see how that happened. You have a strong dog, that wants to chase cars, being walked by a very small older lady that probably couldn't handle him.
I told her what had happened and that I'd already called her husband and that she needs to call the 24 hour vet clinic down the street and let them know they were on their way with the dog.
McGee started bleeding more heavily and all I could do was tell him it would be okay and that his owner was there and everything would be all right really soon.
The husband showed up and I asked the other lady that stopped to go to my truck and get a blanket out of the back (a Winnie the Pooh blanket I had made that my furbabies loved because it's fleece) so we could wrap McGee up for the ride to the clinic.
We got him into their truck. I said of course I don't need the blanket back. It's gone to a good cause.
I went back to my car and wiped the blood off of my hands and thanked the other lady for her help.
Mom and I went on to church. We actually made it on time, not that Mom was worried about it.
I went by the vet clinic on the way home. Their car wasn't there anymore which didn't bode well. I took Mom grocery shopping. We got the Christmas tree taken down and the living room put back together and I called the owner back since I still had their number in my phone.
His female owner answered the phone and thanked me again for stopping and for following up with the call.
McGee did not make it, which was not really a surprise. But I was crying anyway. A death of a beautiful animal never makes sense.
Good bye McGee. Your owners loved you dearly and miss you terribly.
Thursday, November 6, 2008
How to Keep Going...
...even when you would much rather curl up in that dark hole with a small light and all your knitting and your dog and never come out.
I have a friend that I know reads this blog. This is in direct response to something they are going through these days, but I do not know if the person is clued in to their own behavior enough to recognize what I am going to discuss. If they do recognize it, maybe they will thank me, maybe they will stop talking to me, but it needs to be said.
So this is intended to be a huge dose of get your head out of your butt because you are not the only one that has ever gone through anything like this, will go through anything like this, that there are worse things that could happen and if I can do it you sure as h* can.
I have 'formally' suffered from depression for over 6 years now. I say formally because I had to really hit rock bottom (as in almost suicidal) to realize that I did not want to follow my brother down that path. Note that I do not state that I am no longer suffering from it.
I've had three different therapists over the years. Been on meds and have been med (at least anti depressants) free for over 5 years. I do not believe you can treat depression with therapy alone. The meds can help. That said I won't take them any longer than necessary either. In my case they are not a solution, merely a means to one.
I do not believe that being depressed gives you a free pass to be passive about everything that happens to you, to just take whatever life throws at you, or to whine about it.
Even today, it is a struggle to get out of bed in the morning. I do not want to face the day. It is so much easier to just stay in bed. This in spite of the fact that I love my job, even when it is driving me nuts. I love my husband, even when he is driving me nuts. I have a few choice good friends that are worth getting up for as well. Depression is not logical, but neither can it win.
Every day that I manage to get out of bed and get on with my life is another battle won.
Some people would say I don't have anything to be depressed about. I have a lovely home, a husband that loves me, more animals then I ever thought I'd get to have, a good job, and some very dear friends.
Again with the not logical. But they don't know my history, where I've been, what I've gone through to get to where I am today. It is not something you can just get over, but it is something you can learn to deal with rather than letting it control you. But you have to WANT to beat it, not just deal with it, or use it to hold pity parties.
Then we talk about dealing with physical pain. Unfortunately this is also something I'm well versed in. For the past year+ I've been in constant pain more than 75% of the time. Some days it's better than others, other days it can prevent me from getting out of bed, but I do it ANYWAY. The surgery I had earlier this year did not completely solve the problem. But I get through it. I keep going and for the most part I believe no one has any idea just how much trouble it can be for me to stand up straight some days.
I go to kickboxing to help strengthen my muscles. I'm eating better to get my weight down so it does not make things worse. Granted I hide it from my doctor because the only way I'm being cut open again is for a C-Section or a cochlear implant thank you very much. But if it gets to the point where the getting out of bed cannot happen, I'll go back. I'm not totally stupid.
It can be debilitating, but thankfully those days are few and far between, much more so since the surgery in February.
When I think about giving in to pain and being a cry baby about it, I think of two things. My sister Anita and now my nephew Danny.
My sister Anita has a rare bone disorder that has results in multiple surgeries, mostly in the lower extremities over the course of her life. I cannot believe she walks without pain. But she walks and rides her bike 5 miles a day and she keeps going. I don't know how she does it. But she's one of the most upbeat people I know and the person I want on my side in a fight, because she doesn't give up.
I just recently (last week in fact) got in touch with my sister Chris after a long time of not speaking and found out some very scary news. My 18 year old nephew's left leg was crushed from the knee down in a motorcycle accident in June. He almost lost his leg, heck he almost lost his life. In fact, even right now it is still broken. I don't know how many surgeries he has had in the past five months, but I do know he just finished learning how to walk again ON A BROKEN SHATTERED LEG. And I talked to him.
I am so proud to call this young man my nephew. To him it is no big deal. He called his mom the day of the accident from the ambulance and was so upbeat she thought he was pulling a fast one till the paramedic came on the line. This is just something he has to handle and get through. He sounds great (so much like his father it is scary) and if you did not know what he was going through you would never hear it in his voice. He is a good egg and I am so glad he is still with us.
Life is to be lived, even if the very act of living is sometimes a chore. But you get through it, you bounce back, you get therapy if you need it, meds (legal please - hehe) to help, a different therapist if your current one is a whack job that is just using you as guaranteed income, you suck it up and you move on.
Yes some days will be worse than others, but some will also be better. Look forward to the good ones, rather than dwelling on the bad ones.
And in spite of my pain and my depression, I am happy to be alive, to be here, to have each new day that has been granted me. Because it is one more day to live and get it right.
I have a friend that I know reads this blog. This is in direct response to something they are going through these days, but I do not know if the person is clued in to their own behavior enough to recognize what I am going to discuss. If they do recognize it, maybe they will thank me, maybe they will stop talking to me, but it needs to be said.
So this is intended to be a huge dose of get your head out of your butt because you are not the only one that has ever gone through anything like this, will go through anything like this, that there are worse things that could happen and if I can do it you sure as h* can.
I have 'formally' suffered from depression for over 6 years now. I say formally because I had to really hit rock bottom (as in almost suicidal) to realize that I did not want to follow my brother down that path. Note that I do not state that I am no longer suffering from it.
I've had three different therapists over the years. Been on meds and have been med (at least anti depressants) free for over 5 years. I do not believe you can treat depression with therapy alone. The meds can help. That said I won't take them any longer than necessary either. In my case they are not a solution, merely a means to one.
I do not believe that being depressed gives you a free pass to be passive about everything that happens to you, to just take whatever life throws at you, or to whine about it.
Even today, it is a struggle to get out of bed in the morning. I do not want to face the day. It is so much easier to just stay in bed. This in spite of the fact that I love my job, even when it is driving me nuts. I love my husband, even when he is driving me nuts. I have a few choice good friends that are worth getting up for as well. Depression is not logical, but neither can it win.
Every day that I manage to get out of bed and get on with my life is another battle won.
Some people would say I don't have anything to be depressed about. I have a lovely home, a husband that loves me, more animals then I ever thought I'd get to have, a good job, and some very dear friends.
Again with the not logical. But they don't know my history, where I've been, what I've gone through to get to where I am today. It is not something you can just get over, but it is something you can learn to deal with rather than letting it control you. But you have to WANT to beat it, not just deal with it, or use it to hold pity parties.
Then we talk about dealing with physical pain. Unfortunately this is also something I'm well versed in. For the past year+ I've been in constant pain more than 75% of the time. Some days it's better than others, other days it can prevent me from getting out of bed, but I do it ANYWAY. The surgery I had earlier this year did not completely solve the problem. But I get through it. I keep going and for the most part I believe no one has any idea just how much trouble it can be for me to stand up straight some days.
I go to kickboxing to help strengthen my muscles. I'm eating better to get my weight down so it does not make things worse. Granted I hide it from my doctor because the only way I'm being cut open again is for a C-Section or a cochlear implant thank you very much. But if it gets to the point where the getting out of bed cannot happen, I'll go back. I'm not totally stupid.
It can be debilitating, but thankfully those days are few and far between, much more so since the surgery in February.
When I think about giving in to pain and being a cry baby about it, I think of two things. My sister Anita and now my nephew Danny.
My sister Anita has a rare bone disorder that has results in multiple surgeries, mostly in the lower extremities over the course of her life. I cannot believe she walks without pain. But she walks and rides her bike 5 miles a day and she keeps going. I don't know how she does it. But she's one of the most upbeat people I know and the person I want on my side in a fight, because she doesn't give up.
I just recently (last week in fact) got in touch with my sister Chris after a long time of not speaking and found out some very scary news. My 18 year old nephew's left leg was crushed from the knee down in a motorcycle accident in June. He almost lost his leg, heck he almost lost his life. In fact, even right now it is still broken. I don't know how many surgeries he has had in the past five months, but I do know he just finished learning how to walk again ON A BROKEN SHATTERED LEG. And I talked to him.
I am so proud to call this young man my nephew. To him it is no big deal. He called his mom the day of the accident from the ambulance and was so upbeat she thought he was pulling a fast one till the paramedic came on the line. This is just something he has to handle and get through. He sounds great (so much like his father it is scary) and if you did not know what he was going through you would never hear it in his voice. He is a good egg and I am so glad he is still with us.
Life is to be lived, even if the very act of living is sometimes a chore. But you get through it, you bounce back, you get therapy if you need it, meds (legal please - hehe) to help, a different therapist if your current one is a whack job that is just using you as guaranteed income, you suck it up and you move on.
Yes some days will be worse than others, but some will also be better. Look forward to the good ones, rather than dwelling on the bad ones.
And in spite of my pain and my depression, I am happy to be alive, to be here, to have each new day that has been granted me. Because it is one more day to live and get it right.
Monday, May 12, 2008
That Landing needed to be MUCH Softer
I think those of you that know me understand that Mother's Day is a very hard day for me.
1. I technically have a son that will 18 years old in two weeks (yikes) that I gave up for adoption.
2. I have been trying unsuccessfully for almost 3 years to have another child with my husband.
So yeah Mother's Day is hard. I spend a good portion of the day being teary. Reading about that woman in Arkansas who is carrying child number 18 right now, doesn't help. Reading about some woman that went out partying while her kids burned or the father that threw his kids off a bridge just makes me want to bury my head in the sand.
Which is neither healthy nor productive. People tell me that as soon as we give up hope and just stop trying, that's when it will happen. How in the h* do you give up hope for something that you want that much (to be a mom - to make my husband a father)?
My friend Kate wrote a lovely post yesterday. You should go read it. I want that: the uncertainty, the responsibility, the joy and the pain of parenthood.
But for now it seems I get to deal with the pain of my own stupidity. I spent yesterday recovering from a cold that knocked me out Saturday and doing chores and putting my house back together. Mid afternoon Hubby had my quad ready to try out in the yard.
He wants me to be able to take a tight turn (sometimes it is necessary to save you from a really bad drop off - not that he's gonna get me on a trail like that in the first place, but still) on the quad. Now that I can do no problem on my jet ski on water or on a tube with my husband trying to knock me into said water.
However I tried it yesterday on a quad on the land and in my stupidity, I translated lean into the turn, as lean into the OUTSIDE of the quad on the turn.
Can you guess what happened? Yup flipped that sucker right over and me with it. And since I was just testing it out, I had none of my protective gear on.
Landed on my right side. Shredded my right palm and elbow (it's pretty ugly) and my shoulder. I'm still (a day later) finding splinters and at this point I'm totally waiting for an infection to happen. There was a lot of dirt. I won't even tell you about the grass stains on my face. At least my hair hides that one.
I really must use a less painful way to prove my husband wrong, In telling me what I needed to try, he said nothing would happen and I'd be just fine. He forgot to factor in the 'Dingbat' part of the equation. Sigh.
On top of that, Sock Wars kicked off Friday and I'm only up to the 5th repeat of the pattern in the leg and I cannot knit. I tried. It hurts way too much.
I am so dying by the end of the week, but it means my target will live a while longer. I still get a pair of socks out of it. :-) Just wish I were a little brighter some days.
A belated Happy Mother's Day to all my mom friends out there (and yeah this is by no means all of you):
Stephanie
Romi
Susan (your furbabies count in my book)
Taunya
Kate (a different blogless one)
Kate (and hugs to her Miss Mags)
Carinne (blogless too - I need to fix that)
They know how lucky and blessed they are and the local ones let me play with their kids.
PS - On the off chance someone comes through here and says how can I want that now and still have given my son up, I say this:
It's THE hardest thing I've ever had to do. And yet I would do it again because it's what was best for him. You are not me, you don't know me, and therefore you may not judge me.
1. I technically have a son that will 18 years old in two weeks (yikes) that I gave up for adoption.
2. I have been trying unsuccessfully for almost 3 years to have another child with my husband.
So yeah Mother's Day is hard. I spend a good portion of the day being teary. Reading about that woman in Arkansas who is carrying child number 18 right now, doesn't help. Reading about some woman that went out partying while her kids burned or the father that threw his kids off a bridge just makes me want to bury my head in the sand.
Which is neither healthy nor productive. People tell me that as soon as we give up hope and just stop trying, that's when it will happen. How in the h* do you give up hope for something that you want that much (to be a mom - to make my husband a father)?
My friend Kate wrote a lovely post yesterday. You should go read it. I want that: the uncertainty, the responsibility, the joy and the pain of parenthood.
But for now it seems I get to deal with the pain of my own stupidity. I spent yesterday recovering from a cold that knocked me out Saturday and doing chores and putting my house back together. Mid afternoon Hubby had my quad ready to try out in the yard.
He wants me to be able to take a tight turn (sometimes it is necessary to save you from a really bad drop off - not that he's gonna get me on a trail like that in the first place, but still) on the quad. Now that I can do no problem on my jet ski on water or on a tube with my husband trying to knock me into said water.
However I tried it yesterday on a quad on the land and in my stupidity, I translated lean into the turn, as lean into the OUTSIDE of the quad on the turn.
Can you guess what happened? Yup flipped that sucker right over and me with it. And since I was just testing it out, I had none of my protective gear on.
Landed on my right side. Shredded my right palm and elbow (it's pretty ugly) and my shoulder. I'm still (a day later) finding splinters and at this point I'm totally waiting for an infection to happen. There was a lot of dirt. I won't even tell you about the grass stains on my face. At least my hair hides that one.
I really must use a less painful way to prove my husband wrong, In telling me what I needed to try, he said nothing would happen and I'd be just fine. He forgot to factor in the 'Dingbat' part of the equation. Sigh.
On top of that, Sock Wars kicked off Friday and I'm only up to the 5th repeat of the pattern in the leg and I cannot knit. I tried. It hurts way too much.
I am so dying by the end of the week, but it means my target will live a while longer. I still get a pair of socks out of it. :-) Just wish I were a little brighter some days.
A belated Happy Mother's Day to all my mom friends out there (and yeah this is by no means all of you):
Stephanie
Romi
Susan (your furbabies count in my book)
Taunya
Kate (a different blogless one)
Kate (and hugs to her Miss Mags)
Carinne (blogless too - I need to fix that)
They know how lucky and blessed they are and the local ones let me play with their kids.
PS - On the off chance someone comes through here and says how can I want that now and still have given my son up, I say this:
It's THE hardest thing I've ever had to do. And yet I would do it again because it's what was best for him. You are not me, you don't know me, and therefore you may not judge me.
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